Ruth Downie - Ruso and the Root of All Evils

Ruso looked at the cracked forehead and the chewed fingernails. ‘You’re not a marvellous prospect for my sister,’ he observed.

Tertius squared his shoulders. ‘I’m not a coward, sir. I’m a hard worker. You ask anybody here.’

‘But you’re a gladiator.’

‘I love her, sir!’ said Tertius, as if this made some sort of difference. ‘I love your sister. And she loves me.’ He had been standing with his hands behind his back and his feet apart. Suddenly he stood to attention. ‘Sir, I would like to request permission to marry Marcia Petreia.’

It was like being back in the Army. Except that none of the things for which he had been asked permission in the Army had ever involved his sister. Ruso sighed. ‘Stand easy, Tertius. You can’t marry anybody while you’re under contract to a gladiator trainer.’

‘That’s why she was trying to buy me out, sir.’

Clearly Marcia and this youth were well suited: each as dimwitted as the other.

Ruso got to his feet. ‘It would have been better if she’d told me the truth in the first place.’

‘I’m sorry about that, sir. When I see her I’ll have a word with her.’

It was so cheeky that, had the circumstances been less grave, Ruso would have smiled. As it was, he said, ‘I don’t know how much news you get in here, Tertius, but I’m hardly in a position to help you at the moment.’

‘You’re free, sir. And nobody else is going to.’

Ruso observed that his sister’s beloved might not be very bright but he was certainly persistent. ‘I’m not going to promise anything to do with Marcia Petreia,’ he said. ‘And you shouldn’t expect anything from me. But if circumstances change, and I find I’m able to help you, then I’ll see what I can do.’

Ruso watched the spring in the youth’s step as he made his way back across to the barracks, and wondered if that last vague promise made him almost as much of a fool as Tertius himself.

Gnostus had given him the key to the medical room before heading off to join his apprentices for lunch and told him to lock the door on the way out. Apparently all doors were kept locked here, and sharp weapons stored out of reach. Movement around the compound was carefully controlled by the staff and a favoured few amongst the top fighters. Gladiators might be heroes, but most of them were also slaves. The veteran with the whip was there both to keep the public out and the occupants in.

Thus it was with some surprise that Ruso, turning to make his way across to the mess and return Gnostus’ key, found himself face to face with his former father-in-law.

Probus’ demand of ‘What are you doing here?’ was an unwelcome echo of their last meeting.

‘Looking for a job. You?’

‘Business.’

‘You’re investing in gladiators?’

Probus scowled. ‘Of course not. Here on behalf of Fuscus. You don’t think he deals with these people himself, do you?’

Ruso, who had never really thought about the business side of public entertainment, said, ‘I thought he was supposed to have hand-picked the fighters.’

‘Then he fixed a price with the trainer, and left the rest up to me.’

Ruso hoped ‘the rest’ did not include the sanctioning of job offers to medical assistants. ‘How’s Claudia?’

‘None of your business.’ Probus moved closer and lowered his voice. ‘You had no right to ask her to look into Severus’ commercial dealings.’

‘I thought you might know who else he’d upset.’

‘Do you have the least idea what releasing private information to someone like you would do for my reputation?’

‘Speaking of reputation,’ said Ruso, ‘you could have told me Marcia was looking for a loan before I heard it as gossip.’

‘That’s exactly my point,’ snapped Probus. ‘Client confidentiality.’

‘She wasn’t a client. You refused her. Quite rightly.’

Probus eyed him for a moment. ‘You were a deep disappointment to me, Ruso. So much ability, yet so little …’ he paused, searching for a word. Finally he settled on ‘judgement’.

‘I didn’t poison your son-in-law.’

‘What you’ve never understood is that, for a man to succeed in life, it matters what people think of him. A lost reputation is impossible to recover. In my line of business, I have to be seen as utterly trustworthy.’

‘Mine too. What if this poisoner goes for Claudia next?’

‘Are you threatening my daughter now?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. And stop telling Fuscus I did it, will you?’

When Probus did not answer, he continued, ‘Someone knows the truth. Help me find out.’

‘There will be a proper investigation. We’re waiting for instructions from Rome.’

‘I’m not.’

Probus took a step closer. ‘You have no idea what you’re doing, Ruso. Are you trying to drag me down with you? And Claudia too? Because I won’t let that happen.’

‘Tell me something, Probus. When a man lends the money for a shipping venture, who carries the risk? The one who borrows it and arranges the voyage, or the lender?’

‘A shipping loan?’ The voice was incredulous. ‘We are discussing my daughter’s safety!’

‘Humour me.’

‘The lender, of course. High risk, high return.’

‘That’s why you sent Justinus on the ship.’ Ruso moved closer and murmured, ‘Severus lost you a lot of money, didn’t he?’

‘You know nothing about my affairs.’

‘If someone tells the investigator from Rome that Severus sank a lot of your money on the Pride of the South , you might be a very plausible suspect.’

‘You wouldn’t!’

‘You know how it is. Whoever gets picked as the culprit will have all his private business pegged out for inspection in the Forum while the lawyers argue over his moral character.’

A couple of thick-set men dressed only in grimy loincloths strolled across the courtyard and began to sort through the pile of nets, one of them displaying a lattice of scars across his back as he bent over. Others were beginning to emerge from the barrack-room. Shrieks of ‘Xantus!’ rose over a chant of ‘Am-pli-a-tus, Am-pli-a-tus!’ and hammering on the gates. Probus stepped aside in disgust as something that looked distinctly like female underwear landed in the dust near his feet. He glanced around to make sure he could not be overheard before murmuring, ‘I thought better of you than this, Ruso.’

‘We’re caught in the same net,’ said Ruso. ‘There’s nothing to be gained by fighting each other. Help me.’

‘If you try to take me down — or Claudia — I’ll ruin you. You think I don’t know you’re still in far more debt than the farm is worth?’

‘So. We share what we know and we help each other.’

Probus appeared to be considering his options, and not liking any of them. Finally he said, ‘I have to get ready for the funeral. I can give you some time tomorrow morning. Come alone and don’t tell anyone. You’ve caused enough trouble already.’

‘I’ll be there,’ promised Ruso. Watching his former father-in-law cross the courtyard and enter a shadowed door in the corner, it struck him that, if Probus was involved in the murder after all, a lone and secret visit to his house was definitely not a good idea. But the banker was also taking a risk in associating with him. They could circle round each other, deciding whether to land the first blow, like the pair of fighters now donning their glittering armour in the afternoon sun, or they could try and behave like partners with a common interest in seeking the truth.

In the meantime, he was off to visit some men who claimed they weren’t poisoners either. There seemed to be a lot of it about.

‘You again,’ observed the dark young man, pausing as he loaded the stack of snake boxes into the hand-cart. ‘Make it quick. We’re going.’