`Negrinus is disinherited – so if their mother is hard-hearted, his children could be left with nothing?' Aelianus asked.

`Yes.'

`That's terrible. And it all seems dangerous. How binding is the fideicommissum? Will Saffia even get the money? Does Paccius have any real obligation to divert the money to her?'

`It is a promise,' said Fungibles. He was dry. `You know what happens to promises! If Paccius has a conscience, then of course he must pass it on.'

`He's an informer! What if he has no conscience?'

'Then Saffia could sue him in the trusts court. The fact that there is a trusts court tells you it is often needed.'

`Would she win?' I threw in, still smarting from the conscience jibe.

`She might. Let's not slander Saffia Donata over her father-in-law's fancy for her – but was he closer to her than to his own children – and his grandchildren?'

`I'd say Saffia was regarded as a nuisance by the whole Metellus family,' I said. `I'm not sure how far that goes back. She was first married to Negrinus' best friend, who is still very much on the scene.'

Fungibles looked up sharply, though he made no comment.

`What if Lutea – his name is Licinius Lutea – remarried Saffia?' I asked thoughtfully.

`He gets access to what Saffia gets -' Fungibles paused. `If she lets him.'

`All right.' Ideas were whirling in my head. I needed to think. `So what is your overall impression of this will, Scorpus?'

`I hate it. I would be ashamed to have helped produce it. If Metellus took legal advice, he was robbed. The formulae are all correct. But it's a weak will, immediately open to challenge by the heirs of right.'

`We could use that in Negrinus' defence,' Aelianus told me excitedly. `It is alleged he killed his father because he was disinherited – yet he has a good claim to overturn the will, so why commit murder?'

That was true. But Fungibles wanted us to look at the document in another light. `I cannot see what, but I would say there must be a secret. That usually explains why outsiders gain an unhealthy influence.'

His fee was tiny. But he had given good advice. Sometimes, in this disreputable world, you meet a man who disturbs the norm. Sometimes, you find somebody honest.

XXIII

AELIANUS AND I emerged from the hole-in-the-wall, heads reeling.

`That was dense – but you seem to thrive on all this legal stuff!' I commented. We started to walk. It was the kind of backstreet where you keep your hand on your purse and don't meet the eyes of passersby. Aelianus grunted. He was always terse on anything personal. `I like it,' I encouraged him. 'Honorius won't stick around after the case. We could use a legal specialist on our team. How about you?'

`What about Quintus?'

`What about him? His expertise is in languages.' Justinus was also much better than his brother with personality issues, though I did not say so.

`I thought he was your favourite.'

We reached the end of the street and turned a corner, into one that was if anything even dirtier and more threatening. I checked it out, looking left. Aelianus by now knew enough to do the same, looking right; I then discreetly double-checked his side. I wanted to trust my subordinates – but I wanted to stay alive. We took the direction we needed, heading back towards the Forum.

`I don't have favourites.' In fact, I had always warmed especially to Justinus, though I hoped I had not shown it. The two brothers fought continually, but I had been unaware that Aelianus harboured resentment about being shut out. `I respect good work, Aulus.'

He said nothing.

We were walking at a leisurely pace. The day was grey and heavily overcast, with a hint of snow in the air. It was bitingly cold; I wrapped myself deep in my woollen cloak, throwing the ends over my shoulders and snuggling my reddened ears into its folds, while Aelianus fastened his garment more pedantically, pinning it dead centre with a fibula beneath his chin. The way the front edges hung, he must have a frozen gap chilling his stomach up the middle of his tunic. He made no attempt to grip the material together. He was athletic and liked to pretend he was physically hard.

We passed neglected fountains, stalls where the vegetable-sellers stamped miserably, a small temple with its doors firmly closed to prevent vagrants snuffling into the sanctum to take refuge from the weather.

When I next spoke to Aelianus, my breath formed a damp area in my cloak where it obstructed my mouth. `Your parents would be amazed – and pleased – if you started studying.' I stretched my neck to show him a grin. `I'd get some credit for reforming you!'

`What do you mean – reforming?'

`Oh yes, you're an upright character!' He gave me a look. `Stories were circulating in Baetica,' I warned him. Helena and I had followed Aelianus out there after his stint working with the provincial governor. His life in Spain had been one of hunting and entertaining with the local wild young men; his dafter indiscretions seemed to include an unhealthy flirtation with the worship of Cybele. None of this had ever been mentioned at home by Aulus. He was secretive and had become quite a loner, once he was back in Rome. `Of course I haven't gossiped, but your father is alert to your rampant past. Decimus may seem in a world of his own, but he's sharp. If he thinks that your working with me now is a cause for relief, then he was quite worried about the alternatives.'

`He still wants to see me in the Senate,' Aelianus confided. `I know.'

`You discuss me?' He sounded annoyed.

`No. Trust me, Aulus. I won't rush to the baths and thrill your papa with some story that we've turned you into a barrister.'

He gave me one of his moody grunts. Our conversation paused as we sidestepped a man with flailing arms who was trying to detain us and sell us horoscopes; I foresaw that this was just so an accomplice could sneak out from behind a barrel of scallops and steal our belts. `Very nice,' I said, shoving the astrologer aside bodily. Insincerity is a Roman street art. We walked on. Curses followed us. We did not react.

`Well, I find the legal details interesting,' Aelianus confessed. From him it was quite an opening up. He added, `Helena says she's glad we're in this legal market now. She likes the fact it's all talk, so you are not involved in danger.'

`You have been discussing me?' I riposted.

Being himself again, he just grunted once more.

*

At the Golden Milestone we went our separate ways. I watched young Aelianus treading his firm path down the Forum away from me, a sturdy figure with solid shoulders and stout calves tramping beneath his neatly draped cloak. The intimate conversation had made me feel more than usually responsible for him. Watch it, Falco. Nannying aristocrats is a slave's task.

He could handle himself. Peddlers shrugged easily as he ignored their trays. He gave a wide berth to a dog with froth on its muzzle and stepped aside as a drunk spoiling for an argument staggered blearily into his path.

Hunched in my cloak, I bore around the shadow of the Capitol and made my way home. I was thinking about the best way forward. Our talk with Scorpus had been refreshing. Calpurnia Cara had always been on my list for investigation; his suggestion that she might have offended her husband was a good lead. It was also time we pursued the Saffia/Lutea angle, and hammered it hard. Then there was the idea that something looked amiss in the family; I trusted Fungibles on that. The peculiarities of the will must have an explanation – not that families always behave understandably. Mine were a cantankerous, deliberately stubborn lot. Maybe the Metelli were the same.

I came around a windswept corner by the cattle market, head down as I forged a path up the Marble Embankment to my house. Chilled now, I was tired and in need of sustenance. The cold was making my eyes water. As darkness began to gather, I saw the welcome sight of my own front door, flanked by two laurel bushes, with an oversized dolphin knocker that my father had installed. Cheered, I failed to notice villains suddenly homing in on me. I was at their mercy. Hands seized me from behind. Legs kicked my weary feet from under me. I was taken aback, thrown down on the road before I knew what was happening. How many there were I had no idea. I let out a disorientated cry, curled up protectively, craned around to look at them.