Caveat emptor

60

After the warmth of the heated dining room, Tilla was shivering inside her shawl as they walked down the moonlit street past the deserted meat market. Ruso put his arm around her shoulders. There was almost nobody around to see them apart from a slinking cat and the two guards behind them, who could think what they liked.

Albanus answered their knock at Camma’s house, explaining that the ladies had gone to bed. He had two lamps and a short stump of candle burning on the kitchen table, perilously close to the piles of records he seemed to have spent all evening examining.

“Anything interesting?” said Ruso, more out of politeness than hope.

“Just a moment, sir.” Albanus flicked the beads of the abacus with his left hand and scratched a figure on the wax tablet with his right. Then he frowned at the figure and flicked the beads again but made no alterations to what he had just written. “I do have some questions, sir. Probably very foolish ones but I’m only a schoolteacher, I’m afraid. They seem to have an awful lot of different funds and it’s rather hard to tell what’s where, especially when they seem to keep moving money from one to another.”

Ruso squinted at the tablet. “I don’t know how you can work in this light. Have you found the orphans’ bread and education fund?”

“Oh, yes, sir. And the maintenance of streets fund and the extension to the mansio fund and the fund to pay the municipal slaves and the cost of keeping the guards going. I have to say I didn’t realize how complicated this would be.”

Ruso pointed to the largest figure. “What’s that one?”

Albanus peered at his list, referred to a second list, and said, “That’s the running total for the theater fund, sir, as of last January. I’m sorry I haven’t finished, but Dias came to call and there was a bit of a fuss over getting rid of him.”

Tilla said, “Dias? Here?”

Ruso frowned. “I should have known he wasn’t taking the evening off.”

“He wanted to talk to Grata, sir. She told me to tell him to go away.”

Tilla said, “I knew I should never have left them!”

Albanus visibly bristled. “I got rid of him, sir. The ladies were quite safe.”

Ruso said, “Well done,” just as Tilla said, “How did you do that?”

“Grata ran back into the kitchen, sir, and I stood in his path and told him that if he tried to come past I would be forced to use violence. And then he tried to insult me, and I told him I was a trained legionary acting under the orders of the procurator, and if he didn’t leave straightaway I would report him to you.”

“Excellent,” said Ruso, picturing the scene. “I knew I could rely on you.”

“I think it may have helped when Camma pulled the poker out of the fire and waved it at him,” admitted Albanus. He spread one arm to indicate the piles of documents on the table. “So I’m afraid with all that I haven’t got as far as I would have liked. I was wondering whether you’d mind if I stayed here to finish, sir? Grata’s kindly left me some blankets on the couch.”

Ruso recalled the splendor of Suite Three, where the sheets still retained a faint memory of lavender. “Well,” he said, “if you’re sure you don’t mind staying, Tilla can come back with me.”

Albanus squared his shoulders. “Absolutely not, sir. I think one of us should stay here to look after the ladies.”

Ruso nodded. “Make sure everything’s properly locked up,” he said. “I don’t think he’ll be back, but if he is, don’t tackle him on your own. Shout ‘Fire’ and rouse the neighbors.”

“Fire, sir?”

“Yes. They may not get out of bed for anything else.”

The route Ruso chose toward the mansio took them past Nico’s lodgings. There were no lights visible. He stepped up to the entrance to check that it was secure. There was a thud and a rattle of ironwork. The dog that had hurled itself at the door began to bark.

As they fled down the street with the guards clattering along behind them, Tilla gasped, “Nobody in that house will thank you for making sure he is safe.”

Once his guards had checked the mansio rooms and declared them free of lurking assassins, Ruso dismissed them for the night. “You’ll be safe in here,” he said to Tilla, locking the outside door and picking up the lantern that had thoughtfully been left burning in the hallway. Once inside Suite Three, she stood in silence as he lit more lamps and the simple elegance of his accommodation sprang into view. “You have to admit,” he said, “we’ve come a long way since the damp rooms in Deva.”

“All this is for one man?”

In the confined space he was conscious again of the clear scent of the bluebells. “There’s a dining room and private kitchen as well,” he told her. “But I told them I hadn’t brought my cook.”

“I will go into your kitchen in the morning and start stuffing piglets.”

“Tomorrow,” murmured Ruso, sliding one arm around her waist and plucking the bluebells from her hair, “you can do whatever you like. Tonight, I want you here.”