‘She had a protector. One who cannot protect her any longer.’ I gave Gratus a long look, then put a theory to him. ‘Try this: was Polycarpus the father of Myla’s children?’

41

‘Oh, strip me naked and whip me round the Forum of the Romans, Flavia Albia! Where did you get that from?’ I was slandering a fellow-steward and Gratus was raring to set me straight. Anyone would think stewards had a guild (not legal, since so many were not free). ‘I had reason to dislike the man but I had known him for years and Polycarpus would never have touched that dangerous piece of mischief.’

‘The man was too savvy?’

‘He had a decent wife and children—’

‘That never stops some people, Gratus.’

‘Not in his case. He was faithful – more or less – and, give him his due, he had far better taste!’

I let a slow grin creep across my face. ‘Well. Settle down, my friend. I was just testing. Part of my job. I saw Polycarpus’ attitude towards Myla for myself. He looked irritated by her, and annoyed at having to put up with her in his well-run establishment. I thought little of it at the time.’

Gratus reluctantly came down from his agitation. He would not demean himself by asking who I really thought Myla’s lover was, though I believed he wanted me to know.

I put him out of his misery. ‘Once you think about it, it’s obvious. She has been here for years. She has borne several children. Nobody ever enquires who their father is. Simplicius views her with distaste. Galla and Valerius Junior are vicious to her. Valerius will not hear Myla’s pleas; he absolutely wants her gone. Anyone but Myla herself would know it was stupid to ask him. Can there be any doubt, Gratus – Myla sees herself as special because she was singled out by the one person nobody else could question? It was Valerius Aviola who slept with her.’

‘Flavia Albia, I bow to your powers of conjecture!’ replied Gratus. He was pretending he had known nothing about it. But that was only because he was a very good steward, and very good stewards are impervious to gossip.

42

After seeing that those who held power over her had now all ganged up against her, Myla stomped off, heading towards the kitchen.

Gratus left me, needing to be among his staff. I waited a moment, gathering my thoughts, then I followed Myla.

I would have liked to corner her alone, but Galla’s younger daughter was there ahead of me − Simplicia, a thin young woman in decorous dark funeral clothes. Her mother’s daughter, she also had several pieces of gold jewellery and such immaculate face colours I wondered where she had her makeup done. She was probably painted by a slave at home, so I did not bother to ask.