‘I worked for her father. He hired me. I met her. She hired me as well. I never invited her to my horrible hutch.’ Helena turned up there of her own accord. That was how I knew enough about strong-minded girls to be afraid for Albia.

‘Was it when you lived at Fountain Court? I’ve seen it! I went with Lentullus, hiding that cameo. Is that how you know how the art invitation works, Falco? Did you lure girls up to your garret, pretending your father was an auctioneer so you had curios to show them—then when they had climbed all those stairs and found out there was nothing, it was too late and they were too weary to argue?’

‘Certainly not,’ Helena interrupted calmly. ‘Marcus was such an innocent in those days, I had to show him what girls were for.’

Albia broke up in giggles. It was good to see her smile.

I topped up everybody’s water cup while I tried to reassert the myth of a respectable past.

We agreed it was time to go after Claudius Pius. Assuming his brother had told Petro and me the truth, then Pius was visiting his wife, that fragile soul Byrta. It meant another trip into the marshes, though at least that would let me go over to Antium and liaise with Silvius, of the Urban Cohorts. Petronius had checked with Rubella, who still refused to release him from Rome, even to work with Silvius. So Justinus, with his experience on our first trip, won the ballot to come with me.

Next day at dawn, I was all packed and about to mount a mule outside my house, when Helena ran out after me. She told me anxiously that Albia was not in her room. Our conversation the day before had had unwelcome results. The girl had left a note—at least she was that sensible—to say she was going to Anacrites’ house ‘to have a look around’. If she went last evening, he had kept her overnight.

‘Don’t worry,’ Helena reassured me, though her voice was tense. ‘You get off—I’ll fetch her back somehow.’ I wanted to stay, but I had five slaves chomping at the bit behind me and had made arrangements with Justinus to depart at first light. ‘Leave it to me, Marcus. Don’t fret. Take care, my love.’

‘Always. You too. Sweetheart, I love you.’

‘I love you too. Come home soon.’