Their narrow street opened into one wide enough to have its own pavements, although these had been mostly commandeered by the ubiquitous street barrows – tiny enough to escape the ban on wheeled traffic but large enough to cause major obstructions – selling even more fresh lettuce, some risky fish, and some not yet fly-covered meat. The smell of leather and glue drifted from a narrow doorway. A cobbler, Jane guessed. A few doors down various mounds of green stuff and bowls of unidentifiable brightly coloured powders were piled high on the pavement. No one seemed to notice them slowly being covered with the dust of passing traffic. The air was flooded with the sharp, sweet smell of herbs and spices. From somewhere unseen came the musical rhythm of a hammer on metal.

Most corners seemed to be occupied by fast-food restaurants offering breakfast to those setting off to work. There was a small shouting crowd around each one. Most customers ate standing up and the eating places were doing a roaring trade.

Luke stopped and studied one thoughtfully. ‘Here’s an idea. We could bring fried chicken to the Ancient World. What do you think? I’m convinced it would go down a storm. Don’t know what we’d do for chips, though. Do you have any suggestions?’

Jane recognised he was doing his best to distract her.

‘Yes, actually, I do. We jump to the New World to pick up some potatoes, bring them back here, plant them in our garden and become potato magnates. You’ll ring chickens’ necks and I’ll chip potatoes. We’d be rich by the end of the week.’

He stopped. ‘Do you know, that’s not a bad idea.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah, why not?’

She stared at him in disbelief. ‘You’ll wring chickens’ necks?’

‘No, no, we’ll get someone in to do that. What shall we call ourselves?’

‘JFC.’

‘Sounds like a football club and why JFC?’

‘I thought of it.’

‘I think you’ll find it was my idea. LFC.’

‘That is a football club.’

By now they had emerged into a main street.

They stood for a while. The streets were of much better quality here. The paving stones were rounded and shiny with more traffic and the buildings themselves grander and much cleaner. And much more colourful. Gazing about her, Jane realised that holos and films had misled her. Rome was not white. Well – it was, but the decorative details on each building were picked out in vivid colour. Statues were painted in a myriad of unrealistic hues. The cold, gleaming white marble of later ages did not exist here.

‘Wow,’ said Luke, which seemed to sum it all up.

The further they walked towards the river, the better the neighbourhood. There were occasional clumps of pine trees or other greenery for shade. And definitely much less shouting. Luke surveyed the crowded street. ‘What time do you think he’ll arrive at the Senate?’