I went over everything that had happened, although there is a special short version – even of the truth – that a man tells his loved one.

'No need to be worried, fruit.' Helena accepted the reassurance, but she leaned her head upon my shoulder. Her great dark eyes were closed, to hide what she thought. I nuzzled her fine, soft hair, breathing in the delicate scent of the herbs in which she washed it. I was trying to kill today's foul memories. I had shed the strange musty odours of the witches, but the rank smell of the vagrants would be with me for days; it seemed to infuse my own pores, even after fanatical oiling and scraping with my curved bone strigil.

Sometimes when Helena Justina had been frightened for my safety, she let fly with rampaging rebuke. When she was really scared, she said nothing. That was when I worried.

I wound my arms around her, then leaned my head back on the wall, relaxing. Helena settled against me, enjoying the relief of my return. The doorkeeper looked in again. 'No funny business!' He was a complete menace. We took the hint and left. Only as we were walking slowly home, trailed by Nux who was fastidiously sniffing every kerbstone, did Helena mention Titus Caesar. 'Oh! Titus, eh?.. Note that I didn't ask.' 'But he was on your mind. I know you, Marcus.' Helena kept me waiting as long as she could. I thought she was being mischievous, but she was annoyed with her princely pal. The imperial do-gooder had done no good at all for Quintus. 'Off day, was it?' I asked, all innocence. 'Don't sound so annoying!' 'Touch of a cold? His corns chafing him?' 'He was in a dismal mood. Apparently – and this is a secret – Titus and Berenice have agreed that they must part.' 'Ouch. Not the best moment to approach for a favour.' His infatuation with the Judaean Queen was absolutely genuine. When his father became emperor, she had followed Titus to Rome, in the blissful hope that they would live together. After openly sharing quarters at the Palace long enough to affront the snobs, it seemed they had now accepted that it could never be. This was probably the worst moment to remind Titus Caesar of another young man who had fallen for a beautiful barbarian.

Heartbroken but stolidly conscientious, Titus had nonetheless heard Helena out. Then he summoned and quizzed Anacrites, while she was allowed to listen. The Spy regaled Titus with his coruscating scheme to use Justinus to entrap Veleda. On hearing this plan from Anacrites (whom I wouldn't trust to keep a pet rat), Titus reassured Helena that her brother was safe and well treated. 'So my darling, while you fumed, did Titus Caesar make Anacrites confess where the prisoner is held?' 'No,' Helena said, sounding short. 'Anacrites – patronising swine asserts it is best if our family do not know.' I snorted. 'So – as I asked the idiot Spy myself-how is the lovelorn Veleda to notice the handsome bait he's put out for her?'

'Oh there's a devious plan,' scoffed Helena sarcastically. 'Listen to this gem: the Praetorians have put up a personal notice in the Forum. You know the sort: Gaius from Metapontus is hoping his friends from abroad will see this and find him at the Golden Apple in Garlic Street.'

'Ridiculous!' I chortled. 'Everyone knows Gaius from Metapontus is a stifling bore, and his friends try to avoid him. In fact, now he's in Rome, they have all sailed off to the Maritime Alps in a boatload of fish-pickle – ' 'Be serious, Marcus.' 'I am. The Golden Apple is a dump; anyone who stays there is dicing with ruin -' Helena admitted defeat and played my game: 'While Garlic Street is well known as a thieves' kitchen, even though it's not as bad as Haymakers' Lane… I didn't bother arguing with Anacrites. There are other ways to deal with fools. I just smiled sweetly and thanked Titus for listening to me.' 'And?' 'What would you have done, Marcus? When I left the audience, I walked down to the Forum and looked for the advertisement.'

I stopped. Nux took advantage of this to inspect a rotting half chicken carcass in the gutter. I kissed Helena gently on the forehead, then I gazed at her with undiluted affection. No informer could want a more intelligent and trustworthy partner. I liked to think my training had played some part in her aptitude, but she gave me a stem look and I refrained from claiming credit. 'You are exceptional.'

'Anyone could do it.' Many would not have done. 'On the other hand,' Helena continued, still cruelly dismissive of the Chief Spy's stratagem, 'Veleda can have no idea she should look for a personal advertisement. She will never see it. Anyway, most Celtic tribes can't read.' 'And did you find the cunning invitation painted up?' 'Elegant lettering in dark red paint. Looks like an election poster; nobody will read the thing, Marcus. And you will hate this: Quintus is "staying with friends by the Palatine". He is the house guest of a certain Tiberius Claudius Anacrites.'

XXVIII

It was time to regroup.

Later that night Helena had a message from her father, whose interview with Vespasian had passed off in a friendly spirit. The Emperor had told him openly where his son was, and said he would be allowed to see the young prisoner. Decimus intended to visit Anacrites' house tomorrow. 'Mother can go too.' 'What about Claudia?' 'Papa and Vespasian agreed it will be better if she stays away. They don't want Claudia losing her temper with Quintus and smashing up the Spy's statue collection.' 'Anacrites collects art?' 'Cornered a niche market, apparently. Vespasian hasn't seen any, but he thinks it is rather saucy.' 'Pornography?' 'Erotic nudes, you are supposed to say, Marcus.' 'That's just typical. I bet Anacrites hasn't mentioned his rude collection to my mother!' I could tell Ma, but she would refuse to believe me.

It seemed that Vespasian was taking a benign view of the fact that in earlier years the senator's brother had been a political plotter. This dangerous past history could make a suspicious emperor regard all of the Camilli darkly. (Not only the Emperor: his advisers too. Had I not known the family well, I would myself certainly have judged them risky in the present situation.) So far, they were surviving. Even so, it might not last. I knew enough to be wary of politicians – even jolly old coves like Vespasian.

Perhaps lover-reacted, but I was afraid Justinus' connection with Veleda would cast doubts on his loyalty to Rome. That could finally crush his family. Justinus, his future once so promising after our original German escapade, was bound to be blacklisted if he showed emotional ties to the priestess. His father and brother would then be coloured politically too. None of them could expect any further social advancement. Their disgrace might even affect me, now I was openly living with Justinus' sister. But I had been born a plebeian. I was so used to being at the bottom of the middenheap, few scandals could touch me. There were ways out of trouble for me, in any case. My work – undercover jobs that the Emperor would always need – could bleach out any grime that tried to stick to me.

Now it was urgent that I find Veleda. I wanted the kudos of beating Anacrites. Out of fuendship to the Camillus family, I also wanted to show Vespasian and Titus that I was energetically assisting the state. That might just help my in-laws' position.

I had to establish whether or not the priestess had killed Gratianus Scaeva. Upon that would depend how I handled the fleeing invalid if I ever traced her. I decided to go back over the murder. The incident had led to Veleda's flight; I wanted to know much more about it.

So next morning I had another lie-in, this time planning action with Helena. It might have been a romantic occasion, but our children had managed to prise the bedroom door open, so we had two heavy toddlers jumping all over us. When the dog put her paws on the edge of the coverlet and began licking my face, I got up. I scribbled a to-do list, which ran: Ganna (Ma) Zosime Victor + Pa Senator (lunch fixed up by Helena) Quadrumatus house Petro? If I could work through that lot in one day, I would be proud of myself