"You must come and see me," Marcelh'nus invited. "My home is about fifteen miles east of Noviomagus. Bring your family for a day. You will be made very welcome."

I thanked him and made off back to my loved ones before I could be forced to arrange a date.

XXVII

we had another bad night. Both the children kept us awake. Camilla Hyspale was indisposed by a violent stomach upset. She blamed the oysters, but I had eaten plenty and was perfectly all right. I told her it was the penalty for flirting with the young painter. That caused more wailing.

Next day I felt jaded. Staring at tigurework held no appeal. Now I knew that Gaius was capable of flogging on through the records revision without me, I thought I would give the office a miss. I had requisitioned a pony for sending Alia to see Justinus, but I decided to take things easy and check up on him myself. I had something else to keep my runner busy. I introduced Alia to Iggidunus and told them I had decided it was time that the mulsum round was reappraised.

"You are both bright young people; you can help me sort this out. Iggy, today when you are taking round the beakers, I want Alia to come with you; she can write things down. Speak to every one of your customers personally, please. Tell them we are conducting a preference survey. You give Alia their names- Alia, set each one out neatly. Then list what kind of mulsum they like, or whether they don't have any."

"But I done the counting yesterday, Falco!" Iggidunus protested.

"Yes. That was brilliant. Today we are on a different exercise. This is an organisation al method study to straighten out the refreshment rota. Modernise. Rationalise. Revolutionise…"

The young persons fled. Management twaddle can always clear a room. The door closed behind them just in time, as Gaius the clerk collapsed in a fit of giggles.

Verovolcus saw me riding off. I had selected a small pony, thinking Alia would be riding it. My boots were almost scuffing the dust. Verovolcus burst out laughing. I was causing happiness all round today. I just grinned feebly. We Romans are never keen on horseflesh.

I was perfectly happy knowing I could apply a brake by just putting my feet on the ground.

I hit Noviomagus about midday. It seemed distinctly quiet. Maybe this was not the best time. Either I had missed the busy hour or else there never was one.

I had been here when we first landed, but was then exhausted and disorientated after the weeks of travel. This was my first real chance to look around. It really was a new town. I already knew that the kingdom of the Atrebates had had to restore its fortunes when Togidubnus took over. Prior to his reinstatement at the Roman invasion, fierce Catuvellauni from the north had pushed in and raided the territory of this coastal tribe, nibbling into their farmland until they were squeezed back right against the salty inlets. The Romans rewarded Togidubnus for his support with the gift of increased tribal areas. He called this 'the Kingdom', as if other British tribes and their royalty did not count.

At that time, he must have adopted a new tribal capital. He had to build it too- but then he did love building. Being Romanised himself, he had probably found it natural to use the legionaries' supply base as his starting point. So the "New Marketplace of the Kingdom' lay here, part enclosed by the curve of a small river, a little way inland. Perhaps abandoning the old settlement (somewhere on the coast?) had symbolised the King's affinity with the new way of life that would come with Britain's status as part of the Roman Empire. Perhaps the old settlement just fell into the sea.

Noviomagus showed how flimsy Romanisation was. I knew there were towns which had developed from military forts, often with legionary veterans forming the main body of citizenship. Queen Boudicca burned several, but they had been rebuilt now. They were utterly provincial, though solid and thriving. Unlike them, Noviomagus Regnensis had barely acquired any decent masonry properties or a population worth counting. Even though it was the headquarters of the most loyal British leader, this was still backwoods country. Wattle-and-daub remained the building style in the narrow streets, where only a few house-dwellers and businesses had so far ventured.

Main roads came in from Venta, Calleva and Londinium. At a central point they met the inbound track used by market traders. The crossroad had a large gravel led area which masqueraded as a forum. There was no evidence of use for democratic purposes, or even for gossip. It did provide stalls for selling pension able turnips and pallid spring greens. There were a couple of dark little temples, a piss-poor set of baths, a faded sign to the out-of-town amphitheatre and short row of brooch-shops producing ethnic enamel ware.

Togidubnus had a house here, and so did Helena's uncle, Flavius Hilaris. His boasted hot air flues and a very small black and white mosaic. In his almost permanent absence it was run by a couple of wimpish slaves who were apparently out at market today. Lovely. Turnip soup was the gourmet speciality they would provide for Camillus Justinus, their honoured Roman guest. Ma would say, if we gave this province nothing else, people would thank us for the turnip…

Justinus was still in bed. I found the rascal still asleep. I hauled him out, poured cold water into a washing bowl, handed him a comb, found a scrunched-up over-tunic on the floor under his bed. He had shaved though not since I last saw him. According to my calendar, that was two days ago. He looked rough- yet to do the job I had given him, he was passable.

Someone appeared to have seen through his act: he had a black eye.

"I notice you are going into this task thoroughly. Lying in all morning with a terrible hangover and sporting shiners."

He groaned.

"Oh very good, Quintus. You do have the art of sounding half dead. Do you want your belt, or would firm support around the midriff be too much to tolerate?"

With a huge yawn, Justinus took the belt and wound it halfheartedly around himself. Fastening the buckle was too complicated. I tightened it for him as if he were a dreamy three-year-old. The belt was a splendid effort in British tooled leather with a silver and black buckle though I could tell from, the elongated prong holes it was not new.

"Secondhand?"

"Won it." He grinned. "Game of soldiers."

"Well, take care. I don't want to find you sitting here naked next time because some trickster has cleaned you out playing strip draughts!" Helena would be horrified. Well, his darling bride Claudia would. "Shall I reel you back in for safety- or are you doing good work?"

"I'm having a delightful time, Falco."

"Really! Who hit you?"

Justinus touched his eye gently. I found a bronze hand mirror among his kit and showed the damage. He winced, more at the marring of his looks than the pain.

"Yes/ I said calmly. "You are a big boy now. Looks like you've been playing with some older boys that your mummy would disapprove of."

My assistant was not in the least discomfited. "He was young,

actually."

"Just stupidly drunk, or hated your accent?"

"Slight disagreement about a young lady."

"You are a married man, Quintus!"

"So is he, I gathered… I was squeezing her for information- while he was just squeezing her tits."

"Marriage has made you very crude."

"Marriage has made me' He stopped, on the verge of some enormous sad confession. I let it pass.

As I pulled him to his feet and carried him off to the kitchen for sustenance, I kept him talking lest he fall asleep again. "So, you compared notes with your assailant? That would have been when you became blood brothers in a heart-rending reconciliation, over jugs of British beer?"