He shifted one leg so it lay between hers and said, ‘Perhaps in case you need anything.’
‘I do not think so.’
‘No,’ he agreed.
She wriggled. ‘You are too hot.’
‘You’re lovely and cool.’
‘You did not tell them about me.’
‘I should have,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’
She rolled over to face him. ‘Are you ashamed of me?’
‘No.’
‘I have wrong clothes and funny hair.’
‘So do I.’
She said, ‘Your sisters are taking me shopping tomorrow. They said I must ask you for money.’
‘Your hair can’t be that funny, then. They’re very particular.’
She seemed to think about that for a moment, then she said, ‘What did your brother say about the letter?’
He had expected her to be angry when she found out about the forgery. Instead she said, ‘I think the gods have made this wicked man write to you. Now you are here, you can help your brother to fight him.’
If only it were that simple. ‘He’s from a powerful family,’ he explained. ‘And he can use the law to back him up.’
‘I will help you.’
He was not going to tell her that there was nothing she could do to help, and that bringing her here had been a huge mistake. She did not need to know that, if the wicked man won, they would not be able to return to Britannia together. Instead he bent forward to kiss her, feeling her hair brushing against his face in the darkness, and tried to think of something else to talk about.
Only as he was halfway through ‘Arria thinks I should save the family by marrying the rich widow next door’ did he realize that Tilla might not find it funny. When she said nothing he added, ‘But I said, “What about Tilla?” ’
The silence from the other side of the bed told him that he was digging himself further into a hole.
Outside, he heard the faint cry of a child and more footsteps. He had a sudden memory of Cass’s brother scrambling down that corridor on all fours with two of the nephews on his back squealing, ‘Faster, faster!’
‘Tilla,’ he said, clutching at a new subject, ‘while we were travelling, do you remember anybody saying anything about a ship called the Pride of the South?’
She did not, nor did she seem interested until he explained about Cass’s brother. ‘She is the one who sent you the gloves and the socks and the olives?’
‘Yes.’ Justinus’ ship had vanished back at the beginning of the summer. Cass was right: it was very odd that Probus had turned up here just a couple of weeks ago to ask if he were still alive. Perhaps Probus had heard some kind of rumour about his lost ship and was trying simultaneously to follow it up and keep it quiet. It was typical of the man that he had not considered the effect of his inquiries on the dead man’s sister. He said, ‘Probably nobody will ever know what happened to him.’
‘It is a sad way to lose a brother, far from home.’
‘I’d like to get over to Arelate and ask around, but I need to get into Nemausus first thing tomorrow so I can try and stave off this bloody court case.’ He sighed. ‘Then I need to find some work. Even if this Severus is prepared to settle, we’ll have next to no cash left for the rest of the bills. The whole thing is a mess.’
‘You are tired,’ she said, slipping her hand into his. ‘Everything will seem better in the morning.’
‘Perhaps.’ Perhaps not.
She moved his hand up and placed it on her breast. ‘I have told that slave she can sleep in my bed,’ she said, wriggling closer to him. ‘That way, she will not tell your stepmother what I am doing.’
‘Good,’ murmured Ruso, bending forward to nuzzle her ear. ‘Neither will I.’
13
According to Arria, the family carriage was being repaired. According to Marcia, it had been being repaired for the last six months, but Lucius was too mean to pay the wheelwright, and that was why Ruso was having to drive them and Tilla into town this morning in this awful embarrassing thing, and why they were so hot.
‘You can’t blame Lucius for the weather,’ he said, reining in the mules so that they were not trotting straight into the dust kicked up by the carriage that was currently speeding past the smoking kilns of Lollia Saturnina’s amphora factory. ‘Why don’t you both sit under parasols instead of wrapping up like dead Egyptians? I’m surprised you can breathe under all that.’
Marcia gave an exaggerated sigh that said she thought her brother was extremely stupid, but she was not foolish enough to say so. ‘Because someone might see us, Gaius. Riding around on this.’ The cart juddered as she emphasized the final word with a thud of her sandal against the footboard.
Ruso remembered the faces of legionaries who had struggled miles across the wet British hills carrying wounded comrades: faces he might never see again if he could not find a way to get the farm out of Severus’ clutches. He said, ‘You could always walk.’
She snorted. ‘I might have known you’d take Lucius’ side. And I don’t suppose you’ve done anything about the dowry, have you?’
‘Not yet,’ he agreed.
‘But I need it!’
‘Not this morning.’
‘When, then?’
‘I’m going to talk to someone.’
‘What? Lucius said you would sort it out! Who else do you need to talk to? You’re supposed to be my guardian!’
‘And you’re supposed to do what I tell you,’ he pointed out.
Marcia flung herself against the wooden backrest with a cry of ‘Ohh! What is the matter with this family? Nobody else has to put up with this!’
‘No, they don’t!’ chipped in Flora from behind, where she was sitting with Tilla. ‘They don’t, Gaius. Really. If you weren’t off marching around with the Army, you’d know.’
‘Over in Britannia,’ observed Ruso, ‘the men pay a bride price to marry the women. Maybe I’ll ship you across there and sell you.’
‘How much did you pay for Tilla?’
‘I’m not married to Tilla,’ said Ruso, who had no intention of admitting that he had bought her as a slave in the back streets of Deva.
‘There are girls my age who have been married for years,’ continued Marcia.
Ruso said, ‘Not from ordinary families like ours.’
‘At this rate I shall be as shrivelled as a prune by the time you get round to it. And there’ll be nobody nice left to marry.’
They were approaching the vineyards that fringed the entrance to the estate of the absent Senator. Marcia’s hand on his arm was a welcome distraction from the tricky meeting he would face later with the Senator’s devious lying bastard of an agent.
‘Gaius, you wouldn’t make me marry somebody repulsive, would you?’
There was genuine anxiety in the hazel eyes, which were the only part of her face that was visible and which seemed to be blacker around the edges than was natural. ‘No,’ he promised, wondering if he was about to shut off a useful source of income. ‘I wouldn’t make you.’
‘Good!’ The note of triumph in her voice alerted him to the fact that he had just helped her score some sort of point.
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘I might ask you to volunteer.’
‘Oh!’ With this final sigh of exasperation Marcia leaned back, folded her arms, and lapsed into a sulk.
Marcia and Flora disembarked at the roadside, rearranging their stoles around their elaborately pinned curls and shaking off the dust of the road. He had offered to drive them right up to the Augustus gate, the broad stone arches of which were now visible in the town walls, but they had refused. Evidently the girls would rather traipse the last few hundred paces along the tomb-lined road in stifling heat than suffer the shame of being seen dismounting from a farm cart outside the gates.
Ruso considered asking them who was likely to care what vehicle they arrived in. Then he remembered Claudia demanding to know why he always had to argue with people like some beardy old Greek philosopher: a complaint that was especially memorable since it had been preceded by a loud howl and the use of a make-up pot as a missile.