‘I expect your lad was happy with that,’ said Justinus, the sly beast. The half-blinded vigilis would have received no compensation, in fact. Widows and orphans were scarcely looked after either, well, not unless the widow was pretty. ‘So would this gang carry out violent house-breaking?’

‘Meat and drink to them. They always know who owns antiques or gilt goblets, who bought a new Greek statue last week, who gave an emerald necklace to his mistress who is careless about locking doors.’

‘Ever killed a householder before?’

‘Certainly not, legate. Why would they need to? Anyone who has heard about the jeweller being poked up the arse with a red hot fire-iron because he tried to stop them grabbing his oriental pearls, just quivers in a corner and lets them walk away with whatever they want. People who think they are about to be a target make sure they go out to dinner and stay away until dawn.’

‘Wouldn’t they go out to dinner and put their valuables in a safe place?’ asked my uncle.

‘No, if you’re targeted it’s better to give in and hand them over. I heard about one man who actually packed up his stuff all ready for them, with helpful labels, and left them a donkey to carry it. Including a driver!’

Justinus whistled quietly. ‘And what strategy are you using to tackle this gang?’

‘Strategy?’ asked Juventus.

‘Operation Bandit King. What’s your action plan?’

The so-called special liaison officer still looked blank.

I thought about my other uncle, Lucius Petronius of the Fourth Cohort, who spent decades trying to bring the hated Balbinus-Florius gang to justice; he had to give up on them, exhausted, when he retired. But he knew what an action plan was. He nagged tribune after tribune to commit funds for such initiatives. A Rome-wide crime-busting scheme, Operation Bandit King had been first set up by Uncle Petro.

Fortunately for Juventus, Camillus Justinus could hide his disapproval of incompetence. I myself pretended to believe Juventus must be diligently monitoring the Rabirius gang so I asked if he could advise us how to make contact.

He was not prepared to come along and introduce us, but in line with vigiles practice, he released one minimum fact: he gave us the name of a bar.

19

‘Hmm!’ Quintus sized up the place we had been sent to. ‘Pretty moulded acanthus on their lintel, but let’s not be fooled by leaves. This is the kind of thermopolium your colourful father would nickname the Itchy Bum.’

‘He’s never so rude.’

‘Think so? You surprise me!’

We had come straight here from the station house. Otherwise we would have been expected. Inevitably, Titianus, Juventus or some other member of the Second Cohort would have tipped off the gang as a favour. We wanted to do this on our own terms – so we had to get here first.