Verulamium’s treasure was stored beneath the Great Hall in a dank underground cell that was barely seven feet square and not high enough to stand up in. Ruso caught a glimpse of boxes and bags piled onto rough shelving against the far wall before Albanus’s arrival at the foot of the stone steps blocked much of the light. Then the view faded completely with the shriek of rusty hinges, leaving only the feeble yellow glow of the lamp.
“I didn’t mean shut it completely!” Ruso hissed.
The hinges squealed a new note and the shadowy walls reappeared around him.
“Pass me the candle,” he said, more nervous than he cared to admit. “Then put something in to jam the door open. We don’t want to be locked in here.”
“I can’t see, sir. I’ll put my foot-oh, sorry, sir!” Albanus had just collided with him. “There’s not much room in here, is there?”
Ruso closed one eye while he lit the candle. “At least there’s no chance of Gallonius wanting to come in and see what we’re doing.” He put both lights on the floor out of his line of vision. His sight was beginning to adjust now: He could make out the shelving again. He reached for the smallest of the boxes, a crude effort about six inches square and surprisingly heavy. “Try this,” he said.
Albanus lifted the box from his hand. “It says ‘Orphans,’ ” he announced. “One bag tied shut with the money changer’s seal on the cord, and some loose coins, mostly bronze.” Ruso heard the lid clap back into place and the scrape of the box being slid into position on the floor.
“Was that what you were expecting?”
There was a pause while Albanus retrieved the list that was tucked into his belt. “Orphans. One hundred and twenty-three. That’s probably about right.”
“Is Gallonius still watching?”
The light altered again as Albanus peered around the door. “I can’t see him, sir. I can just about make out one of the guards. But I can’t see much at all from down here.”
“We’ll just have to do this as quickly as we can,” said Ruso, handing him the next box. “It doesn’t matter if he sees us checking the totals: That’s what we’re here for. What’s that one?”
“Wages, sir. Three bags, all sealed, some loose coins… I’m looking for three hundred and… that’s right. This is all very reassuring, sir.”
“Good,” said Ruso, not feeling in the least reassured. He was trapped in a cold dark hole whose door could only be opened from the outside, and he was looking for something to incriminate the commander of the man who was standing at the top of the steps with the key. He put the wages box back at the right-hand end of the shelf and went on to the next one.
As they progressed along the shelf, Ruso tried not think about what he was handling. There was more money in here than he had ever seen in his life. What a man could do with this! He would have power. He would have choices. He would no longer be compelled to go anywhere to earn a living.
Albanus caught him musing over a bag from the theater fund, a deposit that spread to three heavy boxes. “Tempting, isn’t it, sir?”
“Let’s not think about it,” said Ruso hastily. “The sooner we get out of here, the happier I shall be.”
Before long all the boxes and bags had been moved from left to right and had proved to contain more or less what Albanus had been expecting. “That’s rather pleasing, isn’t it, sir?”
“I’m glad you think so,” said Ruso. “I was hoping for an extra seven thousand.”
“You think Nico signed the tax money out and then brought it back?”
“Put that way,” admitted Ruso, “it doesn’t seem very likely.”
Albanus was leaning around the door again. “I can see Gavo up there, sir. He’s talking to the other guard.”
“Right. We need to do this quickly.” Ruso chose the position where the light was best, crouched to check that he could not be seen from outside, and sat with his legs stretched out on the cold floor and his back against the shelving. He unsheathed his knife. “Throw me over a bag from the ‘Orphans.’ ”
The heavy little bag landed in his palm with a chink. “Sir, are you sure you can see what you’re doing?”
“No,” said Ruso, prizing open the lid of the seal box, “but I’m going to give it a try.” The coins that cascaded into his lap glistened like a shoal of silver fish.
“It’s true what they say about metal, sir, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“That it reflects its own color. Whereas everything else shiny just looks white. If we got some gold out-”
“I’m not checking the bloody gold as well.” Ruso grunted, placing a coin on his palm and rocking it from side to side so the light caught the edges of the design. After the tenth coin he scooped them all up in his hand, tipped them back into the bag, and retied the cord. “I haven’t got time to do them all. That one can go back.”
Albanus picked up the wax candle. Meanwhile Ruso removed his left boot and took the seal ring from his middle toe.
Albanus glanced out the door before whispering, “It’s as well the guards didn’t search us properly, sir.”
“They’re worried about us taking things out,” said Ruso, reaching for the candle. “Not bringing them in. I just hope I’ll know what I’m looking for when I see it.”
Albanus cleared his throat. “Do you mind me asking exactly what you are looking for, sir? I mean, there wouldn’t be much point in them hiding the forged money down here, would there? They’d want to take it somewhere they could spend it.”
Ruso, busy resealing the bag, did not reply.
Albanus reached behind him and lifted the lid of the box labeled, “Road and Building Maintenance.” He was working the knot open from beneath the seal on the first bag when Albanus observed, “You know, sir, this is very odd.”
Another shower of silver fell into Ruso’s lap. “I’ll say.”
Albanus squinted at the holes in the seal box of the first bag and threaded one end of the cord through. “I don’t mean the being down here, sir. I mean keeping the money separate like this.”
“Really? It seems quite sensible to me.”
“But it’s completely unnecessary. It’s just a lot of extra work. If you know how much is in here, you just leave it all together and keep some working cash and separate records upstairs in the warm. That way you don’t have to come trotting down here in the dark every time the Council decides to give two sesterces to the orphans.”
Ruso stared at him. Then he abandoned the knot and tossed the bag across. “Seal that one up, Albanus. We’ve been looking in the wrong place.”
He found it in the theater fund: the oldest bags, faintly damp and dated from before Asper had even arrived in town. At least half the coins in the first bag he checked seemed to have blurring around the s of “Hadrianus.” The second seemed so full of forgeries that he began to wonder if his eyesight was failing in the poor light. “That’ll do,” he said, handing the bag across to Albanus for resealing. “Let’s get out of here. I’m-” He stopped. Someone was coming down the steps.
Albanus gave a squeak of panic and dropped the candle, which went out. The door hinges shrieked and Albanus cried out as the heavy oak door crashed into his arm.
A hefty figure in chain mail filled the doorway. “Sorry, sirs,” it said. “But I’ve been told to come and get you. Something’s happened.”
64
Ruso recognized Gallonius ’ S slaves among the men gathered outside Nico’s lodgings. Inside, the landlady looked at him and Albanus through eyes that were red and swollen. Ruso said, “What happened?”
She shook her head as if she could not bear to speak and blew her nose on a scrap of soggy linen.
“Are you all right? You’re not hurt?”
Another shake of the head. She pointed to the stairs. “Everyone’s up there, sir.”
It was not a big room and Gallonius and the doctor had already occupied what space there was beside the bed. Between them, Ruso glimpsed Nico looking more peaceful than he had ever known him to look. The doctor was busy explaining Nico’s mysterious illness to Gallonius, concluding, “So I gave him something to help him
