‘Why not? Arguments are what families are for. You have a family now, you know that. You’re stuck, I’m afraid. Try not to be estranged from us, the way I was from my father.’

‘Do you regret that?’

I grinned abruptly, even laughed out loud. ‘Never for one moment—nor did he, the old menace! . . . Have you told Helena this big idea of yours? Striking out on your own?’

‘She was upset.’

‘She would be!’

Albia turned to me, her face pale, her blue-grey eyes dark with panic despite her attempted bravado. ‘You gave me a chance; I am grateful. I want to stay in Rome. But I am going to make myself a life, a life that is suitable and sustainable. Don’t tell me I cannot try.’

Huffing gently, I squashed in on the bench beside her. Albia moved up, grumbling on principle. ‘So let’s hear about it?’

Uncertain of my reaction, she confided, ‘I cannot have the life you hoped to give me. Adoption only half works. I stay provincial—if not a barbarian. Someone who hates us might find out where I came from. In this city, spiteful rumours could damage you and Helena.’

‘Anacrites?’

‘He intends to do it.’ Albia spoke quietly; all self-confidence had drained out of her.

I wondered how he had so badly crushed her spirit. ‘And what about you? Did he try something on?’

‘No.’ Albia was inscrutable. She had made up her mind not to tell me. If Anacrites had seduced or raped her, she would spare me incandescent anger; she would protect Helena, too, from the pain of knowing. But even the fact that Anacrites had lured her into danger gave me motives to pursue him.

‘You sure?’ Pointless question.

‘He was not the same. He had changed—or at least had stopped hiding what he is really like. You were right about him: he looked lecherous. I decided straight away I must escape. Then I found Claudius Nobilis.’

‘Did he lay hands on you?’

‘No. He meant to. But Anacrites barged in and said “leave her to me”.’ Albia shuddered, looking older than her years. ‘Repulsive man!’

‘Don’t you think we are all the same?’ I teased, alluding to her opinion of Camillus Aelianus.

To my surprise, Albia smiled sweetly and replied, ‘Not quite all of you!’

‘So, Flavia Albia, you are leaving home. What are you planning?’

‘To live here. Do what you did.’

‘Right.’

‘No argument?’