I set it all up very quietly. I had to arrange things at the Palace so discreetly that Anacrites would not find out. Only then did I warn Maia.

Being one of my sisters immune to good sense, careless of her own safety, and thoroughly bloody-minded Maia refused to go.

VIII

my plan had been to slip out of Rome quietly. By now the Fates must have woken up with a real hangover. The journey took for ever and it was terrible.

The first time I went to Britain, I had the army looking after me. Nothing to worry about, except pondering why in Hades I had ever joined up. It was all easy. Kindly officers planned my every waking moment so there was no time to panic; practised supplies managers ensured that food and every kind of equipment accompanied us; good lads were with me, all wanting their mothers just like I did but not saying so.

The last time I went out there, it was me and a one-man travel pack. I prepared it for myself without a kit manual, while others added an imperial pass to see me through and a maps king showing the long road north. On the way back, it was me and a highly strung, furious young divorcee called Helena Justina. She was wondering what it would be like to go to bed with a brutal, outspoken informer, while I was very carefully avoiding the same thoughts. A thousand miles was a long way, trying to keep my hands off her. Especially once I started to sense that she wanted me to stop trying.

"Seems a long time ago," I murmured, standing on the quay side in Portus, the main docking harbour at Ostia. It was five years.

Helena still had the art of talking to me privately, even amid a hubbub. "Were we different people then, Marcus?"

"You and I will never change." She smiled. The old wrench caught me, and I spread my hands on her, the way that dangerous dog four years ago would have loved to do.

This time, our luggage for the trip to Britain covered half the dock. While Nux raced around barking, Helena and I had skulked off towards the massive statue of Neptune, pretending that the sea of chests and wicker baskets had no connection with us. The two Camilli were quarrelling with each other as they oversaw loading. They had still not decided who was coming on the trip, so both planned to sail to Gaul while they continued to wrangle over who must stay behind at Massilia.

"Massilia!" I grinned, still reminiscing. "I damn nearly went to bed with you there."

Helena buried her face in my shoulder. I think she was giggling. Her breath tickled my neck. "I expect you will do, this time."

"Be warned, lady." I spoke in the tough voice I used to put on- the one I once supposed had fooled her, though she had seen through it after a week. "I'm planning to exorcise every memory of places where I let you stay chaste last time."

"I look forward to that!" Helena retorted. "I hope you are fit." She knew how to issue a challenge.

We stood in silence for a time. Wrapped in cloaks against the sea breeze, and closely wrapped up in each other. She must have looked like a tearful wife bidding farewell to an official who was off on a long overseas tour. I must have looked like some fellow who was bravely managing not to seem too keen on the freedom ahead.

There would be no farewells. Ours was a different kind of freedom. We had always enjoyed life on the wing together. We both knew the dangers. We thought about them, even there on the quay side when it was far too late. Perhaps I should have left Helena and the babes at home. But how many careful adventurers make that sensible choice, bum off, survive endless danger and hardship, then return to the Golden City only to find that all their treasures have been wiped out by marsh fever?

There was a virulent strain of marsh fever in Britain. Still, our H

destination was coastal. Beyond the Great King's picturesque harbour

outside his palace would lie windswept open water, not stagnant lakes and fens. Mind you, we had to cross two seas to get there; one was a

terrifying stormy strait.

Helena and I thought that life was to be lived together. Private, domestic and shared. Shared with our family: two children, one complaining nursemaid, one scruffy dog. Plus my two assistants, the Camilli. And thanks to the Fates recovering their sense of fun, with the addition on this quay side of my sister Maia and all her children- who were still not coming to safety with us, but who were getting in the way seeing us off. Then there was Petronius. He had tagged along, saying he wanted to visit his daughters in Ostia.

"Got your socks?" I heard him mocking the two Camilli. The word was new to them. When we hit the next ship, crossing the cold and wind-ravaged Gallic Strait, whichever of the two was still with us would work out the point of knitted one-toe socks.

"We could end up with both of them," Helena muttered quietly.

"Oh yes. Your father thought it worth a formal bet."

"How much?"

"Too much!"

"You two are incorrigible… Father is heading for trouble. My mother ordered both my brothers to stay in Rome."

"We're taking both, then. That clinches it, sweetheart."

Now we were both smiling. Helena and I would enjoy watching the lads trying to choose the right moment to confess.

Hyspale was feeling queasy before she was even on the boat. Once aboard, Helena dragged her off to the tiny cabin, taking Maia with them to help calm the woman down. I went below decks with Aelianus, stowing our long-distance baggage. Justinus had the thankless task of explaining to the ship's crew that some items were wanted on the journey. We had a good system of identifier-tags. Regardless of that, someone had mixed up everything. Nothing was missing as far as I could tell, but there seemed to be baggage I knew nothing about.

It is always unsettling, as you wait for a long journey to start. In retrospect, perhaps there was more tension than there might have been. Perhaps people snarled and flustered around more chaotically than usual. There are shouts and bumps as a ship is laden with cargo. The crew do take delight in not bothering to inform passengers what is going on. Casting off seems their excuse to make shipboard visitors panic.

So for once, what happened was not my fault. I was down in the bowels of the vessel anyway. Then I heard the scream.

As I climbed up the rope ladder to the main deck, something worried me. Thudding and rocking had given way to smoother sensations. I felt the change in air movement, then a surge underfoot knocked me almost off balance.

"We're moving already!" Aelianus cried excitedly. Foreboding struck me. A panicky commotion was already telling me the worst: the captain had cast off and sailed out of Portus. Unluckily he did so while Maia was still on-board with us.

My sister was now straining at the rail, ready to throw herself over like a Naiad crazed by too much sun and foam. I had never seen Maia so hysterical. She was shrieking that she had been taken from her children. Only real force from Justinus, who had grasped the situation in his usual quick style and then grabbed Maia, stopped her trying to hurl herself overboard to get back to shore. Like me, she had never learned to swim.

"There's my brother taking a firm hand with the women," sneered Aelianus.

"My sister knows close-contact wrestling though," I commented as Maia flung her saviour aside and collapsed weeping on her knees.

As Maia sobbed, something about the quiet way Helena was exclaiming over her in sympathy made me pause. I would have expected my beloved to turn to me and order me to solve this problem before it was too late.

I leaned on the rail and stared back at the quay side There indeed were Maia's four young children. Marius, Cloelia and Ancus stood in a solemn line together; they seemed to be calmly waving us goodbye. Rhea was held up in the arms of Petronius Longus as if to get a better view of her mother being abducted. An extra small dot must be Marius' puppy sitting quietly on his lead. Petronius, who could have tried commandeering a boat to chase after us, was just standing there.