Caveat Emptor

by Ruth Downie

  “We’ll just have to do this as quickly as we can,” said Ruso, handing him the next box. “It doesn’t matter if he sees us checking the totals: That’s what we’re here for. What’s that one?”

  “Wages, sir. Three bags, all sealed, some loose coins … I’m looking for three hundred and … that’s right. This is all very reassuring, sir.”

  “Good,” said Ruso, not feeling in the least reassured. He was trapped in a cold dark hole whose door could only be opened from the outside, and he was looking for something to incriminate the commander of the man who was standing at the top of the steps with the key. He put the wages box back at the right-hand end of the shelf and went on to the next one.

  As they progressed along the shelf, Ruso tried not think about what he was handling. There was more money in here than he had ever seen in his life. What a man could do with this! He would have power. He would have choices. He would no longer be compelled to go anywhere to earn a living.

  Albanus caught him musing over a bag from the theater fund, a deposit that spread to three heavy boxes. “Tempting, isn’t it, sir?”

  “Let’s not think about it,” said Ruso hastily. “The sooner we get out of here, the happier I shall be.”

  Before long all the boxes and bags had been moved from left to right and had proved to contain more or less what Albanus had been expecting. “That’s rather pleasing, isn’t it, sir?”

  “I’m glad you think so,” said Ruso. “I was hoping for an extra seven thousand.”

  “You think Nico signed the tax money out and then brought it back?”

  “Put that way,” admitted Ruso, “it doesn’t seem very likely.”

  Albanus was leaning around the door again. “I can see Gavo up there, sir. He’s talking to the other guard.”

  “Right. We need to do this quickly.” Ruso chose the position where the light was best, crouched to check that he could not be seen from outside, and sat with his legs stretched out on the cold floor and his back against the shelving. He unsheathed his knife. “Throw me over a bag from the ‘Orphans.’ ”

  The heavy little bag landed in his palm with a chink. “Sir, are you sure you can see what you’re doing?”

  “No,” said Ruso, prizing open the lid of the seal box, “but I’m going to give it a try.” The coins that cascaded into his lap glistened like a shoal of silver fish.

  “It’s true what they say about metal, sir, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “That it reflects its own color. Whereas everything else shiny just looks white. If we got some gold out—”

  “I’m not checking the bloody gold as well.” Ruso grunted, placing a coin on his palm and rocking it from side to side so the light caught the edges of the design. After the tenth coin he scooped them all up in his hand, tipped them back into the bag, and retied the cord. “I haven’t got time to do them all. That one can go back.”

  Albanus picked up the wax candle. Meanwhile Ruso removed his left boot and took the seal ring from his middle toe.

  Albanus glanced out the door before whispering, “It’s as well the guards didn’t search us properly, sir.”

  “They’re worried about us taking things out,” said Ruso, reaching for the candle. “Not bringing them in. I just hope I’ll know what I’m looking for when I see it.”

  Albanus cleared his throat. “Do you mind me asking exactly what you are looking for, sir? I mean, there wouldn’t be much point in them hiding the forged money down here, would there? They’d want to take it somewhere they could spend it.”

  Ruso, busy resealing the bag, did not reply.

  Albanus reached behind him and lifted the lid of the box labeled, “Road and Building Maintenance.” He was working the knot open from beneath the seal on the first bag when Albanus observed, “You know, sir, this is very odd.”

  Another shower of silver fell into Ruso’s lap. “I’ll say.”

  Albanus squinted at the holes in the seal box of the first bag and threaded one end of the cord through. “I don’t mean the being down here, sir. I mean keeping the money separate like this.”

  “Really? It seems quite sensible to me.”

  “But it’s completely unnecessary. It’s just a lot of extra work. If you know how much is in here, you just leave it all together and keep some working cash and separate records upstairs in the warm. That way you don’t have to come trotting down here in the dark every time the Council decides to give two sesterces to the orphans.”

  Ruso stared at him. Then he abandoned the knot and tossed the bag across. “Seal that one up, Albanus. We’ve been looking in the wrong place.”

  He found it in the theater fund: the oldest bags, faintly damp and dated from before Asper had even arrived in town. At least half the coins in the first bag he checked seemed to have blurring around the s of “Hadrianus.” The second seemed so full of forgeries that he began to wonder if his eyesight was failing in the poor light. “That’ll do,” he said, handing the bag across to Albanus for resealing. “Let’s get out of here. I’m—” He stopped. Someone was coming down the steps.

  Albanus gave a squeak of panic and dropped the candle, which went out. The door hinges shrieked and Albanus cried out as the heavy oak door crashed into his arm.

  A hefty figure in chain mail filled the doorway. “Sorry, sirs,” it said. “But I’ve been told to come and get you. Something’s happened.”

  64

  R USO RECOGNIZED GALLONIUS’S slaves among the men gathered outside Nico’s lodgings. Inside, the landlady looked at him and Albanus through eyes that were red and swollen. Ruso said, “What happened?”

  She shook her head as if she could not bear to speak and blew her nose on a scrap of soggy linen.

  “Are you all right? You’re not hurt?”

  Another shake of the head. She pointed to the stairs. “Everyone’s up there, sir.”

  It was not a big room and Gallonius and the doctor had already occupied what space there was beside the bed. Between them, Ruso glimpsed Nico looking more peaceful than he had ever known him to look. The doctor was busy explaining Nico’s mysterious illness to Gallonius, concluding, “So I gave him something to help him sleep.”

  Gallonius’s deep voice lent just the right tone of gloom to, “A tragedy.”

  Ruso stepped across to the empty brazier in the corner. The metal was still warm. He said, “He’s been murdered.”

  The doctor groaned. “You again.”

  “We’ve had a tragedy, Investigator,” Gallonius explained. “The quaestor was ill, took a sleeping potion, and was overcome by fumes from the brazier.”

  Ruso squeezed past him to get to the window. “He must have come in this way,” he said, examining the edge of the shutters. The dog that had been indoors last night was back on its chain in the yard. It gave a hoarse bark, as if it had worn itself out already. The ground was too hard to betray any footprint of a ladder, but, “You can see where he’s forced the latch.”

  The doctor said, “Magistrate, please have this man removed. He does nothing but interfere.”

  Ruso said, “He wouldn’t have gotten past the dog if he’d come through the house.”

  The doctor said, “As I was saying, sir—”

  “Somebody tried to kill me the same way last night.”

  “What?” Gallonius turned around as fast as a man his size could manage.

  Ruso explained. “The guards are over there now questioning the staff.”

  Gallonius looked shaken. The doctor looked sorry that the attempt had not succeeded. “You’re suggesting somebody climbed in through the window here carrying a brazier full of hot coals? You don’t think the dog and half the neighbors would have noticed?”

  “The brazier was already in here. All the killer had to do was bring up a few lit coals and arrange the others round them. Nico was doped, so he wouldn’t have woken up.”

  The doctor squared his shoulders. “Are you saying this was my fault?”

  “No,” said Ruso
. “He wasn’t ill, but he was very anxious. I’d have prescribed some light reading and given him a sleeping potion myself.”

  The doctor gave a sigh of exasperation. “If you hadn’t interfered, he would have been less anxious.”

  “Yes,” said Ruso. “I know.”

  “The investigator was just doing his job,” insisted Albanus.

  “Quite,” put in Gallonius. “I have no words left to express how appalled I am by this latest news, Investigator. But there’s no need to jump to conclusions here.” He moved a little sideways to allow Ruso a better view of the bed. “Look underneath.”

  Anticipating nothing more than a brush and a chamber pot, Ruso crouched. Brush and chamber pot were still in place, but in front of them was a familiar-looking linen bag filled with something that made it bulge in odd places. He dragged it out, blowing off the dust that had accumulated under the bed. The seal had been broken but a small bone tag was still threaded on the cord. It bore the message: “Satto, the kalends of July.”

  “If those bags inside are correctly labeled,” said Gallonius, “we’re looking at over seven thousand denarii.”

  Ruso whistled softly. “The missing money.”

  “So he did have it!” exclaimed Albanus. “Well done, sir!”

  “He didn’t find it,” pointed out the doctor. “I did.”

  Ruso tightened the drawstring on the bag. “Who opened it?”

  The doctor said, “It was already open.”

  Gallonius said, “The doctor was just explaining his findings. Perhaps you’d like to finish?”

  “Certainly,” agreed the doctor, addressing the magistrate and pointedly ignoring Ruso. “As I said, my patient had become more and more anxious over the business of the stolen money. I had already prescribed treatment for a range of symptoms and yesterday I found the investigator here harassing him, pretending a knowledge of medicine and insisting he was not ill at all. Afterward my patient begged me for some potion to allow him to sleep. I left him with a harmless amount of poppy juice. Later that night it seems he closed the shutters and lit the brazier that the investigator admits was already in the room. Then he took the medicine and deliberately lay down to die.”

  “Tragic,” declared Gallonius, looking down at the figure on the bed. “Thank you, Doctor. The investigator and I will carry on from here.” He glanced at Ruso. “A word in private, if you will.”

  The doctor snapped his case shut. Albanus shot an anxious glance at Ruso, who murmured, “It’ll be all right. I’ll be down in a moment.”

  After a confusion of footsteps had retreated down the stairs, Gallonius said, “Well, at least we’ve found the money, Investigator. It’s very embarrassing to find it was our own quaestor. As I’ve already said, I’m sorry we had to trouble the procurator’s office.”

  “You think Nico stole it?”

  Gallonius glanced around the room. “A man living in these shabby lodgings, handling large sums of money every day … when Nico realised Asper and his brother had left with no guards, the temptation was too much. He must have paid some ruffians to attack them on the road, stolen the money, and hidden it in his room. Then after you began to close in on him, he realized there was no escape.” He glanced from brazier to window. “There was nobody climbing in with lit coals, Investigator. This was a suicide.”

  It was all more or less plausible, but none of it fit either with Ruso’s impression of Nico or with what he had said yesterday.

  “Nico was in a position of trust,” Gallonius continued. “He couldn’t live with the shame of having betrayed his people. He left the money where it could be found and did the honorable thing.”

  Ruso said, “I want that coin tested by the money changer.”

  Gallonius frowned. “It’s already been tested: You can see the tags.”

  “Even so.”

  “I’ll call the guards and have it taken over.”

  “No,” said Ruso. “We both need to keep it in sight until Satto gets it.”

  Gallonius raised his eyebrows.

  “This way,” said Ruso, not wanting to raise the subject of forgery, “nobody can tamper with it.”

  “Very well.” Gallonius grunted as he pushed the heavy bag of coins across the floor with his foot. “While it’s being checked, I’ll call an emergency meeting of the Council and announce the news. I’m sure they will want to thank you for your efforts. And Caratius certainly should.”

  “I still haven’t finished.”

  “But what is there left to do? You helped us flush out the real thief and we have our money back.”

  “Somebody tried to murder me.”

  “Obviously some madman who feels he has a grudge. Our men will look into it. But for your own safety, you and your wife should go straight back to Londinium as soon as you’ve reported to the Council.”

  “But …”

  Gallonius took him by the arm. “I insist, Investigator. You’ve done an excellent job for us, we have our money back, and we don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  65

  S IR,” WHISPERED ALBANUS as they followed Gallonius and his entourage of slaves and guards along the street toward the Forum, “if that man killed himself, I’m the emperor Augustus.”

  Ruso glanced around to make sure Gavo was still following at a distance where their conversation would be covered by the bustle in the street. “I don’t trust any of these people,” he said. “I’ve just been given another order to shut up and go away, and I want Tilla safely out of here. Would you go to the mansio and make sure she’s ready to leave?”

  “What about the other women, sir?”

  “You can’t go around defending every woman you meet, Albanus.” Before the clerk could object he said, “Slow down and let the guards catch up.”

  As Gavo drew closer Ruso turned and explained that Albanus was going somewhere else and would not need protection.

  Moments later Ruso watched the guards mark his clerk’s departure down a crowded street. Even though he knew that nobody would murder either of them in the middle of town in daylight, the loss of his only ally made Ruso feel curiously vulnerable.

  * * *

  As they entered the Great Hall, Ruso was conscious of the babble of noise fading away. People turned to watch as magistrate and investigator made their way first down into the strong room, and then across the hall to Satto’s office carrying yet more bags of cash. Ruso was briefly grateful for the protection of his guards. Anyone bold enough to approach was blocked by a large man in chain mail. Anyone daring to call out a question—“Have you found our money?” or, “Is it true about the quaestor, sir?”—was fended off by Gallonius’s “We’ll be making an announcement later.”

  Satto looked up in horror as several guards marched into his office, turned his own men out, and announced to the annoyed patrons in the queue that the money changer was closed until further notice. He was even more outraged by the demand that he perform an instant examination of numerous bags of coins, most still sealed and some old and faintly damp, that already bore his own tag. “Whose idea is this?”

  “The investigator’s,” said Gallonius.

  “What for?”

  “We’ll be making an announcement later,” Ruso told him. “Make sure you keep the two sets of bags separate, will you? Otherwise you’ll wreck the system.”

  While Satto got to work, Gallonius went off to organize his emergency Council meeting. Ruso unlocked Asper’s office. He sat in the chair that Julius Asper would have sat in, leaned his elbows on the desk where Julius Asper would have leaned them, and wondered if this was how Julius Asper had felt when he realized what was going on.

  When the knock on the door finally came, he was tempted not to respond. To spin out these last few moments of peace for as long as possible. Then the rapping grew louder and he heard Dias announce, “Visitor for you, sir,” and in response to his, “Who is it?” one of the last voices he had expected to hear replied, “It’s me, Ruso. Can somebody tell me what o
n earth is going on?”

  Ruso almost fell over the desk in his hurry to open the door. “Valens! What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Frankly,” said Valens, seating himself on Asper’s desk as Ruso shut the door behind him, “I have no idea. There’s nothing wrong with Marcus. Did Tilla put you up to this?”

  “Up to what?”

  “Writing to say my son was ill. I’ve just ridden up here like the wind only to find that nobody’s expecting me, the place is in chaos, half the staff are in tears, and my wife’s too busy fussing about Tilla to bother thanking me. So the guard fellow with the dangly bits in his hair brought me over to ask you what the hell’s going on.”

  “What’s the matter with Tilla?”

  “I don’t know. Albanus caused some panic because he came to find her, but she’d already gone off somewhere to meet you.”

  “I told her to stay with Serena!”

  “Yes, but then you sent a couple of chaps in chain mail to fetch her.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “No? And you didn’t send me an urgent letter, either? Well, obviously somebody’s got it all arse about face.” He stopped. “Is there something the matter? Where are you rushing off to?”

  Dias wasn’t expecting to be grabbed by the throat. He wasn’t expecting to have his fancy hairstyle slammed back against the wall and Ruso yelling in his face, “Where’s my wife?”

  Dias’s spear clattered to the floor. He looked stunned. Ruso heard his own voice echoing around the hall. There were hands grabbing him, hauling him backward. People were clustering around. Dias was stepping away from the wall and rubbing the back of his head.

  “Where is she?” Ruso yelled, struggling to free his arms and stay on his feet. “What have you done with my wife?”

  Dias looked up. “I don’t know anything about your wife.”

  “Yes you do, two of your men took her!”

  Valens was there now, approaching with his hands held up in a gesture that was supposed to be calming. “Steady on, now, old chap. There’s no need to go attacking people.”