“Falco! Now that’s downright perjury!” he exploded. He gripped his trooper’s arm, then brought up the brand like a beacon. From then on, his eyes were ignoring me. In the torchlight Helena Justina shimmered, iridescent as an opal; excited eyes, that challenging expression, and the best set of shoulders in the Capena Gate—

She was the same height as me, so my big, slow friend gave us both four inches. He was dressed entirely in brown, with a wooden baton of office twisted through his belt. He wore leather wristguards, greaves strapped to the knee, and a knotted headband round his all but shaven head. I knew he played with children’s kittens when he was at home, but he looked grim. Helena edged closer to me; I took the opportunity to slip my arm around her. He shook his head, still rapt in disbelief. Then, all dimpling innocence, the dimwit had to ask, “I suppose you’ll try to tell me, this is your vinegar pot?”

What a vindictive bastard.

Before I could wriggle out of it, Helena broke free of my arm and rapped back in a thin voice: “Oh that’s me! He usually says I make Medusa’s snakes look like a pot of fishing worms.”

I bellowed, “Petronius Longus, for a quiet man you make a lot of unnecessary noise!”

There was nothing I could say to her, so I grumbled at him.

“She’s a senator’s daughter—”

“Where would you get one of those?”

“Won her at dice.”

“Thundering Jove! Where’s the game?” he demanded, lifting her hand in his.

“Oh put her down! Titus and Domitian Caesar have both made their poisoned marks on the poor wench tonight—” Bright-eyed with the discovery of a friend in a predicament, Petro smirked defiantly, then kissed my senator’s daughter’s hand with the exaggerated respect he normally keeps for handing Vestal Virgins along the Ostian Way. I was struggling to stop him: “Mars Ultor, Petro! This is the Camillus girl—”

“Oh, I realized that. If it were one of your Libyan dancing girls you’d have her in some boudoir on her back!” He believed that I had deliberately lied to him about her; he was furious.

“Oh I’ll grant you the boudoir—” I slammed at him through bared teeth “—though not necessarily on her back!”

Petronius grew flustered. I knew that he would; for him lewd talk was private, between men. He released Helena abruptly so she lifted her chin. She was white as smoked linen. My heart sank.

“Watch Captain, advise me please. I want to reach my father’s house, can anything be done?”

“I’ll take her,” I interrupted, warning him not to interfere.