A wider issue struck me. With Verovolcus present, raising it was tricky: I wondered whether King Togidubnus had known all along about the phantom labour. Had it been a regular arrangement for years? Were previous Emperors, Claudius and Nero, each overcharged? Was this fiddling routine- never detected by Rome, until new Treasury vigilance under Vespasian brought it to light? And so had the King knowingly allowed the fraud as a favour to his fellow Britons?

Verovolcus glanced at me. Maybe he read my mind. He was, I thought, intelligent enough to see that whatever had gone on under the old regime, the King now had to operate my package of reforms.

"We shall have to deal carefully with Mandumerus." I was still trying to impose physical order. The last thing we wanted was an outbreak of sabotage. "If Mandumerus has been sharing his proceeds with his men, they are bound to feel sympathy for him if he's arrested not to mention their grief for lost income. It could lead to revenge "incidents"."

"What do you suggest, then?" snapped Pomponius.

Hold him liable for the lost wages. I recommend taking him under guard to Londinium. Get him right away from here '

"Not necessary." Pomponius reacted with daft bias yet again. "No, no; this is where we can show our magnanimity. A gesture to local sensitivities. Diplomacy, Falco!"

Diplomacy my arse. He just wanted to cut across me. "You cannot have him staying in the district as a focus for disruption. The men go drinking in Noviomagus every night. Mandumerus will be sitting right there, inciting them '

"Nail him up, then!"

"What?"

Pomponius had had another wild idea. "Put up the man on a crucifix. Make him a direct example."

Dear gods. First this clown ran a completely lax site, then he became a scourge.

"That's an overreaction, Pomponius." This was serious. We had the brooding presence of Verovolcus -no longer the comic figure, but a hostile witness whose knowledge of these mad Roman machinations could do us great harm. "Crucifixion is a punishment for capital of fences I cannot allow it."

"I run this site, Falco."

"If you were a legionary commander in a full war situation, that might pass for an excuse! You answer to the civil powers, Pomponius."

"Not on my project." He was wrong. He had to be wrong. Pained silence from Magnus and Cyprianus confirmed that Pomponius might get his way. Unluckily my own brief did not extend to locking up the project manager. Only Julius Frontinus could authorise such a major step- but the governor was sixty miles away. By the time I could contact Londinium it would be too late.

"What tribe is Mandumerus?" I asked Cyprianus.

"Atrebates."

"Oh, well done, Pomponius!"

This would have been bad enough in any province. Exposing locals as corrupt had to be handled with great delicacy. Of course there must be a public scapegoat- but would he be a scapegoat for decades of royal complicity and Roman mismanagement? His punishment had to reflect any ambivalence.

Pomponius smiled serenely. "All issues of design and technical competence, welfare, safety and justice are mine. We endure quite enough pilfering. Organised fraud will be drastically punished…"

"Why don't you keep a bunch of man-eating leopards in the depot along with the guard dogs? You could throw wrongdoers to the beasts in your own little arena, with you daintily dropping a white kerchief to initiate the tun- but you cannot do that." I knew I was right. "Only the provincial governor has praetorian power. Only Frontinus is invested with the Emperor's authority to execute criminals. Forget it, Pomponius!"

He leaned back. He had taken up position today in a folding seat, the symbol of authority. He put the tips of his fingers together. Light flashed off his enormous topaz ring. Arrogance flowed around him like a general's overweight crimson cloak. "I shall adjudicate, Falco and I say the man dies!"

Verovolcus, who had stayed significantly silent, rose swiftly and left the meeting. He made little fuss. But his reaction was clear.

"Straight to the King," Cyprianus muttered.

"Straight in the shit for us," growled Magnus.

In Britain, where memories of the Great Rebellion were set to last for ever, the causes ought to have been fixed in the architect's mind: high-handed Roman violence by minor officials who had had no feeling for the tribes and no judgement.

The Atrebates here in the south had not joined Queen Boudicca. When Rome was nearly swept out of Britain, the Atrebates had supported us as usual. Romans fleeing from massacre by the Iceni had been welcomed, comforted and given refuge at Noviomagus. Togidubnus had again offered our beleaguered armed forces one safe base in the enflamed province.

Now a member of that loyal tribe had committed fraud, perhaps with official connivance. We had to keep it in proportion: the fraud had resulted only in financial loss, not real damage to the Empire. The damage would be caused if we handled the situation badly.

How could Pomponius be blind to the implications? If he executed Mandumerus, we were verging on an international incident.

I was so angry I could only jump up and storm out. I strode away so furiously I had no idea whether the sycophants all stayed with Pomponius, or whether other people followed me.

XXXIII

nobody was working on the site. Of course they all knew what was happening.

Verovolcus had gone ahead and disappeared from view. I strode to the old house. At the King's quarters I was turned away. Not wanting to create a scene, I headed for my own suite.

A couple of warriors were lounging outside in the garden. Seeing me, one of them stood up slowly. My heart sank. He was only saluting. These must be our bodyguards. I managed to find a smile for him.

I stormed indoors, disturbing a scene of domestic peace. The children were being good for once. Maia and Hyspale were using hot rods to frizzle their hair into rows of formal curls. Helena was reading. Then she read my expression. Seeing I had a real crisis, she abandoned the scroll.

As I told Helena what was up, Maia listened in, grim-faced. Finally my sister burst out, "Marcus, you said you had brought me from Rome for safety! First last night's trouble- and now more problems."

"Don't worry. His work is always like this." Helena tried to make light of it. "He rampages about as if the gods had him under a murderous curse- then he clears everything up. Next minute he's demanding when is dinner…" She tailed off. It was doing no good.

The way Maia was standing very stiffly made me drag my concentration round to her. She met me with a hard stare.

"Everything's fine." I dropped my voice soothingly. Reassurance failed to work. Maia had learned to be suspicious of men pretending to be affectionate.

"I have been talking to Aelianus," Maia retorted. Helena must have fetched him here while I was at the site meeting. Deeming him at least innocent of the conspiracy to bring her away from Rome, Maia volunteered to nurse him. "He says his brother goes drinking in the town."

"Yes, it's a ploy. Quintus is on watch for me. Drinking is what young lads do on a night out… Look, Maia, I have an issue that needs quick thinking. Unless this is important-'

Maia said in an accusing voice, "There is a dancer, Marcus."

"A dancer. Yes. Luring good men from their mothers." "A dancer here in Noviomagus." Maia was not recommending a good night out to improve our social lives. What had caused only vague unease in me was a source of terror for my sister. "You knew it and you failed to tell me!"

"Maia, the Empire is stuffed with grimy Castanet girls '

The bluff failed. Maia already knew why the dancer might be a threat to her: "This one comes from Rome- and she is special, isn't she?"