Faustus, who had listened in silence to my story, leaned forwards to his boy. ‘You must thank Flavia Albia for telling you this … The point is, Dromo, only Fortune can know what will happen to any of us, including that baby you saved. You cannot tell. What matters for you is that when you had to choose, you did what your conscience told you was right. You gave Myla’s baby a chance.’

‘You have to answer to yourself, Dromo,’ I added, seconding his master. ‘You saved her because your own human kindness required it.’

Dromo had started to squirm now. He looked self-conscious about sitting in the chair. His eyes glazed a little; he was losing interest in talking. Personally, I was amazed he had managed to last this long.

‘So that’s it, isn’t it?’ He looked from Faustus to me then back to his master. ‘In that work you do, you and Albia. On the night in this apartment when those people were murdered, the slaves here ought to have tried to help them. Because even slaves like us ought to have human kindness. And they didn’t, did they? None of them?’

Yes, said Faustus. That was it.

53

I cannot claim to have achieved much else that day.

The aedile was leaving to return to the Aventine. Faustus stood and gazed at me. ‘I ought to be more respectful. I do admire your expertise −’ Thank you, aedile; that is what I like from a client. ‘− especially with a splitting hangover!’

I had not reached even the real beginning of the hangover, but his teasing praise worked better than the usual Roman cure of parsley. For one thing, you were supposed to eat the parsley before you started drinking, which I had failed to do. I read in an encyclopaedia that topping a canary and deep-frying it in olive oil for breakfast does the trick – if you want a crunchy, fat-filled methodology. It probably worked because you had to jump around so much while you were trying to catch the birdie …

I could not decide how serious Faustus was, so I replied stiffly. ‘I have been edging towards answers for a while.’

I probably had been, though you never sit around thinking, Oh, I am edging towards answers here, using my admirable expertise … I had been lucky. On the other hand, controlling your luck is part of an informer’s professional toolbag. Had I been unlucky, I would have soon faded from the scene.

‘Who were those women, incidentally?’ Faustus asked. ‘Friends of yours?’

‘My drinking pals? Witnesses and suspects.’

‘Suspects?’

‘Not high on the list. Having a little nip together helped me rule them out.’

Faustus managed not to humph.