I now owned a dining room. The same week it was redecorated, I lost my best friend.

Petronius Longus and I had known each other since we were eighteen. We served together in the army- in Britain. We were naive lads when we joined up for the legions. We had no idea what we were taking on. They ted us, taught us useful skills and trained us to be well up in connivery. They also subjected us to four years in a faraway, undeveloped province that offered nothing but cold feet and misery. The Great Rebellion of the Iceni came on top of that. We crept home no longer lads but men, and bonded like a laminated shield. Cynical, grimmer than the Forum gutter tykes and with a friendship that should have been unshakeable.

Petro had now spoiled everything. He fell for my sister, after her husband died.

"Petronius hankered for Maia a long time before this," Helena disagreed. "He was married, so was she. He played around but she never did. There was no point in him admitting how he felt, even to himself." Then Helena paused, her dark eyes sombre. "Petronius may have married Arria Silvia in the first place because Maia was unobtainable."

"Cobnuts. He hardly knew my sister then."

But he had met her and seen what she was like: attractive, independent and subtly dangerous. Such a good homemaker and mother (everyone said) and what a bright girl! That double-edged remark always implies a woman may be on the lookout. I myself liked a hint of restlessness in a woman; Petronius was no different.

Around the Aventine he was held up as a model of steady fatherhood and virtuous hard work; no one spotted that he liked to flirt \with risk. There were girlfriends in passing, even after he married Silvia. He settled down to look like a good boy, but how real was that? I was supposed to be the feckless bachelor, an endless worry to my mother- so like my father! So unlike my brother, the dead hero (though our Festus had been a wreck, with a chaotic life). Meanwhile, Petronius Longus, diligent enquiry chief of the Fourth Cohort of the Vigiles, flitted quietly among the pretty flowers on the Aventine, leaving them happy and his reputation un besmirched until he tangled with a serious gangster's daughter. His wife found out. It all became too public; Silvia felt this disgrace was too much. She had seemed utterly dependent but once she threw Petro out, she was off. She now lived with a potted-salad seller, in Ostia.

Petronius might have accepted this, had not Silvia taken their three daughters. He had no wish to enforce his custody rights as a Roman father. But he was genuinely fond of the girls, and they adored him.

"Silvia knows that. The damned woman flounced off to Ostia out of spite!" I had never liked Arria Silvia. It was not simply because she loathed me. Mind you, that was relevant. She was a prissy little piece; Petro could have done better with his eyes closed. "Her loathsome boyfriend was quite happy selling his cucumber moulds in the Forum; she put him up to moving, to make the situation impossible for Petro."

He was in a rotten position, though for once he refused to talk to me about it. We had never discussed Silvia anyway; it saved trouble. Then things grew worse. He started to face up to his attraction to my sister; she even began to notice him. Just when Petro thought they might make something of it, Maia suddenly stopped seeing him.

I had cursed when I found one of my sisters wanting to berth alongside my dearest crony. That can damage a male friendship. But it was far more uncomfortable when Petro was dumped.

He must have taken it hard. Helena had to tell me his reflex action: "Marcus, you won't like this. Petronius has applied for a transfer to the vi giles cohort at Ostia."

"Leaving Rome? That's madness!"

"There may not be a job there for him," Helena tried soothing me.

"Oh rats, of course there will! It's an unpopular posting who wants to be stationed downriver at the port, outwitting customs diddlers and duck-billed cargo thieves? Petro's a bloody good officer. The Ostia tribune is bound to jump at him."

I would never forgive my sister.

"Don't blame Maia," said Helena.

"Who mentioned Maia?"

"Your face speaks, Marcus!"

Helena was suckling the baby. Julia was sitting at my feet, repeatedly head butting my shins, annoyed to be no longer the sole object of attention in our house. That was certainly true; I ignored the little darling steadily. Nux chewed at one of my bootstraps.

"Don't be such a hypocrite," Helena enjoyed pretending to be a serene mother, rocking the new baby to sleep in her arms. It was an act; she was placidly thinking up ways to slate me. "Own up. You hated the idea of Petronius and Maia growing close. He was your friend and you refused to share him."

"And she's my sister. Her husband had died suddenly; she was vulnerable. As her head of household' we never counted Pa "I did not want her messed about."

"Oh you admit Petronius has a bad record!" Helena smiled.

"No. Never mind his other women. He has been Maia's dogged follower, while my sister turns out as fickle as a flea."

ISo what do you want?" Helena was easily roused by causes. "That Maia Favonia should move straight from one husband to another, simply because an interested man is available and it is socially convenient? Shall she have no time to readjust after losing the husband we all pretend she loved?" Helena could be very dry and strikingly honest. Loving that tipsy loser Famia had been out of the question; I laughed harshly. Julia whimpered; I reached down and tickled her.

"No, Maia deserves time to reflect." I could be reasonable, even when it hurt. "She is well suited to working in Pa's warehouse and it's doing her good." Maia was keeping Pa's records more truthfully than he did- and learning about the antiques business.

"Pius Aeneas graciously approves!" Helena was sneering. She took a tough line with traditional Roman values.

"I do approve." I was losing, but I stuck to it doggedly. Any head of household tries to stand up to the witch who ties him up in knots.

Plenty of women at our level of society ran businesses. Most started out in partnerships with husbands, then as widows some chose to stay independent. (Independent widows with fears of being cheated were good news for informers. Their children brought in fees too- afraid the widows were planning remarriage with bloodsucking gigolos.) "If Maia does make herself financially independent, she might still want a man in her bed '

"And dear Lucius Petronius/ said Helena wickedly, 'with all that practice, would be adequate!" I decided against commenting. Helena had a warning look in her eye. "I think Maia will want a man in her life, Marcus. But not yet."

"Wrong. Last I saw, Petronius was hanging back. At the Festival of Vertumnus, Maia tried throwing herself at him."

"Petronius was afraid of being hurt. Maia misjudged that. And she herself may be confused, Marcus. For one thing," Helena suggested, 'she had been married a long time, and may have lost her confidence."

"Marriage makes you forget the arts of love?" I scoffed.

Helena Justina looked up at me, straight into my eyes, in a way that was intended to make me wish I had not asked. Both the children were with us; I had to let that pass.

I was sure Maia had not simply mishandled her relationship with Petro. She knew how strongly he felt. She was a straight dealer. She had been all set to start something serious- then she completely backed off. Something made her do that.

Helena and Maia were good friends. "What happened?" I asked quietly.

"I'm not sure." Helena looked troubled. She had an idea- but she hated it.

I considered the situation. There was one possibility. Before my sister so briefly became interested in Petronius, she had an abortive friendship with another man. "Anacrites!"