Terra Incognita: A Novel of the Roman Empire (50 page)

“No, sir,” said Ruso. “I’ve been trying to catch a murderer so that you don’t end up condemning an innocent man to death later today.”

There was a brief and terrible silence, during which the whole courtyard seemed to hold its breath. “Very good,” said the governor benignly, and moved on down the row, leaving Ruso wondering if he had heard anything at all.

87

W
HEN HE WOKE
up cold and dripping with three angry women standing over his bed, Catavignus must have thought his hangover had turned into a nightmare.

Aemilia put down her empty bucket. Tilla nodded at Veldicca, who lifted the second bucket and poured the stream directly onto his nose so the others had to dodge back to avoid the splashing. He tried to reach out to defend himself. From her hiding place in the corner, Ness laughed, because she was the one who had tied his hands together. He opened his mouth to protest, and Tilla rammed in the dirty sock. Only when he tried to sit up did she put the kitchen knife to his throat and say, “You said the Romans would bring us peace and justice, uncle. We have come to help them. Get out of bed.”

He blinked the water out of his eyes and looked around at them. She wondered if he knew why they were there. No matter. All being well, there would be plenty of time to explain.

Catavignus, of course, had a great deal to say for himself, but since she had tied the sock in place with his belt and Ness had pulled a sack down over his shoulders, all that came out as they prodded and dragged him across to the malt house was an agitated moaning noise. After much stumbling—helpfully corrected by Ness jabbing him in the ribs with the other kitchen knife—they lined him up in front of the open door of the malt house, gave him a good shove, and enjoyed the sight of him falling face-first into the warm grain. Tilla slammed the door before he could get to his feet.

“And do not expect the men to come!” shouted Aemilia as she slid the lock across. “I have given them the day off!”

There was no response from inside the malt house.

“Perhaps we have killed him,” suggested Veldicca, tucking the key inside her breastband.

“We will think of that later,” said Tilla, slipping the knife into her belt and glancing around at her coconspirators. Ness, grimfaced as usual, seemed to be waiting for orders. Aemilia was wild haired and as flushed as if she had just come from the steam room. Veldicca leaned against the wall and folded her arms. “What now?”

Tilla, suddenly aware that she had not given a great deal of thought to what would happen next, pushed the hair out of her eyes. “He has a right to know why he is a prisoner,” she said. “We will all tell him our grievances. Who’s first?”

“Me!” insisted Aemilia, pushing her way past Ness to sit on the stone step and bang on the door with her fist. “I know what you did, Daddy. Do you hear me? You tried to turn Felix against me, and then you followed him and killed him! You have ruined my life and I hate you!”

There was a series of grunts and moans from behind the door, then a hefty thump from inside that made the lock rattle.

“Lean against it,” ordered Tilla, wishing they had tied him up more thoroughly. He was a big man. The door was thick, designed to hold the heat in, but the lock was only there to keep out the curious and it did not look strong. If he shoulder charged it, they could be in trouble. “Veldicca and Ness, fetch something to wedge the door.” She leaned closer to Aemilia. “I’ll hold the door. Go and stoke the fire.”

“Me?”

“Of course you! As hot as you can. I don’t know how long we can keep him in there. It won’t kill him, but it will give him a good fright.” She braced herself against the door and shouted, “Better sound the alarm, uncle! You are being attacked!”

There was more moaning and grunting from within, but no further attempt to break out.

“Surely your family will come to help?” she cried. “But no, perhaps they will not! Perhaps they are the ones who arranged it! Perhaps they want you out of the way so they can get on with making lots of money from the army!”

She moved aside as Ness and Veldicca maneuvered a heavy table out of the back entrance of the brewery and rammed it against the door.

Aemilia ordered Ness to bring more wood. The servant eyed her as if wondering whether to argue, then limped toward the neat stack of split logs under the eaves of the brewery.

“How’s the malt doing in there, uncle?” called Tilla, glancing up at the smoke that had made its way under the floor and was billowing from the top vent of the flue.

“Sh!” Veldicca had her finger on her lips. “Shout at him quietly, daughter of Lugh. They will hear us in the street.”

She was right. They had got rid of the brewery staff, but if they were overheard, then some passerby might be misguided enough to fetch help.

Veldicca reached over the table and rapped on the door with a stick. “You had my brother falsely arrested and tortured, Catavignus!”

Ness took the stick from her. Tilla put a hand on her arm. “You do not have to do this,” she assured her. “There may be trouble afterward.” They both knew that a slave who attacked a master would be shown no mercy.

Ness pushed her aside. “I have waited a long time for this,” she said, and rapped the stick against the heavy wood. “Is the malt drying well, master?” she called. “Is there anything else I can get you? You are lucky to have me, you know. I could have been killed along with my old master and mistress.”

A muffled bellow of “Get me out! You’re all mad!” came from behind the door.

“Oh, good!” announced Tilla, secretly worried that his voice would carry into the street. They had no way of quieting him now: He had probably wrenched his hands free and the doorway was too narrow for more than one person at a time to tackle him. “You can talk to us! Perhaps you can tell us why we should not set light to the thatch and leave you to burn like you left my family!”

88

R
USO HAD NOTHING
to lose now. Feeling slightly guilty about Valens’s complaints that he hadn’t meant he would cover
all
of Ruso’s duties, he walked out of the east gate and back to do battle with Catavignus. It was probably hopeless—why would a man confess when there was nothing to prove him guilty?—but he could not think of anything else to try.

There was no answer from the house next to the brewery. It seemed even the servant was out. He was about to try the brewery itself when he heard something odd going on behind it. Some sort of native chanting, interspersed with a rhythmic thump. The sound evoked the hideous memory of last night. He shuddered. He was about to turn back and fetch help when a voice he knew very well indeed called some sort of command. There was a pause, and then the chant began again. He hurried to the back of the brewery, flattened himself against the wall, then peered around into the yard.

A fierce fire was crackling in the stoke hole where he had groped in vain for the missing evidence this morning. Tilla and her friends were circling the malt house, chanting something over and over again, each of them clutching a burning brand in one hand. At the end of the chant they beat the brands against the thatch. Embers broke off. The larger pieces rolled down the thatch and fell into the mud beneath. The sparks and smaller chunks sank down into the straw. The chant began again, the circle moved on, and the thatch began to smolder.

Tilla, Aemilia, Ness the housekeeper, and Veldicca, the secret lover of Thessalus were circling around the malt house in some peculiar native ritual perhaps designed to call down the gods to save Rianorix. He supposed it had as much chance of success as anything he had tried himself.

It was only when he heard a muffled male shout that he realized they had somebody trapped in there.

“Stop!” he yelled, scrambling over the wall and dropping down into the brewery yard. The chant died. The women halted, looked first at him and then at Tilla, the smoking brands still raised in their hands.

“Help me!” cried the voice, in Latin this time. “Get me out!”

Aemilia looked flushed and excited. Tilla had a kitchen knife tucked in her belt, tangled hair, and an expression that suggested if he came too close, he would end up locked in the malt house himself.

“Help!” came Catavignus’s voice again. “Is there anybody out there?”

“It’s the doctor!” shouted Ruso.

“Apollo-Maponus be praised! They’re trying to roast me to death!” The door rattled. “Get the key!”

Ruso looked Tilla in the eye. “What are you doing?”

“This is justice.”

He took a step closer.

She reached for the knife.

Ruso moved to one side and saw the table wedged against the door. “This is murder.”

“He betrayed my family,” she said simply. “He cannot deny it.”

“I deny every word of it!” roared Catavignus. “Get me—” The sentence ended with a scream. “The roof’s on fire!”

Ruso seized one leg of the table and hauled it clear. As he moved toward the door two firebrands were thrust in front of his face and he felt the jab of Tilla’s knife over his right kidney. “This is our business,” hissed Tilla in his ear. “He is one of our people.”

“Bring him to the governor for trial,” insisted Ruso, straining away from the heat of the brands scorching his face. He could hear Catavignus coughing and beating on the door of the malt house.

“The law—”

“This is our law,” insisted Tilla. “You think we will get justice from you? He is a friend of the army. You will find an excuse—”

“Have him tried by the governor, Tilla. Otherwise you’ll all be in terrible trouble for this.”

“Why? What is one more dead native to the army?”

“Don’t be naïve. He’s their friend. Their beer supplier.”

“Hah!” she said. “This is what I tell you, they will not kill him!”

Flames were rising from the thatch in several places. Catavignus seemed to be flinging himself against the door in a last desperate attempt to escape, and Ruso realized he had just argued himself into a circle.

He twisted around, trying to look her in the eye. “Tilla, I’m ordering you to hand over that key!”

She leaned over his shoulder. Her smile was almost pitying. He could not order her to do anything at all, and they both knew it. What he did not know was whether she was prepared to use that knife.

“Confess, man!” he yelled, tensing himself ready to flail and kick his way free. Even if she stabbed him, he might still be able to get over the wall and shout for help before they caught up with him. “Confess and—”

“Stand aside!” roared a voice he was not expecting. A squad of soldiers vaulted over the walls of the yard and surrounded the women with the points of their spears. Audax stepped forward, jammed a crowbar under the door lock, and prized it open. A filthy figure stumbled out in a billow of smoke, choking and gasping for air.

Audax was giving orders for the fire to be put out and Ruso was extricating himself from among the women when Metellus appeared at the back entrance of the brewery. He saw Tilla and shook his head sadly. “What did I say to you earlier?”

“He is a murderer,” said Tilla. “He betrayed my family. You heard Trenus say it!”

Metellus frowned. “Did I?”

“Stop playing games with her, Metellus,” put in Ruso. “He killed Felix as well.”

Metellus sighed. “I might have known I’d find you here in the middle of it.”

Ruso seized the spluttering Catavignus by the shoulder. “Susanna says you were there delivering the beer when Rianorix came and threatened Felix,” he said. “But when I first met you, you told the barber you didn’t know anything about it.”

“I can’t remember.”

Ruso hauled him to his feet and dragged him across to the water trough. When the latest soldier had filled his firefighting bucket, he plunged Catavignus headfirst into the cold water. The man’s arms flailed wildly while his long hair floated on the surface like waterweed. Ruso pulled him out again. “That should help clear the smoke from your eyes,” he said. “Felix had his debts list with him when he saw Dari. It wasn’t on his body. You destroyed it so you wouldn’t have to pay the builder.”

“The builder was useless!”

Whatever else Catavignus had to say about the builder rose as bubbles. When he emerged, gasping, Ruso pushed his nose toward the malt grains bobbing on the surface. “Tell the truth!”

“Help me!” shouted Catavignus. “Metellus! Tell him to stop!”

Metellus folded his arms and leaned back against the wall of the brewery.

Strands of wet gray hair were plastered down Catavignus’s face as Ruso yanked him upward. “Gambax saw you with Felix that night.” said Ruso.

“Nonsense! I was never—”

Ruso put him under the water again, trying to think what he could say that would compel Catavignus to confess. Pulling him out, he said, “Gambax has been arrested for attacking my clerk. He’s singing like the wind in the trees, trying to do a deal. So it doesn’t matter. We don’t need your confession, we’ve got a witness.”

“I need protection!” Catavignus spluttered, squirming in Ruso’s grip. “I demand protection! Metellus, tell him who I am!”

Ruso glanced across. “He’s a native brewer,” said Metellus. “He’s a man who did a deal with a neighboring chieftain to get rid of his own brother’s family.”