'No, you'll get a long complaint about me. I used up my credit about three years ago. But he'll charge you the real price, not the stranger's special.'

'Is the tribune going to be a problem?' Lentullus then asked warily. 'I hope not.' 'Can I bop him one?' 'I'd rather you managed to control him some other way.' 'Oh thanks, Falco. I'd better not use a sword on him.' 'No, please don't!' So Lentullus tagged along after Helena, while I stood on the doorstep talking to Clemens, offering a more interesting target in case Anacrites' observer thought of tailing the shoppers. Petro and I had warned Justinus last night that he would be given a minder. It might work. He had no clothes, other than his now battered turnip costume. No senator's son with hopes of a career wants to appear in public with roots dangling around his legs and ridiculous leaves coming out of his ears. On the other hand, there was a laundry on the ground floor of the apartment block where we had left him. Washed tunics were just hanging on lines. If he decided to bunk off, he would manage it, even though he might end up a bit damp around the armpits. We could report him to the vigiles as a clothes thief, but they had so many of those to chase, they would never get around to him.

'Stay friends with him,' I had pleaded with Lentullus. 'If he skips, make sure that you go with him.'

'When he skips.' The young legionary was cynical. He hadn't been like that when Quintus and I first knew him as a scared recruit in Germany. But it tended to happen to people who spent time around us. Now I had to ensure that by the time Quintus did skip, I would have found Veleda and placed her out of his reach. Easier said than done. But a breakthrough was not far away.

XXXVIII

We had reached the seven days of Saturnalia. I was almost at my deadline and now the family harassment began.

I was still on the step with Clemens (who rapidly removed himself) when festive visitors arrived: first my sister Allia, the flabby, exhausted one who was married to the corrupt road contractor, followed by Galla, who was leaner and weepier. Her water-boatman husband periodically deserted her or was thrown out by Galla, and since barmaids were extra-friendly during festivals, Saturnalia was inevitably one of the periods when Lollius went missing. These virtuous Roman women wanted to spread the gossip that Junia and Gaius Baebius had had a tremendous row. That was unusual, since the snooty, sanctimonious couple were made for each other and doted on their harmonious image. I looked pious. 'What's a quarrel to me?' 'You're head of the family.' Only when it suited them. Only because Pa ignored such obligations. 'Is it of absolutely no interest, Marcus Didius, that your sister was carried home across the Aventine last night by her husband – raving and uncontrollable?'

'Dear thoughtful ones, thank you. I certainly want to avoid that bore Gaius Baebius, if throwing the wine-soaked Junia over his shoulder has given him a bad back; he'll maunder on about the pain for hours… So it's a quiet festival all round?' I suggested hopefully. 'We are all coming to your house.' Allia had a harsh, unfortunate manner. 'You've got the space.' 'And you can afford it!' Galla assured me. All my sisters knew far too much about the contents of other people's bank chests.

'How fortunate. I can upbraid Junia with fraternal bile, like Cato the Censor… Good of you to tell us.' Perhaps Helena had heard about it. Probably not, or she would have made some comment this morning, when lists of my faults had formed much of her repartee. 'You don't mean tonight?' 'Marcus, don't you ever pay attention? You are doing the last evening.' That gave us a week to emigrate. 'We want ghost stories and a really big log for the fire. Make sure you have enough cake too. We all agreed.' All except me. 'Tonight we're dragging out to Papa's spread on the Janiculan. He's got a tale-teller coming, with puppets, to amuse the children. Maia's refused to have anyone round to hers this year, selfish cow; she says she hasn't forgotten the unpleasantness last time… I blame that man she's got now. I never liked him when he was chasing poor Victorina, and I was dead right!' 'It's my best friend Petronius you're insulting, Allia.' Not to mention Maia, my favourite sister – generally the friendly one. 'Well, you never had any judgement.'

As Allia denounced us all, Galla said nothing; her half-starved, virtually fatherless children would get their only decent meals of the month at Saturnalia feasts. In thrall to a serial adulterer, Galla was feckless and hopeless – but she knew how to get free food. 'Well, if I'm hosting, I look forward to my thrilling cache of guestgifts. ' 'You are joking!' chorused my sisters, without missing a beat.

They moved off together, patrolling the street like carrion crows staking out a flyblown lamb's carcass. They were on their way to Mother's apartment, where the first cataract operation was to take place that morning. I was credited with persuading Ma to knuckle under – no doubt a prelude to piling blame on me if anything went wrong. I turned down an invitation to the eye operation, then I told Allia and Galla that if nobody had thought of a Saturnalia present for Pa yet, he was desperate to have his haemorrhoids fixed. 'Don't give him any advance warning; he'd much rather you just turned up with the doctor as a big surprise.' 'Are you sure that's what he wants?' 'Trust me. I'm your brother.' Can they have forgotten our evil elder brother Festus, the best trickster on the Aventine? They looked suspicious, but for sharp-witted women who had known plenty of two-timing, sweet-talking, earnest-looking cheating bastards, they were easily swayed. I even gave them the address of Mastarna, the dogmatist doctor, who advocated surgery. They said they would go to ask his fees.

Bliss. Pa was in for the pile-pincers. As a lord of misrule, I had my moments. I spent the morning helping out Clemens with the street searches. Ten men had seemed like plenty when we started, but resources were now stretched. Lentullus was minding Justinus. Minnius and Lusius were out scavenging with Helena and would be on pot duty when they returned; Gaudus was already in the kitchen, concocting treats for Favonia. Like all children our invalid had recovered fast, but she knew how to sit wide-eyed, begging to be spoiled. Titus (there is always one called Titus, generally a loafer) and Paullus were taking turns on the roof, watching Anacrites' men. Granius had gone to the Forum, to squat near the notice that Anacrites had put up for Veleda; if she appeared, Granius was to warn her that Justinus had left the Spy's house, and to bring her here. They could use the back entrance – not that it was likely. From what I remembered of the priestess, even if Granius found her, I couldn't see her meekly agreeing to come. Gaius was sick; apparently it was traditional. The only day Gaius was fit to leave his bed was payday. The centurion's servant thought most duties other than lightly brushing down a cloak were beneath him. So that left Clemens with only Sentius and Scaurus. When I joined them, he thought I was checking their methods. He was right too. They were demoralised by failure and needed pepping up.

At our mid-morning break, I made him relieve Titus and Paullus. Anacrites' watchers were tailing us, so we could keep tabs on them just by looking over our shoulders. Paullus joined us. We put Titus on rotation with Granius in the Forum, which pleased Titus, the loafer, since all he had to do was sit in the shade eating a stuffed vineleaf. Granius was less glad, because he had been chatting up a hot-pie seller, and after two hours of banter had believed he was getting somewhere. I warned him she was leading him on; he didn't want to believe it, but when he went to take over again from Titus later, Titus told him she had gone off with a man with a ladder towards the Clivus Argentarius.