During the appetisers, our host led the conversation—as much as he could do, with Minas tipsily interrupting. We had seen him in action; as a symposium-crawler no one could touch him, even in Athens’ exhausting party whirl.

The wine was better than good; Anacrites discussed it fluently. Perhaps he had taken himself to wine-buffery classes. At any rate, he served palatable mulsum with the appetisers, not too sweet, then a very fine Caecubian. One of the best wines in the Empire, that must have cost a packet. He also introduced us to an unfamiliar variety he had just acquired, from Pucinum; he was dying for us to ask where Pucinum was so he could show off, but nobody bothered. ‘What do you think, Falco? The Empress Livia always drank Pucinum wines, ascribing her long life to their medicinal qualities.’

‘Very nice—though the phrase “medicinal qualities” slightly puts me off !’

‘Well, it kept her going to eighty-three, outliving her contemporaries—’

‘I thought that was because she had poisoned them all . . .’

I asked for a separate water cup and drank the wine sparingly. Anacrites knew me well enough to have seen me do it before. I had a curious sense that tonight he wanted to relax for once—yet now he was torn, in case loosening up gave me some advantage.

While he continued to hold forth on vintages, I chatted to my other neighbour, Claudia Rufina. The three Camillus siblings were all lofty but Justinus had married a woman tall enough to look him in the eye; this Claudia now saw as necessary since he could be a rogue, an edgy character who needed constant watching. On a dining couch designed for our stumpy republican ancestors, she was having problems twisting herself to fit. But once she settled, Claudia gossiped with me on the current situation in the senator’s house. ‘Things are tense, Marcus.’

Minas had emptied the Camillus wine cellar in about five days. The amiable senator declined to restock, so Minas got huffy. Then Camillus senior hit on the idea that Aelianus and his bride should live next door; he owned the adjacent house, where his brother had once lived. It was decreed that Minas must stay with the couple. ‘Julia Justa said, So nice for him to see a lot of his daughter, before he goes back to Greece . . . I don’t think the professor intends going back, Marcus!’

‘No; he is determined to be a big rissole in Rome.’

‘I would have thought,’ said Claudia, who was a kind-hearted girl, ‘the newly-weds might be given some time to themselves—especially as they don’t seem to have had much opportunity yet to get to know each other.’ That was ironic. Claudia and Quintus would probably stick out their marriage (she had an excellent olive oil fortune which encouraged him mightily), but they were experts at communication failure.

‘You presuppose, my dear, that either of them wants familiarity.’

‘You cynic!’