Ruso and the Root of All Evils

privates, jumped on me and woke me up too.’

Ruso hesitated. There was nothing of any investigative value in this account of his former wife waking up with another man, and certainly nothing he wished to hear repeated, but he had to ask. ‘If you were asleep, how do you know what he did when he woke up?’

She sighed. ‘Because I was pretending, Gaius. Sometimes he didn’t bother me if he thought I wasn’t awake.’

Ruso said, ‘Oh,’ and felt like an intruder. Then he said, ‘I don’t need that much detail.’

‘Then why did you ask?’

He wanted to say, Did you ever pretend to be asleep with me? ‘What did he do after that?’

‘He washed himself over at the basin, put on a clean tunic, grumbled as usual.’

‘About what?’

‘I thought you didn’t want all these silly details? About being ill.’

How illness could be seen as a silly detail when the man had dropped dead the same day was a mystery to Ruso. Trying not to sound too eager, he said, ‘So he was already ill?’

‘No worse than usual. Country air didn’t suit him. He said it gave him palpitations.’ She sniffed. ‘But the headaches and the bad stomach only ever struck after a big dinner.’

‘If he really had trouble with his heart — ’

‘If it was anything serious it would have killed him ages ago. So anyway, then he put on his house shoes, shut the door behind him and went to his office, and I never saw him alive again.’ She paused. ‘I wasn’t always cross with him, Gaius.’

Coming from Claudia, this was almost an expression of affection. Ruso was aware that she had honoured him with a confidence, and that he was supposed to respond accordingly. He coughed, urgently summoning and discarding various possible replies. I’m sorry was ambiguous. I know was untruthful. You weren’t always cross with me either was irrelevant, and …

And it was too late. The silence was growing awkward. Ruso said, ‘How do you know he went to his office?’

‘He always went to his office in the mornings to meet up with the steward. Not everyone is as disorganized as you.’

‘I’ll have to talk to the steward.’

‘Well, good luck. Zosimus is being no help at all. It’s the household steward’s job to organize the funeral, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, it is, I’m sure. But every time I tell him to do something he says he can’t act without orders from Rome. So I said, I’m the wife of the Senator’s agent and part of the family, and do you know what he said?’

This sounded like the sort of question Claudia usually answered herself, so Ruso raised his eyebrows in what he hoped looked like anticipation.

‘ “Not any more.” Not any more! So who am I, then?’

Ruso said, ‘Are there slaves mentioned in his will? People who would be freed after his death?’

‘I don’t know what’s in his will,’ said Claudia. ‘But he didn’t own any of the slaves. We’re the poor relations. Practically everything here belongs to the Senator.’ She paused. ‘Do you think he’ll pay for the funeral?’

30

Zosimus turned out to be a remarkably ill-informed steward. He was not aware of Severus having any enemies. He was not aware of anyone visiting the office yesterday morning apart from the farm manager and a slave delivering a couple of unimportant business letters which he himself had taken, read out and answered. Nor was he aware of any reason why he should answer any more questions.

Ruso might have been convinced by the man’s claim of ignorance, had he not known that Zosimus had supported Severus’ lie about the debt payment being two hundred short. As it was, the only thing of which he could be certain was that Zosimus did not trust him. It was also evident that any power Claudia had once been able to wield had died along with her husband. Zosimus had not hurried out in response to Claudia’s repeated ringing of the bell but had eventually strolled down the garden as if he had come of his own accord. It was therefore no surprise when the steward declared that he could not allow Ruso to enter the office or question the household staff.

‘I am the widow!’ Claudia reminded him, raising her chin. ‘I insist!’

‘And I’m in charge of the staff,’ said Zosimus with the calm of a man who knows his position is invincible. ‘A message has been sent to Rome for instructions.’

‘But the Senator doesn’t know we’ve already got somebody here who can look into it, does he? The doctor knows all about murders. He’s been involved in dozens of them over in Britannia.’

Zosimus’ black eyes widened at this dubious endorsement. ‘Well, he’s a suspect in this one.’

‘So are we all,’ pointed out Claudia. ‘And he didn’t do it any more than I did, so the sooner it’s sorted out, the better. Whoever did it could poison somebody else. Me. You.’

‘That,’ said Zosimus, drawing himself up to his meagre height, ‘is a risk I’m prepared to take.’

Claudia popped in the last fragment of cake. ‘He might poison Ennia. Then you’d be sorry.’

The steward glared at her. ‘I came to tell you,’ he said, ‘there are guests waiting to offer their condolences.’

They made their way back along the gravel pathways, Claudia and Ruso lagging behind like a pair of reluctant schoolchildren.

‘When the investigator from Rome gets here,’ declared Claudia loud enough for Zosimus to hear, ‘I’m going to complain. If Severus were alive he wouldn’t dare to treat me like that!’

Ruso stepped closer to her and murmured, ‘There must be a spare key to that office. How do the staff get in to clean and fill the lamps?’

‘They wait for that horrible man to let them in,’ said Claudia.

Evidently security was not as lax here as in the Petreius household.

31

A large room in the west wing had been set aside for the laying-out of the body. Claudia stepped under the cypress boughs hung over the door, nodded to a couple of other women whom Ruso assumed to be neighbours paying respects and sat down with her hands folded in her lap and her eyes focused on nothing. Opposite her was a dishevelled, red-faced creature barely recognizable as Ennia. Between them, propped up against the far wall, surrounded by flickering lamps and looking a great deal calmer than everyone else in the room, was Severus.

Ruso stationed himself next to Ennia. He waited until a suitable amount of wailing had taken place before crouching to repeat his condolences and murmuring, ‘May I speak with you?’

When she did not seem to have heard, he leaned closer and repeated the question in her ear. Her expression did not change as she said, ‘You are in league with her. Go away.’

He whispered, ‘I’m not responsible for this, Ennia.’

‘Then I want to know who is!’

A hand gripped his shoulder as Zosimus breathed in his ear, ‘You heard the lady. Go.’

Ruso got to his feet and left.

As he passed the pond there was a faint ‘plop’. Leaning over, he could make out the silver flash of a fish through the ripples. A cough sounded from the direction of the house. Ruso glanced up to see the steward watching him from the top of the steps.

As if this were not encouragement enough to leave, he now recognized the purposeful stride of his former