We ate. Titianus drank. I merely sipped. I would enjoy the wine more on my own in peace, after he had gone. I could have a melancholy reminisce about Lentullus, my husband. I did that occasionally, often when a case was proving troublesome. You have to share with someone. At least the dead don’t argue with you about it.

Not that Lentullus ever argued much with me. The dear lad thought anything I said was wonderful.

It was ten years since the gods took him, though it felt like only as many days. Poor Graecina had no idea yet what she would have to go through.

As he mellowed with a drink, curiosity got the better of Titianus. He had to ask me about the man captured in the attack on Camillus Justinus two days ago. Of course he knew that my uncle had been to see his tribune before that. I caught a hint of grumpiness; Titianus evidently thought Justinus and Faustus went over his head. As of course they did.

‘I hope you don’t resent them,’ I said, aiming to win him over with frankness. At least I was able to assure Titianus that the male-only meeting when they saw his tribune was nothing to do with me.

‘They made themselves marked men when they interfered. Old Rabirius is bound to have heard about it. You must be glad not to be identified as their associate, Albia.’

I did not tell Titianus that it was me who had spoken to Gallo. Titianus clearly didn’t know that. He certainly would not approve. He was not as stubbornly ‘traditional’ as, say, that funeral director I saw this morning, Fundanus, but anyone who works with the vigiles hates women joining in their games.

‘So you think it’s obvious the attack on Camillus was set up by this gang?’ I pretended to ask for an expert opinion.

‘Seems likely.’ Titianus preened himself. This might have been easier if he ever bothered to have a good lotion on his awful hair. ‘I heard that their henchman, Gallo, went strutting to the Fourth’s barracks, asking for the captured man to be released.’

‘No – really?’ I cooed.

‘Gallo must have thought they were bound to hand him over.’ Titianus sounded as though he had supposed the same. ‘Apparently their tribune uses a different protocol. He refused outright.’ Titianus whistled, either in astonishment or admiration, it was hard to tell.

‘I am amazed as you are, Titianus. What did Gallo do?’

‘He abandoned the man, apparently. Just scowled, walked off, and left him to his fate.’

‘Did the fellow talk?’ I had no need to ask. Of course he did. The Fourth can do their job.

‘I believe the screams were terrible,’ Titianus told me salaciously.

‘What will be done with him? The usual?’

‘Correct. He’ll never resurface on the streets. He’ll be among the criminals labelled “tunic-thief” and “sheep-abuser” in the morning arena show.’