At that, quite unexpectedly, Helena flung at me: “No thank you! I’ve heard your opinion; now I’ll tell you mine!” She had lowered her voice but Petro and I both winced. “You went to Hades and back in Britain; you saved my life; you are the only person in Rome who keeps a lamp lit for my cousin. You do all that, yet you remain foul-mouthed, prejudiced, and full of casual derision—as lacking in good manners as you are in good nature or good will. Most of the things you blame me for are really not my fault—”

“I don’t blame you for anything—”

“You blame me for everything!” She was wonderful. I could not believe I had ever thought otherwise. (Any man can make a bit of a mistake.) “If there’s one thing, Didius Falco, I shall regret to the end of my days it’s not letting you fall in the River Rhodanus while I had the chance!”

She had a way with pleasantries that flayed a man’s skin. She was so angry I became helpless, I leaned against the wall behind us, and laughed until I was weak.

Petronius Longus continued to stare in embarrassment over our heads at the wall, but he said drily, “Regret it even more, lady; even in the army Falco never learned to swim.”

She went whiter still.

We heard shouts. Footsteps scuffled. The trooper on guard at the end of the alley called out in a low voice. Petronius moved forward anxiously.

“Petro, help us out of this dead end?”

“Why not?” He shrugged. “Let’s shift—” He stopped. “Ladyship, I can take you—”

“Back off, Petro,” I interjected sourly. “The princess is with me.”

“Trust him, lady,” he condescended to say kindly to Helena. “He’s wonderful in a crisis!”

“Oh he’s wonderful anywhere,” Helena Justina capitulated reluctantly. “According to him!”

From a senator’s daughter, this startled him as much as it did me.

We all squeezed out of the cul-de-sac into the noisy thoroughfare. His man muttered. We ducked back. Petronius growled back over his shoulder at me, “They’re swarming like honeybees in Hybla. If we cause a diversion—”

“Steer them away from the river,” I agreed quickly.

“Shriek if the lady shoves you in the Tiber, so we can all watch you drown! Lend me this—” With a swift grin, Petronius unwound Helena Justina from the white mantle that she wore outdoors. He draped it round the smallest of his lads, who pranced out into the traffic followed by appreciative cheers from the rest.

At the Ostian Way crossroad, Petro posted his men on traffic duty. I knew what to expect; everything ground to a standstill within seconds. I glimpsed a raised arm as Helena’s mantle flickered white amid the screaming drivers, all standing up on their footboards, hurling abuse at the watch.