Helena shook her head. ‘What if she’s right? No child can ever truly know its father, nor any father know his child. Unless there is some way of testing the blood in our veins, we are all left with the word of our mothers—and most of us are none the worse for it.’

‘The world is full of wicked mothers who have no idea who their children belong to. Roll on the day some scientific investigator finds out how to prove paternity. Maybe that silver-haired fox Philadelphion will do it.’

‘Given that Philadelphion may be the real parent, that would be a nice irony. But uncertainty has advantages,’ Helena maintained. ‘Besides, you can’t blame Thalia asking Geminus for help—’

‘She’s a highly successful entrepreneur. What help can she need?’

‘She can’t dance with the python during a pregnancy!’

‘I would not put it past her. Modesty isn’t in her repertoire.’ Even Thalia’s normal acrobatics were gross. ‘If she’s out of action for a while, her troupe will go on working. She’ll have funds.’

‘But Marcus, she wanted to plan for the baby’s future. She didn’t know your father would die,’ Helena insisted. ‘No one expected it.’

‘I agree, she can’t have intended settling down with him—she’s far too independent.’ I shuddered at the thought of Thalia as a stepmother. ‘Still, she got him to promise something. He obviously told her he would change his will. And she was happy for him to do so!’

‘As you said—she is a very good businesswoman.’

Growling, I went off to the Saepta Julia, where I was burying my anger in the monumental task of exploring my father’s affairs.

It was the day that crawler Cluvius turned up. He was nagging to know whether I intended carrying on Pa’s business, or could Cluvius and his auctioneer cronies siphon off work that would have been ours? ‘People approach the Guild for advice. We assume you don’t want to be bothered, Marcus Didius . . .’

On the spot, I decided. ‘Business as usual!’ I snapped crushingly. ‘I’ll be lending a hand myself.’ I had spare capacity. Informing was quiet in summer. People are too hot to worry about professional fortune-hunters marrying their daughters. Of course they should worry—because long steamy July and August nights are when those bold girls are most likely to let lovers in at the window . . .

‘Feel free to ask any of us for advice then,’ Cluvius offered peevishly.