What the hell had Gnostus put in that medicine? What had he been thinking? Had he really imagined that, just because he had finally begun to understand something of what was going on, Calvus and Stilo would kneel in surrender? It was difficult to see what he could do to salvage the situation, except to distract them and hope they made some sort of mistake.
‘It wasn’t Claudia who bought the honey, though,’ he said, hoping Calvus would not repeat his threat with the spade. ‘It was Ennia wearing one of Claudia’s wigs, and her pink shoes. I didn’t mention the colour of the shoes when I talked to Claudia, but when you told Fuscus, you knew they were pink. You haven’t spoken to the trader, so you must have got that from Ennia. She knew because she was the one wearing them. She even made sure she drew the stallholder’s attention to them. If we take both women down there, I daresay he’ll pick her out.’
Ennia’s curtailed squeak of ‘No —!’ might have referred to the identity parade or to some new threat from Stilo.
‘She poisoned her brother to get his money, and she was going to make sure Claudia got the blame.’
‘No!’
‘Except he died in my house. She didn’t plan that.’ Ruso turned to the diggers. ‘You can keep on digging if you like. At least it’ll make them go away. But Ennia’s not really worth much as a hostage. She’s going to be sentenced to death for murder anyway.’
82
‘It was Zosimus!’ shrieked Ennia.
Everyone had stopped to listen now. Stilo, curious at last, moved the knife a fraction to let her talk.
‘Tell them, Zosimus!’
The steward rammed his spade into the mud and stared at Ennia. In the silence, one of the diggers shifted position, and the mud squelched beneath him.
‘Tell them about my lovely brother.’
‘You knew all about it?’ demanded Claudia. Ruso motioned to her to be quiet.
Zosimus looked at Ennia. ‘Which lie would you like me to tell this time?’
Ennia swallowed. ‘No lies. Tell them what he did.’
Zosimus looked round at the faces all turned towards him in the lamplight. ‘Ennia was engaged to a man in Rome.’ There was no expression in his voice. He might have been reading a list of calendar dates. ‘Severus didn’t think he was suitable. The man died of a fever. Ennia moved here with Severus.’ He cleared his throat.
‘Tell them what you told me!’
‘I wasn’t happy about the way Severus did business here. He said that, if I refused to back him up, he would get rid of me like he had got rid of Ennia’s boyfriend.’
Stilo was the first to speak. ‘Very sad,’ he said, gesticulating with the knife towards the mud. ‘Now dig.’
‘Wait a moment,’ said Calvus. ‘Which of you did do it?’
‘She did,’ said Zosimus at the same moment as Ennia said, ‘He did.’
‘Who cares?’ demanded Stilo.
‘Dig,’ ordered Calvus. Zosimus sighed and heaved his spade out of the mud. Calvus moved across to murmur to Stilo, who glanced at the door and muttered something back.
‘I want to know who it was!’ insisted Claudia to no one in particular. ‘I’m the widow. I should be told.’
When nobody else seemed inclined to answer, Ruso said, ‘Ennia bought the honey. Zosimus must have put it in the kitchen. Afterwards he went there saying he was investigating the death, got rid of the medicine and cleared the rest of the honey out before it could do any more damage.’
A voice from behind the press cried, ‘You made us drink that medicine!’
‘You only had a little bit each,’ retorted Zosimus, bending to pick out a broad shard of broken pot from the mud. ‘It wasn’t dangerous.’
The voice said, ‘You didn’t drink any.’
‘I had to keep my head clear.’ Zosimus waved the pot towards Ruso. ‘Everything would have been fine if he hadn’t interfered.’
Claudia was on her feet, one hand gripping Ruso by the shoulder. ‘He killed my husband and — ’
She was silenced by an exclamation from Zosimus. He reached down and hauled a dripping bag out of the quagmire, resting it on the broken curve of pot. Something inside chinked as it settled in a pool of mud.
Calvus beckoned it over, peered inside and nodded to Stilo. He tied the muddy bag to his belt and lifted the bar off the door. He ordered the diggers to get back against the far wall with the others. Then, turning to Ruso, he said, ‘You go first.’
Ruso manoeuvred himself to his feet and gathered up the crutches. The pain flooded into his foot with an intensity he had not experienced since the day of the accident. At least he supposed it meant his mind was fully clear now.
His eyes, accustomed to the lamplight, could see nothing out in the blackness of the yard. ‘Tilla?’ he called before venturing out, just in case she had overheard his threat of the scythe.
‘We are here,’ replied Tilla.
As he blinked, Ruso could make out human shapes in the darkness. To his left, the prongs of a pitchfork rose in silhouette against a light patch of sky.
‘Tell those murderers,’ said Tilla, ‘that there are thirty strong men out here. All loyal to the Senator.’
Ruso limped out into the yard. ‘She’s not lying,’ he confirmed.
From inside the winery came a fresh shriek of ‘Gaius!’
There was a scuffle behind him and a gasp from some of the farm slaves as a bedraggled figure appeared in the doorway with Stilo’s arm around her throat. Instead of Ennia, he could just make out the cropped head of Claudia. ‘Anybody tries to touch us, and her ladyship’s dead,’ announced Stilo, dragging Claudia sideways so he had the winery wall at his back. ‘This one’s a proper hostage, doctor. Happy now?’
Calvus emerged to stand beside him. ‘We don’t want to hurt anybody.’
‘But we will if we have to,’ put in Stilo.
‘All we want,’ said Calvus, ‘is three horses. You men stand back and let us out, and once we’re clear we release the hostage.’
‘Four horses,’ corrected Ennia, remarkably calm. ‘You don’t think I’m sharing with her, do you?’ She dragged the winery door shut and turned the key in the lock, leaving the diggers trapped inside.
As Zosimus shouted, ‘Ennia, let me out!’ through the door, Tilla’s voice rang out from somewhere in the darkness.
‘We will give you nothing. You are trapped. As soon as you kill the hostage we will kill you.’
There was an indistinct squeak from Claudia and a chuckle from Stilo. ‘I’m not going to kill her, Blondie. Not yet. I’ll just take her fingers off. One by one.’ His voice hardened. ‘Get the horses.’
There was movement out in the darkness. The pitchfork wavered.
‘Do not do it!’ said Tilla. The movement stopped.
Ennia called, ‘Acratus, are you out there?’
‘Yes, miss,’ came the automatic reply just before someone else hissed, ‘Shut up, you fool!’
‘Acratus, fetch the horses straight away.’
‘Do not do it!’ insisted Tilla.
‘All of you slaves out there,’ put in Stilo, ‘are going to be dinner for the lions once word gets out you was told to do something to help this lady and you didn’t do it. Who wants to catch the first finger?’
‘Do not listen to him,’ urged Tilla over Claudia’s squeal of terror. ‘We have them trapped.’
‘Just get the horses,’ put in Calvus, clearly tired of arguing.
‘I’m in charge here,’ said Ruso, not sure that he was. ‘They’re not bluffing. They’ve already murdered Probus’ man and Ennia’s poisoned her brother. Do what they ask. Fetch the horses.’
In the ensuing silence, all he could hear was Tilla’s sigh of exasperation.
‘I think I’ll take a thumb first,’ said Stilo. ‘Which d’you want to lose?’
There was a muffled shout of, ‘Do it, Acratus!’ from Zosimus behind the winery door. ‘I’ll answer to the Senator. Go across to the stables and bring out four good horses.’