‘Before we jump to conclusions,’ said Calvus, frowning at Stilo across the back of the lame horse, ‘go through again exactly what happened when Severus fell ill.’
Ruso’s account was as accurate as he could make it. So accurate, indeed, that, as he explained the process by which he had eliminated all the causes he could think of, Stilo began to yawn. ‘So you’re saying he was definitely poisoned, right?’
Ruso said, ‘I think so.’
‘Well was he, or wasn’t he?’
‘I can’t think of anything else that would make sense of the symptoms.’
‘Is that yes or no?’
‘Probably.’
Stilo sighed. ‘You’re all the same, you medics. It might be this or it might be that, or it might be some other bloody thing altogether. Do you have a special school where they teach you how not to answer questions?’
‘Yes.’
Calvus said, ‘What were his last words?’
‘Somebody’s poisoned me,’ said Ruso.
‘Hah!’ Stilo raised his free hand to the sky as if imploring the gods to listen to this idiot.
‘Somebody has poisoned me,’ repeated Calvus slowly, as if he were speaking to a foreigner who was just learning Latin. ‘I’d say that was a clue, doctor, wouldn’t you?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Hmph,’ put in Stilo. ‘For a minute there I thought we were going to get a straight answer.’
‘He might have been wrong.’
Stilo muttered something that sounded very much like ‘Smartarse.’
Ruso had a feeling that, had their positions been reversed, he would have felt the same way. The most convincing part of his story was the censored version of Severus’ last words. All the rest — the conveniently unwitnessed offering of a truce, the victim’s sudden collapse in the lone company of a man equipped with medicines and a motive — pointed in entirely the wrong direction.
‘It wasn’t me,’ said Ruso. ‘If I were going to murder Severus, I’d have found a much cleverer way of doing it. I’d have used a poison that wasn’t so obvious, or I’d have found a way to blame somebody else right from the start.’
‘I see,’ said Calvus.
‘It can’t be him, boss,’ said Stilo. ‘It weren’t clever enough, see?’
‘I see,’ said Calvus again. ‘Tell us how you would have done it, then, doctor.’
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.
53
Ruso slammed the gates so hard that they rattled. He shoved the bolt across and turned to the dog. ‘Next time,’ he instructed it, gesturing towards the gate that shut out the departing investigators, ‘bite them.’
The enthusiasm with which the dog wagged its tail did not inspire confidence.
Rubbing his sore elbow and feeling ten years older than he had this morning, Ruso turned to limp back towards the stables. Already the shadow of the pergola was stretching its legs across the garden. Tilla and his sister-in-law were somewhere far beyond the safety of the estate, and there was no way anyone could catch up with them before dark.
The crunch of footsteps announced someone behind him. ‘If my vintage is ruined,’ announced Lucius, ‘it’ll be your fault.’
‘Is everyone all right?’
‘If you couldn’t keep that bloody woman under control you had no business bringing her here.’
There was no time to argue. ‘We’ve got to get to Arelate tonight, Brother. Cass and Tilla don’t know what they’re walking into.’
‘It’s bad enough you getting us all accused of poisoning. Now my wife’s run off because your fancy woman’s filled her head with rubbish, and you send a slave to come and tell me!’ Lucius kicked open the yard gate, sending a couple of hens fluttering away in alarm. ‘You don’t know how it feels to have to lie to your own children, do you? To tell them their mother’s gone for a holiday and you don’t know when she’s coming back? Did you see the faces on those nosey bastards just now? Even you suspected her of being a poisoner: what must they think?’
‘Are the mules fast enough, or can we borrow some horses?’
