Faustus was capable of fending off the authorities. That was good, because today’s interviews had given me some unease about this case. ‘Don’t book the arena lions quite yet – but you may have to.’

Faustus turned to me, on the alert. ‘Something bothering you, Albia?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Talk it through.’

‘Well … interviews need absorbing. You tend to take people’s first answers literally; you concentrate on whether their stories are probable … To be honest, I am not used to talking to slaves, except a few I know well at home.’ My parents were liberal owners; their staff were outspoken to a fault. ‘I’m sure I have not been told the whole story by these suspects. But they are slaves and I’m a stranger. They are bound to hold things back.’

‘Being under threat of death would make anyone anxious,’ Faustus mused.

‘They need me to help them – so why be quite so wary?’ I mentioned something I found particularly odd. ‘Start with this − did you see Nicostratus, the porter who died? I agree with the doctor: the beating he took was excessive. I’d like to show you, if you haven’t seen.’

‘No longer here. The rules say any dead slave must be removed within two hours.’

‘From your office?’

‘From anywhere. It must derive from an assumption that slaves are polluted by their condition, not normal human beings.’

‘Do you think that?’

‘No. I believe slavery is an accident of fate. All people are born the same. Some are enslaved, the rest of us are lucky … What do you think?’ I made no reply. Even though we were easy together, I had no intention of telling him that I had nearly been sold into slavery once. Faustus did not press it. ‘I did see Nicostratus when he was still alive,’ he said. ‘I agree; the violence used on him needs to be explained.’

I had a theory. ‘Nicostratus had let Libycus out of the house to socialise with friends.’ Faustus listened. ‘The story is that the robbers “broke in” – but is that true? There is no sign of damage on the front doors. I shall double-check tomorrow for repairs, but I don’t expect to see any.’ Faustus nodded. ‘So I wonder if Nicostratus accidentally let in the thieves, thinking it was Libycus returning. When the porter saw his mistake, he probably started yelling – and that’s why they turned rough.’

‘Sounds right … This is your only anxiety?’

‘No. I am sure the survivors are hiding more, Tiberius. I can’t tell – yet – if it is a conspiracy, or whether each slave has their own secret.’

‘I trust your intuition,’ Faustus answered. ‘Take time to dig deeper.’

‘If you approve … Won’t we just hate it, if the vigiles are right and the slaves did it?’