Caveat emptor

34

Gavo and his companion led Ruso along a street that ran past the back of the Great Hall, a building so huge that he found himself counting paces as he walked alongside it.

He must stop doing that. He was not in the army now.

The natives here had a hall nearly as big as the one down in Londinium. They had their own baths, and he had passed a decent-looking temple on the way in. There wasn’t a round house in sight, and instead of a rabble of painted warriors they had a well-disciplined militia and elected politicians. Now these long-haired men with their jewelry and their trousers were squabbling over the design of their theater. Gods above.

Ahead of him, a couple of women were chatting by a trough. The natives also had clean running water piped to the middle of town. It was a foreign innovation that even Tilla would have to admit was an improvement. In fact-that woman just heaving up a couple of buckets and walking away was Tilla herself.

He recognized the purposeful stride his wife adopted when she was annoyed. As he fell into step and seized a bucket handle, he was greeted with, “I am glad you are here. How can anyone live among these people?”

With some foreboding, he said, “Problems?”

Apparently Tilla’s problem was that the Catuvellauni were a lazy and selfish tribe who knew nothing about honor or decency.

A silversmith closing up his workshop across the road turned to see who was speaking. Ruso glanced back at Gavo, who was a couple of paces behind him. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that they might be deaf, as well.”

“Why are those men following us?”

“They’re my guards.”

As she marched him past a covered market with a couple of dogs sniffing around the entrance, Tilla explained her attempt to persuade the housekeeper back to her old job. “She says nobody else will do it, either, and how can I leave Camma on her own?”

The situation was beginning to sound as bad as he had feared back in Londinium. “How is she?”

“She is tired and upset and the neighbors want to rob her. She says Asper was trying to get them both out of here but he never told her how.”

He glanced at his wife, noting the delicate lines of strain around her eyes. This was definitely not the right time to tell her about Metellus.

He felt a surge of anger with Camma. If he had known the full story at the beginning, he might have been able to sort this business out before Metellus got involved. Now the best he could hope for was to extricate them both without Tilla ever knowing her name had been on that list.

As they passed an expanse of weedy gravel being grazed by a tethered goat, he gave her a version of events in Londinium that gave no hint of Metellus’s involvement. Finally they stopped outside a two-story house where a carpenter was measuring up to replace a splintered door jamb. The man responded to Tilla’s greeting with a grunt of, “It’s a job,” as if he was justifying himself to someone who was not there.

Ruso told his guards to wait outside. Tilla led him down a gap between the house and a bronzesmith’s workshop. “That man should not complain,” she said as he followed her out into a garden where a few scraps of laundry were dripping onto the vegetable patch. “I paid him double to work late so we can lock up when we go to the funeral.” She paused with one hand on the back door. “I told you, nobody wants to help.”

The kitchen smelled of cabbage, which must be what was bubbling under a layer of scum in the pot. Ruso looked around in vain for a more appetizing snack, then pulled a stool up to the table and tried to imagine what it must be like to be the owner of this comfortably appointed house. The chair by the hearth was elegantly carved and the walls had a fresh coat of cream paint with no signs of damp. Asper had done well for himself here.

He had then undermined his success by seducing the wife of a powerful man. Instead of fleeing town with her, he had stayed and carried on his business under the husband’s mustached nose while the unfaithful wife grew large with his own illegitimate child. What sort of man did a thing like that? He couldn’t imagine. Nor could he imagine any innocent reason why the husband might invite Asper to visit him, nor why Asper might take the tax money with him if he were bold enough to accept.

Tilla returned and closed the door quietly. “They are both sleeping in the front room.” She gave the pot a stir and then sat down heavily in the chair by the fire. “She does not want to go to an empty bed.”

“Is she helping, or are you doing all the work?”

Tilla shrugged. “She needs to rest. She has many problems and a baby to look after. Perhaps she will be better after the funeral.”

“You aren’t arranging that as well, are you?”

She stifled a yawn as she said, “The captain of your guards said he would do it in the morning.”

“I’m glad one person’s helping.”

Tilla said, “He is helping because he is embarrassed. We caught him stealing the furniture.”

“Dias?” Ruso wondered if she had misunderstood something. The guard captain was supposed to arrest thieves, not act as one.

“He says Asper owed him money.”

There was a lot here he did not understand himself. “I really need to talk to Camma again.”

“Not now,” she said. “But I have tried to ask her some questions for you.”

It seemed that on the day they disappeared, Asper and his brother had been to work as usual in the morning. A message had arrived just before midday asking them to visit Caratius, and later on they had changed into their best clothes and set off with no luggage and no mention of taxes or guards. As far as Camma knew, they had been planning a trip to Londinium the day after.

“She told him not to go,” Tilla said before he could interrupt, “but he thought it was to agree on a price to pay for the dishonor. He had been waiting for Caratius to ask. She offered to go with him, but he said seeing her would make Caratius even more angry.”

That made sense.

“At home when something like this happens, there is a…’ She paused. “What is the word? Someone who comes in between who does not take sides.”

“Arbiter?” he suggested.

“Yes. He thought there would be somebody there with Caratius. He took Bericus to represent him.”

He said, “Who brought the message?”

Tilla paused. “I think the housekeeper took it. I should have asked her.”

“We can do that later. I want to ask her how the brothers got along, as well. I’ve been told that they argued.”

Tilla nodded. “Bericus said he should stay away from Camma.”

His wife had certainly been busy. He said, “Is it possible the brother took a bribe to attack Asper and then run away?”

Tilla shrugged. “Camma says no, but I do not know the man.”

“And if he did,” he said, “where did the tax money go?”

“Perhaps it was the brother’s reward.”

“Really? How much do you imagine it costs to get someone murdered in a place like this?”

“At home it can be done for two cows. If you know the right person.”

She might have been discussing the price of a loaf of bread.

“Here, they are greedy. And a brother would cost a lot more.”

“Even so,” he said, “it can’t possibly run to seven thousand denarii.”

“Who knows?” She shrugged. “Perhaps Caratius and the brother shared it. Perhaps both brothers are dead and Caratius has it.”

“Or it’s gone to someone else entirely. This is getting us nowhere.”

There was a thump and the rasp of a saw from the front of the house. The carpenter had cheered up. He was whistling.

Tilla gestured toward the pot of cabbage. “I spent most of the money getting the door mended, but there is food. Will you stay for supper?”

He shook his head, feeling guilty about the luxury of Suite Three while his wife was struggling to run a house, comfort the bereaved, and boil cabbage. He said, “I’ll ask the manager at the mansio if his wife knows a housekeeper.” He paused, realizing he had almost failed to pass on a major piece of news. “You won’t believe this, but Serena’s here.”

“I know this.”

“Her cousin’s married to the chap who runs the-what?”

“Valens told me this morning. He asked me to talk to her. I said he must talk to her himself.”

“You might have warned me!”

She said, “I forgot. But when there is time I will go and say hello.”

At the moment, they both had bigger things to worry about. Digging into his purse for some of the money Valens had loaned him earlier this afternoon, he tipped it onto the table and then got to his feet. “I have to go.”

“So soon?”

He bent and kissed her on the forehead. He wondered if she really was carrying his child this time. It was too soon to tell. “Get an early night,” he told her. “It’ll be a difficult day tomorrow.”

“Will you come to the funeral?”

“I’ll try,” he promised. “You never know, I might have some answers by then. Caratius has invited me to dinner.”

“Caratius? I will pray to Christos and his father to keep you safe.”

“If you must. But he’s not going to do anything to a procurator’s man.”

“If he thinks you suspect-”

“He won’t,” he promised. “Besides, I’ve got two guards and the other magistrate knows I’m going there.”

She called across the kitchen, “What if the guards are working for him?”

“Of course they aren’t,” he assured her as he stepped out into the garden, not wanting her to worry.

When he emerged into the street, the guards stationed themselves one on each side of him. It occurred to him that these men worked for the Council of which Caratius was a senior member. There was no need for Tilla to worry, because he could do enough worrying for himself.