‘Dear Helena Justina—’ Oh it was formal names tonight! ‘Since Lucius Petronius and Maia Favonia unfortunately had other commitments, I invited both your brothers.’ He made it sound as though he was doing her a favour, as if the noble Camilli were incapable of arranging a family party for themselves. What it really meant was that he only knew us. I was right: he had no friends. ‘I hoped you would approve,’ he whined.

Fortunately the band struck up.

He had three lyres and a light hand-drummer. They accompanied a short troupe of fairly good tumblers in almost new costumes, followed by a girl who sang brief Cretan shepherd songs after long explanations from a man in a shaggy goatskin cape. Ignoring this, we waved cheerily to Justinus and his wife Claudia, less cheerily to Aelianus, his new wife Hosidia and his tottering father-in-law. ‘Cretan was the best I could get at short notice to compliment Greeks,’ Anacrites whispered as he went to welcome the Camilli. As a host he seemed anxious, a new and surreal side to him.

We watched Anacrites wonder whether he could—or should—kiss Claudia and Hosidia, or if he should, or could, embrace Helena’s brothers. (He had not hugged me. I’d like to see him try.) Minas, the bearded, exuberant law professor, threw himself upon Anacrites, whom he had never met, as if they had rowed the same oar in a galley for at least twenty years. Hosidia shrank against Aelianus, who nearly stepped back into the atrium pool. Claudia was too tall for the spy to kiss and she just shook hands with him briskly; the hem of her gown fell victim to the sting of the firefly lights but Hosidia considerately flapped out the sparks. Aulus and Quintus Camillus as one stayed at arm’s length from Anacrites. I noticed they both wore heavy new chalk-white togas, ready for electioneering. They introduced their womenfolk, who then clustered with my two so they could all admire each other’s outfits. Claudia, who had a warm heart, greeted Albia very fondly. Hosidia stood about looking supercilious. It was her natural expression, as far as I could tell.

‘Would you like us to speak Greek?’ Anacrites asked helpfully, in fluent administrative Greek.

‘Naturally I speak Latin,’ Hosidia answered—though she said it in Greek. That failed to solve anything; so we were headed for a bilingual evening—feasible, but distancing.