The high citadel at Lanuvium must be healthier. From its acropolis there were gracious views over the plain to the faraway ocean. Like most places with vistas, this had been heavily colonised by the villa-owning fraternity. To cater for their property maintenance needs, small artisan businesses thrived. Silanus was a terracotta specialist.

A row of freckled children sat on the kerb outside his premises. When our cart drew up, they all swarmed aboard. I tried to strike a bargain that they would look after the outfit, by which I meant they were not to kick the donkey or remove the wheels. I hoped they were too small to shift the money chest. Feigning acute shyness, none of them spoke. When I went into the workshop, Albia stationed herself at the doorway, observing the nippers sternly. In her present mood, she was scary; that would work.

The children must have inherited their freckles from their mother. She never appeared; I soon gathered she was dead—probably exhausted and deceased in childbirth, judging by the perilous number of offspring she had left behind.

Silanus was a stocky, pockmarked fellow with the faint tetchiness craftsmen have, caused by the anxieties of sole trading. As a gesture to personality, he wore a bracelet on his upper left arm that was pretending to be gold. His tunic was dull and ragged, but he was in work clothes so that told me nothing. The stock in his shop was good: well-made, fancy Greek-style acroteria for roof finials, a few gargoyles, routine racks of tiles and wall flues, plus the usual decorative wares for the home, plant tubs and balcony trays. It was all handsome. I would have bought from him.

He gave the impression he wanted to be friendly, but was biting it back. I softened him up, mainly by telling him how much cash I had brought for his uncle and aunt. He was stuck in an awkward situation. His relatives had mysteriously vanished. They had no children. As the only nephew, he felt obliged to take charge, though he did not even know if Primilla and Modestus were alive. Unlike me, he felt he had no legal position as an heir, so was not free to negotiate.

I sympathised. ‘So what happened? I work in this line; maybe I can give you advice.’ Silanus was not the type to trust informers, or even to know what we did. ‘Silanus, whatever has gone on? I saw their house at Antium; it’s quite deserted. Your uncle and aunt must have had staff, but they too have dematerialised. Have you brought the slaves here?’

Appreciating his practical difficulties must have won his trust. Silanus sighed. ‘They ran away. I haven’t started a fugitive-hunt. Let them go, if they can make a life.’ This man was neither greedy nor vindictive. A decent sort. Not something I often came across. I tried not to find it suspicious.