Once we were seated I took a good look at him. He was portly, a man who lived well. Their whole circle probably did, because when he produced a plaque with portraits of Aviola and Mucia, Aviola looked the same type. Aviola and Simplicius had strong Roman faces with deep maturity lines and an air of directness, in the style that is labelled ‘republican’. That means the subject has an old-fashioned short temper and expects someone else to pick up after him. Society sees such people as harmless, or even decent and approvable. When one is murdered, like Aviola, society is horrified. ‘If him, perhaps me next!’

Such bullies will claim to have simple honesty − though they are equally proud of their crookery. Their wives never speak out of turn, yet usually spend what they like and run rings around these men. The men know it, moan about it to their cronies, yet accept it as normal. They tend to have strong mothers, mothers who remain close, mothers who would give them hell if they divorced.

You may think that was a lot to deduce from a formal wedding picture, but Simplicius was there right in front of me, embodying what Aviola must have been like.

Yes, Aviola had had a mother until recently; I asked. Was she a strong influence? Yes, she had been.

Mucia Lucilia was portrayed in the traditional way as a bland, pretty cipher; since my family deals in art, I knew better than to trust this plaque. On it, she had her veil over her head, one hand placed in that of her new husband to show they were married, and a sweet, meek gaze. This may not mean a woman is submissive in real life. Normally all it tells the viewer is that she is really admired for bringing a good dowry to her marriage.

According to Sextus Simplicius, they were a delightful couple. I smiled discreetly. When you need to dig, start slowly.

Despite my request via his steward, he failed to show me the will. However, he answered whatever I asked about it – or so I thought at the time.

It would be a public document so I restrained my immediate annoyance; I could find it eventually – but I itched to scan that scroll myself if it was in the house. Perhaps Sextus Simplicius thought I could not read. Women he knew would all have secretaries. My adoptive mother was highly literate and had expected me to be the same. Once Helena Justina learned her alphabet (which seems to have been when she was about four), she speed-read and speed-wrote anything for herself; that was what she taught me. My father did possess a secretary, but the man spent his time moaning that no one gave him enough to do. The concept of letting a scribe note down your shopping list or recite a poem at you, with intonation he chose, was unknown in our house.