by Ruth Downie
Lucius scrutinized him for a moment, then grunted what might have been assent. ‘The magistrates gave us thirty days to pay,’ he said. ‘I was going to scrape together the cash and pay at the last possible moment, on principle.’
‘I would have done the same.’
Lucius seemed surprised by this unexpected support. He said, ‘I was about to go over there with the money when he turned up here with a greasy grin on his face and said if we couldn’t pay, he was prepared to come to an arrangement.’
‘What did he want?’
‘Access to Flora.’
Ruso stared at him. ‘Flora? She’s thirteen!’
‘Fourteen, Brother. Keep up. He said at that age in Rome she’d be married. I told him he wasn’t in Rome now and to get out before I set the dog on him.’
‘Right,’ said Ruso. Presumably Severus had no idea that the only way the Petreius’ farm dog would injure anyone would be to lick them raw.
‘After he’d gone I realized he hadn’t taken the money with him.’ Lucius ran one hand over his thinning hair. ‘I know, I know. I should have chased after him and made him take it. But frankly, I didn’t want to go near him. I took it over there the next day, and that was when he said it was too late: he was calling in the whole fifteen thousand and applying to Rome for a seizure order.’
‘Because it was one day late?’
‘One day.’
‘Surely he can’t do that?’
‘He can do whatever he likes. He’s one of the Gabinii. Things have got worse since you’ve been away. These days half the town’s scared of Fuscus, and the other half’s probably on his payroll.’
‘Even so, there must be a loan agreement — ’
‘Severus promised me an extension on the loan months ago, but he never put it in writing. Now he can claim that we’re behind with the payments.’
Ruso shook his head. ‘This is unbelievable.’
‘He was enjoying it,’ said Lucius. ‘I could see it in his face.’
‘And Fuscus knows about this?’
‘Fuscus knows everything.’
‘We need a lawyer.’
Lucius shook his head. ‘I’ve tried. We need a miracle. None of Father’s so-called friends can help even if they wanted to. Seizure orders go up to the Praetor’s office in Rome, and it’s way over their heads. The only thing the lawyer could think of was that, since you’re technically Father’s heir, and you’re — well, you were — sort of away on public service, that might hold everything up.’
It was not difficult to guess now who had forged that letter. Severus had found a way to bring him back so that he could be sued.
Lucius said, ‘Are you sure you can’t pretend you’re not here?’
Ruso put his foot back on the floor and reached for his stick. ‘I’m going to clean up and have dinner,’ he said. ‘In the morning I’ll go and pay a visit to Fuscus.’ He held up a hand to forestall his brother’s objection. ‘I know you’ve already tried, but if he knows I’m home and I haven’t called, he’ll be insulted, and that’ll make everything worse. Then I’m going to find this Severus and ask him what the hell he thinks he’s playing at.’
‘It won’t do any good.’
‘Have you got any better ideas?’
11
Ruso leaned on the balustrade and stood taking in the view from the front porch. The lanky shadows of the pergolas had swung away from the walkways they were built to cover and were now stalking the flowerbeds. He sniffed. The drains needed to be flushed out. Lucius had been letting things go. A bird fluttered out from the ivy covering the wall that Arria had insisted on having raised to separate garden from working farmyard, and swooped to stab at an insect in the dry fountain. Even from this distance, the crack in the side of the pool was obvious, as were the failed attempts to patch it. It was an uncomfortable reminder of the emptiness of the family coffers.
Pretend you don’t know.
That was what he had been doing in Britannia. Lucius was right. He had been finding ways to distract himself from his responsibilities back at home.
A waft of smoke was rising from behind the bath-house. In a moment he would go and sweat out the dirt of travelling. Then, newly clean, he would submerge himself in the cold plunge and hope for inspiration about how to tackle the plans of the Gabinii to extend their empire across his own small farm.
His musing was interrupted by a roar of ‘Sit down!’ from inside the house.
‘From now on, you’ll all sit still and eat with your mouths shut!’ bellowed Lucius, with more fury than logic. ‘The next one to speak will be whipped!’
There was a brief pause, followed by an exasperated ‘You know what I mean!’ Then louder, as if someone had opened a door, ‘Because I’ve had enough! If you won’t discipline them, I will.’
Ruso sighed and told himself it was no use feeling nostalgic for the Army. He supposed he should go and find out what his sisters had done with Tilla, and whether he needed to rescue her from it.
He was reaching for his stick when he sensed a waft of perfume and heard the ominous words, ‘Gaius, dear! We must have a little chat!’
‘Little chats’ with Arria usually consisted of her telling him what she wanted him to do, followed by him explaining why he was not going to do it. ‘Before we start,’ he said, leaning back against the balustrade as if it would support his arguments, ‘have you seen Tilla anywhere?’
‘That girl?’ said Arria in a tone that suggested Tilla was of no more importance than a piece of luggage. ‘Oh, your sisters are showing her around. I don’t expect they have houses like this in Britannia, do they? It must be quite exciting for her.’
Ruso motioned his stepmother towards the stone bench, where they sat side by side in an atmosphere of lavender and drains.
‘I’ve been talking to Lucius,’ he said, ‘about the way things are.’
‘It’s really too dreadful, isn’t it?’
‘It’s very worrying,’ he agreed, relieved that she had at last begun to acknowledge the seriousness of their situation. ‘I’m going to see what I can do to sort it out tomorrow.’
‘Oh do, please,’ she said. ‘Diphilus says it’s because the man who put the fountain in did something to the water. He offered to send somebody to look weeks ago. But no, your brother wanted to do it himself. I said, Lucius, dear, you’re very good at making wine, but what do you know about plumbing? So he lifted some stones up and had a poke about with a stick, but it did no good, and now he says he’s too busy. How can I invite people into the garden? It gives such a terrible impression.’
Evidently his perception of the family’s main problem did not coincide with Arria’s. ‘Who’s Diphilus?’
‘The builder, dear. You remember. The contractor who helped us with the Temple of Diana.’
Fleeced us might have been a better expression, but Ruso was determined not to get into an argument. Not yet, anyway.
‘He’s nearly finished the mausoleum he’s working on,’ she said. ‘If we let him know quickly, he can fit us in for a summer dining extension before he goes on to a big villa contract.’
‘We don’t need a dining extension.’
‘Oh, not a big thing. An outdoor room. You know, with stone couches around three sides and a nice table or two in the middle. Diphilus says it wouldn’t take more than a week to knock up. Your father always said we should have one. Over there, so we can listen to the fountain. When he’s found us someone to mend it, and seen to the drains. Wouldn’t that be nice?’
‘Why don’t we ask the original plumber to come back and fix the fountain?’
‘Because he’s gone off to join the Army, dear.’
Ruso hoped the Army had posted him to somewhere deeply unpleasant.
‘Diphilus is doing us a favour offering to look at it. I’m sure he’ll be very reasonable.’
‘We’ll have a better idea of what we can afford before long,’ said Ruso, determined not to be sucked into discussing details. ‘If any
thing.’ He knew from watching the way she had worked on his father that Arria would interpret any interest as agreement.
‘We don’t have to spend on cushions for the couches yet,’ she assured him, as if that would make all the difference. ‘The staff could bring the old ones out from indoors just to tide us over. I’m sure nobody would mind.’
A picture of a siege engine floated across Ruso’s mind: a great tower lumbering relentlessly forward, its covering of animal hides impervious to all weapons hurled at it by the beleaguered defenders.
‘Actually,’ he said before Arria could start again, ‘money is what I wanted to talk to you about. I haven’t forgotten about the girls’ dowries — ’
‘Oh, the girls can wait.’
‘But we can’t make any decisions till — what did you say?’
‘The girls can wait, dear. Young women are too impatient these days.’
Ruso blinked. Arria had first started harassing him about the dowries over a year ago, and nothing Lucius said had hinted that she had changed her mind. ‘Well,’ he said, aware that his sisters would be furious, ‘I’m glad we’re agreed.’
‘I’ve had a much better idea about how to get you boys out of trouble.’
As usual, Arria was not put off by a wary silence. For some reason she was extolling the virtues of the amphora factory whose land adjoined their own. ‘It’s a marvellous business, you know,’ she said. ‘All the farms need them, and nobody ever brings the empties back.’ When Ruso failed to enthuse she added, ‘Do they?’
‘Not often,’ he said, careful not to show any interest until he knew where this was leading.
‘Well, he’s dead now, so it’s all hers.’
Ruso realized that something relevant must have drifted past him. ‘Who’s dead?’
‘Lollia Saturnina’s husband, dear. Do try and listen. At least a year and a half ago. Now here you are, a handsome young officer, single, just home from the Legions. What could be better?’
There were many things that could be better, but Ruso could not think how to explain what they were.
‘Don’t scowl, Gaius, please. You would be such a nice-looking boy if you tried to look more cheerful. It would be quite a reasonable house with a little care and attention, and it’s not far to move. I was thinking — ’
‘What about Tilla?’
‘The barbarian?’ Arria glanced around in alarm, as if Tilla were about to pounce on her from behind one of the legs of the pergola. ‘I know you didn’t want to be lonely over there, dear, but really — is it fair to bring people like that to a civilized place?’ Leaning closer, she added in a stage whisper, ‘And especially not home with you, Gaius! What were you thinking?’
‘I was thinking you’d make her welcome.’
The painted eyes widened in alarm. ‘Gaius, you haven’t done something very silly, have you?’
‘Frequently.’
‘Tell me you haven’t married her.’
‘She wouldn’t have me,’ he said. ‘She says I’m too foreign.’
‘Foreign? You? Well, thank goodness for that. Now then … I’m sure we can find a nice family to take her on if she doesn’t want to go home.’
‘She doesn’t need a nice family, Arria. She’s got me.’
Arria let out a long sigh that seemed to express weariness not only with her stepson’s present stance, but with past years of argument, obstinacy and mutual incomprehension. ‘Gaius, dear, please try and be sensible.’ She turned away and wiped at an invisible tear with her middle finger. ‘If only your poor father were here to talk to you!’
Ruso folded his arms. ‘Even Father couldn’t imagine that the widow next door is going to welcome the advances of a bankrupt.’
‘But you’re a war hero, dear!’
‘Of course I’m not! You haven’t gone round saying that to people, have you?’
‘Please try, Gaius. It’s for the sake of the family. Poor Lucius has got us all into a dreadful mess, and I can’t think what else we can do, can you? I suppose you could try talking to Claudia, but she doesn’t have much influence over him anyway.’
Ruso was not sure how or why his former wife had appeared in the conversation. Suspecting he was about to be scolded yet again for not listening, he asked, ‘Over who?’
‘That Severus, dear.’
When his face remained blank she said, ‘But surely Lucius told you?’
‘Told me what?’
‘Claudia is married to Severus now.’
Ruso’s astonishment was such that all he could say was, ‘Oh.’ He scratched his ear with his forefinger and pondered this unexpected complication. It was, of course, completely irrelevant. It was also … he was not sure what it was. His own former wife was married to an unscrupulous business agent who was related to the Gabinii. Surely even Claudia had more sense than that? Surely she had more taste?
Surprise was followed by a brief moment of smugness. He had demonstrated — according to Claudia — many faults and failings during their marriage, but wresting land from innocent families and doing deals for the fourteen-year-old sisters of men who owed him money were not amongst them.
‘Claudia was never the right girl for you anyway,’ continued Arria. ‘I always said so. But Lollia is a nice woman. She could run her business — everyone says she’s far better at it than he was — and you could still carry on with your doctoring. She has some very good connections, you know. People who could pay you properly for a change.’
Ruso recalled Valens once suggesting back in Britannia that what he needed was a rich widow. The thought was no less appalling now than it had been two years ago.
‘I’ve told her all about you,’ continued Arria.
‘I see. And have you told her I’m looking for a wife?’
She winced. ‘Oh, dear. I suppose this is what happens when you mix with soldiers all the time. You will have to learn to be more subtle, dear. Now, I’ve invited her for dinner tomorrow night, but when you meet her you mustn’t say a word about what we’ve discussed. We don’t want to frighten her off.’
‘I think it’s more likely to be the other way around.’
The paint on Arria’s lips stretched across a smile. ‘You’ll like her, Gaius. Trust me. I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought you weren’t suited. Now, before you disappear into the bath-house, you must help me choose a menu.’
You must help me choose a menu. Claudia had said that once, early in their marriage. He thought he had done rather well until she told him she would do it on her own next time.
‘I really don’t think this is the time to be holding dinner parties.’
Arria sighed. ‘Gaius, you’re not going to be awkward, are you?’
‘I’m not being awkward, I’m being practical. And I’m never any good at this social chit-chat business anyway.’
‘Never mind, dear. We’ll blame that on the Army. I’ll invite Diphilus; he’s good company. You can ask Lollia about her cough. And do try to look a little happier. She won’t be interested if she thinks you’re sulky. I’ll have your clothes brushed and pressed, and promise me you’ll have a shave and a haircut in the morning. You’re not in Britannia now, you know.’
‘I’m beginning to wish I was,’ said Ruso, remembering with fondness the little room at the top of the steps, with the pot of wild flowers on the windowsill and the mystery products of Tilla’s cooking on the table.
Arria was promising, ‘… chicken in dill sauce, of course, your favourite …’
Was it? Perhaps it had been, once. Doubtless she would be able to tell him exactly where and when he had expressed this rare burst of enthusiasm.
‘… and I’ll ask her to have her cook send over the recipe.’
‘Good,’ said Ruso, having no idea what else Arria had just proposed, and no interest in finding out.
‘You like them too? Lovely! You see, already you both have something in common.’
‘Do we?’
‘Oh, Gaius! Are you listening to anythi
ng I’m saying? Roast testicles!’
‘Roast testicles?’
‘With pepper and pine nuts.’
‘Ah,’ said Ruso.
12
Ruso lay back, feeling a faint breeze from the window cool his skin. This was the first night for weeks that he had gone to bed alone. Tilla had been sleeping when he checked her room an hour ago, but his resolve to let her rest was weakening.
He had planned to introduce her properly this evening when the family gathered for dinner, only to be informed, as the salad was served and the girls turned up without her, that she had ‘gone to play with the children’.
He had found her sitting on the floor of the children’s room, having her hair combed by the nieces. A cheerfully naked toddler was sprawled across her lap, ignoring Galla’s attempts to interest him in the pot.
Tilla took the pot from Galla and set it between her feet. Then she grasped the toddler under both arms, lifted him up and set him on it, facing towards her. ‘There!’ She leaned forward and said to the toddler, ‘We will both sit here and see who can do it first.’
The girls giggled.
‘Ready?’ Tilla asked Little Gaius. She screwed up her eyes, bared her teeth, clenched her fists and made a straining noise that sounded like ‘Nnnnnnnn!’
Little Gaius shrieked and bounced with delight on the pot while the girls cried, ‘She’s making a poo noise! Uncle Gaius, listen! Listen, Galla!’
Ruso was no longer sure she deserved an invitation to dinner, but he was not going to be ignored in favour of his small namesake. ‘Dinnertime,’ he said, realizing that she was still clad in her hot British wool. ‘Didn’t the girls lend you something cooler to wear?’
Unable to turn her head without having her hair pulled, Tilla said, ‘Your stepmother has something yellow for me tomorrow.’
He raised his voice. ‘That’ll have to do, girls. She’s mine now.’ To Tilla he said, ‘Come and get something to eat.’
She stilled the efforts of the nieces by grasping the comb. ‘I have just had a big bowl of broth and half a loaf at the kitchen table. Then they gave me stewed apple and wine with water. What must I eat now?’
