Macro drew back the hood of his military cape and ran a quick glance over his surroundings. The inn was warm and dry and the floor was paved and liberally covered with straw to absorb the filth on the boots and sandals of those coming in from the street. There was a bar counter to one side, inset with large jars to hold the stew and heated wine that was served to customers. Several long tables with benches on either side filled most of the open space. Despite all the renovations, there was still a faint tang of horse sweat in the air, but Macro did not mind. There were worse odours.

‘Nice enough,’ he conceded. ‘Compared to most in this town.’

Cato nodded. While waiting for the order to join Ostorius and his staff on the ride to the meeting with the tribal leaders they had spent the time in the inns recommended by Decimus. There was little else of note to see. Despite her earlier misgivings about the discharged legionary, Portia had found his guidance useful as she inspected a number of inns and subtly sounded out their owners to discover who might be willing to sell their business to her.

Cato gestured to a serving girl behind the bar and she hurried over to take their order. She was young, barely into her teens, and was dumpy with a poor complexion but at least she spoke reasonable Latin.

‘Jar of wine for the three of us. What’s in the stew today?’

She shrugged. ‘Same as every day. Barley and onion gruel.’

Cato forced a smile. ‘Sounds fine. Three bowls then, with bread. I take it that’s fresh?’

‘Baked just the other day, sir. Fresh enough.’

Without waiting for further comment she turned and hurried back towards the counter to prepare a tray for their order.

‘Nice enough?’ Portia said flatly as she stared at her son. ‘Is that all you have to say?’

‘What do you want me to say?’ Macro growled. ‘It’s an inn, like any other.’

‘No, as it happens.’ She wagged a finger. ‘This is the one I want to buy. Thanks to Decimus, I learned that the owner is a veteran of the Second Legion who has had enough of Britannia and is selling up to return to Rome. I’ve made an offer and he’s accepted.’

Macro took another, longer look round the premises. ‘Why this one?’

Portia swiftly marshalled her arguments and counted them off on her fingers as she replied. ‘Firstly, the location. Plenty of passing customers and a lot of them work at the governor’s headquarters so they can afford to pay more for their wine and food. Second, there’s eight rooms in the courtyard that are already rented to travellers. I can have more accommodation added to the rear. As the province is settled, this town is bound to grow in size and there’s a small fortune to be made from those passing through Londinium. And third, there’s some small storerooms on the opposite side of the courtyard that we could rent out to the prostitutes’ guild. An extra service that some of the customers would welcome, I’m sure. There’s plenty of potential here and the price is very fair.’ She paused. ‘There’s only one snag. What’s left of the money I got from selling my place in Ariminum is not going to cover what I offered.’