‘Right, young lady!’ Oblivious to my satire, Fundanus decided to set me straight about my own commission. ‘I expect this will come as news to you. Those slaves, that whingeing bunch who’ve got themselves bed and board at the temple’s expense, ought to have gone to their master’s aid. Me, I support extending blame to all the little shits under one roof. We have to fight the enemy, both within and without.’

‘Might they not have been loyal servants who were unable to do anything?’

Fundanus gave me a pitying look. ‘I can tell what sort of home you were brought up in!’ My parents would have been proud to hear that, especially as he clearly meant ‘among dangerous philosophers, who think all beings born on earth have value’.

‘I try to see both sides,’ I murmured, feeling my mother’s influence.

‘That was what I meant!’

‘I am sorry,’ I apologised meekly, mentally writing a curse tablet against this man.

‘Let me tell you a few things about the world, my girl. We cannot let these people get the upper hand. Slaves have to be forced to protect their masters by the threat of their own death if they don’t. They ought to come running without thought for themselves whatever’s going on − including throttling, strangling, being thrown over a cliff, or struck with any stick, missile, blade or other weapon.’

He must have seen this list in an edict somewhere. I wondered if the weapons would include fireships or military catapults. I merely said, ‘Seems comprehensive.’

‘Oh, it’s not ideal. It doesn’t cover poisoning − because the argument goes, how would they know? Pathetic! Or once the effects of a poison become obvious, it’s too late and what could they do? With a master’s suicide, the sentence only applies if the slaves are on the spot at the time and could prevent the attempt.’

‘Understandable.’

‘What,’ asked the funeral director, lowering his voice as some mark of respect, ‘happened to the victims in the tragic circumstance under review?’

‘Strangled. With a piece of rope.’

He nodded, with grim satisfaction. ‘That would be covered.’

‘I know.’

‘As I said. Your bastard clients should have gone to help.’

I didn’t bother to contradict him that Faustus was my client, not the slaves. ‘They all say they didn’t hear anything. No cries for help.’

‘Mule-dung. I’d clean out the lying snots’ earwax with a lighted taper … Anything useful been done to them so far? What has been tried?’

‘Just intense questioning.’

‘You are having a laugh!’

I admitted I was serious, but promised that when the time came to use proper methods, he would be the chosen operator.

‘You can put a word in?’ From the way he sized me up, he was wondering who I slept with.

I assured him I had contacts, not mentioning names. Before things became tricky, I made my excuses and left.