Analysing how I felt towards Myla, I could not decide whether I was sorry for her plight or simply felt too much distaste – not distaste for what she had done with Aviola, where she had no choice, but for the attitude she adopted in consequence. I had noticed her looking hopefully at other men who might take her on. I despise women who rely on men entirely for their own existence. I like men, never think otherwise. Today, seemingly hours ago, I had kissed one with memorable pleasure. But a woman should keep her self-respect – because if she does not, men will all too easily lose their respect for her.

I had had a few moments to think through my new information.

‘I have been hearing about how things were here, Myla. I know this household looked good on the surface but there were all kinds of jealousies and bad feeling. It is the same in many houses in Rome; some are far worse. But here a master and his bride were murdered.’

I saw Myla’s face set. As faces go, hers would have been acceptable but it was ruined by her constant surly expression. Perhaps she kept a better one for Aviola.

Perhaps he was not interested in her face.

If I wanted to be generous, I could say it was possible the very way he had made use of her over the years accounted for her graceless manner. She may not always have been so miserable with the world.

‘I am intrigued,’ I told her. ‘All those slaves who went to the Temple of Ceres, the slaves who are accused of the murders, had little reason to have turned on their master. Whereas you, Myla, have managed to be excluded from the investigation even though you had a big motive.’

Myla still said nothing, though she had been vocal enough when she argued with the Simplicii. She stared at me truculently, and I knew why. There was nothing she could do about me. She ogled men who came here, presumably hoping to gain their protection in the limited way at her disposal. I was a woman. I was an enemy over whom she had no power.

‘You know you are shortly going to the slave market. You were already listed for sale, before your master died. This may be your last chance, Myla. If your master had led you to believe something different, now is the time to tell me.’

When she yelled at Valerius Junior, Myla was bursting with grievances. Even though he was a young man with limited experience, Valerius saw trouble coming and immediately walked away. I would listen to her grudges, but I think she knew I would not respond in the way she wanted.

‘I was promised my freedom,’ Myla declared.

‘Did he say that exactly?’

‘It was understood.’