I knew better than to discuss my report with anyone, even Calliopus himself. From what I knew of bureaucracy it was perfectly possible for Falco & Partner to substantiate a million-sesterces fraud, yet still to encounter some slimy high-powered bureaucrat who would decide there were policy reasons, or ancient precedents, or issues affecting his own pension, that made him advise his great imperial master to shelve the exposé.

Saturninus never gave up. "The rumor in the Forum is that Calliopus looks miserable."

"That," interrupted Helena Justina calmly, "will be because his wife has found out about his mistress." She smoothed the cover of the cushion she was leaning on. "He must be afraid Artemisia will insist on him following her to Surrentum at this awful time of year."

"Is that what you would have arranged, Helena?" asked Euphrasia, with a sidelong glance at me.

"No," said Helena. "If I was departing Rome because my husband had offended me, I would either leave the notice of divorce propped against his feeding bowl-or he would be right there in the carriage with me so I could tell him what I thought."

Saturninus seemed honestly puzzled. "You would do as your husband directed."

"I doubt it," said Helena.

Saturninus looked affronted for a moment, as though he were not used to a woman disagreeing with him-though from our observations that evening at the table, he was just as used to it as anyone. Then he decided to duck the issue with more nosy questions. "So! Now Calliopus must await the results of your enquiries!"

I looked him straight in the eye. "No peace for me and my partner. We're conducting a composite audit, not just random checks."

"What does that mean?" smiled Saturninus.

I had a stinking cold, but I was nobody's helpless sparring stake. I made it pleasant, since we were dining in his house: "It means you're next."

For the rest of the evening we discussed where to buy garlands in December, religion, pepper, and the wilder side-branches of formal epic poetry. Very nice. I let Helena do the work. She had been brought up to shine in society. A man with his head blocked so he can only breathe through his teeth is entitled to sink down scowling and pretend to be an uneducated Aventine pig.

"Helena Justina is admirably erudite," Saturninus complimented me. "And she speaks of pepper as if she owned a whole warehouse!"

She did. I wondered if he had somehow found out. If not, I had no intention of revealing her private wealth.

I had thought Helena might want to ask Saturninus and Euphrasia what they knew about silphium. They came from the right continent, its geographical habitat. But Saturninus was not a man into whose hands she would deliver her younger brother. Justinus was no innocent, but he was a fugitive, therefore vulnerable. It was unlikely Camillus Justinus would ever seek to join a troupe of gladiators-although it was not unknown for the sons of senators to take that course when desperate for cash, or a defiant new life. The thought of our missing lad catching the lanista's eye was creepily suggestive. This was an entrepreneur, a procurer of men. Saturninus would acquire-for any purposes-anyone who seemed useful to him. That was why we were here tonight.

Had I needed proof, it was to come as we were leaving. In the course of what seemed like a harmless chat about how professional poets in Rome have to operate through patronage or starve, I had let slip that I myself wrote for relaxation. Always a mistake. People want to know if your work has been copied up by scroll sellers, or if you have given readings socially. Saying no shrinks your standing; saying yes makes their eyes glaze defensively. Though I mentioned that I sometimes toyed with the idea of hiring a hall to give an evening of my love poems and satires, it was said ruefully. Everyone, including me, was convinced it was a dream.

I spoke from the clear assumption that self-respect debarred me from toadying to some wealthier man as his client. I would never consent to be a mere commodity, and I wasn't the type to enjoy being grateful. Saturninus lived in a different world and seemed unaware of my attitude: "That's an attractive idea, Falco! I always hankered to expand into something more cultured-I'll invest in your venue with pleasure-"

I let it slide past me as if I had become too feverish to respond. This had seemed a long evening; it was time to go. I needed to be safely back in our litter before I lost my temper. Our host was an entrepreneur all right: the bastard was openly trying to procure me.

Thirty-one

IWAS BILIOUS all night. It led to a severe outbreak of prejudice. Helena told me that houses which present visitors with a sparkling surface generally have old gravy crusting the cauldrons. The more refined the soirée, the more certain to be rats under the cooking bench. Well, something had polluted my guts.

"Poison!"

"Oh Marcus, don't exaggerate."

"The ostrich, the Sacred Geese of Juno-and now me."

"You have a bad cold, and you've eaten strange food tonight."

"In circumstances where indigestion was inevitable."

I climbed back into bed, where Helena patiently held me in her arms, stroking my hot forehead. "I found our hosts curiously likable," she told me, trying not to yawn too much. "So, are you going to tell me what made you so irascible?"

"I was rude?"

"You're an informer."

"You mean I was very rude?"

"Perhaps a little tetchy and suspicious." She was laughing.

"That's because the only people who invite us out are even lower in society-and even they only do it when they want something."

"Saturninus was pretty obvious," Helena agreed. "Probing him in return was like trying to poke a hole in an iron bar with a dandelion stem."

"I did pry something out of him." I told Helena my theory about the death of Leonidas having taken place at Urtica's house.

She listened in silence, then remained still for some moments, testing what I had said for herself and considering the implications. "Was it Saturninus himself who speared the lion?"

"I would say not. He has always admitted he took Rumex with him-besides, the anonymous message to Anacrites specifically blamed Rumex."

"Even if Rumex killed the poor beast, Saturninus must take responsibility. He organized the party. Who do you think sent the message?"

"It could have been Calliopus, but I still believe he wants this hushed up. For one thing, it gives him a hold over Saturninus-and he wants to keep it to himself too. It's good blackmail material. The pet praetor will be in big trouble if it ever gets out that he had a gladiator performing in his house-not to mention causing the death of a Circus man-eater, who was perhaps stolen at the time."

"But you said Calliopus knew of the escapade in advance."

"Yes, but he wasn't intended to know."

Exhausted, I lay prone while Helena pondered. "If the story gets out, Calliopus will disclaim all connection." Her breath tickled my forehead. Wonderful. "He can't have been directly involved-the lion's death did genuinely disconcert both Calliopus and his keeper."

"Yes; neither Calliopus nor Buxus had been aware that Leonidas was dead until he was found the next morning in his cage."

"So we can rule out Calliopus also being at this unsavory party at the ex-praetor's house. Marcus, it was odd though that the keeper failed to hear the lion being taken away and returned. Maybe Buxus had been bribed by Saturninus to let him remove an animal-Draco, supposedly. But instead, maybe Buxus was loyal to Calliopus, told him the plan, and they worked the switch to cause trouble…"

I pretended to drift off to sleep, to end the discussion. I did not want Helena to work around to my own fear: that if Saturninus thought he had told me too much, he would decide I was dangerous. I did not know the form if a lanista took out a contract on a human enemy-but I had seen what he could do to somebody's ostrich. I did not want to be found with my head dangling and my legs all limp.