'What mountain? Vesuvius? Near his father's estate?'

Larius laughed suddenly-a quiet, confident chortle deep in his throat.

'Oh no! Oh Uncle Marcus, you really will not like this-it must be the one where that man chased you: the one with the pretty girl-and the big friendly dog!'

•

As soon as he said it, I guessed Larius was right.

Without more ado we drained our cups, dragged ourselves upright and started outside. I asked the bosun, 'You with us, Bassus?' But, deeply depressed by the loss of the Isis, Bassus said he would stay in Positanum with the drink.

He came with us to the door though. As we reeled in the sudden sunlight that glanced off the harbour, I heard him let out a chuckle ironically. 'That's fate for you!' Then he pointed southwards out to sea. 'Here they come…'

Bearing slowly towards the Amalfi coast was the most amazing vessel I had ever seen. The Royal Barge of the Ptolemies was supposed to be larger, but I had never been privileged to gawp at the Egyptian fleet. This one was a monster. If her deck was less than two hundred feet in length, the shortfall could not be more than any lad on the Tiber waterfront could spit. When she docked she must tower above everything else like the multistorey apartments in Rome. Across the beam she was forty feet easily. And the depth of her hull, labouring so heavily, was probably even more than that.

To power this immense bulk she had not merely the normal square sail but a fabulous arrangement of red topsails as well. Far behind her I could just make other dark smudges, apparently motionless on the horizon, though they too would be heading towards us, low in the water beneath their huge cargoes, at an inexorable pace.

'Bassus! Whatever in Hades is that?'

He squinted at her thoughtfully as she loomed imperceptibly nearer the rocky coast. 'Parthenope, probably… but could be Venus of Paphos-'

I knew before he said it: the first of the corn ships had arrived.

Now I was thinking fast.

'Bassus, I can appreciate your loyalty to Crispus. As a matter of fact I had a good opinion of him myself. But he's gone. And unless we do something, Atius Pertinax-who is a different kind of leech on the Empire altogether-will be hijacking the grain ships and threatening Rome.'

The bosun was listening in his normal, impervious way. Desperate not to sound overhasty I confessed to him, 'I can't do this alone. I need your help, Bassus, or the game's over. You've lost the man you sailed for, and you've lost your ship. Now I'm offering you a chance to gain a heroic reputation and earn yourself an honorarium…'

Through the drink he thought about it. Drink apparently made Bassus a mellow, amenable type. 'All right. I can live with being a hero. So we need to think up a plan-'

I had no time to waste being diffident. I had been mulling over this problem since I first came to Campania. I already had a plan. Without making a fuss about my forethought and ingenuity, I explained to Bassus what I thought we ought to do.

I left him in Positanum to make contact with the grain ships as they arrived. Once most of the pack had gathered in the Bay of Salernum, still out of sight of the fleet at Misenum, he would let me know.

•

When the magistrate took his borrowed trireme back again round the headland, I asked him to drop my small party at Oplontis-though I did not tell him why. Gordianus knew. He had set himself the task of escorting the body of Aufidius Crispus to Neapolis, so now it was just Larius, Milo and me. Larius had done his bit for the Empire that day; I left him at the inn.

Milo and I went to the farm.

As we approached tentatively through the trellised arch we found the same smell and the same air of sour neglect. At first I was pleased to see that the dog was missing from his chain; then I realized it might mean he was roaming loose. When we got there it was dusk; after a long hot day the waft of ill-tended animals and old dung was stomach curling. Milo hung back.

'You're useless,' I told him cheerily. 'Trust me to lumber myself with you. Milo, big dogs are like bodybuilders-perfect cowards until they smell fear.' There was heavy perspiration on the steward's objectionable face, and I could smell his fear myself. 'Anyway, he hasn't found us yet…'

We tackled the pungent outbuildings before we broached the house. In the split-boarded midden that passed for a stable we discovered a sturdy skewbald horse I recognized.

'Pertinax had this gypsy as his packhorse when he was following me down to Croton! I wonder if the bastard's ridden off somewhere on the roan?'

I led the way, biffing at blue flies, and we were nearing the house when we both stopped dead: intercepted by the guard dog.

'Don't worry, Milo; I like dogs-'

I did, but not this one. He was growling. He would be. I deduced this was not a mutt who would scamper off if someone looked him in the eye and shouted boo.

He was as tall as a man if he stood on his hind legs, one of those browny-black creatures they breed for aggression, with a neck like an ox and small, mean ears. Milo gave him a few pounds but both the dog and I were aware Fido weighed as much as me. I was the kind of bite-sized titbit this bully liked for a target; the hound was staring coldbloodedly straight at me.

'Good boy, Cerberus!' I encouraged him steadily. Behind me I heard Milo gurgle. What I needed was a poisoned chicken; but since Milo had watched Petronius have his skull split I was perfectly willing to let him be the bait instead.

I murmured to Milo, 'If you've got a bit of rope on you, I'll put him on a lead.' The dog had other plans. The rumble in the canine's throat assumed a more ominous note. I applied myself to calming him.

I was still talking when he sprang.

I rammed one elbow in his chest and braced both feet while I tried to hold his head and fend him off. I could smell dead meat on his breath, and his dentistry was unbelievable. I should have shouted at him fiercely; you have to dominate a mobster like that. I never had the chance.

'Stand back, Milo-'

Same old Milo: give him an order and he did the opposite. Luckily for both of us, Milo's idea of taming a dog was to grab him from behind, then jerk up his snout, twist it sharply, and break his neck.

We stood in the yard, frankly quaking. I admitted to Milo that I reckoned we were quits.

•

Laesus was in the house. I found him; Milo disarmed him of his seaman's knife.

We dragged him outside, backwards. The sad side of his face splashed down in a cowpat; the happy half could see what Milo had done to the mountainous dog.

'Falco!' he gasped, trying to grin in his old friendly manner. At first I went along with it.

'Laesus! I've been hoping to meet up with you again, old friend. I wanted to warn you, next time you drink saffron pottage at your favourite eating house, watch out for the belladonna they add to the broth!'

Grinning at the thought of someone poisoning my pottage, Milo pushed the sea captain's face deeper into the dung.

'I lost my ship!' Laesus complained. As a sailor he could cope with fishiness, but close contact with the joys of agriculture was making poor old Laesus lose his nerve.

'That's a tragedy. You can either blame my nephew-or put it down to having gobbled up my sacred goat!' He groaned and tried to speak again but Milo was enjoying himself the way he liked best: showing off how powerful he was, punishing someone unpleasantly. 'Where's Pertinax, Laesus?' I demanded.