Read Online Persona Non Grata by Ruth Downie - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ruth Downie
Tags: Fiction, General, Historical, Rome, Mystery & Detective, Mystery Fiction, Murder, Physicians, Investigation, Murder - Investigation, Italy, Physicians - Rome
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been a misunderstanding, that Tilla was weary from the journey but that in future she would be eating with the family.
He was glad she was not there to see the expression on Arria’s face.
By the time dinner was over, Tilla had already gone to bed.
Something creaked out in the corridor. Footsteps passed by. Somewhere at the far end, a door clamped shut.
Ruso wondered whether to go and fetch her. He really should let her sleep. He really should sleep himself, instead of lying here going over the events of the day and wondering what he could do tomorrow to stop mess sliding into disaster.
He rolled over and scowled at the old cupboard in the corner. It reminded him of the childhood nights when Lucius had refused to let him snuff out the lamp until he had checked that those cupboard doors were locked. It was vital that they were locked after dark, because of the monsters.
Until now he had never thought to wonder how the monsters had installed themselves in the cupboard— or in Lucius’s mind— in the first place. They even had names: Gobbus was a male monster with matted hair, green teeth, and breath that smelled of rotten eggs. Mogta was his sister, or perhaps his wife—their precise relationship, being of no interest to seven-and nine-year-olds, was never defined. What was clear was that Mogta liked to slide her sharp fingernails into the soft flesh of small boys in the night, and then skin them alive while they cried for their mothers.
As he watched the shadow of the cupboard breathing against the pale wall with the drifting of the lamp flame, it occurred to Ruso that the monsters must have appeared at around about the time a winter fever had taken away their own mother. Lucius had lain in this room with the same fever for what seemed like weeks, although it had probably only been a few days. The house had been full of weeping and strangers. Adults whom Ruso did not recognize, but who knew his name, told him how sorry they were and how brave he was being.
Nobody except Ruso had time to listen to a small boy’s tales of what he had seen coming out of the cupboard in the fevered night. To Ruso’s shame, he had found it funny— until Lucius kept him awake, crying and cuddling up to him for comfort. Then he veered between sympathy— now their mother was gone it was his job to protect his little brother— and exasperation. In fact, he had felt then much as he felt now. Except that this time the monsters were real.
Gobbus no longer lived in the cupboard, but on the senator’s estate down the road, and there was no locking him away now. Ruso wondered if even Lucius appreciated just how serious this seizure business was.
If the praetor in Rome ruled in favor of Severus, the house hold would be turned off the land they had worked for decades. The men who had been cutting the grapes this afternoon would be put up for auction. Galla, the new cook, the ancient bath boy who had been stoking the fire since Ruso was a child . . . all would be sold off to the highest bidder along with Arria’s trea sured tables and couches and cushions.
As for the family— his sisters would have to find husbands where they could: old goats perhaps, but unlikely to be rich ones. Lucius would have to look for work as a farm manager, one step up from slavery.
After the sale, the profits would be divided between the creditors. Given the size of the debts, it was obvious that no one would get as much as he was owed— and that was when the real trouble would begin. Lucius might be able to wriggle out of it, because technically it was Ruso who was their father’s heir. It was Ruso who would fail to pay off the balance of the debts. It was Ruso who would be declared infamis : the disgraced man with no rights, no legal standing, no money, no good name . . .
Despite the warmth of the room, Ruso felt a sudden shiver run down his back. No good name . . . how could a man who was infamis serve as an officer in the army?
He lay back, eyes wide,
He was glad she was not there to see the expression on Arria’s face.
By the time dinner was over, Tilla had already gone to bed.
Something creaked out in the corridor. Footsteps passed by. Somewhere at the far end, a door clamped shut.
Ruso wondered whether to go and fetch her. He really should let her sleep. He really should sleep himself, instead of lying here going over the events of the day and wondering what he could do tomorrow to stop mess sliding into disaster.
He rolled over and scowled at the old cupboard in the corner. It reminded him of the childhood nights when Lucius had refused to let him snuff out the lamp until he had checked that those cupboard doors were locked. It was vital that they were locked after dark, because of the monsters.
Until now he had never thought to wonder how the monsters had installed themselves in the cupboard— or in Lucius’s mind— in the first place. They even had names: Gobbus was a male monster with matted hair, green teeth, and breath that smelled of rotten eggs. Mogta was his sister, or perhaps his wife—their precise relationship, being of no interest to seven-and nine-year-olds, was never defined. What was clear was that Mogta liked to slide her sharp fingernails into the soft flesh of small boys in the night, and then skin them alive while they cried for their mothers.
As he watched the shadow of the cupboard breathing against the pale wall with the drifting of the lamp flame, it occurred to Ruso that the monsters must have appeared at around about the time a winter fever had taken away their own mother. Lucius had lain in this room with the same fever for what seemed like weeks, although it had probably only been a few days. The house had been full of weeping and strangers. Adults whom Ruso did not recognize, but who knew his name, told him how sorry they were and how brave he was being.
Nobody except Ruso had time to listen to a small boy’s tales of what he had seen coming out of the cupboard in the fevered night. To Ruso’s shame, he had found it funny— until Lucius kept him awake, crying and cuddling up to him for comfort. Then he veered between sympathy— now their mother was gone it was his job to protect his little brother— and exasperation. In fact, he had felt then much as he felt now. Except that this time the monsters were real.
Gobbus no longer lived in the cupboard, but on the senator’s estate down the road, and there was no locking him away now. Ruso wondered if even Lucius appreciated just how serious this seizure business was.
If the praetor in Rome ruled in favor of Severus, the house hold would be turned off the land they had worked for decades. The men who had been cutting the grapes this afternoon would be put up for auction. Galla, the new cook, the ancient bath boy who had been stoking the fire since Ruso was a child . . . all would be sold off to the highest bidder along with Arria’s trea sured tables and couches and cushions.
As for the family— his sisters would have to find husbands where they could: old goats perhaps, but unlikely to be rich ones. Lucius would have to look for work as a farm manager, one step up from slavery.
After the sale, the profits would be divided between the creditors. Given the size of the debts, it was obvious that no one would get as much as he was owed— and that was when the real trouble would begin. Lucius might be able to wriggle out of it, because technically it was Ruso who was their father’s heir. It was Ruso who would fail to pay off the balance of the debts. It was Ruso who would be declared infamis : the disgraced man with no rights, no legal standing, no money, no good name . . .
Despite the warmth of the room, Ruso felt a sudden shiver run down his back. No good name . . . how could a man who was infamis serve as an officer in the army?
He lay back, eyes wide,
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