called his bluff he’d back down.’
‘Ah.’
‘Don’t keep saying “Ah” in that tone of voice. You weren’t here. And anyway, you’d think local magistrates would back a decent farmer against some fly-by-night from Rome, wouldn’t you? Especially since half of them used to spend the evenings lolling round our dining tables pretending to be Father’s friends.’
Ruso was less surprised than his brother seemed to be. Their father had probably borrowed money from most of the local dignitaries at one time or another. Still, no matter how annoyed they might have been, he could not understand how a small squabble had led to bankruptcy proceedings. There was something else that Lucius was holding back. ‘Just tell me the rest and get it over with, Brother. I’ve had a long day and my foot’s aching.’
The pitch of Lucius’ voice rose, as it always did when he was lying. ‘Tell you what?’
‘Whatever it is that turned a row over the cost of a decent amphora of wine into an attempt to ruin us.’
‘It’s not my fault, Gaius!’
Ruso shifted sideways and stretched his leg out along the trunk. ‘I didn’t say it was.’
‘Now you’re thinking, why the hell didn’t he just pay up straight away when we lost the court case?’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘Because we didn’t owe him the money! I’m not rushing round paying people twice just because they lie to us. What do you think I am?’
‘Ah.’
‘Stop saying “Ah”!’
‘What do you want me to say, Lucius? “Never mind”? “Well done”?’
‘How about, “Thank you”? How about, “Thank you, Lucius, for running the farm and looking after the family while I was off playing soldiers and picking up women”?’
Ruso leaned back against the wall. Somewhere beyond the study door, he could hear the sound of children laughing.
‘If you’d sorted out this dowry business when you were asked,’ persisted Lucius, ‘both the girls would be betrothed by now, and we wouldn’t have had half this trouble.’
Ruso, wondering why they were now talking about dowries, said, ‘I was waiting till we had some money.’
‘By the time that happens, nobody will want them,’ retorted Lucius. ‘If they haven’t already died of old age and frustration, as Marcia points out to me several times a day. And I don’t suppose you’ve brought home any spoils of war apart from the girl?’
‘There might have been time to get some if I hadn’t come rushing home to help you.’ Ruso stopped. Arguing with his brother would only waste more time. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Finish telling me what’s going on.’
‘You keep looking at me as if it’s all my fault.’
‘I’m looking at you in the hope that you’ll get on with it.’
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!’
