The native stood up, apparently satisfied that they had established some sort of connection.
Ruso said, “I’ll need to report to the Council.”
“No chance at this hour,” said Dias. “But there’s a few of them hanging around here. Don’t worry, they’ll find you.”
His visit to Tilla would have to be postponed.
“I’ll have a couple of lads waiting by the time you’ve finished cleaning up,” Dias said, adding as if he had only just noticed, “Hot in here, isn’t it?”
Half an hour later Ruso was cleaner but no more enlightened. He had been offered opinions by glistening men with rats’ tail hair in the hot room, by fat old men playing board games in the hall, by a masseur with a large mole on his nose, and by a couple of weightlifters with thick necks and veins bulging around the outsides of their oiled muscles.
Several were off-duty councillors. One or two suggested that Asper might have been the victim of a robbery, but most were convinced that he had stolen their money himself. There were dark mutterings about That Woman. The fact that he had been murdered was explained as divine vengeance. He had insulted the emperor, the chief magistrate, the Council, and the whole tribe. When they realized the money was missing, the magistrates had sacrificed a ram to Jupiter and a dog to Sucellus-whoever he was-and the thief had gotten what he deserved.
It was further evidence for Albanus’s view that the Britons were not interested in logic.
Most people, though, were less interested in the fate of Julius Asper than in knowing what the procurator would do if the money did not turn up. Would he insist that the councillors make good the loss? Would everyone have to pay their taxes twice?
Ruso’s refusal to speculate did nothing to allay their fears. He had picked up his towel and was fending off requests from opposite sides to champion one design for the new theater over another when the word Investigator! boomed and echoed around the exercise hall.
Ruso gave his hair one final rub and dropped the towel onto the changing bench. A large expanse of exposed flesh was approaching with one pudgy bejeweled hand outstretched. The flesh tapered up into a fashionable beard and neatly trimmed hair framing a broad smile. “Gallonius,” it introduced itself. “Chief Magistrate.”
“Joint Chief Magistrate,” chimed in a second voice over the sound of footsteps. Ruso looked over the shoulder of the first speaker to see Caratius striding across the hall with his cloak billowing out behind him.
“Please excuse the informal welcome, investigator,” continued the large man, pumping Ruso’s arm up and down with one hand and making a grab for his slithering towel with the other. “They’ve only just told me you’re here. I hope they’re looking after you over at the mansio. This has all come as a bit of a shock.”
“I’ve already told the investigator the facts,” put in Caratius.
“Your guard captain’s briefed me on the inquiries so far,” said Ruso, “but I’ve got a few questions. I’ll need to talk to you both separately.”
While Gallonius nodded approval, Caratius said, “Of course. You’ll have to question everyone involved.”
Ruso said, “Did Asper have any trouble collecting the taxes?”
Both men looked taken aback. “No more than anyone else would,” Gallonius told him. “Collecting the corn tribute is always a slow business, but we get there in the end.”
“It’s a matter of honor,” said Caratius. “Verulamium always pays on time.”
This impressive show of unity and loyalty was followed by an awkward silence. Ruso said, “Perhaps we could talk at a more convenient-”
“Dinner tonight,” said Caratius.
Taken by surprise, Ruso cast about for an excuse. He had barely slept last night and it had been a long day with a tiring ride, but he could hardly say he had been looking forward to an early acquaintance with the scented sheets of Suite Three.
“I insist,” said Caratius.
Gallonius’s expression might have been indigestion, or it might have been the effort of holding back an opinion.
“I’ll send a man to escort you out to the house in an hour,” said Caratius, promising a private conversation with “a few details there wasn’t time to explain yesterday.”
Ruso supposed he wanted to give his side of the marriage story. Meanwhile Gallonius was still looking as though his internal workings were badly out of balance.
Ignoring the complaints from his own stomach that an hour was a long time to wait, Ruso accepted. “There’s no need for an escort,” he said. “I’ve already been assigned a couple of guards.”
Was that annoyance on the magistrate’s hard features? Finally he said, “I’ll call in at the stables and tell Rogatus to give you one of my horses,” as if Ruso had just bargained him down. “You can use it for as long as you’re here.”
He did not much want the horse, either, but it seemed churlish to refuse. Caratius gave his fellow magistrate a look of triumph before departing with, “Good! I’ll see you later.”
When he had gone, the big man beckoned Ruso back toward the stifling room in which he had already endured the conversation with the guard captain. “A word in private, Investigator.”
Ruso, wishing he had not just put all his clothes back on, was obliged to follow.
Gallonius threw his towel along the bench under the window. His lips made the sound of a deflating bladder as he slowly collapsed himself to a seated position. “Sorry about Caratius,” he said. “Still thinks he’s in charge of the place.”
Ruso, feeling overdressed, said, “I gather he comes from a long line of influential men?”
Gallonius chuckled. “On one side only. His other grandfather was an ordinary craftsman like mine. And the famous one with the Roman education is nothing to be proud of. He failed to organize any defenses for the town and then ran off as soon as there was trouble.”
Ruso had the word Boudica? on the tip of his tongue when he remembered the procurator’s injunction.
“Things are much better organized these days,” Gallonius continued. “These days we elect our Council in the Roman way.”
“So I see,” said Ruso, noting that Caratius’s family seemed to be at the top no matter what system was in place. “Asper didn’t have any other duties, did he?”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know,” said Ruso, not wanting to explain about the reference to evidence in the unfinished letter. “Security? I’ve been told about the woman, but I wondered if there was any other way he might have made enemies.”
“His contract was to collect the taxes, which wouldn’t make him popular. Are you suggesting it wasn’t a robbery?”
“Just trying to get the full picture.”
“Our own guards deal with security. Within the limits of the Constitution, of course. For anything else we consult the governor.”
It was a speech designed to reassure visiting officials. “So what do you think happened to your money?”
Gallonius’s forefinger sank into the soft flesh of his chin as he stroked his beard. “You could say it was taken by robbers,” he said. “Or you could say that Julius Asper realized he had made a foolish mistake over the woman, tried to run off with the money, and chose the wrong accomplice.”
None of this was anything new. Ruso noted that the indigestion look had reappeared. “What else could you say?” he prompted.
Gallonius lifted a towel from the stack farther along the bench and wiped his forehead. “I wouldn’t say it,” he said. “And I wouldn’t even want to think it. Not of a fellow magistrate.”
“If you have any proof that-”
“If I had any proof, Investigator, I would offer it for the good of the town. As it is, we’re relying on you.”
When Ruso escaped to the relative cool of the exercise hall, he found two burly guards in the familiar red tunics waiting by the main door. One of them was the big youth again. He introduced himself as Gavo and announced that they were at the investigator’s service. Neither showed any surprise when he asked them to escort him to Julius Asper’s house, where he intended to make sure they were out of earshot when he told Tilla he had just agreed to dine with Camma’s estranged husband.
