That was when Faustus and I were informed that as Uncle Quintus went down under a hail of blows, he shouted to his bodyguards, ‘Never mind me – just take one of the bastards alive!’

Being devoted to Camillus Justinus, as all his stray lambs were, that is what the two ex-soldiers snapped to and did.

This capture could be vital. Whoever ordered the ambush had made a mistake. They could be traced. The vigiles would fully interrogate this prisoner, where ‘fully’ meant using a torturer. He would name the Rabirii if they were his masters. If his orders had been from the rising young blood Roscius, Roscius’ easy times were over. The prisoner himself was as good as dead, though the bloodied relics of him would sing like a caged finch before he was executed. Execution was inevitable. He beat up a senator.

The gang had forced the vigiles’ hand. It could escalate. Questions were bound to be asked in the Senate about the dangerous condition of the city if mobsters dared to attack one of its noble members.

Aulus Camillus Aelianus would be on his feet in the Curia, for one. This was his younger brother; he would be expected to make much of it. A Roman has to represent his family when they suffer an outrage.

I imagined Aulus already scripting a speech about Justinus innocently going home to his own house, after a civilised dinner with a widowed niece (an equestrian’s daughter) and with a serving magistrate … Such details would be received as touching and significant.

Normally Aulus needed to be wound up on a ratchet, but he was trained by Minas of Karystos, the eminent Greek practitioner. Once the noble Aelianus let rip, he could hold an audience. (Aulus once spoke for almost half an hour on whether it was permissible to clean up the copious shit deposited by the augurs’ chickens on the Capitol − who conceivably shat holy guano − and hardly anybody left the chamber. A Vestal had slipped over on the poultry excrement. There was a lot of interest in my uncle’s declamation, with some people not even sniggering.)

If the Rabirii were very unlucky indeed, our emperor would jump on the idea of a moral campaign to eliminate the criminal element in Rome.

‘Of course,’ announced Claudia, who had her peculiar moments, ‘there will be more questions asked, and even perhaps useful action taken, if my darling Quintus dies from this.’

That doesn’t mean she was hopeful he would. Claudia Rufina merely wanted to emphasise how stupid it was for anyone to attack a senator.

Slaves were waiting to lead Faustus and me to our separate quarters. He would have extremely smooth sheets and neatly aligned pillows. I would be on a pull-out bed, spending the night cuddling Aelia, the only daughter of the house, four years old, her father’s pet (and didn’t the sweet little piece of mischief know it).