‘They were drinking; I was somewhere else, working,’ I protested. ‘Now I shall have to take them to the baths, have them home to dine, and sober them up for their trusting wives.’

‘I don’t expect trust comes into it!’ reckoned Ma. The senators’ sons looked shifty. Belated doubts about the dear little old lady filtered through their blearied brains.

Ma then described a cringe-making scene at her house earlier between Anacrites and Albia. ‘He said “I always admire Junilla Tacita; you should come to her when you are troubled, dearie”.’ He cannot have called Albia ‘dearie’; it was the word Ma used, to avoid truly accepting this outsider as a granddaughter. Albia saw Ma’s reservations; she only came up here when Helena sent her. ‘We all had a nice chat, then when your Albia was ready to go, he so kindly offered to see her home. Beautiful manners,’ Ma insisted to the Camilli.

Aulus said in a solemn, lawyer’s voice, ‘You can tell a man’s character by the way he treats young women.’ He thought he was being satirical: big mistake, Aulus.

‘You are the one who broke her poor little heart, are you?’ asked Ma, with her crucifying sneer. ‘Well, you would know all about character!’

I judged it time to leave.

Albia was safe at home. Anacrites had left her on the doorstep, merely sending in greetings to Helena; he probably knew this would only increase her anxiety—and my wrath. Albia failed to see what the fuss was about.

She dined with us, despite Aulus being present. Nothing kept Albia from her food. So she overheard us relating our progress. Helena summed up: ‘Virtus has been dealt with; let us not remember how. He said Pius had gone home to the Pontine Marshes. Perella believes Nobilis is back in Rome, though you have no leads, unless it was him Marcus saw at the spy’s house. Now we know the “Melitans” are his brothers that does seem likely. You won’t get in there a second time to look. Relations with Anacrites are deteriorating, and he will hardly invite us all to dinner again—’

With yelps of pain, her brothers and I pleaded to be excused if he did.

‘I could go to his house!’ piped up Albia. ‘He is perfectly nice to me! He says I can go at any time.’

‘Keep away from him,’ snapped Helena. ‘Have respect for yourself, Albia.’

‘Don’t listen when he makes out you’re special!’ I said crushingly, ‘Saying he’s never met anybody like you is a very old line, sweetheart. When a man—any man—who has a collection of obscene art invites a young girl to visit, there is only one reason. It’s nothing to do with culture.’

‘Is this from experience, Falco?’ Albia asked, disingenuously. ‘How did you meet Helena Justina?’ murmured our little troublemaker.