"Seems fair," agreed Petronius, in his dry tone. He looked at me, with an expression I remembered from when centurions gave us information we distrusted, back in the legions years ago. He thought the governor was way off Florius would know now that Petronius had had the brothel under surveillance; he was unlikely ever to reappear there.

Petronius and I continued to wait at the residence. We had stopped honing our swords.

The next message arrived in the early evening. This time they did not use Popillius, but a driver who jumped off a passing delivery cart and grabbed the residence steward by the neck of his tunic. In a hoarse whisper, the slave was told, "The swap will be at Caesar's Baths! Longus is to come in an hour. Tell him-alone and unarmed. Try anything, and the woman gets it!" The man vanished, leaving the steward almost uncertain that anything had happened. Luckily he still had the sense to report it straightaway.

There was no question of Petronius going solo. Nor could he go unarmed. He was a big lad, with a distinctive build; we had ruled out sending in a decoy. This was it.

Provincial governors do not jump to attention just because some lowlife makes the call. Julius Frontinus surveyed the evidence cautiously, before he too decided this was genuine. "It's right away from the river if they intend making a getaway. But it is near the Norbanus house; maybe they hid Maia Favonia somewhere we missed." He drew himself up. "Maybe she was at these baths, or at the bar adjacent to them, all along."

Petro and I let it pass. We knew we would not be sent directly to the place where they were holding Maia. Petronius would be drawn to a meet, probably via several staging posts, then Maia would be brought to the last spot-if the gang believed the situation safe.

"I'd like to put a search party into those baths." Luckily Frontinus worked out for himself that that would jeopardize everything. "We just have time to assemble the support team at the venue," he told us. "We shall be in place ready, before you two arrive."

We nodded. We both still wore our old skeptical expression. I saw Helena gazing at us curiously.

When almost an hour had passed, Petronius and I combed our hair like boys going out to a party, checked our belts and bootstraps, and solemnly gave each other the legionaries' salute. We set off together, side by side. Behind us at a safe distance came Helena in her aunt's carrying chair, which would bring Maia home if we achieved the exchange. My role was to watch what happened-and find some way to rescue Petronius straight after the swap.

We walked steadily, shoulder to shoulder. We paid no great attention to whether we were followed or observed; we knew we would be tailed by the governor's men and we expected the gang to have lookouts too. We traveled at a pace that gave messengers time to nobble us. This happened as soon as we turned left on the Decumanus, heading for the bridge over the stream.

It was the dogman who stepped out in our way. With his group of skinny, mangy hunting curs careering around his legs, he was unmistakable. "Is one of you Petronius?"

We stopped and Petro acknowledged his name courteously.

"Listen to this then." His long-nosed hounds nuzzled us, gently slobbering on our tunics and bootstraps. "I was told to tell you, 'The meet has been changed. Go to the Shower of Gold.' Does it make sense?"

"Oh yes." Petronius was almost cheerful. He had bet me the first assignation was a bluff. Luckily I had agreed, so I lost no money. We had enough at stake.

The governor and his men would sit around outside Caesar's Baths, trying to hide behind bollards and drinking troughs. Petronius would be forced to abandon their support and walk into trouble at some other location.

We executed an infantry turn in two smart stages. Anyone watching should have been impressed by our precision marching. Now instead of heading northwest we were heading southeast. We walked back past the chair, dividing one each side, and nodded politely to Helena as she stared out at us anxiously.

"New venue. Don't worry. We expected it."

We then passed a troubled fellow, the governor's tail, who was trying to make himself invisible in a doorway while he panicked about our change of plan.

"Shower of Gold next!" announced Petronius loudly, hoping the man would realize we were not just going back home for a forgotten neckerchief: someone ought to inform the governor that things were more complicated than he had hoped. There could be several of these redirections yet.

We reached the narrow side road where we had to turn off, then all too soon we halted at the entrance to the tavern's own filthy byway. It was unlit and lying silent. We could see the Shower of Gold halfway along, its door outlined by a faint gleam of lamplight. We stood there, observing. Nothing moved.

Now we were in a predicament we both dreaded: stuck at one end of a deserted alley, with dusk falling rapidly, in the certain knowledge that someone was waiting somewhere down that alley, intending to surprise and kill us. This was an ambush. It had to be. These situations always are.

LII

It was a still evening, with a pervasive cloud cover. It felt cool. The storm had reduced the sultry temperature, but you could still go without a cloak and be comfortable. Dampness was taking over, however. Mist from the nearby river and marshes made our skin and hair sticky. In Britain in late August nightfall varies with the weather. Had it been fine, we would still have had plenty of light. But rain was hovering nearby. In the narrow entry we peered through murk at shadows that could be hiding any kind of trouble.

Petronius sucked his teeth and swore. "Classic!"

The alley looked like a dead end. I could not remember. I had only ever come and gone one way. "I'm twitchy."

"Me too."

"It's your call."

He thought for a moment. "You'll have to wait here and cover this junction. If we both go in, there's no way out behind us."

"Stay in sight as long as you can, then."

"They'll make me go inside the bar."

"No, don't go in unless they send Maia out." I knew he would ignore that if he believed she was inside. We made no move.

Adjacent buildings lay in darkness. It was difficult to tell if they were houses or commercial premises. In the absence of sun terraces or balconies with windowboxes to laze on, the population had vanished like razor shells in sand. None of the scents I would expect in Rome were present. No resins, or fragrant herbs, or flower garlands, or subtle bath oils pervaded these chilly streets. They seemed to have neither public bakery ovens nor apartment griddles on the go. Peering at the roofline, all I could see were pantiles and ridge tiles. Windows were closely latched with dense wooden shutters. I glanced behind. Some distance away down the wider cart track I could see Helena's chair. Its discreetly armed bearers stood in position, motionless. Following instructions, Helena remained hidden behind drawn curtains.

"If they stuff you in the bloody well, remember-hold your breath until I come and pull you out."

"Thanks for the advice, Falco. I never would have thought of that."

This was a quiet city. No one else seemed to be in the vicinity. No late-night cobblers or copper-beaters worked in their artisan booths. Pedestrians were missing. Where Rome would have had a cacophony of delivery carts after sunset, with their wheels trundling, their loads crashing, and their drivers famously cursing, Londinium operated no curfew and lay still.

Silence. Silence and now a fine drift of miserable rain. Londinium, where Petronius and I as earnest young men had seen the worst of human grief. Once a desert of ashes and blood, now a city of small ambitions and great terror.