As Gavo drew closer Ruso turned and explained that Albanus was going somewhere else and would not need protection.
Moments later Ruso watched the guards mark his clerk’s departure down a crowded street. Even though he knew that nobody would murder either of them in the middle of town in daylight, the loss of his only ally made Ruso feel curiously vulnerable.
As they entered the Great Hall, Ruso was conscious of the babble of noise fading away. People turned to watch as magistrate and investigator made their way first down into the strong room, and then across the hall to Satto’s office carrying yet more bags of cash. Ruso was briefly grateful for the protection of his guards. Anyone bold enough to approach was blocked by a large man in chain mail. Anyone daring to call out a question-“Have you found our money?” or, “Is it true about the quaestor, sir?”-was fended off by Gallonius’s “We’ll be making an announcement later.”
Satto looked up in horror as several guards marched into his office, turned his own men out, and announced to the annoyed patrons in the queue that the money changer was closed until further notice. He was even more outraged by the demand that he perform an instant examination of numerous bags of coins, most still sealed and some old and faintly damp, that already bore his own tag. “Whose idea is this?”
“The investigator’s,” said Gallonius.
“What for?”
“We’ll be making an announcement later,” Ruso told him. “Make sure you keep the two sets of bags separate, will you? Otherwise you’ll wreck the system.”
While Satto got to work, Gallonius went off to organize his emergency Council meeting. Ruso unlocked Asper’s office. He sat in the chair that Julius Asper would have sat in, leaned his elbows on the desk where Julius Asper would have leaned them, and wondered if this was how Julius Asper had felt when he realized what was going on.
When the knock on the door finally came, he was tempted not to respond. To spin out these last few moments of peace for as long as possible. Then the rapping grew louder and he heard Dias announce, “Visitor for you, sir,” and in response to his, “Who is it?” one of the last voices he had expected to hear replied, “It’s me, Ruso. Can somebody tell me what on earth is going on?”
Ruso almost fell over the desk in his hurry to open the door. “Valens! What the hell are you doing here?”
“Frankly,” said Valens, seating himself on Asper’s desk as Ruso shut the door behind him, “I have no idea. There’s nothing wrong with Marcus. Did Tilla put you up to this?”
“Up to what?”
“Writing to say my son was ill. I’ve just ridden up here like the wind only to find that nobody’s expecting me, the place is in chaos, half the staff are in tears, and my wife’s too busy fussing about Tilla to bother thanking me. So the guard fellow with the dangly bits in his hair brought me over to ask you what the hell’s going on.”
“What’s the matter with Tilla?”
“I don’t know. Albanus caused some panic because he came to find her, but she’d already gone off somewhere to meet you.”
“I told her to stay with Serena!”
“Yes, but then you sent a couple of chaps in chain mail to fetch her.”
“No I didn’t.”
“No? And you didn’t send me an urgent letter, either? Well, obviously somebody’s got it all arse about face.” He stopped. “Is there something the matter? Where are you rushing off to?”
Dias wasn’t expecting to be grabbed by the throat. He wasn’t expecting to have his fancy hairstyle slammed back against the wall and Ruso yelling in his face, “Where’s my wife?”
Dias’s spear clattered to the floor. He looked stunned. Ruso heard his own voice echoing around the hall. There were hands grabbing him, hauling him backward. People were clustering around. Dias was stepping away from the wall and rubbing the back of his head.
“Where is she?” Ruso yelled, struggling to free his arms and stay on his feet. “What have you done with my wife?”
Dias looked up. “I don’t know anything about your wife.”
“Yes you do, two of your men took her!”
Valens was there now, approaching with his hands held up in a gesture that was supposed to be calming. “Steady on, now, old chap. There’s no need to go attacking people.”
“He’s taken Tilla,” said Ruso flatly.
“Gentlemen, I’m sure if you let him stand up…”
Dias gave the order. Instantly, they let him drop. Ruso staggered, then regained his balance. Both chief magistrates were hurrying across the hall toward him. He looked at Dias. “Where is she?”
Dias said, “He’s out of his mind. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
Valens was saying something soothing and trying to steer him back toward the privacy of the office. Ruso shook the hand off his arm. “I’m not one of your bloody patients!”
“Then try and behave like a sane man!” hissed Valens. “What’s the matter with you?”
Ruso reminded himself to breathe. The shaking would stop if only he could breathe properly. “They tried to kill us last night,” he said.
“Oh, come on. I’m sure nobody-”
Ruso spun around and seized his friend by the shoulders. “Make sure Serena’s safe with her cousin,” he said. “Tell her not to leave the mansio. Then get some of your own slaves and find Albanus and Tilla. Try the guard headquarters in the Forum. Try the stables. Try Asper’s house. Try anywhere you can think of. If I don’t meet you at the mansio, take everyone back to Londinium and say…” He paused, realizing he could be overheard. “Just take them home,” he said. “I’ll be along as soon as I can.”
Valens frowned. “Are you quite sure you’re all right on your own?”
Ruso took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to be all right until he found her, but he had to stay in control. It might be the only thing that was keeping her safe.
66
Ruso stood on the podium. One or two of the councillors crammed onto the benches had taken the time to dress in their togas but most were in their everyday clothes. He looked over their heads to the ordinary men and women crowding all the way to the back of the chamber. He recognized the bronzesmiths who lived next to Camma. Nico’s landlady. The masseur with the mole on his nose. These Britons with their shaggy hair, their bright stripes and checks and their legs encased in workaday trousers, were once more waiting for him to make a speech.
The chief magistrates were watching him from one side, seated in their metal-framed chairs. At the far end of the chamber, Dias was standing in the open doorway, well placed both to hear what was being said and to issue orders to his men outside.
Those were the listeners he could see, but whatever he said here would have wider consequences. Other people had expectations of him. Metellus. Firmus. The procurator. Camma. Tilla.
Ruso cleared his throat and glanced at the magistrates. They knew what he was about to say. They had called him into a side room to discuss it as the chamber was beginning to fill.
Gallonius had been the more apologetic of the two, saying, “We had hoped it would not come to this.”
Caratius had insisted that if he had known what was going on, he would have put a stop to it. But both were agreed that there was only one way forward.
“Nico had threatened suicide before, you know,” explained Gallonius.
“Really?”
“On the day he confessed to me about all the false coins he had slipped into the theater fund to replace the money he took out.”
Ruso stared at him. “You knew?”
