I grinned. `I draw the line at her questioning suspects.' This overlooked the fact that I had taken her with me to assist that very afternoon. A dangerous gleam lit Helen's soft eyes. `But there's no harm in her visiting respectable victims.'

`Oh thanks!' muttered Helena. Definitely not a traditionalist.

`It's highly irregular,' complained Petronius.

He was weakening. Helena Justina had one great advantage over us: she could approach snooty families on equal terms; she was probably superior to most of them. We could see how her mind was working, but she politely told us anyway: `I can say I begged their addresses because we are desperate about our own missing child. If they believe I am asking as a private individual, they may just confide more than they were prepared to tell the vigiles.'

Petro abandoned resistance. `Going to play the distraught mother?'

Helena gave him a straight look. `Good practice, Petro. I'll be hysterical for real reasons soon enough.'

He glanced at me. I shrugged. `Yes, it's true. I would have told you.'

`Oh really? What you actually told me was some lie about this not happening!' He made as if to leave in a huff, but at the last moment picked up the skip baby, who had been reclining like a pharaoh on a sack of old rags. Petro, the dedicated father of three, leant against the outside doorframe, showing off his expertise. The babe, tolerant as ever, accepted that big tough men are full of soppy talk. `Hello, cheeky fellow, what are you doing with these two eccentrics?'

I was just explaining that when I wasn't being thumped by desperadoes I was trying to find the babe's guardians for him when

Martinus arrived in Fountain Court. From our first-floor landing we saw him before he spotted us. Initially Petronius ducked back indoors, pretending to hide. Across the lane Martinus started jabbering something to Lenia. Seeing the slowcoach Martinus in a hurry changed Petro's mind.

He went out onto the steps and whistled. Nux barked at him. loudly. Lenia shouted abuse across the street. Heads shot out of windows to gape. Passers-by stopped in their tracks. Casual shoppers listened brazenly. This was the Fourth Cohort at its discreet, efficient best; soon the whole Aventine would know what was up. Any chance of solving the problem by using an element of surprise was lost before we even heard what the problem was.

Martinus turned towards us. Excitedly the deputy shouted his message: there had just been a heavy raid – in broad daylight-by a gang who had ransacked the goldsmiths in the Saepta Julia. The size of the haul, the speed of the attack, and the efficiency of the robbers bore marked similarities to the raid at the Emporium. The Seventh Cohort were in charge, but Petronius was expected to attend.

Petro had run down almost to the street before he cursed and remembered he was still holding the skip baby. He leapt back three steps at a time with his long, spider's legs, shoved the child into my arms, then hared off again. I passed the baby to Helena, instructed Nux to stay and guard them, then set off after Petronius.

I was wearing the wrong boots for hurrying, but I had no intention of missing this.

XL

THERE WAS MUCH less commotion at the Saepta than we had seen at the Emporium. Goldsmiths are a more secretive lot than merchants. They were wary of making a fuss about their stock even after it had been wrenched from them. None of them wanted to confess, especially to each other, exactly what they possessed let alone what they had lost. They merely stood around the ground floor and the upper balcony looking deeply glum.

Petronius made sure he reminded them that Vespasian had said he was compensating the Emporium merchants as an exceptional measure. The goldsmiths had been warned to take care, Petro declared. If they had failed to secure their premises despite the formal notification of a need for extra vigilance, they would have to stand the loss.

This went down like a gladiators' strike at a five-day festival. Hoping to avoid inflated claims, Martinus started trooping around the jewellers to make up another of his lists. Maybe the Emperor would agree token compensation after all. More likely he would confine himself to issuing a strict reprimand to the Prefect of the Vigiles for neglecting to prevent another robbery. The Prefect would take it out on the tribune of the Seventh Cohort, who was responsible for the Saepta, and on Marcus Rubella, tribune of the Fourth, who was in charge of the special initiative for catching the gang. Rubella would land on Petronius like a barrel of bricks from a great height.

I absorbed the size of the raid, which was phenomenal. That was all I needed to know. The next stage of action would be routine: taking endless details and asking questions of hostile witnesses whose information would probably prove pointless. Spotting my father, I dragged him into his office. `There's enough grief here! Let's keep out of the way.'

Pa had lost nothing this time. The robbers had stormed through the building swiping jewels and precious metalwork. They had had a strict menu of items to lift. Furniture and fancy lamps were off their agenda. Pa looked miffed.

`No bloody taste!'

`Be grateful, you villain.'

`I like to put it about that my stuff is desirable.'

`Any connoisseur of mock-marble tables with one foot missing can see yours are up with the best! Any collector who wants twenty identical statuettes of a muse on Mount Helicon – one or two with chipped noses – will come rushing straight here… Did you get my message?'

`Some garbled jabbering from my steward.'

Pa's steward was perfectly competent, as I happened to know. Like Pa's stock, his staff turned out to be better quality than you thought at first glance. I reiterated patiently, `We found one of the glass jugs.'

`Oh?' He could hardly force himself to express an interest. I knew why it was. He would rather claim the Emperor's compensation, cash in hand, than enjoy owning and selling the treasures we had taken so much trouble to bring home. He made me furious.

`You give me a pain in the brain, Pa! What about what I said about a present for Helena?'

`That was a gorgeous piece you got her.'

`You mean you found it?' I was beside myself.

`I had a very good look at the glass in the boxes that first night. I thought I told you.'

`Then I wish you'd taken it out and kept it safe for me!'

`How was I to know it was a present for Helena?'

`It was wrapped up in one of my old tunics. You should have realised.'

`I thought you were secreting away a bribe for some fancy bit.'

`Oh for heavens' sake! I hate to flirt and fornicate.'

`Jupiter, that's new!'

`Don't judge me by your own low behaviour!' I felt so annoyed with him I could not bear to stay and haggle over a replacement, even though I needed a present by the next morning. With a brief curse – my usual salutation – I brushed aside Pa's offer of a drink and stormed off home.

By the time I returned to Fountain Court it was dark. I put aside my anger; I had to give my attention to keeping alert. A loose chicken scuttled across my feet in a panic, frightening me too. There were, the usual feeble lamps flickering like extremely tired glow-worms on the porches of the bakery, the basket shop and one or two others. Only the funeral parlour was ablaze with cheerful strings of lights; offering a, brilliant welcome was their idea of comforting the bereaved. In one deeply shadowed doorway two figures were locked together; hard to see whether it was a pair of lovers steadfastly taking their pleasure or a mugger throttling a victim. In keeping with the traditions of our area, I did not enquire. I had once helped a youth who was being raped by a carter, only to have him steal my purse while his attacker was giving me a black eye. Not a set-up; just a typical Aventine reward for my overfriendliness.