“Now there’s a fine Etruscan necklace, lady. Dangerous running about the streets like that. Better hand your glitter over to me!”

XLVI

Helena Justina rarely wore much jewellery, but all her best pieces were on her tonight. I sensed her anguish even in the dark.

Without moving, she asked me in a low voice, “What shall I do?”

“Whatever he says, I think. He’s not very big but he’s armed.”

I had found a blacker shadow, two yards away on my right. Instinct told me about the blade. I scooped the lass across me to my left. The voice laughed scornfully: “Freeing his sword arm—if he had a sword. Lady, let’s have your loot!”

With a wrench of annoyance, Helena detached her scintillating earrings, a panther-headed bangle from each arm and the tiara from her hair. Holding all these, her fingers fumbled at her necklace catch.

“Let me.”

“Lot of practice?” scoffed the thief.

He was right; I had undone necklaces before. I could manage this. There were two loops of wire which I pushed together, then twisted apart; while it was on, the weight of the necklace held them in place. Her neck was soft, and warm from running. I know that because only a fool undoes a lady’s necklace without tickling the lady’s neck.

“Hercules knot!” I answered suavely, then let the light skein of gold shiver into her hand.

A scrawny paw reached out to take possession, then he snarled at me. “Your ring too!”

I sighed. It was the only legacy other than debt that I had ever received. I tossed him my Great Uncle’s signet ring.

“Thanks, Falco.”

“He knows you.” Helena sounded annoyed.

The villain was obviously some Aventine scavenger, but a stranger to me. I chipped back sharply, “Lots of people know me, but not many of them would pinch my Uncle Scaro’s signet ring.”

Helena tensed as if she hoped I would pull out some hidden weapon, then jump. Vespasian had stopped the Praetorians searching his visitors as a signal of quiet times, but I was not such a maniac as to visit the Palace with a knife up my sleeve; I had nothing to jump with.

Our thief suddenly lost interest. Listening too, I heard why. I caught a whistle I recognized; the scavenger slipped down the entry and vanished with his swag.

A man with a flare tumbled into the alley.

“Who’s there?”

“Me—Falco!” Someone else joined him hotfoot. “Petro, that you?”

“Falco? We’ve just flushed out that runt Melitus—he get anything off you?”

“Jewellery. Lucky you turned up; I had a sack of gold, too!”

“I’ll follow it up. You had a what?”

“Sack of gold.”

All the time we were speaking, Petronius Longus had been walking down towards me. Now, in the light of the patrolman’s flare, he finally glimpsed a vision of my naiad.