‘We know what happened. We’re the only ones who do.’
She sighed. ‘Oh, Gaius. I do wish you hadn’t made such a fuss. Why can’t you just tell them you’ve changed your mind, and you’ve just realized he was ill?’
‘Why would I say that?’
‘Well, dear, I would have thought that was obvious.’
It was, but he did not want to admit it. He said, ‘If you were poisoned, would you want somebody to pretend you weren’t?’
‘Really, Gaius! There’s no need — ’
‘I’m trying to do the right thing, Arria.’
‘So are we all, dear. So what shall I say to them?’
He said, ‘Tell them what you know.’
‘But what I know looks so bad! There you are, shut up in a room with him, and the next thing that happens — ’
‘Had nothing to do with me,’ said Ruso, edging past her in the direction of the kitchen. ‘If it did, I’d make up a better story. What’s for lunch?’
Arria put a restraining hand on his shoulder. ‘Please don’t upset Cook, dear. You can’t imagine what it does to the pastry. And by the way, what did you say to Marcia yesterday? She was terribly cross.’
‘We talked about a dowry,’ he said, not in the mood to go over what he had since learned about Tertius the gladiator. ‘I’ll explain later.’
‘Well, you’ll have to settle something on her now, dear. Who’s going to marry her when everybody thinks you poisoned Claudia’s husband?’
Ruso knew quite well that the yolk of hard-boiled egg was prone to disintegration. He should have brought a bowl. Instead, he was seated in front of the pile of unpaid bills and making an undignified attempt to lick scattered grey and yellow crumbs out of his cupped hands when someone tapped on the study door.
‘What?’ he demanded, slapping the remains of the egg from his hands and wiping them on his tunic in a manner of which his mother would not have approved.
The end of Galla’s ‘Please, sir, may I …’ was inaudible.
‘Open the door, woman!’ he called, wondering whether her common sense had finally deserted her or whether he really was as terrifying as she seemed to think.
He clapped a bill from the wheelwright shut and looked up to see her standing in the doorway, clutching a tray of dirty wooden bowls and grubby napkins. ‘Is this important? I’m busy.’
Galla shuffled in and pushed the door shut with her foot. ‘Yes, sir.’
He leaned across the desk and helped himself to a small loaf of bread from the corner of the tray. Failing to find any sign of teethmarks or dribble on it, he said, ‘Has this been anywhere it shouldn’t be?’
‘No, sir. Miss Polla didn’t want it.’
Ruso sat back and tore off a chunk of bread. ‘Well?’
‘Thank you for letting me back in the house, sir.’
‘It was only sensible. Is that what you came to tell me?’
‘No, sir.’ Galla appeared to raise herself to her full height — which was not great — before taking a deep breath and announcing to a point just below his chin, ‘Tilla is gone to Arelate, my lord.’
‘She’s what?’ The bread landed on top of the wheelwright’s bill.
The repeat of this surprising statement was mumbled to the tray, as if Galla had used up all her courage in saying it the first time.
‘Gods almighty! Why didn’t you come and tell me this earlier? When did she go?’
‘I couldn’t find you, sir. I think she went just after dawn. She told me to say she was sorry not to say goodbye.’
‘But what in Jupiter’s name does she want to go there for?’
Galla gripped the outside of the tray and pushed the edge back into the folds of her tunic as if it were a protective barrier between them. ‘I asked her not to go, my lord.’
‘This is ridiculous. I thought she’d got over this sort of wandering off. It’ll take her all day to walk that far in this heat, and she’ll probably be robbed on the way. Where’s she going to sleep?’
Galla cleared her throat. ‘She was hoping for a lift. She talked to a man with a cart.’
‘Which man?’
‘Solemnis, my lord.’
‘Never heard of him. Who does he work for? What the hell does he think he’s playing at?’
Galla looked as though she was going to burst into tears. ‘He is … a friend of a friend, sir.’
‘Can he be trusted?’
‘He is a follower of Christos, my lord.’
‘You mean she’s run off to join some weird religion?’
‘No, sir. They have gone to find out about the ship.’
‘They?’
‘Mistress Cassiana is gone too.’
Ruso stood up and flung the first stack of bills back into the trunk. ‘Put that bloody tray down,’ he ordered, snatching up his stick. ‘Lock the rest of this stuff away, then take the key down to Lucius in the winery. Tell him his wife’s run off to Arelate with Tilla and a — no, leave out the religious bit. Tell him I’ve gone to get them back before they get into trouble.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘As if we haven’t got enough problems! Why didn’t you send me a message? Why didn’t you tell somebody?’
The girl opened her mouth as if she were about to speak, then closed it again.
‘Don’t stand there gasping like a fish! Say it!’
Galla swallowed again. ‘I’m sorry, my lord,’ she said, lifting a pile of documents from the desk. ‘I couldn’t find you, and I did not know who else to tell.’ She knelt to tidy the jumble of tablets and scroll cases in the trunk.
She had a point. Who would she tell? Arria, who had let Tilla tread grapes? The girls, who had abandoned Tilla themselves?
‘You could have told my brother.’
‘Mistress Cassiana told me to look after the children and not to say anything, sir.’
Of course. Rocking sideways to rest his weight on the stick, Ruso said, ‘There must be times, Galla, when you wish you were part of a different household.’
‘Never, my lord.’
‘Really?’ Swinging round to head for the door, he muttered, ‘It must be just me and Marcia, then.’
From the top of the steps, he could see over the wall to where the stable lad was lugging buckets of water across the yard. ‘I need Severus’ horse tacked up!’ he called. ‘Now!’
49
Brother Solemnis had hardly spoken a word since they had set off this morning. Tilla watched him from her none-too-comfortable seat on a bundle of hides in the back of the cart and wondered if he was praying for the protection of his god. On top of the usual carter’s worries about lame animals, breakdowns, bad roads, damaged goods and bandits, he had now been accosted by a barbarian woman and a stranger, demanding a lift to Arelate. She suspected he had only taken them because he was too frightened to refuse.
Cass was not much better company. She had chattered nervously as the cart first rattled and jolted them away from the farm. She had never been to Arelate. It was a big and beautiful town. The river was said to be huge. This would be an adventure.
As the sun rose higher, her excitement faded. When they passed a milestone she read ‘Nemausus, eleven miles’ as if it were a mark of loss rather than a sign of progress.
Tilla reflected that more and more these days she was thinking it might be useful to be able to read.
