poison harmlessly into the night air.
Yellow light spilled onto the walkway from the reception door. The shape of the night porter appeared. “Everything all right, sir?”
“No,” said Ruso. “No, it’s not. Somebody’s just snuck in and tried to kill us.”
62
Summoned early, Dias arrived with six other guards just after dawn. By then a frantic Publius had already threatened the night staff with flogging, arranged to have the locks changed, settled Tilla in with his own family and four yawning slaves to watch over them, and apologized profusely while assuring Ruso that nothing like this had ever happened here before in the whole time he had been in charge. Ruso had to restrain him from sending for both chief magistrates and the doctor.
Dias did all the right things. He declared that no one was to leave. He searched the rooms. He announced that his men would be questioning everyone.
The night staff, still lined up in the chilly reception area, looked terrified.
“Everyone,” repeated Dias, looking at Publius, who said, “But my wife isn’t-”
“Everyone.”
Publius’s “Of course” sounded faintly strangled.
Dias commandeered one of the guest rooms for the interrogations. Publius’s request to listen in was denied. So was Ruso’s, and his, “I think this was done by somebody from outside,” was dismissed with, “We’ll see, sir.”
While Ruso had Dias’s attention, he murmured, “I hear you went to visit Grata last night.”
Dias looked him in the eye. “She’s upset,” he said. “That body was no sight for a woman.”
“It was her decision.”
“And this is mine,” said Dias. He turned to his men, giving orders for the staff to be taken into the questioning room one by one. When he saw that Ruso had not moved, he said, “I’ll assign you two good men, sir. You can get on with your inquiries, but don’t leave town. I’ll need to talk to you again.”
“You go, sir,” urged Publius, looking haggard. “There’s nothing you can do here.”
It was true. He left Publius to defend his staff as best he could, slipped across to make sure Tilla was still making a good recovery, then left.
The Albanus who lifted his head from the tax office desk at the sound of Ruso’s arrival was not looking his best. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was awry. He had not shaved and he had a red V shape across one cheek where it had been resting on the corner of a writing tablet.
“Long night?” said Ruso, fixing the latch behind him so they would not be interrupted.
Albanus struggled to his feet. Instead of the salute he would have once given, the hand was raised to stifle a yawn. Ruso found himself yawning in sympathy. He still felt too shaken by the events at the mansio to want to talk about them. Instead he grabbed a stool and they both slumped back down with their elbows on the desk. Standards had definitely dropped since they had left the army.
Ruso put a finger to his lips and pointed to the window, outside of which Gavo had stationed himself, and quietly explained his suspicions about Rogatus, the stable overseer. Instead of admiration the clerk’s face was one of concern. “Are you all right, sir?”
“No,” admitted Ruso, realizing he would have to explain that too.
When Albanus had finished expressing sympathy and outrage, he reached for the wooden tablet he had been sleeping on. “There is some good news though, sir. I think I’ve found something.” He unfolded the thin wooden leaves for Ruso’s inspection. One ink-stained finger pointed to a set of figures in spidery black writing with illegible scribbles against them.
“More shorthand?”
As Albanus leaned very close to whisper his response, Ruso was aware that it was some time since his clerk had washed. “No, sir, Asper had terrible handwriting at the best of times. That’s his note of taking the money out of the strong room to deliver to the procurator’s office.”
“So he did have it after all?”
Albanus reached for another record on a much longer, narrower sliver of wood. “This is the Council record, where the quaestor signed it out to him.”
Ruso recognized the record Nico had shown him two days ago.
Albanus glanced up at the window, then put both sheets side by side for inspection. “What do you notice, sir?”
Ruso looked from one to the other without enlightenment. “Nothing.”
“Not the writing, sir. The ink.”
“Nothing.”
“It’s the same, sir,” Albanus whispered. “Different batches of ink come out slightly different, depending on the proportions of the soot and the glue, but I’d say they’re the same color.”
Ruso angled them both to catch the light. “You noticed this last night by lamplight?”
“No, sir. Not till the sun came up this morning. It shines directly into Asper’s kitchen.”
“You haven’t been up all night doing this?”
“I thought I ought to work fast, sir. Before the procurator starts to wonder where we are. And to be honest I was a bit worried about that Dias coming back.”
“I think he was busy elsewhere,” said Ruso grimly. He arched his back, stretched his arms to the ceiling, and yawned. “This business will drive us all mad. I hope the women appreciated what you’d done.”
“They tried to feed me a huge breakfast, sir.”
“Yes,” said Ruso, who had barely been able to face his own. “That seems to be the way they show their appreciation around here.” He picked up the records again. He was still not sure what he was supposed to be seeing. He whispered, “So they borrowed each other’s ink?”
Albanus shook his head. “The boy who looks after the stationery in the Council office isn’t allowed to give it to anybody else. Asper would have had to supply his own.” He ran his forefinger down three lines of the Council record. “All these are in the darker color, so it must have been their ink, but it only appears once here in Asper’s.” He pointed to the final entry. “The writing isn’t quite the same as the rest. See the way the line crosses on the ten, sir?”
Ruso could not see it, but he was not going to argue with a man who had been examining these records almost nonstop for the last eighteen hours. “So?”
“So someone working for the Council came in here after Asper was gone and added a note to his records.”
“The lock had been changed when I got here. I queried it and Nico said he’d been in to search for some clue about where Asper had gotten to.”
“I think he already knew, sir,” said Albanus. “I think he wanted to get in here and change the records to cover his own tracks. I think this proves Asper never had the money.”
Unfortunately it did not prove who did. “If the money were still here, could you tell?”
“I don’t know, sir. I know how much I think ought to be there, but it’s all very complicated and the Council clerk isn’t very keen to tell me anything without the quaestor there. I think he thinks I’m trying to catch him out and steal his job.”
Ruso got to his feet. “I doubt the quaestor will be turning up for work. Let’s go and see if I can frighten some sense out of the clerk. Then with luck Gallonius will be here and we can check what’s actually in the strong room.”
63
