Costus laughed bitterly. ‘One or two suggestions. Just in case we forgot. Like—he’d close down the business, crucify Thamyris, sell his wife into a brothel, send us as slaves to the galleys and cut off our goolies first. Do you think he can do it?’

‘Oh yes. It’s the regular tactic used by the Praetorian Guards.’

29

‘On the journey home, Helena and I discussed the situation. Costus’ story confirmed all the rumours about the Claudii having protection. Whoever was looking after their interests must be powerful, if they used the intelligence network to do their dirty work. Anacrites had not dared threaten Petro and me; even he was not that stupid. But he had no scruples about intimidating members of the public. He assumed we would never find out. For us, this signalled ulterior motives. He would know that if we once became intrigued, we would latch on to him like rat-dogs.

He had slipped up. I for one would not rest now until I uncovered his real interest—and Petronius was the same. I was all set to tear into the spy’s office and threaten him with the same punishments he offered Thamyris—especially the part about castration. Maia must have the old veterinarian tools her dead husband used when he looked after the Greens’ chariot horses; she would happily loan me his equine nut-crusher.

Helena urged me to play clever. ‘Don’t alert him, Marcus. Let’s carry on as normal, pretend his agent wasn’t spotted. I suggest when we get home, we see if he has invited us to dinner as he threatened. If he has, we should go along to his house, and sniff the air before you tackle him outright.’

‘I would rather sniff a heifer’s bum, after a week’s diarrhoea.’

‘Your rhetoric is so refined! . . . Listen to your wife’s good advice.’ Helena shook her finger warningly: ‘Find out just whose fixer Anacrites is. Who wants him to protect these marsh-men’s interests?’

‘You are right, as ever.’ It was time to address the point. ‘It must all be to do with these Claudii having an imperial background,’ I told Helena. ‘I sensed that Laeta and Momus know what’s going on. Some old influence has carried over . . . I don’t believe it’s the Emperor.’ Vespasian had a few close cronies; his cabinet of private advisers were men like Helena’s own father who had known him for years, long before he counted. He had never been regarded as someone who protected favourites.

‘Nor Titus,’ Helena decided. She and Titus viewed each other with admiration—more admiration than I liked. Still that just meant Titus Caesar was a fine judge of womanhood. Like his father, he was basically straight.