All I saw as I peered along the gutter was a large boot, coming straight at my right eye.

XXIV

I ROLLED. NOT far enough. Was it better to lose an eye, or to have a fractured skull? I thought I heard my neck crack as I wrenched away. The boot made contact, scraping along the upper bone of my eye socket painfully. Eyes shut against the agony, I screwed on to my back and kicked out hard, both feet together. I found someone, not with much force, but it gave me leeway to start fighting back.

No use. They dragged me over and face down again. My back was being pummelled. Thanks to my cloak, a heavy-duty item bought for long-distance travel, the effects were less than the murderous bastards intended. But I could not rise. I was stuck by the kerb, in the litter and dung. Someone stepped on my hand. Then either they were disturbed, or maybe their task was fulfilled. Now they were leaving. The parting shot came hoarsely right by my ear; the man must have bent double: `Leave it to the big boys, Falco!'

Leave what? No need to ask.

I lay for a while where I was, thankful to be still breathing. Slowly I hauled myself across the pavement to my own threshold. Stumbling upright, I banged at the door, shaking too much to find my key. Somebody must have come to investigate. They would have looked out through the spy window, Albia most likely. The damage to my eye must have made me unrecognisable; instead of opening up, I heard the grim sounds of the bolts being shot home.

I fell down and waited to be rescued. My brain was almost empty – apart from a recurrent thought: I had recognised the boot coming at my eye.

But as usual in these situations, I had no idea where I had seen it before – or on whose foot.

Not too long afterwards, I was woken. A torch flamed, too close to my face. I was aware of a small group, with hard, professional voices.

`Shift that bloody vagrant off Falco's doorstep…'

`Dead?'

`Dying, I think. Give him a few kicks -' I was pulled upright, exclaiming at the pain. `Oh dear, oh dear! Look who it is -' A voice I knew well as Fusculus, one of Petro's men in the vigiles, mocked me sadly. `Helena Justina been knocking you about again, Falco?'

`Just a lovers' tiff…'

Fusculus shook his head, while banging stoutly at my door. It took some time for him to convince the occupants that it was safe to respond. `Helena Justina, somebody does not like your husband!'

I heard Helena swiftly telling Albia to take my daughter Julia out of sight so she would not be scared. Julia was wailing anyway. `Bring him in, will you -'

`You really must stop thumping him,' muttered Fusculus, continuing his tired joke. `And do get him to give up the drink – This is a disgrace to a respectable neighbourhood.'

`Don't be a busybody, Fusculus.' A catch came in Helena's voice. `Oh Juno, where did you find him?'

`Huddled on the step like a bundle of rags. It's all right – much worse than it looks -' The vigiles have a stock soothing repertoire for distressed wives. `I've got him. Tell yourself he's just faking it, for a cheap thrill. Use your damned feet, Falco. Show me where to go, princess -'

They took me upstairs and I was dropped on my bed. I let it happen. Fusculus went off to tell Petronius, then almost at once Petro was there, with the vigiles' doctor, Scythax. They cleaned me up. As always, I refused a sleeping draught but Helena made an uncompromising nurse.

Trying to keep my fears private lest Helena worry even more, I croaked that Petro should contact the Camilli and Hononus. He had worked out that the attack was case-connected and promised safety checks.

`Warning you off, eh? This is a clear message. You could listen!'

`No chance of that,' Helena answered for me. `He'll become more determined. You know him.'

`Yes, he's an idiot,' Petro replied frankly. `Still, somebody thinks it matters to get rid of him. What's he doing this work for? Is there money in it?'

`It's a fight for justice, Lucius Petronius.'

`Oh I can see it's a fight,' Petro scoffed wryly. I felt his finger prod my eyebrow. `But someone else seems to be getting the better of it, and there's no justice in that, is there?'

I buried my head under the pillow and took refuge in a drugged sleep.

Next day I woke, stiff as a post and groaning. I thought about getting up, but abandoned the plan. Helena forbade it, so I tried crawling out of bed after all. Then I dropped any idea of racing around the Circus Maximus and stayed put.

Helena brought up her wicker chair and a low footstool, to sit beside me. Now that I was being sensible, she allowed herself to straighten the coverlet then stroked my hair lovingly. `Tell me what happened, Marcus.'

`You can see what happened.'

`Were you followed?'

'They were lying in wait.' I struggled to think straight. `What about the others?'

`Justinus was at home – Claudia has gone into labour. I ought to go over there.'

`Your mother can look after Claudia.'

`Yes, but I need to look after Quintus. I imagine Claudia is a girl who will scream heartily. If my terrified brother skittles off to the baths to hide, she will never forgive him.'

`You can leave me.'

`I don't want to.'

I found her hand. She was close to tears. That upset me. Later, when she had calmed down over this, I would point out that plenty of householders arrived home in the evening wrecked, after being run over by badly driven carts or mugged by street thieves. `What about Aulus?'

`At home. Honorius stayed out all night somewhere. His frail old mother had a seizure when the vigiles called, but he's turned up now. He and Aulus are downstairs in fact -'

`Let them up, then.'

`Are you fit for it?' she queried anxiously. No, I wasn't; but I made her let them up anyway.

They both shuffled in, looking nervous. I knew half my face must be a dreadful sight, but Helena had bandaged wadding on the eye, mainly to hide the mess. I was swollen and bruised, nothing worse, but the effects would be lurid for a few weeks. I would have a scar under the eyebrow when the damage healed. Scythax had sewn it neatly with fine thread. `Look at me, the pair of you – then take your personal safety seriously from now on.'

Aelianus was the first to recover his composure. He threw himself in Helena's chair, leaving her to perch on the end of the bed. Honorius leaned against a cupboard. `So who are we blaming?' Aelianus asked. He was too chirpy. His sister scowled at him.

`The opposition, obviously,' Honorius said. `Presumably they used heavies, Falco?'

`I never saw much. Apart from the thug who croaked the special message, none of them spoke, either. They could have been fresh cheeked, milk-fed shepherd boys – though I doubt it.'

Helena asked Honorius angrily, `Are these common tactics? Did you see this bullying when you worked with Silius?'

Honorius shook his head. `Oh no. Nothing like this was allowed!'

I sent Helena a private glance. For me, his assurance only meant that when rough stuff had been ordered – which it would have been – young Honorius had been kept in ignorance. `Must be Paccius who arranged my treat, then!' I commented. Uneasy, Honorius fell silent.

I sipped a beaker of water. My head throbbed so it was a struggle to go on. `Nothing changes. We still need to find out who bought the hemlock – Aulus, please.'

`The hemlock!' Aelianus was indignant at this mundane order. `No, my brother's doing that.'

`He's off the scene,' I reminded him.

`I don't know how far he had gone -'

Helena scowled at Aelianus. 'Quintus was working in circles out from the Servian Embankment in the Fifth Region. You could start further west and work inwards, Aulus.' He began to protest. `Don't play up,' she commanded.