Here would be the palace of Togidubnus, Great King of the Britons: an astounding private home, a tremendous public monument. It would dominate its insignificant landscape in this forlorn district of a desolate province, possibly for centuries. Rulers would come and go. Further refurbishments would succeed one another, according to Fate and funding. Inevitably its fortunes would wane. Decay would triumph. It roofs would fall and its walls crumble. The marsh birds would reclaim the nearby inlets, then call and cry _

over nothing but waterlogged hummocks and tussocks, with all

grandeur forgotten.

All the more reason for me to sit one day in some gimcrack villa of my own, to gaze across a low river valley, while rowdy descendants of Nux barked at shrieking infants in some struggling provincial garden where my ancient wife was reading on a sunny bench, intermittently asking her companions to keep quiet because the old fellow was writing his memoirs.

Pointless. There would be no scroll-seller willing to copy such a story.

I could take the private route. Any head of household hopes to become someone's interesting ancestor. I could write it all out and shove the scroll in a casket, to keep under a spare bed. My children were bound to minimise my role. But maybe there would be grandchildren with greater curiosity. I might even feel the need to limit their noble pretensions by reminding the rumbustuous little beggars that their background had some low, livery moments…

Impossible again, due to that invariable brake: client confidentiality.

You can see the problem. When I reported home on these events, the Noviomagus file was swiftly closed. Anyone who claims to know what happened must have heard it from someone other than me. Claudius Lacta, that most secretive of bureaucrats, made it clear that I was forbidden ever to reveal what Togi and I discussed…

Mind you, I never had any time for Lacta. Listen, then (but don't repeat it, and I mean that).

I had asked to see the King in private. He honoured this, not even producing Verovolcus: a nice courtesy. More useful than he knew or was supposed to realise.

I myself had more stringent rules; I took back-up. "Clean, smart, shaved," I told the Camillus brothers. "No togas. I want this off the record but I want you as witnesses."

"Aren't you being too obvious?" asked Aelianus.

"That's the point,"Justinus snapped.

The King received us in a lightly furnished reception room, which had a dado with sinuous tendrils of foliage, its colouring and form exactly like one at the Marcellinus villa. I admired the painting, then pointed out the similarity. I began by discussing diplomatically whether this use of labour and materials could be coincidence then mentioned that we were retrieving the building supplies that were currently stored at the villa. Togidubnus could work out why.

"I had every confidence in Marcellinus," commented the King in a neutral tone.

"You must have been quite unaware of the nature and scale of what went on." Togidubnus was a friend and colleague of Vespasian. He might be mired in fraud up to his regal neck, but I formally accepted his innocence. I knew how to survive. Informers sometimes have to forget their principles. "You are the figurehead for all the British tribes. A corrupt site regime could have damaged your standing. For Marcellinus to place you unwittingly in that position was inexcusable."

The King wryly acknowledged how delicately I had expressed it.

I acknowledged the acknowledgement. "Nothing should ever take away the fact that Marcellinus designed you a worthy home, in splendid style, where you were comfortable for a long period."

"He was a superb designer," agreed Togidubnus solemnly. "An architect with a major talent and exquisite taste. A warm and gracious host, he will be much missed by his family and friends."

This showed that the tribal chief of the Atrebates was fully Romanised: he had mastered the great forum art of providing an obituary for a corrupt bastard.

And how would he record Pomponius, loathed by everyone except his fleeting boyfriend Plancus? A superb designer… major talent… exquisite taste… A private man, whose loss will greatly affect close associates and colleagues.

We discussed Poniponius and his affecting loss.

"There have been some rather feeble attempts to implicate innocent parties. So many people disliked him, it has complicated matters. I have some leads," I told the King. "I am prepared to spend time and effort on these lines of enquiry. There will be evidence; witnesses may come forward. That would mean a murder trial, unsavoury publicity, and if convicted, the killers would face capital punishment."

The King was watching me. He did not ask for names. That could mean he knew already. Or that he saw the truth and stood aloof.

"I hate ambivalence," I said. "But I was not sent here to push crude solutions. My role is two-fold: deciding what has happened then recommending the best action. "Best" can mean the most practical, or least damaging."

"Are you giving me a choice?" The King was ahead of me.

"Two men were involved in the death of Pomponius. I'd say one is very close to you, and the other his known associate. Shall I name the suspects?"

"No," said the King. After a while he added, "So what is to be done about them?"

I shrugged. "You rule this kingdom; what do you suggest?"

"Perhaps you want them dead in a bog?" asked Togidubnus severely.

"I am a Roman. We deplore barbarian cruelty- we prefer to invent our own."

"So, Didius Falco, what do you want?"

"This: to know that nobody else working on this project is at risk. Then to shun domestic violence and to show respect for dead men and their families. In wild moments of idealism, maybe I want to prevent more crime."

"The Roman punishment for the base-born would be degrading death." The Emperor's judicial teachers must already have begun work. The King knew Roman law. If he was brought up in Rome, he would have seen condemned men torn apart by arena beasts. "And for a man of status?" he asked.

"Nothing so decently final. Exile."

"From Rome," said Togidubnus.

"Exile from the Empire/ I corrected gently. "But if your culprits here are not formally tried, exile from Britain would be a good compromise."

"For ever?" the King rasped.

"For the duration of the new build, I suggest."

"Five years!"

"You think I strike a hard bargain? I saw the corpse, sir. Pomponius' death was premeditated and there was mutilation afterwards. He was a Roman official. Wars have been started for less."

We sat in silence.

The King moved to practical suggestion: "It can be given out that Pomponius was killed by a chance intruder, who had entered the bath house hoping for sex or robbery…" He was displeased, but he was working with me. "What of the other death? Who killed Marcellinus?" he challenged.

I told him a hired dancer, her credentials insufficiently checked. The motive, I said with a slight smile, must be robbery or sex.

"My people will search for her," the King stated. It was not an offer but a warning. He might not know Perella worked for Anacrites specifically, but he had realised she had significance. And if the King found Perella, he would expect some kind of trade.

Since I was sure she would have left the area by now, I did not care.

I was uneasy. Aelianus and Justinus purred happily, thinking our mission accomplished. I had a dark sense of unfinished business waiting to disrupt my life.

The site was too quiet. Never trust a workplace where absolutely nobody is standing around aimlessly.

It was now the second half of the afternoon.

Even this early, many of the labourers went tramping off the site, heading towards town. Soon it seemed as if they had all gone to the canabae. None of the project team were visible, so while no one wanted me to officiate, I retired to my suite to invest in the project manager's privilege: thinking time, paid for by the client. Not long afterwards there was a clatter of horses and most of the King's male retainers mounted up then swept off at a canter in the direction of Noviomagus too. Verovolcus was leading them. I assumed they had instructions from the King to search for Perella.