Her cousin wandered about the courtyard at a loose end. I slipped along a portico, as if by chance, and greeted him. Since he had now lost his intended new steward before Polycarpus even started in the post, I asked whether he would now keep Gratus, but when people once make up their minds to dismiss a staff member, they tend to go through with it. Simplicius insisted Gratus was still to be ‘let go’ via the slave market.

It struck me Gratus might have had a motive to dispose of his rival Polycarpus. However, since Gratus was to be sent packing whatever happened, and he probably knew that, all he would have gained was revenge. It can bring joy to the bitter or indignant, but Gratus never struck me as that type. His measured attitude had been why I thought him a good steward.

Still, what did I know? I had let a bunch of household slaves fool me with an elaborate fiction whose purpose I had yet to uncover.

Myla was hanging around, taking too much interest in Simplicius just as she had with Faustus the other evening. Galla then called to him and they left.

Galla Simplicia had ignored Myla. She seemed completely involved with Graecina, which was worthy work. But afterwards, I did wonder if she hustled her cousin away on purpose.

I was ready to leave myself. I told Dromo he could stay behind and rest his tired feet. He could take one hour off (this presumed he could work out how long an hour was). Then, he was to see if he could do anything useful for Graecina and if not, I suggested he got together with her slave Cosmus.

‘Oh no! I’ve seen him gawking around the place like a dopey bum. He’s just a nipper.’

‘He looks almost as old as you. Be boys; pal up with him for a while, will you?’

Dromo stared at me. ‘Is this for your work? You telling me to squeeze him for gen?’

‘I am saying, get to know him a bit if you can.’

‘Have I got to be a spy?’ I must be insane. Sending in Dromo was like army engineers setting up a catapult with a wonky wheel on a very steep slope with no ballast.

‘Just see what you think.’ I had remembered that my uncle’s young son had taken against Cosmus, when he was over there. Would Dromo feel the same? Perhaps Cosmus would be different with a fellow slave to how he had behaved with privileged, aristocratic children.

‘That dog of his sounds vicious!’ Dromo complained, though he did look interested in what I had asked him to do. Well, almost.