‘How does that work?’

‘We just all know. The Claudii have powers in Rome looking after them. That’s why nobody official tries to clear them out. That’s why most of us steer clear of them.’

‘Did they give the posse from Antium any trouble?’ Petronius asked.

‘Oh no, laddie. Resistance would have proved they were up to no good, wouldn’t it? That’s their trickery. When troops go down there to their camp, they act meek as lambs. They make out that all complaints against them are dreamed up out of local spite. They pretend to be helpful. They throw open their doors to let their places be searched.’

‘But no evidence is found?’

‘They are very clever.’

Petronius leaned his chin on his hands. He was thinking about bullies who fester in society, accepted as a hazard of life, while they terrorise communities for years. He had to deal with situations like this in Rome. There were foul alleyways that nobody went down. Even the vigiles would only venture there in groups and they whistled loudly first, to let it be known they were coming. They would not want to surprise anyone. They gave the specially violent ones good time to get away.

The landlord decided he had said enough, though he gave us directions for tomorrow. Rectus, our intended guide, looked down his nose; the information was of the ‘take the first turn out of town then just keep going straight’ variety. This always leads you to sharp bends and forks in the road with no signboard. ‘You can’t miss it,’ said the innkeeper, complaisantly. Our hearts sank.

We turned in early. My dinner lay heavy in my guts and even after it deigned to go down I had an ache in the pit of my stomach. I cannot have been the only one. We all knew we were about to visit one of the most dangerous areas on earth.

19

First thing next morning, Petronius and I handed round the insecticide ointments Helena and Maia had made us bring. Amidst a lot of joshing about the reek, and how scared of our women Petro and I must be, surprising amounts were applied to exposed skin. Petronius Rectus called us a bunch of fragile florets, but even the two vigiles dipped into the pots and daubed their foreheads.

None of us bothered much with breakfast, except Rectus. Since he had already had a dose of marsh fever, nothing worried him. We were tense, but he was placid. Immediately he had stuffed himself, he harnessed up Nero the ox, then without a word, threw his pack on the cart and set off. Luckily the rest of us were ready to go. You couldn’t call the man surly; he just never bothered to communicate. His distaste for talk was religious. Being in his brother’s company seemed to make Petro equally gloomy. I didn’t try to chivvy him out of it; I was gloomy myself.