‘There; that should give us some peace. The lad has taken him out.’

I never saw the dog, though I would have liked to. He sounded like a savage guard-dog, but I suspected he was barking above his weight. I never saw the lad either, their son presumably; Polycarpus had mentioned children. I had no interest in a boy. I had enough ridiculousness with Dromo.

The home was neat, spotless, furnished rather heavily as tends to happen with first-generation citizens. There was one couch, padded to a hard finish, on the edge of which Graecina and I both perched.

We exchanged light chit-chat about how long they had been there. I was surprised to learn that Graecina did not come from the Aviola household, as I expected. I wondered if she had been a bar girl, though if so she had learned to disguise it. She had turned her back on the filthy aspects of the refreshment trade. To gain this better life, she had to sleep with Polycarpus, but not with every sweat-stained randy Titus who had a drink then wanted to take her upstairs for a cheap thrash.

Every side-table in her apartment was crowned with a doily, while a set of matched glass tipple-tots was on proud display, probably never used.

I asked first about the night of the robbery. Graecina confirmed what Polycarpus had said about him returning downstairs on a whim, and then discovering the robbery. If he had coached his wife in this story, I could spot no signs of collusion – though a good steward knows how to get a tale told right.

This apartment was similar in layout to that rented by Lusius and Fauna on the other side, which I had already visited. It had the same small high windows, letting in light but not made for looking out. According to Graecina, no noises from the courtyard had risen up here that night. She denied Fauna’s complaint of increased disturbance around the wedding; still, if Graecina and Polycarpus loyally declared that Aviola’s household were as quiet as mice, that was only their duty.

Actually mice can make a hell of a racket, knocking about a building and gnawing like maniacs in the middle of the night. The mice in Fountain Court were hideously loud, as well as fearless.

While witnesses are true as steel, of course.

Maybe.

‘So was there anything else you wanted, Flavia Albia?’ Graecina seemed uneasy, and anxious to be rid of me.

‘Well, the reason I came up was to ask Polycarpus for his private opinion of Galla Simplicia, Aviola’s divorced wife. Have you met her, Graecina?’

‘No, I’ve only seen her from a distance.’ Graecina hesitated over whether to speak about the ex-wife of her husband’s master − but she decided to enjoy the chance. ‘My husband never had much good to say about her, though at least she’s better than the new one.’