Polybius scrambled to his feet, seized the clinking pouches from the table and, followed by his two companions, raced across the grass back into the tavern.

'And Presbyter?'

Sylvester stepped forward.

'Go,' Helena murmured. 'Go into the tavern, arrange for the remains of the blessed Fulgentia to be taken in a litter back to the palace. We'll decide then what is to happen.'

Sylvester did not demur at being so courteously dismissed, but came towards Claudia, hands out, and raised her to her feet. 'Claudia, it's good to see you.' He clasped her hands and Claudia felt the piece of papyrus being pushed into her palm.

Helena watched Sylvester walk away, then pointed to one of the small stools.

'Claudia, bring it closer. Sit down. Let me hear about what's been happening.'

Claudia made herself comfortable and told the Empress what had occurred the previous night: her discussions with Stathylus, Crispus and Secundus, the macabre death of the decurion and her visit to General Aurelian. Helena heard her out, head down, listening intently, and when she'd finished she glanced up and winked at her.

'Stathylus' death was not your fault,' she murmured, 'but you are correct, his murder, as well as those of the others, is linked to something which happened a lifetime away. General Aurelian will be kind to Crispus and Secundus. They'll probably argue that Postulus wasn't loyal to him, my husband or my son. He is a good man, Aurelian, he'll look after them. Perhaps he'll learn more from them with a cup of wine. And Theodore, his death here, you think he was poisoned?'

'Undoubtedly so, Augusta.' Claudia tried to stifle a yawn. She paused, listening to the sounds of the tavern, the noise of laughter, of furniture being moved; Sylvester must be already ordering the removal of the corpse. Claudia was pleased about that; whatever Helena had said, Claudia still entertained the gravest suspicions about Fulgentia, her origin, her death and her uncle's participation in such a miraculous find. Yet she must keep her suspicions to herself. If Polybius had been involved in any mischief, if he had deceived the likes of the Augusta and Presbyter Sylvester, his punishment would be horrific.

'What are you thinking about, little mouse?'

Claudia smiled apologetically.

'Theodore, Augusta! He came here and joined in the celebrations. Uncle is a generous host; Theodore must have eaten and drunk, then retired to his chamber where he died.'

'So somebody here must have murdered him?'

'Not one of Polybius' people,' Claudia declared. 'The assassin must have slipped in and poisoned him. This is the area of the Flavian Gate and the She Asses tavern, where everybody knows everyone else, yet my uncle Polybius noticed nothing suspicious. We know that Theodore was murdered, but who was responsible, how and why remains a mystery'

'Not the why,' Helena retorted. 'Claudia, wake up, use your wits! Why should anyone kill a wandering actor except for what he saw at the Villa Carina? He must have seen something, Claudia.'

'But what?' Claudia protested. 'Theodore was an actor. He depicted himself as a hero but he wasn't. Undoubtedly he tried to protect Antonia and was knocked to the ground, but if he had seen anything, such criminals would have cut his throat without hesitation. He certainly learned something, but exactly what, Augusta, I truly don't know.'

'Have you discovered anything about Theodore's background?'

Claudia closed her eyes. She would love to go to sleep, but knew that Helena would think nothing of summoning her to the palace in the middle of the night if she did not tell her everything now. She tried to marshal her thoughts, remembering her walk back with Murranus and Theodore, the visit to the Temple of Hathor, how the actor had kept chattering about his past, where he'd been, whom he had met.

'He was from Egypt originally.' Claudia opened her eyes. 'From Memphis on the Nile. He was devoted to the Goddess Hathor, Lady of Drunkenness, the Lady of the White Walls. On our return here, we visited Hathor's temple. He spoke briefly to the High Priest Sesothenes…'

'Ah yes, I've heard of him.'

'Theodore wanted to give thanks for his deliverance; he asked Sesothenes to burn some incense, then left. I watched him all the time.'

'The Temple of Hathor,' Helena scoffed, 'a derelict place, full of dirty abominations, the usual rubbish of secret rites and rituals. Anything else?'

Claudia shook her head.

'Then get a good night's sleep, Claudia. Tomorrow, at the ninth hour, Antonia is to be released in the cemetery along the Appian Way. I want you to be there. Do not put yourself in danger, but watch, see what you can discover. Come close, little mouse.'

Claudia moved the stool, and Helena leaned forward.

'All those who have been kidnapped,' Helena whispered, 'have been released there. I've reflected on what you said, Claudia. The cemetery itself is a forest of stones, bushes and trees; beneath it lie the catacombs now deserted by the Christians.'

Claudia moved her hand slowly and pushed the piece of papyrus Sylvester had handed her into the small pocket of her tunic. Helena was so engrossed she never noticed.

'Now, as you know, Claudia, you are one amongst many of my retainers; another is Cassius Chaerea. Chaerea is a very useful man, a Christian who was seized during the persecution, interrogated and condemned to the mines in Sicily, where he worked for at least ten years. He is a great survivor, a farmer by birth; he learned how to survive in the galleries and tunnels of the mines outside Syracuse. I have shown him a map of the catacombs beneath the Via Appia, the best I could get. Presbyter Sylvester gave it to me. Chaerea and I studied that map most closely. He agrees with me,' Helena continued, 'that the catacombs would be the natural hiding place of these kidnappers; they could conceal their victims anywhere in its chambers, galleries, passageways and tunnels. There are so many entrances, not even dogs could search them out.' Helena gathered her stole about her shoulders. 'Chaerea has certain gifts, a legacy from his long service in the mines. He can see his way in the dark. He has no fear of confined or constricted places. He can thread his way through the most elaborate maze. He also has a sharp sense of smell, an animal instinct for danger. He should be busy now,' she murmured. 'The kidnappers may believe that a search would be made during the day, but Chaerea will slip in under darkness, and perhaps he can find something.' The Empress rose to her feet, pushing her hand towards Claudia so she could kiss the ring on her finger. 'Whatever happens,' she leaned down, one hand pressing hard on Claudia's shoulder, 'be in that cemetery tomorrow, long before the named hour…'

Chaerea the former slave would have disagreed with his imperial mistress in one respect: his senses were truly sharp, but the memories of the mines of Syracuse always came flooding back when he went hunting. Chaerea was very proud of his past. He had survived the mines, their murky, ill-lit galleries reeking of salt, where death could seize you in many ways: suffocation, hunger, thirst, a fall of rock, the sheer fatigue of hacking away, the cruelty of overseers or the savagery of your companions, who'd kill for a mouthful of stale bread or a cup of bitter water. A hideous time! The memories came surging back now as Chaerea slipped down the narrow, pebble-strewn gully beneath the tomb of the tribune Larcntius, who had seen service in Dacia a hundred years earlier. The sharp shale cut at Chaerea's legs but he reached the bottom softly. Oh yes, this did remind him of the mines! The blackness wrapped round him like a shroud; hot, foul air, the constant sense of menace, of lurking danger.

Chaerea squatted for a while, preparing himself. A small, wiry man, sharp eyes above sunken cheeks, his fingers were like claws, the muscles on his legs hard as whipcord. He had prepared himself well for this. He had studied and memorised the trackways beneath the ground. He had made an offering to the white Christ. The small sack he carried contained a lamp, some rope and a dagger. Chaerea was used to such adventures. Helena had often used him in the catacombs to search for precious objects and relics, but this was different. The Empress had warned him about that, and Chaerea was no fool. He knew about the kidnappings in Rome and realised that the cemetery was the kingdom of the Inferni, those men and women, driven from society, who lurked there to prey upon the vulnerable, anyone weak or stupid enough to enter. Chaerea had been promised a lavish reward, enough money to arrange a feast for himself and his friends and hire those plump young courtesans who could delight him so much. He had his heart set on that. His years beneath the ground in Sicily had made him wonder about the power of Christ, and when he had been released, he'd determined to enjoy himself as much as possible. He closed his eyes, calming his breathing, recalling the Empress' instructions. He was not here to free anybody, but simply to discover, search out and report back.