`What I know is you're a pair of loons.'

I appealed to Helena Justina. She had been listening with the downcast air of a woman who knows' it will be her task to be sensible, whatever her heart says. `Ours is a good idea, Marcus, but I can see why you're nervous'

`It's far too dangerous.'

`You would be there to protect us.'

`I appreciate the offer. You both mean too much to me, and I don't want you to do it. I can't lock you in -'

`You'd better not try!' interrupted Maia.

All I could do was to ask them to assure me they would listen to my warning and not try anything stupid after I was gone. They heard me with pitying expressions, then gave promises of good behaviour so solemnly that it was obvious they would do whatever they liked.

It was time to sharpen my knife and attune my mind to danger. I had no time to deal with these two when they were trying to annoy me

There are men who would let the women they love take a risk in a desperate cause. Helena and Maia were courageous and clever; if we ever did use decoys they would be an excellent choice. But using decoys was far too dangerous. Something unexpected was bound to happen. A mistake or a trick would leave them exposed. It takes only a second for a man to grab a girl, then cut her throat and silence her for ever.

`Stay at home, please,' I begged them as I went off on my watch that night. Maybe they had been holding further discussions while I was preparing myself for action, because they both kissed me quietly, like well-behaved sweethearts. My heart sank.

They seemed far too amenable. Were they planning to try out their crazy scheme without telling me? Dear gods, I was in enough trouble.

FIFTY FIVE

We watched outside the Circus all night. Once again I was patrolling the Street of the Three Altars; Petro set up camp at the Temple of the Sun and Moon. It was mild, clear-skied and humid. Not too hot, yet, enough to generate an exciting atmosphere. Girls were floating about the streets in flimsy dresses, their shoulder brooches half unpinned and their side-seams agape while they burrowed happily in their packets of nuts and sweetmeats, hardly looking around to see who might be ogling and following them. Bare-armed, bare-necked, bare-headed open invitations to lust., I had never seen so many; carefree and confident Roman women, all apparently oblivious of their physical insecurity.

I was losing heart. There were far too many people, far too few of us on duty, far too many exits from the Circus, far too many streets where unwary home-goers might be picked up in the dark.

We stayed there until we were dropping. Our concentration was stretched unendurably, not least because we were so unsure who we were looking for amongst the throng. The Games had ended, the litters and chairs had come and gone, the prostitutes and drunks had taken over the district, and then even they went home: As first light began to show, I walked along to the Temple. Petro and I stood together for a few minutes, looking around.

The streets and temple steps were strewn with litter. Stray dogs and huddled vagrants rooted among the debris. A few lamps dwindled. There was silence at last, broken only by occasional disturbing noises from dark alleyways.

`If he was here, then we missed him,' said Petronius in a low voice. `He may, have got someone.'

`What do you think?'

`I hope not.'

'But what do you think, partner?'

'Don't ask, Falco.'

We walked home together wearily to Fountain Court.

FIFTY SIX

Helena woke me around midday. She brought me a drink, put the baby in my arms, then snuggled up on the bed at my side while I slowly, came to.

I freed a strand of her hair which had become trapped under my elbow. `Thanks for being here when I came in.' I was pretending to joke about the threats she and Maia had made. `Did I wake you?'

`I never really went to sleep. I just dozed, worrying about you out there.'

`Nothing happened.'

'No,' said Helena quietly. `But if you had seen him,: you would have gone after him. I was worried about that.'

`I can take care of myself.'

She nestled closer, saying nothing. I lay silent myself, worrying about leaving her every night, knowing that when she thought I was doing something dangerous she stayed awake for hours, opening her eyes at every sound and sometimes even jumping up to look out down the street for my return.

With me home in her arms, Helena slipped into a doze. The baby was awake, briefly clean, charming, kicking her feet contentedly, hardly a dribble in sight. I caught her looking up at me as if she was deliberately testing her audience. She had Helena's eyes. If we could bring her safely through the dangerous childhood years, when so many lost their hold on life, then one day she would have Helena's spirit too. She would be off out there, freeborn in her own city, probably half the time without telling us where she had gone.

Women should take care. The sensible ones knew that. But Rome had to allow them to forget sometimes. Being truly free meant enjoying life without the risk of coming to harm.

Sometimes I hated my work. Not today.

Julius Frontinus came for a conference that afternoon. I loved him for his blunt approach, but the constant fear that his honour would walk in did cramp my style. Still, he had had the courtesy to let his night-patrol take their rest first.

I stepped out to the porch and whistled across to Petronius. There was no response, but almost immediately he came loping up the street. I signalled; he joined us. We all sat together, accompanied by the quiet sound of Julia Junilla's cradle as Helena gently worked the rocker with her foot.

We spoke in subdued voices. Petro and I reported on our negative results last night.

`I have seen the Prefect of Vigiles; this morning.' Frontinus could be relied on to chivvy and chase.' `He had a round-up from his officers. They caught various minor offenders who might have got away with it if we had not had the Circus surrounded and the city gates watched, but nobody who seems implicated in our quest.'

`Have any women been reported missing this morning?' I asked. I sounded hoarse, not wanting to hear the answer.

`Not so far.' Frontinus was subdued too. `We should be glad.' We were, of course, although having nothing further to go on gave us no material help.

'At least we didn't miss someone being snatched.'

`You have nothing to reproach yourselves with,' said Helena. Seated in her round-backed wicker chair she seemed slightly apart from the conference, but it was understood she was listening in. In my household debates were full-family affairs.

Helena knew what I was thinking. I had once cursed myself bitterly when a young girl was murdered and I had felt I could have prevented it. That was in the past, but I still sometimes tortured myself turning over whether I should, have acted differently. I still hated the killer for leaving me with his crime on my own conscience.

1 had been brooding too much recently about Helena's dead uncle, the man whose corpse Vespasian had had me dispose of in the Great Sewer. It was his daughter, Helena's young cousin, who had been killed. Sosia. She had been sixteen: bright, beautiful, inquisitive, blameless and fearless – and I had been half in love with her. Ever since then, I had never quite trusted my ability to protect: women.

`I had a message from the man we sent to the Porta Metrovia stables,' said Petro, interrupting my thoughts. `Apparently Damon, the driver we're suspicious about, has been staying there full time. It's exactly what he is supposed to do. He goes to the chop-house next door, buys himself a drink, and makes it last for hours. He does try to chat up the waitress, but she isn't having it.'