Ruso and the Root of All Evils

52

Ruso surveyed the household lined up along the porch in an awkward parody of the welcome he had received only a few days before. This time nobody was looking cheerful. Lucius was striding up and down and muttering to himself despite being ordered to stand still. Arria and the girls looked bewildered, Galla pale and even the nieces and nephews were temporarily overawed by the presence not only of Calvus and Stilo, but of four grim-faced men armed with clubs. Ruso recognized a couple of them as Fuscus’ men. Try as he might, Ruso could not imagine Fuscus had sent them to protect the family of his dear departed friend Publius Petreius.

Evidently the staff did not like the look of the Fuscus thugs either. The cook was clutching a saucepan as if it were a weapon. The kitchen-boy and Arria’s maid seemed to be trying to hide behind him. The bath-boy was a picture of drooping misery, and the cleaning girl and the laundrymaid were standing with heads bowed, each seemingly examining the reddened hands clasped in front of her for some explanation of why this was happening.

The stable lad scurried in through the yard gate and ran up the steps to join the others, trailing a strong whiff of embrocation in his wake. The nine farm labourers, not usually allowed to enter the house, hesitated down on the path.

‘And you lot,’ ordered Calvus. ‘Up you go.’

The men looked variously at Calvus, at Ruso and at Lucius, evidently not sure whom to obey.

Ruso moved forward. ‘Go and stand next to the other staff,’ he ordered them, counting the line to make sure nobody was missing except the two women who were at this moment heading into unsuspected trouble in Arelate.

He made his way down the steps and turned to address his household. ‘These men have come to ask us all some questions about the visitor who died here the other day,’ he said. ‘They’re representing the Senator, and I want you to answer them as fully and as truthfully as you can.’

He turned to Calvus, whose long dark eyes were surveying the family with an expression that reminded Ruso of a predator choosing its next meal. He said, ‘You can use the study when you’ve finished inspecting it,’ and, lowering his voice as he drew closer, added, ‘My people are witnesses. They’ll do their best to help you, but most of them don’t know a thing. They don’t need to be frightened and they certainly don’t need to be hurt.’

Calvus raised one eyebrow. ‘What an interesting idea.’

It occurred to Ruso that what the man lacked in height he made up for in arrogance. ‘You didn’t need to bring a bunch of thugs with you.’

‘The suspect telling me how to carry out the investigation.’

‘It’ll never catch on,’ said Stilo.

Ruso felt his muscles tense. He made a conscious effort to relax his shoulders before saying, ‘I’m warning you not to do anything you’ll regret later when you find out the truth.’

‘Nice of you to care,’ said Calvus. ‘But I’ve been in this business a long time — ’

‘A very long time,’ put in Stilo.

‘I’ve been in this business a very long time,’ repeated Calvus, ‘and I don’t often suffer from regret.’

Ruso turned on his heel and limped away towards the garden seat. If he did not put himself out of reach of Calvus immediately, he would hit him. And that would do his case no good at all.