‘I’m married to Virtus.’ It was still Plotia answering. ‘Byrta belongs to Pius.’ Belongs to was a term that would have delighted our ancestors; my Helena would disdain it. [Note to scribe: delete that ‘my’. I don’t want my balls pickled.]

Before I could ask, Plotia added, ‘Both not here. Pius and Virtus work up in Rome.’

That was news. Petronius would be sure it was not good news.

‘I’m from Rome.’ I played friendly. ‘What do your men do there?’

Plotia just shrugged. A Roman wife may be her husband’s closest confidante in theory, but not around here. I guessed marriage was a one-sided contract among the Claudii. Wives had to take foul language, thrashing and forced sex, if I was any judge. Then they bore endless children, who were battered and buggered too. They would all learn to keep their heads down, to judge carefully from bad moods what it was safe to say or do, and never to ask questions. They were bound to have been ordered not to talk to strangers.

Many a slave knew that existence. Maybe it was how the Claudius men had learned to impose themselves on weaker souls.

‘Nobilis have a wife?’ I asked.

‘She left.’ At the mention of escape, Plotia looked jealous. Even Byrta perked up. From her perch she was listening to everything. ‘He never recovered.’

‘I bet there was all Hades of a row.’ Plotia laughed briefly. ‘Still, she got away from him?’ Neither woman reacted to the way I phrased it. ‘Where did she go?’

‘No idea.’ That meant not allowed to tell. ‘Nobilis knows. Antium, I think. She set up with someone else, so Nobilis stopped that—’

‘Really! How?’

‘The usual way!’ Plotia said scornfully. ‘The girl took refuge with her father afterwards, I heard.’

‘What’s her father’s name—and her name?’

Plotia and Byrta glanced at each other. This information must be on the banned list. Nonetheless Plotia told me the father was a baker called Vexus. The wife was Demetria.

‘Does Nobilis now accept her going?’

‘Yes—if “accept” means constantly saying he’ll get the girl one day.’

I sighed. ‘When did they split?’

‘Three years ago.’ And it still rankled with the husband? Demetria must be a brave soul to break free of that control. Or was she so badly crushed that anything was better than life with Nobilis?

‘If that’s his house, can I have a look round?’

‘He won’t like it,’ Plotia said flatly. Strangely, she then made no objection. It might be part of the Claudian plan to appear helpful whenever they were directly confronted. I took my chance and went to the door. It was unlocked—almost a jeering invitation to search. Even at that point, entering the house Nobilis lived in sent a shiver down my spine.