‘Oh I shall never discover who I first belonged to. I accept that. I was orphaned in the British Rebellion. I’d like to think I am a mysterious British princess – that would be so romantic, wouldn’t it? But I don’t have red hair and the poor people I grew up with firmly believed I was a Roman trader’s child. I suppose there were circumstances that suggested it, back when they found me. Because of the terrible events and confusion, that will be all I ever know. I am realistic. The uncertainties can never be cleared up, so some avenues in society are closed to me.’

  ‘Is that why you are unhappy, Albia?’

  ‘No, it’s because men are deceitful pigs who use people for convenience then look after their own interests.’

  ‘Camillus Aelianus?’

  ‘Oh, not just him!’

  ‘It is sad to hear a young girl speak so bitterly.’

  ‘Now who is being romantic?’

  ‘I suppose your anger is because Aelianus betrayed your hopes and married Hosidia … Hosidia what? Does she only have one name?’

  ‘Her family know her as Meline, but “Hosidia Meline” – a Roman name then a Greek one – would sound like a freed slave. She is not one, of course. Some people despise professors, but it goes without saying, they wouldn’t have got to be professors if they were poor. Minas must have a prosperous family if he went to Athens to learn law. Still “Meline” wouldn’t do, not among senators. Vespasian may have got away with his mistress, but he is an unusual character. The Camilli have to look respectable.’

  ‘I am very impressed, Albia. How did you dig all this out?’

  ‘That’s my secret. I’ve watched Falco. I could do his work. I could do yours.’

  ‘I would be charmed to have you – but, unfortunately, we don’t use women in the intelligence service.’

  ‘Yes you do. I’ve heard of Perella, the dancer. There was a lot of talk about Perella in Britain. You gave her an assignment to eliminate a corrupt official.’

  ‘Oh really?’

  ‘Anacrites, don’t bluff.’

  ‘I know Perella, certainly. She is a superb dancer.’

  ‘She cut a man’s throat. To get rid of him and avert a public scandal. Everyone knew you sent her.’

  ‘I heartily deny that rumour! What a slur on the integrity of our beloved Emperor and the high ethos of his staff. Don’t spread this story, please, or I shall be forced to impose a gagging order … Anyway, you are much too sweet to want to do work like that.’

  ‘I would not want to do it, but I would like to know how. Skills give you confidence and power.’

  ‘I would say you have quite enough confidence, young lady. And you had better be kept away from power!’

  ‘Spoilsport.’

  ‘There you sit, looking neat, thoughtful and demure. That, I am sure, is how your adoptive parents are bringing you up. Falco and Helena would be shocked to hear the way you have talked to me.’

  ‘Regretful, maybe – but not surprised.’ She was only half right; I was startled by the way she took the spy on.

  ‘Well, I am shocked, Albia.’

  ‘You’re easily shocked then. Why? You do filthy work. You are a spy and you co-operate with the Praetorian Guards. That means unfair arrests, torture, intimidation. Nothing I have said is so very outrageous, just honest. Life made me hard. Harder than the average Roman maiden of my new father’s rank, or some pampered girl brought up in higher circles. I’m harder even than the daughters of poor craftsmen, who have to work in the family business, but who are free to chatter away their days until some dumb husband claims them. I come from the streets. I am sure you poked about and learned that about me.’

  ‘Why ever would I investigate you, my dear?’

  ‘It’s what you do. To put pressure on Didius Falco.’

  ‘That’s a myth – and libel.’

  ‘Better hire an informer then, to make your case in court … So you say you are above jealousy? Why then, Anacrites, do you do stupid things like stealing that case Falco and Petronius worked so hard on? They had their teeth into it, and are perfectly capable.’

  Anacrites jumped up in a spurt of irascibility. ‘Olympus! If the Modestus enquiry means so much to them, that ridiculous pair can have it back. There was nothing underhand; it just seems a suitable case for my own organisation! A normal redistribution of the workload, once I was available to supervise.’

  ‘So the terrible Claudii don’t have some hold over you?’

  ‘Who thinks that? Don’t be ridiculous!’ The spy was pacing about in the courtyard. Albia, my dogged, darling fosterling, stayed where she was. Briefly, Anacrites put both hands on either side of his forehead, as if troubled again mentally. ‘Falco asked me just now how the case was going. He was satisfied with my answer.’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  Anacrites stopped. ‘Did Falco put you up to this?’

  ‘Rubbish. He would be frothing at the mouth if he realised you were talking to me. What – out here in the dark, away from the company, a young girl who has only just begun to go to adult parties and a man in a position of public authority, her host, maybe thirty years her senior?’

  ‘Quite right!’ Anacrites’ voice was clipped. He held out an arm formally. ‘I have enjoyed our talk, but I should return you to our fellow guests. Come!’

  It was Albia’s turn to stand up, swishing her skirts to put them back in order. She kept out of reach. ‘I shall return myself, thank you. If we went back together, after so long away from the couches, my parents would be bound to think you had been making dreadful overtures.’

  ‘Your father makes his own crazy decisions about me – though I would hate Helena Justina to suppose I harbour guilty thoughts.’

  ‘You don’t?’

  ‘I do not.’

  ‘You mean, because you respect Falco too much?’

  ‘No, Albia,’ replied Anacrites, returning to his insidious smoothness. ‘Because I respect you.’

  It was the perfect answer – if it was honest. Albia should be flattered, impressed and charmed. Producing that smooth reply just proved what I had always thought: Anacrites was deadly dangerous.

  As he led her away, he looked back and his pale eyes swept the colonnades again. He was wavering, no longer certain whether I was hidden there. Knowing me, he just thought it must be likely.

  Albia had kept him hopping. But much of what he said must have been aimed at me.

  XXXIV

  I let Anacrites and Albia go ahead. A tall, slim figure separated off from near another corner of the garden. A woman called in a low voice, ‘Marcus! Is that you?’

  ‘Helena!’ We met along one of the colonnades. My hand found hers. ‘So how long were you lurking there? Did you hear all of that?’

  ‘Most of it.’

  ‘I didn’t put her up to it – so did you?’

  I felt Helena bridle. ‘I would never put her in such danger! I came to find her.’

  ‘Did you really tell Anacrites about her yen for Aulus?’

  ‘Of course not. Anacrites was lying, and I shall make sure she knows that. For one thing, whatever occurred between her and my brother – or whatever Albia thought at the time – she really has not talked about it. Besides, give me credit; I have more loyalty to her. Marcus, she’s just a girl. He frightens me.’

  ‘I was impressed by how she handled that.’

  ‘It’s not safe for her.’

  ‘We’ll have to see she never comes within his orbit.’

  ‘Too late! He knows about her,’ Helena told me morosely. ‘He knows he can hurt you – us – through her. And I’m afraid she, too, will be hurt in the process.’

  As we went around a really dark corner, I pulled her close to kiss her and take her mind off her fears. It failed to work on Helena, though it cheered me up.

  Temporarily.

  *

  We ran into Aulus and Quintus, chortling in a corridor. They admitted they had nipped off so Quintus could show his brother the cabinet of obscene statues. ‘How did you monkeys get in there?’

  ‘We asked ourselves what you would do, Marcus – then we broke the lock.’ Justinus spoke as if he had brought along a crowbar specially. ‘The spy can blame his fancy caterers. They are crawling everywhere.’ That fitted my fancy that Laeta was paying them to observe.

  ‘And was the “art” collection revolting?’ Helena asked. The lads assured her they were shocked. However, Justinus reckoned there were fewer pieces than when he stayed here last winter; Anacrites may have felt alarmed that other people knew about his filthy gallery so he had sold the most sinister pieces. A spy needs to avoid scandal. Besides, as I knew from Pa’s business, he would have made a killing from any of the private pornography collectors.

  We returned to the dining room, all in a jolly foursome, so Anacrites might think we had been together all the time. I had not yet decided whether to tell Albia about us eavesdropping. She was now staring at the tumblers’ pratfalls, as if planning to run away to join them.

  Claudia looked weary after being left alone to cope with Hosidia. I thought Hosidia brightened, as she watched Justinus sprawl back on his couch opposite her. Could his easy manners and good looks be attracting yet another young woman who really belonged to his stodgier brother? Claudia had once been betrothed to Aulus, but she dumped him – which her new sister-in-law had probably realised … But Hosidia would need some nerve to flirt with Quintus. If threatened, the once-shy Claudia Rufina fought for her rights with Hispanic bravura. In fact, being the senior bride in the Camillus family seemed to have fired up her confidence. Helena and I liked her; she was tougher than she looked.

  Hey ho, I had convinced myself the Camillus family were about to enact a Greek tragedy …

  Anacrites’ evening was starting to deteriorate. Dessert was the least impressive course he provided. It consisted of browned fruit and lacklustre pastries. I reckoned Anacrites had got this far in the caterer’s estimate then drew a line through any extras. He had a frugal streak. When I worked with him, it had always been me who went out for honeycakes to break the monotony.

  While we toyed with grapes, Minas reappeared. He boomed that he had seen one of the chefs stealing a picture. Anacrites now seemed too deflated to deal with it. I jerked my head at the Camillus brothers. He was a host to avoid, but we were guests with manners. The lads needed no further telling. We three, tailed by the dispirited spy, marched to the kitchen to investigate.

  We found the hired caterers packing up. Observed dully by Anacrites, Aulus, Quintus and I lined up the Lusitanian workers, pushed them about, searched them, insulted them, then went through their equipment. They had not been too greedy – just one or two small but good artworks that the spy might not have missed for weeks, a painted miniature pulled from a nail in a wall panel (that was what Minas had seen them taking), then a pitiful assortment of nick-nack bowls and cutlery. The two female servers were the worst offenders; they each had dainty reticules that doubled up as swag-bags.

  One very suspicious item was a jewel, which Quintus found rolled up in a used napkin in the laundry hamper. ‘This yours?’ he asked Anacrites in some surprise. The spy shook his head initially; it was hardly his taste.

  Suddenly he changed his mind. ‘Oh – a girlfriend must have left it. Give it me, will you –’

  ‘What girlfriend is this?’ Aelianus joshed him.

  ‘Oh you know …’

  ‘Ooh! Anacrites has had a home masseuse!’

  ‘Sent out for special services!’ Justinus joined in.

  ‘You dirty dog!’ I said. ‘I hope she’s registered with the vigiles and you had her credentials checked. This could be a serious breach of security –’

  Anacrites looked embarrassed. He was so close about his habits, assuming he had any, that being teased made him red-faced and uneasy. He was holding out his hand for the jewel but Quintus moved away, still inspecting it closely. Aulus stopped the spy, slapped him on the back, spun him around and clapped his cheeks as if he was a youth we had all taken to be ‘made a man’ by a sought-after courtesan in a luxury brothel. If that was the kind of woman he had summoned here, he would have paid through the nose for the house call.

  We gave the caterers a stiff lecture. They were shameless, but we were drunk, so we kept at it with pedantic gusto. Minas loomed up and threatened to prosecute them, but it was not the kind of big law-work that would gain him notice; he wandered off again to search for more of the spy’s fine wine.

  Minas should have stayed: once he sent the caterers on their way, Anacrites brought out a small flagon of exquisite Faustus Falernian to thank us. We four sipped it together in the kitchen, though socially it was a stiff moment. This had never been a party that would extend to the small hours so I tossed back my tot, followed by the two Camilli. We were accompanied by mothers of young children, a girl, a newly married bride – all good excuses to disperse. Most of us felt weary too. The dinner had been hard going. Minas would have dallied, but when we returned to the triclinium, he was persuaded to tag along home with the Camilli.

  We all thanked Anacrites who, frankly, looked done in. He made weak protestations that it was far too early for us to leave – then thanked us rather too fervently for coming. As he led us to our transport, which had already materialised at his entrance porch, he said he had had a wonderful evening. Compared with his normal lonely nights, it probably had been.

  ‘I hope we have mended some fences, Falco.’

  I kept my face neutral, watching Helena as she kissed Quintus Camillus goodbye, undeniably her favourite of the brothers, as he was mine.

  Aulus came up to me. Briefly he clasped hands. It was an unlikely formality, especially as I was being chilly with him over Albia. I met his eyes properly, for the first time since the news of his sudden marriage; amazingly, he winked. Something small and cold passed into my hand from his.

  I curled my fingers on it. In the darkness of the lurching litter going home I opened my grip but could not tell what I had been given.

  At our own house, oil lamps in our familiar hallway greeted our late return. I looked again. Upon my open hand lay the special cameo we had retrieved from among the soiled linen. The Camillus brothers must have done a swift lift-and-pass, neat as Forum pickpockets.

  ‘Oh I like that!’ exclaimed Helena.

  It was oval, and looked like a pendant from a necklace; it had a granulated gold loop on top, though the chain was absent. The workmanship was fine, the design aristocratic, the cutting of two-tone agate quite remarkable. While a really expensive whore might afford such a thing, it was serious quality. That must have alerted Quintus when he handled it. He was not renowned as a connoisseur – or had not been before he married; Claudia came with her own overflowing necklace boxes, so why should he learn? Yet Quintus moved in society; he had seen plenty of custom gems, hanging from the crêpey necks and scrawny lobes of wealthy high-class women.

  I understood exactly why Quintus and Aulus had palmed it. This bauble required investigation.

  XXXV

  Anacrites was a sad case. Nobody else would turn up before breakfast to ask if last night’s guests had enjoyed his dinner. That was his excuse anyway.

  ‘I have mislaid that jewellery.’ He had already trekked to the Capena Gate to enquire after the cameo. The two Camilli denied all knowledge, so he came to me. Anacrites still pretended this loss could make life awkward with the item’s owner, though he did not want to give more details about which floozy that was supposed to be.

  ‘What’s her name, your bird of expensive plumage?’

  ‘You don’t need to know …’

  He was in a dilemma, drawing attention to the piece, when he clearly wished we knew nothing about it.

  I was determined to investigate that cameo’s history. I lied, therefore, and said I did not have it. ‘I’d forgotten all about it. Maybe those light-fingered caterers of yours saw somebody drop it and picked it up a second time …’ No; he had been to ask them, he said. Jupiter! He must have been busy. ‘Who were they anyway?’ I asked. ‘You’d have to lock up the family silver if you hired them, but that chef was wonderful.’

  Briefly, Anacrites glowed under my praise. ‘The organiser is called Heracleides, sign of the Dogstar by the Caelimontan Gate. Laeta put me on to them.’

  ‘Laeta?’ I smiled gently. ‘Taking a risk, weren’t you?’

  ‘I checked their credentials. They provide imperial banquets, Marcus.’ Anacrites sounded stiff. ‘Gladiators’ last meals before a fight. Buffets for seedy theatre impresarios who are trying to seduce young actresses. All very much in the public eye. The proprietor has too much good name to risk losing it – Besides, the thefts were carried out by minions, mere opportunism. And I was protected. I had my own security –’

  ‘I saw your house guests!’

  ‘Who did you see?’ Anacrites demanded.

  ‘Your dilatory agents, playing board games in a back-corridor hole …’ Some flicker disturbed his carefully cultivated, steady gaze. If I understood that half-hidden reaction, the Melitans were in for a nasty half hour when he next saw them. He could be vindictive. If they didn’t know that already, they were about to find out. ‘I meant, was a suggestion from Laeta safe for you, dear boy?’ I gazed at him and shook my head slowly. ‘Given his well-known wish to winkle you out of office?’

  The spy’s eyes widened.

  ‘No, he wouldn’t!’ I cried. ‘I’m being ridiculous. Laeta is a man of honour, he is above conspiracy. Forget I spoke.’ Although Anacrites had imposed iron control on his face muscles, I could see he now realised Laeta might have wrong-footed him.

  He changed tack quickly. Gazing around the salon where I had been forced to entertain him, he noted the profusion of new bronze statuettes, polished expanding brazier tripods, fancy lamps suspended from branched candelabra. ‘Such lovely things, Falco! You’re very prosperous, since your father died. I wonder – does it affect your future?’

  ‘Will I give up informing?’ I laughed gaily. ‘No chance. You’ll never be rid of me.’