places the murky depths appeared to recede forever. Had it not been for the jumble of scaffolding and drop cloths, the scene might have been almost frighteningly real, like a dream of death by drowning.

'Of course, these days, I'm long past scrambling for commissions,' Iaia continued. 'I made my fortune back in the good old days. Did you know that in my prime I was better paid than even Sopolis? It's true. Every rich matron in Rome wanted her portrait painted by the strange young lady from Cyzicus. Now I paint what I want and when I want. This project is just a favour for Gelina. One day we were leaving the baths, feeling all fresh and relaxed, and she complained about how plain this room was. Suddenly I had a vision offish, fish, fish everywhere! Fish flying above our heads and octopi coiling at our feet. And dolphins, darting through the seaweed. What do you think?'

'Astounding,' I said. Eco gazed about the room and shook out his hands as if he were sopping wet.

Iaia laughed. 'It's almost finished now. There's no real painting left to be done. We're at the stage of sealing the watercolours with an encaustic varnish, which is why these slaves are helping. There's no real skill to the job, just smoothing on the varnish with a brush, but I have to watch them to be sure nothing's damaged. Olympias, nudge that one over there, on the top scaffold. He's putting it on too thick – the colours will never show through.'

Olympias looked down from above our heads and smiled. I secretly pinched Eco, whose slack-jawed stare was not in response to the artwork around us.

'Ah, yes, in the good old days I could never have taken on a project like this one,' Iaia went on. 'My mentor wouldn't have allowed it. I can just imagine his reaction. "Too vulgar," he'd have said, "too merely decorative. Painting histories or fables with a moral point is one thing, but painting fish? Portraits are your strong point, Iaia, and portraits of women, at that; no man can paint a woman half so well as you can. But one look at these staring fish heads and no Roman matron will ever allow you to paint her! She'd be looking for traces of satire in every brush-stroke!" Well, that's what my old mentor would have said. But now, if I wish to paint fish, by Neptune, I'll paint fish. I think they're lovely.'

She seemed quite enraptured by her own skill, an immodesty perhaps forgivable in an artist in the final stages of an almost-done creation. 'I can see why you became renowned for your portraits,' I said. 'I saw your picture of Gelina in the library.'

Her smile wavered. 'Yes, I did that only a year ago. Gelina wanted it for a birthday present, for Lucius. We spent weeks working on it, out on her private terrace at the north end of the house, in her room where Lucius never went, so it would be a surprise.'

'Didn't he like it?'

'Frankly, no. It was done especially to fit the wall above his table in the library. Well, he made it quite plain that he didn't want it there. If you've seen the room, you've seen his taste – those awful statues of Hercules and Chiron. The painting above his table was even worse, a horrible thing that purported to show the Argonauts attacked by harpies, such a hideous embarrassment I can't imagine how he dared to allow visitors in the room. A really terrible painting done by some unknown hack in Neapolis, a mishmash of naked breasts and nailing claws and stiffly painted warriors brandishing swords. Words cannot exaggerate how awful it was. Am I not right, Olympias?'

The girl looked down from her work and laughed. 'It was a very bad painting, Iaia.'

'In the end Lucius acquiesced and had the thing removed so that we could mount Gelina's portrait into the wall, but he was most ungracious. Gelina had ordered a rug to match, and he complained endlessly about the expense. She was in tears more than once, thanks to that episode. Of course, misery about money was an old story in this house. What a failure Lucius was! What an impostor! What's the point of living in a villa like this if you have to count every sesterce before you spend it?'

There was a sudden tension in the room. Olympias no longer smiled. One of the slaves knocked over a pot of varnish and cursed. Even the fish seemed to quiver with unease. Iaia lowered her voice. 'Let's step into the baths. The rooms are all empty, and the light at this time of day is quite delightful. Let the boy stay here and watch Olympias work.'

The plan of the women's baths mirrored that of the men's, except for the scale, which was considerably smaller. Across the open terrace the view was much the same; beneath the rising sun the bay shone with thousands of tiny points of silver light. We walked around the circular pool, which billowed with steam in the crisp morning air. Beneath the high dome our hushed voices echoed strangely.

'I thought that Lucius and Gelina were a happy couple,' I said.

'Does she seem happy to you?'

'Her husband died a horrible death only days ago. I hardly expect to find her smiling.'

'Her mood now is little changed from before. She was miserable then, thanks to him, and she is miserable now, thanks again to him and his messy death.'

'She doesn't look miserable in the painting. Does the image lie?'

"The image captures her just as she was. And why does she seem so happy and at peace in the portrait? Consider that it was posed for and painted in the one room in the house where Lucius never set foot.'

'I was told they married for love.'

'So they did, and you see what comes of that sort of match. I knew Gelina when she was a girl, before she married. Her mother and I were about the same age and great friends. When Gelina married Lucius it was hardly my place to criticize, but I knew that only sorrow would come of it.'

'How could you be so sure? Was he such a wicked character?'

She was silent for a long moment. 'I don't claim to be a great judge of character, Gordianus, at least not when it comes to men. Do you know what they called me in the good old days? Iaia Cyzicena, Always Virgin, they called me, and not without reason. When it comes to men, I have little experience and I claim no special insight. I'm sure my judgment of a man's character is less reliable than most women's. But judgment based on experience goes only so far. There are other, surer ways of foreseeing the future.' She gazed into the swirling mists above the water.

'Yes? And what does the future hold for this house and its inhabitants?'

'Something dark and dreadful, no matter what.' She shivered. 'But to answer your question: no, Lucius was not wicked, only weak. A man of no vision, no energy, no ambition. Were it not for Crassus, he and Gelina would have starved long ago.'

'A villa and a hundred slaves are far from starvation.'

'But Lucius himself owned not a bit of it! From what I gather, his income was entirely consumed in running this palace and maintaining a facade of great wealth. Given his connection to Crassus, any other man would have made himself independently wealthy long before now. Not Lucius; he was content to amble along, taking what was given him and asking for no more, like a pampered dog begging for scraps from his master's table. To be sure, the same hand that lifted him up held him down; Crassus seemed determined that Lucius should always be the cringing, ever-thankful kinsman, never an equal or a rival, and Crassus has ways of seeing that people stay in their places. Well, Gelina deserved better than that. Now she's completely at the mercy of Crassus, not even able to say whether her own household slaves should live or die.'

'And if that should come to pass?'

Iaia stared deeply into the mist and did not answer. We circled the pool in silence.

'No matter what their differences, I think that Gelina has suffered greatly from the death of her husband,' I said quietly. 'She will suffer even more if Crassus proceeds with this terrible scheme of his.'