Daphnus had ‘worked his rocks off’ at the feast, he said, so he claimed he knew nothing about the burglary because he had passed out from exhaustion in one of the slaves’ cells, with the door closed. The scribe, Melander, was with him. They only woke when Phaedrus hammered on the door and yelled that someone had killed the master.

‘Is Melander your special friend?’

‘He’s an idiot. But he’s my brother.’ Daphnus executed a big theatrical start, jumping back with his hands in the air. ‘Oh! Flavia Albia, I do hope you didn’t think me and my beloved bro was in there bum-fiddling?’

‘That’s a new word for it … No,’ I replied, smiling. ‘I’d put you down as a ladies’ man.’

‘Yes, but fat chance! We are not supposed to mingle with the women – and anyway who was available? Olympe’s a child; I like them when their busts have grown. Myla was the size of a granary, and I ask you! I wasn’t that desperate.’

‘Then I take it you are not the father?’ Daphnus acted out a look of indignation and disgust, so I suggested, ‘I wondered if Myla was the household donkey – ridden by everyone?’ Many homes have one of those, but Daphnus would not comment on who slept with Myla.

I pointed out that of the potential conquests for the lad-about-the-colonnades, he had not mentioned Amaranta, Mucia Lucilia’s maid. ‘Nice!’ he agreed. ‘Old enough, a looker, tantalising hints of past experience – and, sadly, taken.’

I laid down my stylus on my waxed note tablet. ‘By? …’

‘Onesimus.’

Not a name on my list. ‘And he is?’

‘Came from the other household. Lucilia’s pet steward. Sent off to Campania. But he reckons he is in with the ornamental ornamenter.’

‘To which she says?’

‘Nothing! Very discreet woman.’

‘And you like her?’

‘Lots of people like Amaranta. If you want to know who she likes, you will have to ask her.’ Daphnus, an unashamed chancer, admitted, ‘I was biding my time. I like to play the game, but I reckon there were other people in the queue ahead of me.’

‘Care to say which people?’

He shook his head − then the cheeky chap gave me a speculative, flirty once-over, to which I returned my standard get-lost glare. This young man would try it on with anyone, though he gave up easily. As young men go, he was typical.

‘So tell me, Daphnus: would you have been willing to defend your master?’

‘I certainly would. Saving him would have been ideal for me. He would show he was grateful. I could have got my freedom and a nice little pension out of that.’

‘Good point! What about your brother, Melander?’

‘He would have joined in with anything I did.’

‘Are you close?’

‘No, but he’s a bit slow and I look after him. My master was ready to sell him, but kept him on as a favour to me.’