There are times when I can do without a companion who employs a wicked grin. I told Uncle Quintus to go away, using the crude word I had just learned from Gallo.

We did not linger in the Galatea.

21

Quintus Camillus and I walked very slowly back to the apartment. We were both thinking, both not talking.

Dromo had woken up, in a fine panic about where I had got to. Faustus must have really given him stern orders to guard me. He glared at my uncle’s two bodyguards, jealous of anyone else with responsibilities, even though he himself resented being assigned to me. The bodyguards stalked around Dromo too, equally suspicious. They were like a group of dogs, sizing each other up on first meeting, feinting an attack with fangs bared. But each man had an eye on Quintus and me, knowing we would slap them down if there was trouble.

We left them to their devices, and went to sit in the courtyard. We discussed what we could do next about identifying the thieves, assuming they ever existed.

Quintus’ suggestion was predictable: ‘We’ll have to raise our level of engagement with the vigiles. Titianus is a lightweight and Juventus has absolutely no idea. I propose that Manlius Faustus and I hold a speedy face-to-face with the Second Cohort’s tribune. I can send a message now to tell him we are coming. That gives him time to pick his men’s brains; it’s only polite. The tribune can decide for himself, depending on his personal style of management, whether to have those idiots present, or present for part of the time.’

‘You presume “management” is what a vigiles tribune practises,’ I chortled. ‘So tell me – does the Camillus-Faustus personal style include taking me to the meet?’

My uncle wagged a finger. ‘Now you know, Albia sweetheart, if it was up to me … ’

‘Faustus approves of me.’

‘That is definitely my impression! But,’ said Quintus Camillus, turning into a paternalist Roman bastard, like them all, ‘we have to assume the tribune will be traditional. We don’t want to antagonise him, do we?’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘Ah, but Albia, we need answers, not moral confrontations.’

‘I like to use confrontations to thrash out answers.’

Quintus remained tolerant. ‘From what I have seen of your work, you can be devious. You try to avoid upsets. Hercules, Albia, let’s face it – you flirt!’

Biting my lip, I made no reply.

After a moment, Quintus added slyly, ‘So are you flirting with the aedile?’

‘You do keep on plucking on the same old lyre, Uncle.’ Quintus was laughing. We had a good relationship and I was honest with him. ‘I flirt when it’s needed, but I don’t flirt with him.’

‘Yes, he seems a little tight. Doesn’t he like your banter?’

‘I wouldn’t know.’

I knew all right. Faustus liked it.