My mother started to pack things for me, calling in bearers who had brought a chair to take me to our town house. Before I knew it, they were lifting me in and arranging rugs. Faustus retreated to the other room. Of course when he informed my people, he must have known someone would come. They would have assumed he wanted to be relieved of the burden. I ought to think so too, though I had doubts.

Our strange interlude was over. We had been so close it was a painful wrench to leave him. I found myself highly emotional, perhaps because I was still so weak. I had come to rely on his daily presence. I would now be among my own people for as long as they could persuade me, probably even be driven to the coast when I was strong enough, for more sun, sand and fishing expeditions, or at least sun, sand and lying on a rug in the dappled shade of the pine trees. Tiberius would be in Rome, leading his own life.

The inquiry I carried out for him already seemed long past. We would work together again, but socially and professionally there were limits.

As we left the apartment my mother thanked Faustus, apologising as if he had been imposed on. Brushing that aside, he asked to be kept informed of my progress, though it sounded a formality. Attendants carried the chair down to Fountain Court, where they waited for Helena while she talked to Rodan. It was always good to witness a hoary ex-gladiator being reduced to slush by a sweet but stern woman. Manlius Faustus also watched with amusement, as he stood with his thumbs hooked into his belt on what passed for a pavement.

Helena had already sized him up. Later, I was to hear her tell my father that Manlius Faustus looked like a man you could ask to take charge of your wood cart as a quick favour, then when you came back, he would have unloaded all the logs for you and stacked them neatly.

In the depths of the chair, I dwelt on what had just happened between us. The Aviola case had given me a portrait of life with many slaves. In such households, the owners are never alone. Their slaves carry out the most intimate tasks for them – physical, financial, sexual. Slaves make excuses for them and form a protective barrier. In one way they ensure privacy, yet their constant presence everywhere means their owners have no privacy at all.