They had to pause because Trajan had slowed and was showing pleasure at the story, listening as he gave instructions to the young slave to dole out more bounties to the crowd. Seeing his interest, the old senator spoke even louder. ‘So after a few more days, Caesar Augustus decides to have a game with the rogue. Next morning, instead of ignoring him, he strides right up to the little fellow and declaims a verse of his own.’

Hadrian smiled. It was a good story.

‘Maybe the man ought to have been an actor rather than a peddler of verses, for he reacts well, praising the poem to the skies. Then out with his purse, pulls the string open and pours out the contents into Caesar’s hand. Only a couple of asses there. Well, that’s why he was begging. “I wish that I had more with which to recognise your art,” he says, “but here, you must take my last coins as well as my praise and blessing!”

‘Augustus liked a joke and knew when he was beaten. Clapped the fellow on the shoulder and sent a boy to give him a full purse!’

Trajan laughed. A few began laughing at the same instant and the remainder took their cue from the master of the world. Laberius contented himself with a wry smile, but he was an especially old and trusted friend.

‘I do hope that there are no poets here today,’ the emperor declared, producing more laughter.

‘I know a good one about Priapus!’ someone shouted from the crowd.

‘Quick, give him some money to keep it to himself,’ Trajan called to the boy, the loudest instruction he had given, and there were cheers.

After a few more minutes, they were almost at the house of their host, the doors of the atrium standing open and the welcoming party visible.

‘It would be a wise gesture,’ Laberius said, and the merest flick of his eyes towards the emperor’s straight back was sufficient to show that he was not speaking solely for himself.

‘And the father’s injudicious actions?’ Hadrian asked. The elder Crassus had plotted to overthrow Nerva, the old man made an emperor by the Senate after the murder of the unlamented Domitian seven years ago, who had in turn adopted Trajan and raised him to the purple. He was now in exile, albeit a comfortable one at Tarentum rather than on some bare rock out at sea.

‘Almost forgotten and not the fault of his son. Let the youngster have a chance to prove himself and redeem the family.’

‘I see.’ Hadrian thought for a moment. The father was a fool, his plot a badly run farce easily discovered and defeated. The son certainly looked a halfwit, but with the legion dispersed in so many detachments, it should be easy enough to keep him at a distance. Stupidity was tiresome to observe in detail. ‘I daresay I could find work for him somewhere.’

‘Not too far away,’ Laberius said as if reading his thoughts. ‘As you might say, keep eyes and ears on him.’ There was clearly more, but by this time they had arrived and there was no more chance to talk for some hours.