Ruth Downie - Ruso and the Root of All Evils

‘Can I make a suggestion?’ It was a thin, officious voice.

‘No,’ said Stilo. ‘Shut up and dig.’

‘Only it would be more efficient if we — ’

His suggestion was drowned by a squeal of pain from close by the door. Tilla winced.

‘See?’ said Stilo. ‘That’s what happens when you make suggestions. Just find the money. Then nobody gets hurt.’

Tilla felt the warmth of the Medicus’ breath on her cheek. ‘They’ve already got the steward in there,’ he whispered. ‘Go across to the bunkhouse, find out who’s in charge and get them to send a couple of sensible men into town to tell Fuscus what’s going on, and fetch Probus.’

‘Will they send help?’

‘I doubt they’ll get here in time. Tell the rest of the men to round up every sort of weapon they can think of — there should be plenty of scythes and things in the barns — and come over here and surround the exit to the building without making any noise.’

‘What if the slaves are all locked in for the night?’

‘You’ll think of something.’

‘What are you going to do?’

The Medicus straightened his crutches and hitched himself forward. ‘I’m going in for a chat with our so-called investigators,’ he said.

Ruso had intended to wait until the farm slaves were armed and in position before making a move, but a long wait followed by a reverberating crash loud enough to wake the spirit of Severus and all the Senator’s illustrious ancestors told him that the slaves had indeed been locked in, and that Tilla had thought of something.

He hopped back out of the way just as the heavy door creaked open and a head appeared.

‘Calvus!’ he said, guessing in the poor light.

The head swivelled round to face him.

‘Sorry about all the racket,’ he continued. ‘Mind if I come in?’

‘Ruso? What are you doing here?’

‘Bloody crutches,’ said Ruso, ignoring the question. ‘Knocked over some old piece of farm junk out here, sorry. I’ll have to apologize to them in the morning. Can I come in and sit down? This wretched foot’s playing up again.’

Calvus stared at him for a moment, then stepped back. The door opened wider, and Ruso swung in. Calvus closed the door and gave him a shove that nearly sent him flat in the mud.

‘Get over there with the others.’

For the first time, Ruso was able to see what was going on in the parts of the winery that had not been visible through the crack in the door. As he picked his way across the slippery upheaval of the floor he could make out frightened faces watching him from the far wall, lined up behind a pair of looming winepresses very much like the one at home. One of the faces belonged to Flaccus the kitchen-boy. The one that cried out ‘Gaius!’ as he approached was Claudia.

‘You must do something, Gaius!’ she urged. ‘They’re going to murder us one by one if we don’t find Severus’ money!’

Ruso seated himself on the corner of the tank surrounding the first winepress. As he had guessed, Stilo had repeated this afternoon’s hostage trick and was now standing behind the door with a wide-eyed Ennia clutched up against him. A knife glinted at her throat. In front of them, he recognized the slender figure of Zosimus amongst the half-dozen wretched diggers struggling to unearth the money that Calvus and Stilo evidently believed was buried under one of the wine-jars.

‘Don’t just sit there, Gaius!’

‘What would you like me to do?’

‘I don’t know! Think of something.’

‘Well,’ he said casually, ‘I have got the building surrounded by armed men.’

Stilo gave a snort of contempt.

‘For goodness’ sake, Gaius! This is no time for your silly jokes.’

‘Take a look,’ suggested Ruso mildly, wondering if Tilla had them organized yet.

Calvus and Stilo glanced at each other. Before Calvus could take up his suggestion, he added, ‘I’ll order them to let you get away if you give up and release Ennia now.’

‘Bollocks,’ said Stilo.

Calvus’ hand was moving towards the door.

‘Carefully,’ said Ruso. ‘Don’t stick your head out. A slice with a scythe is very hard to stitch up.’

‘He’s bluffing,’ said Stilo.

Ruso grinned. ‘Am I?’

‘It doesn’t matter anyway,’ said Calvus, reaching for the bar and swinging it down to drop into the slot on the far side of the door. ‘When we’re ready to leave, we’ll have plenty of hostages to choose from.’

Stilo smirked at Ruso over Ennia’s shoulder. ‘Didn’t think of that, did you, smartarse?’

Ennia whimpered as he jerked her back towards him.

‘Get on with it, you lot! Keep digging!’

‘They don’t believe you, Gaius!’ hissed Claudia. ‘Think of something else!’

‘Find the money,’ he suggested. ‘Then they’ll go away.’

‘How do we know it’s even here?’ demanded Claudia.

‘Good question,’ agreed Ruso, turning to Calvus. ‘How do you know it’s here?’

‘None of your business,’ said Calvus.

‘You know something?’ said Stilo to Calvus. ‘I never liked that one. Big mouth. Always asking questions.’

‘This isn’t a question,’ said Ruso, hoping Tilla really would have the slaves in position soon. ‘This is a statement. Claudia did not kill Severus. Did she, Ennia?’

‘You know she did!’ gasped Ennia, her voice sounding strangled by the effort of leaning away from the knife. ‘You covered up for her — ow!’ Stilo had shifted his grip again.

‘Keep up the digging, boys,’ urged Calvus as if he were encouraging them in a genteel sport. ‘The sooner you find it, the sooner we’re off.’

‘Yes, keep digging,’ agreed Ruso. ‘After all, Severus did owe these two a large share of it. By the way, what did happen to Justinus on that ship?’

From behind him, Claudia demanded to know what on earth they were talking about.

‘Justinus had an accident,’ said Stilo.

‘What sort of accident?’

By way of answer, Calvus snatched a spade from the nearest digger, stepped across to Ruso and rammed the blade up against his throat. ‘The sort you’re going to have if you don’t shut up.’

‘Don’t hurt him!’ shrieked Claudia.

Ruso leaned away from the cold metal. The mud trickling down his neck smelled of grape juice. ‘I can see why you’re annoyed,’ he said, desperately trying to think what to do next. ‘You went to a lot of bother to earn that money.’ He raised one hand to indicate Ennia. ‘Are you absolutely sure she doesn’t know which pot it’s under?’

He felt a fractional easing of the pressure on his throat. Calvus was looking at him oddly, as if trying to work out how much he knew.

‘You can’t trust her, you know,’ continued Ruso, silently praying that Calvus would be sufficiently intrigued not to finish him off with an angry thrust of the spade. ‘Did you know she poisoned her brother?’

‘I didn’t!’ gasped Ennia.

The spade moved away from Ruso’s throat. As Calvus turned his attention to Ennia, Ruso let out a quiet breath of relief and straightened up, wiping the mud with the back of his hand. He ignored Claudia’s whispered, ‘I knew it. I knew it was her.’

Calvus positioned himself beside Ennia with his back to the wall, keeping the rest of the prisoners in sight, while he said to her, ‘You told me the wife did it.’

‘She did!’

‘Don’t trust her, Calvus,’ warned Ruso, hoping this did not sound as improvised as it felt. ‘She’s a good actress. You should have seen her weeping over the body. She had me fooled for a long time.’ He turned to the diggers. ‘Do keep working, please, gentlemen. I’m sorry I can’t help, I’ve broken a bone in my foot. But the sooner you find the cash that Severus was planning to share with these two, the sooner this will be over and we can all go home to bed.’ He turned back to Ennia. ‘You’re absolutely sure this is where he hid it?’