When the vehicle was finally out of sight beyond the vineyards, he shut the gate and walked back across the garden. In his hand was a list of detailed reminders that Lucius had left for the farm slaves to stop them ruining everything in his absence, despite the fact that most of them had been working this land all their lives. Ruso hoped they knew what they were doing. Instructions like ‘Day 2, jars 3 to 8, add brine’ were meaningless unless the men knew what quantities were involved, and there was now nobody left to ask. Apart from the staff, the only other adults here to consult were Arria and Marcia.
The gods alone knew what the investigators must be making of what they had found here today. A resentful farmer with marital problems, a medic with massive debts and some knowledge of poisons, a stepmother who had her staff clean up the site of a murder, and a cook who washed up the evidence. The only faintly good news from today was that, so far, they did not seem to have found out that Severus had been instrumental in the death of Cass’s brother. He supposed it was only a matter of time, though, before they worked it out and added her to their list of possible suspects. Once they had put all that lot together they would probably be able to convince themselves that the barbarian who had fled the scene with her had something to do with it as well.
He would make a final check on the injured horse before taking himself to the baths to prepare for the dreaded dinner.
‘Galla!’
At the sound of Ruso’s voice across the garden, the slave’s body jolted as if she had been speared.
‘I’d like a word. In the study.’
Behind the closed door of the study he demanded to know exactly who this Solemnis the carter was and how Tilla had met him. ‘You may as well tell me,’ he insisted. ‘Lying will only get you into worse trouble.’
‘I would not lie to you, my lord.’
‘So. Who is he?’
Galla took a deep breath and gabbled, ‘He is a follower of Christos, my lord.’
‘I know that. Where did Tilla meet him?’
‘At the meeting, my lord.’ The pitch of Galla’s replies was rising with her terror.
‘What meeting?’
‘Of the Christians, my lord.’
‘What’s Tilla been doing meeting with Christians? Where?’
Galla lifted a hand and pointed towards the window. ‘Next door.’
‘And this was the so-called family you took her to visit last night?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘I see.’
She stood motionless, staring at her feet.
‘How far has this superstitious nonsense spread? What about the rest of the staff?’
‘There is only me, my lord.’ He could barely catch her words. ‘I have not been very brave at sharing the good news.’
‘But you have been sharing it with Tilla.’
Galla lifted her chin. ‘She is alone in a foreign country, my lord. I — it is a comfort to her.’
‘Alone in a foreign country.’ Ruso felt his fists clench. ‘She was vulnerable! You had no right to prey on her like that. These Christos people are …’ He broke off. ‘The business about orgies and sacrificing babies isn’t true, is it?’
‘They are kind to each other, my lord. They share what they have and feed the poor. They nurse the sick and wait for Christos to return.’
‘And while they’re waiting, they break up marriages and run off with young women who don’t know any better.’
Galla’s eyes drifted shut and her lips moved as if she was muttering to herself.
‘You’d better not be praying to your god in here.’
The eyes opened again.
‘You know the sort of good news I want?’ demanded Ruso. ‘I want to hear that the people I’m responsible for are safely back home. And then I want to hear about a religion that doesn’t cost a fortune, doesn’t take up too much time and expects its followers to do what they’re bloody well told.’
Galla swallowed. ‘My lord, in one of the letters from the saints it says — ’
‘I don’t want to know,’ he said, ‘and if you want to remain part of this household, neither should you.’ He paused. ‘You haven’t got any religious stuff around the house, have you?’
When she did not reply he repeated the question. After another silence he lowered his head into his hands. ‘Get rid of it, whatever it is. No, on second thoughts — bring it to me and I’ll get rid of it. I never thought I’d have to say this, Galla, but I don’t trust you.’
57
Ruso did not normally waylay his dinner guests before they arrived, but he needed a private word with Lollia Saturnina. So private that she asked the slave who was carrying her indoor shoes to walk twenty paces behind them through the olive grove.
‘We’ve had a slight problem at home,’ he said, noting with approval the simple elegance of her dress and the absence of flashy jewellery.
She said, ‘Severus, or another one?’
‘Another one,’ Ruso confessed. ‘In the course of sorting it out, I’ve been warned that you have an infestation of Christians.’
‘Really? Are you sure?’
‘A couple of our people went to a meeting on your property two nights ago.’
‘A meeting?’
Ruso hoped the feeling of light-headedness was the result of rushing to intercept Lollia after hasty bathing on a very empty stomach, and not something to do with the contents of the water bottle. He said, ‘Apparently they came across some chap there, and he’s enticed them away with him.’
‘Are you quite sure? We haven’t got anybody missing.’
‘We’ve lost two,’ said Ruso. ‘Four now, because Lucius has taken our stable lad and gone to look for them.’
‘I’ll have a word with the staff,’ she promised. ‘I’ve never heard of Christians stealing people before. Aren’t they supposed to look after one another and feed the poor?’
‘I don’t mind them feeding the poor,’ said Ruso, annoyed that she was failing to see the point. ‘Even if it does encourage scrounging. And I don’t mind what rubbish they believe. I can even put up with them being a secret society and thinking their god is better than everybody else’s. But they can’t go running off with other people’s …’ He paused. ‘With other people’s people.’
‘No, that’s quite unacceptable,’ agreed Lollia.
‘They’ve been hiding things in the house here as well. You might want to have a look around your own place in case there’s another crack-down.’
‘I will.’ Lollia paused to inspect the olives forming amongst the slender leaves. ‘I’ve never understood why people make a fuss about the Christians,’ she said. ‘Surely nobody really believes they burned down Rome?’
Ruso shrugged. ‘Who knows? If they steal people’s … people, who knows what they’ll do next?’
58
Brother Solemnis’ mules clopped over the long wooden bridge into Arelate as if they had not noticed that it was only held up by a row of boats moored to two posts. His passengers were wide-eyed: Cass staring at the gleaming expanse of river flowing beneath them, and Tilla wondering what would happen if the mooring-ropes broke.
‘Everything’s bigger than I thought,’ whispered Cass. ‘We should never have come.’
Tilla, who was feeling the same way, was not going to admit it. ‘If we had never come,’ she said, ‘we would not know about the beautiful wide river and the strange bridge that will still live in our minds when we are old and grey and our teeth fall out.’
As she spoke the cart lurched over a bump, and she grabbed at the side to steady herself.
Relieved to be safely across, she shook the dust of the journey off her borrowed straw hat, scowled at the sight of yet another amphitheatre rising above the red roofs of the town and observed, ‘My friend and I need beds for the night.’