Faustus smiled sweetly. I was too experienced to fall for that. ‘I could organise some accommodation nearby,’ he offered. ‘And for assisting the Temple of Ceres, your fee would be worth having.’ I was tempted. I was short of work after my holiday. The temple could afford to pay well, since it benefited directly from all the fines the aediles slapped on people. ‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘It’s fascinating, Albiola. You know you want it.’ It always disturbed me when he used that diminutive, which he had invented.

I outlined for him why no informer would do this: the impossibility of tracking down the burglars now Titianus had muddied the trail, the difficulties of making slaves give reliable answers, the need for speed, the risks of any inquiry that was conducted in the public eye …

‘You are exactly the woman. Discreet, shrewd and no-nonsense,’ Faustus flattered me.

‘Damn you, Tiberius.’ I was not being over-familiar; he used his first name when working incognito, as he had been when I first met him.

‘I am delighted you accept. Do you need a written contract?’

‘I believe I do,’ I answered coldly. ‘Let me draft it; then I can specify draconian terms.’

Faustus grinned as he ordered up more breakfast. He could afford to be cheerful. His troubles were over. Mine were just beginning.

At least he told Apollonius to bring Lucanian sausage for me too. ‘Make that with big Colymbadian olives on the side and double gherkins!’ I growled, exploiting my new employer, who agreed it with a look of resignation.

To be honest, I fancied working with him. He was an interesting character.

I was already planning where to start. I told Faustus that the first thing the Temple of Ceres must pay for was decent legal advice. I happened to know two lawyers who were no more devious than normal and who, for the kind of money a religious body paid, would certainly oblige.

My uncles. Yes, I know what I said about never working with relatives, but the Camillus brothers were always so skint they would welcome this.

3

I sent a message to warn them. The aedile provided an errand boy. Even though Faustus was nominally alone, any man of affairs has an attendant, who tags along then sits on the kerb outside, waiting for orders. They squat there unnoticed among all the other slaves who are kicking their heels while their masters lurk in bars. At night, some streets are lined with rows of cute little boys asleep on their lanterns; in the day, pavements are clogged with liveried flunkeys, playing board games in the dust. High numbers make their owners look swanky. Faustus genuinely did not care about that, but had a lad with him for convenience.