Veleda stepped away from the lake waters, which had continued to swirl around her skirt hem. She shook her garments, holding the wet cloth away from her ankles. Her chin was up. 'I have been granted sanctuary. '

I laughed. 'How are the dear priests treating you? – I bet they hate you. They may have felt bound to take you in, just because once, according to a legend, Diana gave houseroom in Tauris to a bunch of homeless Amazons. But believe me, your claim is already faltering. When the Emperor asks the priests to give you up, they will. Don't tell me it would break the rules of sanctuary. The only rule that matters will be this: the Emperor will promise to build a new temple or theatre here, then the priests will find they have absolutely no conscience about you.'

Of course this did mean that if I could lure Veleda back to Rome of her own accord, it would save Vespasian the price of endowing a new temple. That was the kind of benefit the gruff old codger loved. He might even express minor financial gratitude to me.

'Why is your man doing this?' Veleda stormed to Helena. 'Will it bring him renown if he hands me back?'

'No,' replied Helena smoothly. 'This is his job.' She did not directly mention payment. 'But his ethics include moral courage and compassion. If Marcus returns you to the Emperor, he will do it in his own time, and decidedly his own way. So, Veleda – bearing in mind that you will be sent back to Rome anyway – it would be better to come with us now. Marcus has a deadline of the end of Saturn alia; he will find it pleasing to complete his mission on the last possible day. So for a short time we can look after you. We will bring Zosime to attend to your health problems. I promise that I will personally speak to the Emperor concerning your predicament. Please do this. Please come and spend Saturnalia with our family at our house.'

The priestess thought Helena Justina was mad. I was none too confident myself But that was how we persuaded Veleda to return to Rome. There were logistical niggles.

Since Veleda was coming voluntarily, it would be impolite to put ropes or chains on her, even though I had in fact brought a coil of rope on my saddle-bow. Nor was I letting her loose on one of our horses; the last thing I wanted was to see her gallop off to freedom with a carefree Celtic wave. I ordered her to travel in the carriage – after a tense moment when she first encountered an icy Claudia Rufina.

We did not need to introduce them. Their face-off was brief The dark Baetican Claudia glared down her nose at the golden Veleda, who stared back. I recalled that Claudia had once lost her temper and lashed out at Justinus; it seemed quite likely that if we let her she would attack the priestess. Her eyes flashed; I wondered if she had practised, while her maids held a hand mirror. For a mad moment I was expecting a cat-fight here on the lake shore. There was no chance of reconciliation between these women; not even Helena attempted her usual role of peacemaker. Each loathed the other fundamentally. Veleda saw Claudia as a pathetic Roman collaborator from a subjected people, Claudia saw the priestess as feral. Curiously, my fostered daughter Albia, who could be British, or Roman, or some half-blood mixture, gazed at them with her most quizzical expression, as if she thought they were both barbarians.

Claudia wrapped herself tightly in her stole and hissed loudly that she refused to be anywhere near this woman. Veleda, looking scornful, shook out her cloak and cooed that she would ride outside the carriage with the driver. Claudia at once responded, 'Oh Marcus Didius, this prisoner of yours is supposedly unwell. I am Baetican. We are tough; I shall ride outside, enjoying the fresh air and the countryside. '

It was a moot point whether Veleda saw herself as my prisoner. But Claudia clambered up beside the driver, showing more leg than she may have intended, and prepared to freeze for twenty miles. I saw Helena and Albia exchange glances for some reason, then they climbed inside the carriage and placed blankets on the sickly priestess.

I told Jacinthus it was his big moment. He and I would escort the carriage and it would be his duty to guard the priestess when I was otherwise engaged. He looked puzzled; he knew how to play the simpleton. I explained that on a journey this length I would sometimes have to take my eyes off Veleda while I organised food or accommodation, drove away country peasants trying to sell us Saturnalia nuts, or hid behind a tree to relieve myself and enjoy some private peace from him. 'Can I have a sword?' It was a sick reminder of Lentullus. 'No, you can't. Slaves don't carry weapons.' 'What about the King of the Grove? I'd like to have a crack at him, Falco!'

I seriously thought of letting him. Helena put a stop to that crisply. 'You cannot allow it, Marcus. This is the situation when you own slaves. Jacinthus is now part of our family – and our family is civilised. You will show him kindness and a good example, please, not pennit him to go off into a grove of oaks, looking for a bout of fisticuffs.' 'You heard her, Jacinthus. End of story. Don't ask me again.' Our over-eager slave looked downcast. Veleda put her head out of the carriage window; she asked me who he was. While Helena and Albia smiled at my discomfiture, I then had to tell my famous, high-class prisoner what quality of escort she would have on her re-entry into Rome. She sneered at my hopeful explanation that this was a ploy to deter suspicion. Veleda was showing signs of regret that she had capitulated. She knew what she thought of being taken to her fate in Rome by me and my kitchen staff. I hadn't even told her that Jacinthus couldn't cook.

L

We spent the rest of that day travelling.

By the time we reached the Capena Gate, we were all wrecked. Soon I was even more anxious. The mood in the streets seemed ugly, if not as angry as the mood between Claudia and Veleda. When we finally parked outside the Camillus house at the Capena Gate, I could hardly wait to escort my young sister-in-law into the house. Though stiff and bruised after a long ride on the carriage box, she still managed to mention her baby loudly, an obvious put-down for the priestess. Baeticans were certainly tough.

The senator managed quickly to pass word to me that Justinus had been home, though after cleaning up he had returned to the patrol house to stay with Lentullus. Lentullus had recovered consciousness a little, but his survival was still touch and go.

With the odd formality he had, Camillus Verus came out to the carriage with me and introduced himself briefly to Veleda. He did not say he was her lover's father. For him, that was irrelevant. He represented the governing body of Rome and she was a national figurehead from outside the Empire. He saw it as a senatorial duty to mark her arrival in our city (even though she was a captive, and being brought here for the second time). So this sturdy old pillar of noble values stomped out to the street and gave her a polite greeting. He even put his toga on to do it.

Don't ask me what Veleda made of this, but Helena Justina jumped out of the carriage and hugged her papa proudly. She had tears in her eyes. Seeing that, a lump came to my own throat.

We carried on home. Fortunately it was after curfew, the streets were clear because of the festival, and now we had shed Claudia we could all travel in the carriage. Helena kept the window curtains well fastened. Nobody had to know that we were bringing home one of Rome's most terrible enemies.