We all thanked Anacrites who, frankly, looked done in. He made weak protestations that it was far too early for us to leave—then thanked us rather too fervently for coming. As he led us to our transport, which had already materialised at his entrance porch, he said he had had a wonderful evening. Compared with his normal lonely nights, it probably had been.

‘I hope we have mended some fences, Falco.’

I kept my face neutral, watching Helena as she kissed Quintus Camillus goodbye, undeniably her favourite of the brothers, as he was mine.

Aulus came up to me. Briefly he clasped hands. It was an unlikely formality, especially as I was being chilly with him over Albia. I met his eyes properly, for the first time since the news of his sudden marriage; amazingly, he winked. Something small and cold passed into my hand from his.

I curled my fingers on it. In the darkness of the lurching litter going home I opened my grip but could not tell what I had been given.

At our own house, oil lamps in our familiar hallway greeted our late return. I looked again. Upon my open hand lay the special cameo we had retrieved from among the soiled linen. The Camillus brothers must have done a swift lift-and-pass, neat as Forum pickpockets.

‘Oh I like that!’ exclaimed Helena.

It was oval, and looked like a pendant from a necklace; it had a granulated gold loop on top, though the chain was absent. The workmanship was fine, the design aristocratic, the cutting of two-tone agate quite remarkable. While a really expensive whore might afford such a thing, it was serious quality. That must have alerted Quintus when he handled it. He was not renowned as a connoisseur—or had not been before he married; Claudia came with her own overflowing necklace boxes, so why should he learn? Yet Quintus moved in society; he had seen plenty of custom gems, hanging from the crêpey necks and scrawny lobes of wealthy high-class women.

I understood exactly why Quintus and Aulus had palmed it. This bauble required investigation.

35

Anacrites was a sad case. Nobody else would turn up before breakfast to ask if last night’s guests had enjoyed his dinner. That was his excuse anyway.

‘I have mislaid that jewellery.’ He had already trekked to the Capena Gate to enquire after the cameo. The two Camilli denied all knowledge, so he came to me. Anacrites still pretended this loss could make life awkward with the item’s owner, though he did not want to give more details about which floozy that was supposed to be.

‘What’s her name, your bird of expensive plumage?’

‘You don’t need to know . . .’

He was in a dilemma, drawing attention to the piece, when he clearly wished we knew nothing about it.