Ruso and the Root of All Evils

vital that they were locked after dark, because of the monsters.

Until now he had never thought to wonder how the monsters had installed themselves in the cupboard — or in Lucius’ mind — in the first place. They even had names: Gobbus was a male monster with matted hair, green teeth and breath that smelled of rotten eggs; Mogta was his sister, or perhaps his wife — their precise relationship, being of no interest to seven- and nine-year-olds, was never defined. What was clear was that Mogta liked to slide her sharp fingernails into the soft flesh of small boys in the night, and then skin them alive while they cried for their mothers.

As he watched the shadow of the cupboard breathing against the pale wall with the drifting of the lamp flame, it occurred to Ruso that the monsters must have appeared at around about the time a winter fever had taken away their own mother. Lucius had lain in this room with the same fever for what seemed like weeks, although it had probably only been a few days. The house had been full of weeping and strangers. Adults whom Ruso did not recognize, but who knew his name, told him how sorry they were and how brave he was being.

Nobody except Ruso had time to listen to a small boy’s tales of what he had seen coming out of the cupboard in the fevered night. To Ruso’s shame, he had found it funny — until Lucius kept him awake, crying and cuddling up to him for comfort. Then he veered between sympathy — now their mother was gone it was his job to protect his little brother — and exasperation. In fact, he had felt then much as he felt now. Except that this time the monsters were real.

Gobbus no longer lived in the cupboard but on the Senator’s estate down the road, and there was no locking him away now. Ruso wondered if even Lucius appreciated just how serious this seizure business was.

If the Praetor in Rome ruled in favour of Severus, the household would be turned off the land they had worked for decades. The men who had been cutting the grapes this afternoon would be put up for auction. Galla, the new cook, the ancient bath-boy who had been stoking the fire since Ruso was a child … all would be sold off to the highest bidder along with Arria’s treasured tables and couches and cushions.

As for the family — his sisters would have to find husbands where they could: old goats perhaps, but unlikely to be rich ones. Lucius would have to look for work as a farm manager, one step up from slavery.

After the sale, the profits would be divided up between the creditors. Given the size of the debts, it was obvious that no one would get as much as he was owed — and that was when the real trouble would begin. Lucius might be able to wriggle out of it, because technically it was Ruso who was their father’s heir. It was Ruso who would fail to pay off the balance of the debts. It was Ruso who would be declared infamis: the disgraced man with no rights, no legal standing, no money, no good name …

Despite the warmth of the room, Ruso felt a sudden shiver run down his back. No good name … how could a man who was infamis serve as an officer in the Army?

He lay back, eyes wide, staring at the shadowed ceiling as if he had never seen it before. His contract with the Twentieth ran out in January. The Legate would never bring shame upon the Legion by reappointing a dishonoured man. If Ruso could not persuade this Severus to drop the case, he might never get another posting back to Britannia. If Tilla wanted to go home, he would not be able to take her. Severus had not only enticed him home: he had trapped him here.

He tensed, sensing movement outside the door. The latch clicked, and someone entered the room.

‘Your stepmother does not like me,’ announced Tilla.

One of his hands made contact with hers in the dark. He heard a shuffle of fabric. When she slid into the bed and pressed her back against his chest, she was naked.

‘I thought you were asleep,’ he murmured, sliding one hand around her waist.

‘Your stepmother is spying on me,’ she said. ‘There is a slave sleeping outside my door.’

He shifted one leg so it lay between hers and said, ‘Perhaps in case you need anything.’

‘I do not think so.’

‘No,’ he agreed.

She wriggled. ‘You are too hot.’

‘You’re lovely and cool.’

‘You did not tell them about me.’

‘I should have,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’

She rolled over to face him. ‘Are you ashamed of me?’

‘No.’

‘I have wrong clothes and funny hair.’

‘So do I.’

She said, ‘Your sisters are taking me shopping tomorrow. They said I must ask you for money.’

‘Your hair can’t be that funny, then. They’re very particular.’

She seemed to think about that for a moment, then she said, ‘What did your brother say about the letter?’

He had expected her to be angry when she found out about the forgery. Instead she said, ‘I think the gods have made this wicked man write to you. Now you are here, you can help your brother to fight him.’

If only it were that simple. ‘He’s from a powerful family,’ he explained. ‘And he can use the law to back him up.’

‘I will help you.’

He was not going to tell her that there was nothing she could do to help, and that bringing her here had been a huge mistake. She did not need to know that, if the wicked man won, they would not be able to return to Britannia together. Instead he bent forward to kiss her, feeling her hair brushing against his face in the darkness, and tried to think of something else to talk about.

Only as he was halfway through ‘Arria thinks I should save the family by marrying the rich widow next door’ did he realize that Tilla might not find it funny. When she said nothing he added, ‘But I said, “What about Tilla?” ’

The silence from the other side of the bed told him that he was digging himself further into a hole.

Outside, he heard the faint cry of a child and more footsteps. He had a sudden memory of Cass’s brother scrambling down that corridor on all fours with two of the nephews on his back squealing, ‘Faster, faster!’

‘Tilla,’ he said, clutching at a new subject, ‘while we were travelling, do you remember anybody saying anything about a ship called the Pride of the South?’

She did not, nor did she seem interested until he explained about Cass’s brother. ‘She is the one who sent you the gloves and the socks and the olives?’

‘Yes.’ Justinus’ ship had vanished back at the beginning of the summer. Cass was right: it was very odd that Probus had turned up here just a couple of weeks ago to ask if he were still alive. Perhaps Probus had heard some kind of rumour about his lost ship and was trying simultaneously to follow it up and keep it quiet. It was typical of the man that he had not considered the effect of his inquiries on the dead man’s sister. He said, ‘Probably nobody will ever know what happened to him.’

‘It is a sad way to lose a brother, far from home.’

‘I’d like to get over to Arelate and ask around, but I need to get into Nemausus first thing tomorrow so I can try and stave off this bloody court case.’ He sighed. ‘Then I need to find some work. Even if this Severus is prepared to settle, we’ll have next to no cash left for the rest of the bills. The whole thing is a mess.’

‘You are tired,’ she said, slipping her hand into his. ‘Everything will seem better in the morning.’

‘Perhaps.’ Perhaps not.

She moved his hand up and placed it on her breast. ‘I have told that slave she can sleep in my bed,’ she said, wriggling closer to him. ‘That way, she will not tell your stepmother what I am doing.’

‘Good,’ murmured Ruso, bending forward to nuzzle her ear. ‘Neither will I.’

13

According to Arria, the family carriage was being repaired. According to Marcia, it had been being repaired for the last six months, but Lucius was too mean to pay the wheelwright, and that was why Ruso was having to drive