There was more movement outside. A tribune slightly older than the first, this one in the broad purple stripe of senatorial rank, entered the room. Seeing Titus and me with our heads together he stood quietly; he was obviously held in great confidence, and did not expect a rebuff. Plainly he believed their special day tomorrow took precedence over my own small moment of intrigue. His determined presence recalled Titus to their real order of business.

“Is there a problem, sir? Domitian Caesar has ridden ahead, but your father is delaying for you.”

“Yes. I’ll come.”

The tribune waited. Titus let him stay.

“We need you to help us identify the remaining conspirators!” Titus urged me. I hesitated. I was too closely connected with people involved to judge the issues cleanly any more. My reluctance was not unexpected, I could see.

“Caesar, the Guards could take this forward for you now. There’s a captain I recommend to you who knows something about it already; his name’s Julius Frontinus. He became interested when the first ingot was found in Rome; he helped put me on the right track then—”

“A friend?”

“He went to school with my brother.”

“Ah!”

Dealing with a Caesar was unpleasantly civilized. His good manners gave me a sick qualm; instead of escaping I felt hopelessly pressurized.

“Falco, I can’t force you to go on with the case, though I wish you would. Look, will you leave your decision just for a day? Nothing is going to happen in the next twenty-four hours. All Rome will be at a standstill. Tomorrow my father will be handing out gifts to people in his pay. You’ve certainly earned that; you may as well take advantage! Meanwhile, let us both consider what to do. After the Triumph come and talk to me again.” He rose, ready now to answer the call from his staff, yet he did not hurry me.

“These are not my kind of people,” I informed him awkwardly. “I can round up a thug or a thief and throw him at your feet with a noose round his neck, alive or dead, as you choose. I lack finesse for this.”

Titus Caesar lifted an eyebrow sardonically.

“A cornered traitor is unlikely to respond according to strict court etiquette. Didius Falco, my father has had a letter from Flavius Hilaris, applauding your physical endurance and mental agility; he’s spent three sheets of first quality parchment singing your praises! You have managed when it suited you to deal on your own aggressive terms with anyone who stumbled in your path, yet it does not suit you now?”

“Sir, very well. I’ll honour my contract, identify who organized the plot—”

“And find the silver pigs!”

“Sosia Camillina suspected where they were. I believe she was right all along.”

“Nap Lane?”

“Nap Lane.”