Calvus’ hand was moving towards the door.
‘Carefully,’ said Ruso. ‘Don’t stick your head out. A slice with a scythe is very hard to stitch up.’
‘He’s bluffing,’ said Stilo.
Ruso grinned. ‘Am I?’
‘It doesn’t matter anyway,’ said Calvus, reaching for the bar and swinging it down to drop into the slot on the far side of the door. ‘When we’re ready to leave, we’ll have plenty of hostages to choose from.’
Stilo smirked at Ruso over Ennia’s shoulder. ‘Didn’t think of that, did you, smartarse?’
Ennia whimpered as he jerked her back towards him.
‘Get on with it, you lot! Keep digging!’
‘They don’t believe you, Gaius!’ hissed Claudia. ‘Think of something else!’
‘Find the money,’ he suggested. ‘Then they’ll go away.’
‘How do we know it’s even here?’ demanded Claudia.
‘Good question,’ agreed Ruso, turning to Calvus. ‘How do you know it’s here?’
‘None of your business,’ said Calvus.
‘You know something?’ said Stilo to Calvus. ‘I never liked that one. Big mouth. Always asking questions.’
‘This isn’t a question,’ said Ruso, hoping Tilla really would have the slaves in position soon. ‘This is a statement. Claudia did not kill Severus. Did she, Ennia?’
‘You know she did!’ gasped Ennia, her voice sounding strangled by the effort of leaning away from the knife. ‘You covered up for her — ow!’ Stilo had shifted his grip again.
‘Keep up the digging, boys,’ urged Calvus as if he were encouraging them in a genteel sport. ‘The sooner you find it, the sooner we’re off.’
‘Yes, keep digging,’ agreed Ruso. ‘After all, Severus did owe these two a large share of it. By the way, what did happen to Justinus on that ship?’
From behind him, Claudia demanded to know what on earth they were talking about.
‘Justinus had an accident,’ said Stilo.
‘What sort of accident?’
By way of answer, Calvus snatched a spade from the nearest digger, stepped across to Ruso and rammed the blade up against his throat. ‘The sort you’re going to have if you don’t shut up.’
‘Don’t hurt him!’ shrieked Claudia.
Ruso leaned away from the cold metal. The mud trickling down his neck smelled of grape juice. ‘I can see why you’re annoyed,’ he said, desperately trying to think what to do next. ‘You went to a lot of bother to earn that money.’ He raised one hand to indicate Ennia. ‘Are you absolutely sure she doesn’t know which pot it’s under?’
He felt a fractional easing of the pressure on his throat. Calvus was looking at him oddly, as if trying to work out how much he knew.
‘You can’t trust her, you know,’ continued Ruso, silently praying that Calvus would be sufficiently intrigued not to finish him off with an angry thrust of the spade. ‘Did you know she poisoned her brother?’
‘I didn’t!’ gasped Ennia.
The spade moved away from Ruso’s throat. As Calvus turned his attention to Ennia, Ruso let out a quiet breath of relief and straightened up, wiping the mud with the back of his hand. He ignored Claudia’s whispered, ‘I knew it. I knew it was her.’
Calvus positioned himself beside Ennia with his back to the wall, keeping the rest of the prisoners in sight, while he said to her, ‘You told me the wife did it.’
‘She did!’
‘Don’t trust her, Calvus,’ warned Ruso, hoping this did not sound as improvised as it felt. ‘She’s a good actress. You should have seen her weeping over the body. She had me fooled for a long time.’ He turned to the diggers. ‘Do keep working, please, gentlemen. I’m sorry I can’t help, I’ve broken a bone in my foot. But the sooner you find the cash that Severus was planning to share with these two, the sooner this will be over and we can all go home to bed.’ He turned back to Ennia. ‘You’re absolutely sure this is where he hid it?’
‘Yes!’ squeaked Ennia. ‘Somewhere in here. He said if anything ever happened to him, to look in the winery.’
‘You knew he had money?’ demanded Claudia. ‘Why didn’t he tell me? I had a right to know. I’m his wife!’
‘I didn’t kill him,’ insisted Ennia. ‘She did.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Ruso mildly, addressing Calvus and ignoring Claudia’s protests. ‘I suppose that’s what Ennia told you, isn’t it? She told you she’d overheard me talking to Claudia, and Claudia had been seen buying poisonous honey. If you’d bothered to go and check with the stallholder — ’
‘No point,’ said Calvus, throwing the spade across to the digger he had taken it from, who was trying to sneak back to join the others behind the winepress. ‘Oi! Back to work!’
‘No,’ said Ruso. ‘I didn’t think you had.’
‘Never mind him,’ said Stilo, for once quicker than his partner. ‘We’re here for the money. We don’t care who killed Severus.’
‘Right,’ agreed Calvus. ‘Shut up, Ruso.’
For a moment there was no sound in the winery but the crunch of shovels and the steady trickle of something leaking.
Ruso glanced around him, wondering what to do next. Nothing had changed as a result of his intervention. Ennia was still held with a knife to her throat. The diggers were still struggling on, weary and filthy and clearly distraught at ruining the precious vintage the farm slaves had worked so hard to produce. A call for help had — he hoped — been sent to town, but the impostors would be long gone before anyone could get here. Besides, Stilo was right: nobody would dare to attack them on the way out if they were holding hostages. All Ruso had managed to do was add himself to their list of potential choices.
What the hell had Gnostus put in that medicine? What had he been thinking? Had he really imagined that, just because he had finally begun to understand something of what was going on, Calvus and Stilo would kneel in surrender? It was difficult to see what he could do to salvage the situation, except to distract them and hope they made some sort of mistake.
‘It wasn’t Claudia who bought the honey, though,’ he said, hoping Calvus would not repeat his threat with the spade. ‘It was Ennia wearing one of Claudia’s wigs, and her pink shoes. I didn’t mention the colour of the shoes when I talked to Claudia, but when you told Fuscus, you knew they were pink. You haven’t spoken to the trader, so you must have got that from Ennia. She knew because she was the one wearing them. She even made sure she drew the stallholder’s attention to them. If we take both women down there, I daresay he’ll pick her out.’
Ennia’s curtailed squeak of ‘No —!’ might have referred to the identity parade or to some new threat from Stilo.
‘She poisoned her brother to get his money, and she was going to make sure Claudia got the blame.’
‘No!’
‘Except he died in my house. She didn’t plan that.’ Ruso turned to the diggers. ‘You can keep on digging if you like. At least it’ll make them go away. But Ennia’s not really worth much as a hostage. She’s going to be sentenced to death for murder anyway.’
82
‘It was Zosimus!’ shrieked Ennia.
Everyone had stopped to listen now. Stilo, curious at last, moved the knife a fraction to let her talk.
‘Tell them, Zosimus!’
The steward rammed his spade into the mud and stared at Ennia. In the silence, one of the diggers shifted position, and the mud squelched beneath him.
‘Tell them about my lovely brother.’
‘You knew all about it?’ demanded Claudia. Ruso motioned to her to be quiet.
Zosimus looked at Ennia. ‘Which lie would you like me to tell this time?’
