Caveat emptor

74

The governor and the procurator’s departments are cooperating,” explained Metellus, perhaps sensing Ruso’s bewilderment.

Was that a faint expression of distaste on the procurator’s face, or just the discomfort of breathing inside cracked ribs? He said, “The governor has kindly offered Metellus’s help with some of the tidying up after this Verulamium business.”

Ruso swallowed.

“Metellus and I have both read your report,” the procurator continued, “which leaves us reassured about relations between the Catuvellauni and the Iceni, but unfortunately since you let the presence of your wife compromise your inquiry, we’re now in a rather delicate position.”

Ruso said, “She happened to be working there as a midwife, sir,” but neither man seemed interested.

“The Catuvellauni are trusted allies,” said Metellus.

“They demonstrate to the other tribes the rewards of cooperation with Rome,” added the procurator.

As if they had rehearsed their parts, Metellus said, “The governor wouldn’t like to take any action that might upset them, or look as though we’re threatening the independence of Verulamium.”

“However,” continued the procurator, “since you’ve brought this forgery business to our attention, we can hardly ignore it.”

It seemed that Ruso’s uncovering of a capital crime had caused them a major inconvenience. He said, “The men called Dias and Rogatus have murdered four people between them, sir. And I’m willing to bet that the magistrate Gallonius knew all along. He was definitely providing the silver for the false coins.”

“As I said, we have read the report.”

“The murders aren’t anything to worry about,” said Metellus. “Just the natives quarreling among themselves. I know they tried to suffocate you with a brazier, Ruso, but there’s not enough credible evidence to make a case.”

“But if you interview the mansio staff-”

“We don’t want to be accused of interfering.” The procurator winced as he reached for the notes on his desk. “We might have executed the three of them for forgery, but according to your report, you’ve already informed the locals on my behalf that the forgers were”-he ran one finger down the notes-“two men called Asper and Nico, who are already dead.”

“I didn’t tell them that directly, sir, I only said-”

“It doesn’t matter what you said,” put in Metellus. “What matters is what they think they heard.”

“If we start arresting other people now,” said the procurator, “it’s going to look as though we don’t know what we’re doing.”

“And if you don’t deal with them, sir,” put in Ruso, “they’re going to think they can get away with anything they like.”

“Apparently they can,” said Metellus. “All they have to do is appear to threaten our investigator’s wife, and he’ll do whatever they want.”

Ruso felt his fists clench. He addressed the procurator. “I did my best under the circumstances, sir.”

The procurator sighed. “I’m disappointed in you, Ruso. When you had the sense to tell me you weren’t an investigator, I assumed you were an intelligent man.”

Metellus glanced up. “Why did you say you weren’t an investigator, Ruso?”

“Because I wasn’t!” snapped Ruso. “And I’m never doing it again, either. It’s nothing but lies and deceit and making people even more miserable than they are already. Now if you’ll excuse me, sirs, I have patients to attend to.”

It was rude and disrespectful and probably pompous as well, but he managed to get out of the door with his head held high. Somehow that was all that mattered.

He was through the building site that was supposed to be a garden and halfway across the courtyard before he heard someone calling his name. The chain-mailed form of Dias was looking at him across the back of a familiar-looking horse.

Ruso said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Escorting the tax money,” said Dias. “Like I usually do. Haven’t you heard? We’re the town that always pays up.”

“I could say a few other things about your town.”

“Ah,” said the guard, slackening the horse’s girth, “but who’d listen? Have you thought any more about that job offer?”

Ruso glanced around, then took hold of one side of the bridle. “Since nobody’s listening,” he said, “tell me something. I can see what Gallonius got out of it, with his town house and his country estate and all his jewelry. But you’re no fool, and you’re not all that rich, either. Where did your share go?”

Dias grinned. “You think I’m no fool, but you’re asking me to incriminate myself?”

“What can I do about it?” asked Ruso. “Asper and Nico are getting the blame for everything. The procurator won’t go after you now.”

Dias considered that for a moment, then lowered his voice. “You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

“Right now, I’d believe almost anything.”

“Gallonius paid the engraver. But I had to pay Rogatus for the metalwork and a bit of occasional help.”

“Like attacking my wife?”

“I’m not proud of that,” said Dias. “But it was for a good cause. Most of the money went toward the lads.”

“You did it for the guards?” Ruso was taken aback.

Dias sighed. “You’ve got no idea, have you?”

“No.”

“Decent uniforms. Good kit. Proper pay. A man doesn’t have to be a Roman citizen to appreciate things like that.”

“They could join the army.”

Dias snorted. “And be treated like dirt? My people have been allies of Rome for generations, and you know how much our lads get paid if we join up to fight for you?”

“Auxiliaries’ wages,” conceded Ruso, knowing they were nowhere near what a legionary would receive.

“Meantime we’re paying tax to keep your men over here, and what do we see for it?”

“The army keeps the peace,” said Ruso, repeating the official line.

“In the North, maybe,” conceded Dias. “But when Verulamium needs to show a sharp edge to the neighbors, they send a bunch of old men with a blind fourteen year old in charge.”

“Our men came to help. You didn’t even know the Iceni were on the way.”

Dias was not listening. “You lot haven’t changed since you ran and left a bunch of civilians to face Boudica. Well, we learned something from her, even if you didn’t. We learned that we can’t rely on you. If the other tribes come looking for trouble, we’ve got to be able stand and fight for ourselves.” Dias vaulted up onto the horse and turned its head toward the gateway. “We could’ve taken those Iceni.”

Ruso did not doubt it. The man was a good leader, and shrewd enough to know that Rome would always put its own interests above those of its allies. He had cast himself in the role of a warrior, and he was doing what tribal warriors had always done: defending his people. Dias was almost a hero. What was a little stolen money here or there? Nobody really needed a theater, did they?

It sounded so reasonable. So honorable… until he watched the scarlet braids disappear among the rest of the traffic in the street and thought of Camma lying in the rain, and Julius Asper, and the ravaged body of Bericus, and the sleep from which Nico-and so nearly he and Tilla-had never woken.

Ruso strode back across the ruined garden and under the walkway. Swinging into the corridor, he almost collided with the expenditure clerk and barely stopped to wait for “Come in!” before bursting into Firmus’s office.

“You can’t arrest those three for forgery or murder,” he said, “but you’re responsible for inspecting milestones and tightening up on travel and transport, right?”

Firmus blinked. “Yes.”

“Does that include the Imperial post?”

“I suppose so.”

“And interfering with the Imperial post is a serious offense, yes?”

“Of course.”

“That’s how we nail Rogatus. Talk to Publius up at the mansio. Say you had an anonymous tip-off about people abusing the system and you want to help him clean it up. Dias is probably involved too, but if you can’t get him that way, have somebody check all the records of the Third Brittones. You may be able to get him for faking a medical discharge.”

Firmus’s eyes were bright. “And the magistrate-Gallonius?”

“I don’t know,” confessed Ruso. “He’s overcharging the mansio for supplies, but that’s not illegal. Maybe Metellus can come up with something.”

“It’s worth a try.” Firmus got to his feet. “Stay around in case my uncle wants to talk to you.”

Ruso doubted that the procurator would want to talk to him ever again, but he supposed he should comply. Thus he was standing on the edge of the governor’s landing stage and wondering whether any of the ships moored farther down the glistening Tamesis would take him back to Gaul when a figure materialized beside him. Metellus wanted a quiet word.

There was only one word Ruso wanted to hear from Metellus. “Is my wife’s name off that list?”

“I can’t forget what I know, Ruso.”

“Then I’m not interested in anything else you have to say.”

“I’m sorry you see it that way,” said Metellus. “I wanted to thank you. And to explain one or two things.”