“You! What are you doing here?”
Ruso let his hand fall to his side.
The doctor’s pot belly was still bulging under the same blood spatters as yesterday. “I gave specific orders that my patient was not to be disturbed. I can’t have this constant interference. If it goes on I shall complain to the Council. This man is seriously ill.”
“Seriously ill with what?” inquired Ruso, interested.
“None of your business,” replied the doctor, just as Ruso would have done.
“I only ask,” said Ruso, “because it looks like something a lot of men go down with in the army.”
“Yes. I hear you’ve been passing yourself off as a doctor.”
“I just thought you might be able to help,” he said to Nico, “but never mind. And don’t worry, I’m sure that medicine will have you back on your feet very soon.” He smiled. “And then we can talk again.”
After this thinly veiled threat, he paused for a word with the landlady, who was lurking in the hall and jabbing at invisible cobwebs with a feather duster. In response to his request, she assured him that no other visitors would be allowed upstairs no matter how they tried to get in. This was a properly run house and when she and her husband were asleep, the dog was loose downstairs.
Reassured that his witness was being safeguarded, he gathered up Dias and Gavo. “Well,” he said, as casually as he could manage, “That was a waste of time. Anybody mind if we go and hunt down some lunch?”
Was that suspicion on Dias’s face, or the reflection of his own tension? He was fairly confident that whatever the man might be thinking, he would not act on it in broad daylight-certainly not while the innocent Gavo was with them to witness it. All the same, he was relieved when they left the quiet street in which Nico lived for the bustle of the main thoroughfare, where to his guards’ evident amusement, he paused to buy a bunch of bluebells from a street vendor.
57
What we need, sir,” murmured Albanus, scooping crumbs off Julius Asper’s desk and into his cupped hand, “is a way to make this Nico more frightened of us than he is of Dias.”
“He thinks Dias is going to kill him,” said Ruso. “It’s hard to be more frightened than that.” He glanced at the bluebells, temporarily stationed in a cup of water, and wondered whether the women were back from the cemetery yet. Perhaps he should go and see.
“Has he got a family he cares about?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“That’s a shame.” Albanus walked across to the high window, stood on tiptoe to check that nobody was outside, and then tossed the crumbs away. “Perhaps we could threaten to kill him more slowly than Dias will.”
“Albanus, that isn’t funny.”
The clerk sighed. “I don’t think he’d believe us anyway, sir.”
“I offered to rescue him,” said Ruso, “but I don’t think he believed that, either.”
Albanus, to whom Ruso had now explained everything it was safe for him to know and much that wasn’t, shifted the box of records he had just finished checking and perched himself on the desk in an informal pose that he would never have dared to adopt during his official years as Ruso’s clerk. “I’ve had a good look through but I can’t find any details about the wages Asper owed to the guards, sir.”
Ruso had forgotten about the unimportant task to which he had assigned his clerk before deciding to tell him the truth.
“In fact, I can’t find any sign that Asper ever paid them anything at all.”
“Really?”
“Nothing. I’d imagine the Council considered escorting the tax money to be part of their normal duties.”
Ruso scratched one ear. “So when Dias said he was looting Asper’s house to make up the wages, he was lying.”
“He’s the chap with the flashy hairstyle, sir? The one you think was your burglar?”
“And the one who’s been blackmailing Nico. I suppose he was searching for anything Asper had stashed away that might incriminate him.”
“If Dias is really forging money, where does he spend it?”
“He’s up and down to Londinium all the time. Perhaps he’s distributing it there.” Ruso paused. “You don’t look convinced.”
“Sir, if I were making false money, the last place I would pass it round is the town where all the treasury officials live.”
“Good point.” Ruso checked again that there was nobody listening outside the window before settling himself into Bericus’s chair and tipping it back so it was balancing on two legs. “Nico doesn’t think Caratius had anything to do with the murders,” he said. “If that’s true, then he hasn’t got the money. I think the brothers were killed because Asper was on the trail of the forgery. But I can’t tie the forgery or the murder to Dias, and I can’t find the money if I can’t work out the sequence of events, and I can’t hang around here much longer with somebody threatening Tilla and the Council and the procurator both telling me to get out of-aargh!”
He grabbed the edge of the desk to steady himself and rocked the chair forward to a safer angle. “Out of town,” he concluded. “Nico was coerced into taking Asper to the strong room, presumably to make it look as though Asper was taking the money. But Camma’s certain he never took it. Now Nico says he doesn’t know where it is.” Ruso looked up. “You don’t suppose it’s still in the strong room after all?”
Albanus stared at him. “Well, if it is, sir, why would the Council say it’s missing?”
“Because Nico told them it is. It’s his job to keep track of what’s in there.” He paused. “You don’t think they’re all lying because they don’t want to pay up, do you?”
“But they always pay up.”
“Exactly. Verulamium always pays on time. So when Hadrian canceled everybody else’s tax arrears, they must have been mightily annoyed.”
“There’s only one thing for it, sir.” Albanus’s tone was resigned, but Ruso recognized the light of battle in his eyes. “I’m going to have to do a complete audit.”
“Can you do that?”
“I don’t know, sir. But I can add and subtract, and it can’t be that difficult, can it?”
Having listened to Nico’s explanation of how the Council ran its finances, Ruso decided not to answer. Albanus reached for a records box and began to riffle through it, muttering about confirming the balance due.
“I’d imagine Dias found out that Asper was sending coded letters to Londinium,” said Ruso. “A forger would have no problem opening somebody’s correspondence and resealing it. Anybody who can make a fake coin can make a fake seal, but if he couldn’t read the code he wouldn’t know whether Asper was writing about him or not. No wonder he was prowling around Londinium trying to find out.”
Albanus reached up onto a shelf. “It’s especially easy to intercept a man’s letters if he leaves his seal lying around instead of wearing it, sir.”
Ruso peered at the ring Albanus was holding out to him and wondered how he could have missed it during his search yesterday. He carried it across to the window and looked at it again. Then he slid it onto his little finger and twisted it around so the stone was hidden in his palm. “Wait here a minute,” he said.
Satto the money changer halted his queue when he saw Ruso approach.
“Take a look outside,” Ruso urged, stepping past the counter to the window at the back of the office and glancing over his shoulder to where Dias was watching from the doorway.
“What for?”
“Quick,” Ruso urged, placing his own hands up on the high sill and leaning out. As he had hoped, Satto did the same. “Over to your left,” said Ruso, pointing. “See?”
“What?” demanded Satto, craning for a better view of the unrelenting British clouds.
“Damn,” Ruso muttered. “It’s gone now.”
“What’s gone?”
“I thought I saw an eagle,” said Ruso. “It’s a good omen. But I might have been mistaken.” He apologized to
