Three people stood before them. Two women and one man. Both women were quite richly dressed in long, flowing garments that fell elegantly to the ground and were not bedsheets. The shorter and older of the two – the one who also bore a disconcerting resemblance to Matthew Farrell – was festooned in additional layers of fabric as befitted her marital status. She wore a woollen stolla over her blue tunic, and was smothered in that infallible emblem of the respectable Roman matron, an all-encompassing palla. This draped over her left shoulder, around the back, under her right arm and then across the front of her body to be carried over her left arm. A particularly useless garment, thought Jane, specifically designed to restrict women’s movements without actually going so far as to tie their legs together. From the expression on her face, being enveloped in massive amounts of fabric had not brought out the gentler side of Matthew’s mother’s nature.

The other, younger woman wore a simple green tunic. Her blue palla was prettily embroidered in silver thread.

Jane looked down at her impromptu bedsheets and suddenly felt woefully underdressed.

Behind them stood a short man in a plain tunic and heavy-duty boots, who was dividing his attention between the scene in front of him and what was going on around them.

Luke was staring at the older woman. ‘He’s got your eyes,’ he said, eventually.

‘Oh, so that’s what I did with them.’ She looked him up and down, visibly unimpressed. ‘Which one are you – Luke or Jane?’

The tall man spoke. ‘Behave yourself, Max.’

She let her eyes linger on Luke in a manner that did not bode well for his future wellbeing and turned to Jane.

‘So you’re Jane.’

Jane agreed that she was indeed Jane.

‘Matthew’s friend. He speaks very highly of you.’

‘Matthew?’

‘No – Leon.’

‘I’m Matthew’s friend, too,’ said Luke quickly, possibly with an idea of making up lost ground.

The tall man interceded. ‘Luke, Jane, my name is Peterson and this is Dr Maxwell and Miss Van Owen, formerly of the Time Police, whom you may remember.’

‘We haven’t been members of the Time Police for very long,’ said Jane. ‘Strictly speaking, we’re still under training.’

‘I think we’d all gathered that,’ he said, gently.

The short man with unfashionably spiky hair, who had never taken his eyes off the area around them, coughed ostentatiously.

‘Oh, yes. And this is our eunuch.’

The eunuch grinned. ‘Markham. Security. Parasite-free. Would you like to see my certificate?’

Wordlessly, they shook their heads.

Maxwell stared at them but addressed Peterson. ‘So what are they doing here? Dressed like that?’

‘Well, Max, and I want you to remain very calm . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘They’re on the run.’

She stared again at Luke and Jane. From the expression on her face, it was very obvious that, as fugitives, they did not rate that highly. ‘Why?’