We stepped away. The berserk Fangs was now straining to drag his chain free of the big tree to which its other end was fixed. He so much wanted to kill us, he seemed likely to strangle himself. We would have no qualms about letting him. Thwarted, he started hurling himself at the tree.

‘Sorry, I forgot he was there. We don’t see many people and he gets excitable. Quiet, boy!’

There was no way the dog could be silenced, until the owner lobbed half an old amphora at him. It missed. The weighty crock could well have cracked the canine skull. Fangs seemed to know about this wine-jar trick. Immediately he piped down and slunk to the base of the tree where he just sat, bored and whining.

We all stood in the clearing and went through introductory formalities.

‘I am Probus, one of the Claudii,’ said the man from the shack. ‘I expect you have heard of us.’ He folded his arms and stared, not openly hostile yet proud of their notoriety.

‘One of the brothers?’ asked Petronius, not denying we had been told about these people.

‘That I am.’

‘Are you the family spokesman?’

‘Can be.’

‘Do any of the rest live around here?’

‘Several.’

‘Give me some names?’ Petro appeared quite patient, though I thought he wanted to kick this swamp slug in the throat. In Rome he would have had the bastard up against a wall; the problem here was lack of walls. Nobody wanted to go near the tree where Fangs was chained. Pushing a suspect hard up against the shack would most likely cause the whole wreck to keel over.

‘Names?’ Probus gave Petro a slow look, then wiped his nose on where his sleeve would be if he had sleeves. His arm was hairy enough, and muscular. He slouched like a wimp, but I bet he fought dirty. ‘Names, eh?’ He was medium height, well built in a slovenly way, with his belt drooping to groin level and a small paunch hanging over it. ‘Everyone around here knows who we are.’

‘I come from Rome,’ Petronius told him again in a mild tone. ‘SPQR. I’d like to hear some details.’

‘I’m very busy,’ Probus boasted. ‘No time to draw a family tree.’

‘And there are a lot of you, I gather.’ Petronius still sounded friendly. I was waiting for him to explode. A cloud of midges began to swirl in front of my face and I biffed at them in irritation. ‘Did I hear of twenty siblings?’

‘Justus was the eldest—’ Probus counted on his filthy fingers. He had on a silly face, playing clever bastards. I felt my attitude harden. This could be the swine who had tortured a man for remonstrating about a trespass, beat him, cut off his extremities and left him to moulder. The gods only knew what had been done afterwards to the missing wife. That probably happened close to here.