TIME TO DEPART

`A place in the Saepta Julia.'

It was still raining, but the Saepta lies right alongside the Pantheon. I dragged Florius across the street and into the covered market. I made him show me the booth where the jug had been purchased. Almost as soon as we reached it, the eager proprietor hurried out to greet us, clearly hoping his previous customer had come back for more. When I stepped into view, the atmosphere cooled rapidly.

I told Florius to go. He already had a jaded view of life. I didn't want him more upset. And I did not want, any strangers present when I spoke my mind about the glass to its slimy, seditious retailer. All our efforts to follow up the Syrian water jug had been a waste of time. It had no bearing on the Balbinus case. The `stolen' glass had never been lost. All I was pursuing here was a sleazy compensation fraud – one to which I was myself inextricably linked.

`Hello, Marcus,' beamed the dealer, utterly unabashed as usual. I answered in my blackest tone, `Hello, Pa.'

`That crown of yours was a gorgeous bit of stuff. I can make you

a fortune if you want to sell. I had one customer who was interested -'

`Who actually bought it, you mean?'

`I told him Alexander the Great had worn it once.'

`Fu

`Don't make me livid. You bastard, you've got some explaining to do.'

Frankly, now I knew the `loss' of the glass was just another example of my father on the fiddle, I did not want to hear any more. 'Ah Marcus, settle down – '

`Stop warbling. Just describe the man who came here with the limp lettuce leaf who was just with me – the man who bought the glass water jug.'

`Balbinus Pius,' answered Pa. `You know that thug?' `Everyone knows him.'

`Do you know he's an exile case?' `I heard so.'

`Why didn't you report seeing him?'

`He was buying; I don't throw trade away. I knew someone would be on to him eventually. That great po-faced lump of a friend of yours, presumably… Come in for a drink,' invited my father cheerily. Instead I left.

LV

AS I STRODE angrily home I felt edgy. For one thing I had ringing in my ears various sly protestations from Pa – mighty claims that he had meant no harm (oh that old story!), and bluster that he would never have accepted compensation illegally… To be descended from such a reprobate filled me with bile.

There was more to my sense of unease than that. Maybe I was growing jumpy. The knowledge that Balbinus was here and apparently flourishing, despite all the law's efforts, depressed me bitterly. What was the point in anything if criminals could do as they liked and go where they pleased, and laugh at verdicts so blatantly?

The city felt unfriendly. A cart raced around a corner, causing walkers and pigeons sipping at fountains to scatter; it must be breaking the curfew, for dusk had only just fallen and there had hardly been time for it to have reached here legitimately from one of the city gates. People pushed and shoved with more disregard than ever for those in their path. Untethered dogs were everywhere, showing their fangs. Sinister figures slunk along in porticoes, some with sacks over their shoulders, some carrying sticks that could be either weapons or hooks for stealing from windows and balconies. Groups of uncouth slaves stood blocking the pavement while they gossiped, oblivious to free citizens wanting to pass.

An irresponsible girl backed out of an open doorway, laughing. She banged into me, bruising my forearm and making me grab for my money in case it was a theft attempt. I roared at her. She raised a threatening fist. A man on a donkey shoved me aside, pa

Insanity was in Rome.

When I reached Fountain Court the familiar scents of stale flatfish, gutter water, smoke, chicken dung and dead amphorae seemed positively civilised. At the bakery, Cassius was lighting a lamp, meticulously trimming its wick and straightening the links on its hanging chain. I exchanged greetings with him, then walked up on that side of the street to say a few words to E

I was still talking to E

There was more trouble than I realised. When E

`Who are those two, E

`Never seen them here before.'

I felt I had a grievance against them. So I broke off my chat with the basket-weaver and quietly followed them.

As they walked I applied my subtle knowledge of the world to deducing what I could about them. From behind, they were ordinary, empty-handed punters, about the same height as each other, and the same build. They wore brown sleeveless tunics, belted with old rope by the look of it, unexceptional boots, no hats or cloaks. They must be outdoor types.

They were walking with purpose, though not hurrying. These were not loafers just looking for fun in the city. They had a fixed destination, though they lost themselves on the way. They led me along on the Aventine summit towards the riverside, then discovered the crag and had to find a path down. They did not know Rome – or at least they were strangers on the Hill.

Eventually they hit the Clivus Publicus. They carried on downhill past the Temple of Ceres, then, when they reached the bottom near the Circus Maximus, they had to buy a drink at a streetside stall so they could ask directions from the proprietor. They next turned along the Circus and began walking its length; clearly they should have come down off the Hill in the other direction, towards the twin aqueducts and the Capena Gate.,

We were in an area which had featured frequently in my life the past few days: that part of the Eleventh region which bordered the Circus. At one end lay the Forum Boarium, where the body of No

By the time we had gone that far, I felt unsurprised that the brothel should be where my two men were heading. I was also certain they were rogues. I could prove it: I had recalled where I first saw them, though it was not in Rome. Their names – their working names anyway – were Gaius and Phlosis. They were the pair of fake boatmen at Ostia who had tried to relieve me of my father's glass before I brought it to Rome for that other great fraud to try stealing it from himself.