'So what exactly was the situation there?' I recapped. 'Ione was sleeping with both Tranio and Grumio, Tranio on the side, and Grumio perhaps under protest. And were there plenty of others?'

'No one important. She'd stopped bothering with the rest. This is why I said it must be one of the clowns. She told me she had her hands full, what with trying to get at Tranio without Afrania noticing, and then having to use all her tactics to lure Grumio into anything. She said she was ready to chuck it all up, go back to the village she came from in Italy, and vamp some dumb farmer into marriage.'

'A lesson to you,' I commented. 'Don't wait too long to retire, Plancina.'

'Not in this bloody group!' she agreed. 'I haven't been any help, have I?'

'Don't think that.'

'But you still don't know.'

'I know enough, Plancina.' I knew I had to work on the clowns.

'Be careful then.'

I thought little of her warning when she gave it. I watched her leave, carrying the soup bowl she had brought me. Then, with the eerie ability the clowns had to turn up just when they were on my mind, one of them came sauntering to my tent.

It was Grumio. On my guard, I was ready for most things, though not for what was about to transpire. I was certainly not ready to accuse him of anything. My bets were still on Tranio anyway.

Grumio parried with a few casual questions about Helena and then asked, 'Where's Musa?' He sounded so casual I knew that it mattered.

'I've no idea.' I had forgotten about him. Maybe he was being entertained by Byrria.

'That's interesting!' exclaimed Grumio, knowingly. I had a feeling of being teased and spied upon, as if I were being set up for one of the Twins' practical jokes. Taking advantage of a man whose much-loved girlfriend had been stung by a scorpion would be just like them. I even felt anxious in case another attempt had been made on Musa's life.

Deliberately showing no further interest, I swung myself to my feet and made as if I were going in to see Helena. Grumio failed to enlighten me. I waited until he left. With a sense of unease I called Musa's name. When there was no answer, I lifted the flap on his part of our shared tent.

It was empty. Musa was not there. Nothing was there. Musa, with all his meagre property, had gone.

I had believed him to be homesick, but this was ridiculous.

I stood, unable to take in what was happening, staring at the bare ground in the empty tent. I was still there when footsteps hurried up behind me. Then Byrria brushed against me as she pushed me aside to look.

'It's true!' she exclaimed. 'Grumio just told me. There's a camel missing. And Grumio thought he saw Musa riding off back the way we came.'

'Alone? Across the desert?' He was a Nabataean. He would be safe, presumably. But it was incredible.

'He had talked about it.' I could tell the girl was unsurprised.

Now I was feeling really grim. 'What's going on, Byrria?' Whatever their strange relationship, I had had the impression that Musa might confide in her. 'I don't understand!'

'No.' Byrria's voice was quiet, less hard than usual, yet strangely dull in tone. She seemed resigned to some dirt fatality. 'Of course you don't.'

'Byrria, I'm tired. I've had a terrible day, and my worries about Helena are nowhere near over yet. Tell me what has upset Musa!'

I realised now that he had been upset. I recalled his anguished face as he beat the scorpion to death in such a frenzy. I remembered it again later, when he came to offer help – help I had curtly refused. He had looked withdrawn and defeated. I was not an idiot. It was a look I didn't want to see, but one I recognised.

'Is this because he's fond of Helena? It's natural, when we have lived so closely as friends.'

'Wrong, Falco.' Byrria sounded bitter. 'He was fond of you. He admired and hero-worshipped you. He had much deeper feelings for Helena.'

Stubbornly I refused to accept what she was saying. 'He didn't have to leave. He was our friend.' But I was long accustomed to Helena Justina attracting followers. Helena's devotees came from some strange walks of life. The very top, too. A quiet, competent girl who listened to people, she attracted both the vulnerable and those with taste; men liked to think they had privately discovered her. Their next mistake was discovering that privately she belonged to me.

As I stalled, Byrria reacted angrily: 'There was no room for him! Don't you remember today when you were looking after Helena? You did everything, and she wanted only you. You know he would never have told either of you how he felt, but he could not bear being no use to her.'

I breathed slowly. 'Don't go on.'

Finally, too late, our misunderstandings unravelled. I wondered if Helena knew. Then I remembered the night we had entertained Byrria. Helena would never have joined me in teasing either Musa or Byrria if she had understood the situation. The actress confirmed it, reading my thoughts: 'He would have died of shame if she had ever found out. Don't tell her.'

'I'll have to explain where he is!'

'Oh you'll do it! You're a man; you'll think up some lie.'

The wrath with which the girl had just spoken was typical of her contempt for all things masculine. But her earlier bitterness brought another thought to me: 'And what about you, Byrria?'

She turned away. She must have been able to hear that I had guessed. She knew I meant no harm to her. She needed to tell somebody. Unable to prevent herself, she admitted, 'Me? Well what do you think, Falco? The only man I could not have – so naturally I fell in love with him.'

My own heart ached for the girl's distress, but frankly I had far worse on my mind.

I found out that Musa had already been gone for hours. Even so, I would probably have ridden after him. But with Helena lying so ill, that was impossible.

Chapter LIX

Despite my efforts to keep the poison from entering her bloodstream, Helena soon had a high fever.

There was a small Roman garrison at Palmyra, I knew, Another we had left behind at Damascus. Either might contain somebody with medical knowledge. Even if not, the troops would have tried out the local physicians and would be able to recommend the least dangerous to consult. As an ex-soldier, and a Roman citizen, I was ready to use my influence to beg for help. Most frontier garrisons were an abusive bunch, but mentioning that Helena's father sat in the Senate should encourage the career-conscious. There was always a chance, too, that among the battered legionaries I might find some ex-British veteran I knew.

I reckoned we needed a doctor as soon as possible. At first, it had not seemed to matter which way we went; soon I wished we had turned back to Damascus. That was nearer to civilisation. Who could say what we were heading towards instead?

Helena lay helpless. Even in lucid moments she hardly knew where she was. Her arm gave her increasing pain. She desperately needed rest, not travel, but we could not stop in the wilderness. Our Palmyrene guides had adopted that annoying trait in foreigners: looking deeply sympathetic whilst in practice ignoring all my pleas for help.

We pressed on, with me having to do all the driving now that Musa had decamped. Helena never complained – quite unlike her. I was going frantic over her fever. I knew how badly her arm hurt, with a burning pain that could be caused by the cuts I had had to make, or by something worse. Every time I dressed the wound it looked more red and angry. To kill the pain I was giving her poppy juice, in melted honey drinks since I distrusted the water. Phrygia had produced some henbane to supplement my own medicine. For me, the sight of Helena so drowsy and unlike herself was the worst part. I felt she was going a long way from me. When she slept, which was most of the time, I missed not being able to talk to her properly.