"Don't answer if you don't want to, Marius," Helena said. "We are all living in the same house, and there are rules of good manners.

She had sensed what was the matter, and he finally broke his silence in reply. "What you do is horrible, Falco."

I pulled through my teeth a piece of sausage skin that was too tough to eat. "How have I offended you?"

"I think you must offend everyone."

"Close!" I took a spill from a vase that stood with the saltbox on the table. Everyone in Rome has been fed that myth about Hispanians cleaning their teeth with their own urine, so I was glad to find that in this villa rustica they had heard of using a sharp bit of stick. Never believe what you read. Half the time it has just been copied by a pig-ignorant hack from some previous author's bogus scroll.

Optatus pushed away his bowl and swung out from the table. In the measured pace of life in the country he took a small pottery lamp, carried it to to an amphora, filled a jug from the larger container, filled the lamp from the jug, brought it back to the hearth, lit his toothpick from the embers, lit the lamp wick, placed the light on the table and stood there thoughtfully. His actions alerted the lamp-boy to go about his task of lighting the rest of the house, and the cook to collect crockery to wash. Marmarides caught my eye, then went out to feed the carriage mules. People were now moving about freely in the kitchen, and our discussion took on a more informal tone.

"The Annaei and Licinii Rufii are my friends," he complained. "I grew up with them."

"Would that be with the boys—or the girls?" I asked pointedly. "Which am I not allowed to approach in my work, Marius?" He made no answer, so I added quietly, "Aelia Annaea certainly knew exactly what our conversation was about—and I really don't believe I took advantage of Claudia." Optatus resumed his place at the table at last, his tall shadow wavering on the kitchen wall as he sat down. "They both know my role; I told them quite freely. If those two young ladies have made a pet of Quinctius Quadratus, they are both mature enough to take the consequences."

"I don't see what this has to do—"

"His father is heavily implicated in a probable conspiracy. I think we can guess that deliberate influence was used to get the son his posting as quaestor. The Quinctii are building themselves a dangerous powerbase in Baetica. If I end up nailing Attractus, his son is almost certain to be disgraced at the same time. The son may be an innocent tool of a devious father, but that quaestorship makes him look a willing participant in the master plan. Even if he's as pure as snow, he's stuck with how it looks—though from what you told me about the way he kicked you out of your tenancy, 'pure' is not the word to use.

Optatus was brooding on his personal problems. "They will not succeed in their ambitions." At least he was talking again. "People here don't welcome their interference. People will resist them; I will do so myself. When I have money, I will buy land of my own. If I cannot achieve it myself, at least my descendants will be equal to the Quinctii."

"You've already been saving!" Helena guessed acutely. "You're mulling over a plan!"

"You could marry into an estate," I suggested. "That would help." He looked at me, affronted. "Marius Optatus, you are well respected in the local community. All sorts of people regard you kindly. Set your sights high."

"You are advising me from experience?" He sounded barbed.

I said, "A man should go for the girl he wants, my friend."

Helena was looking worried. "She might not always be available!"

"She might be," I retorted. I pretended to be unaware of any feelings Optatus had. "Take Claudia Rufina, for example—you could say the signs are all there that she's earmarked for the fabulous quaestor 'Tiberius.' But will it ever happen? I suggest it's unlikely. He comes from an old Italian family. The Quinctii are certain to look for a bride from the same patrician Roman background. Making money from the provinces is one thing. Making an alliance is another."

On reflection, Helena backed me up: "It's true. If you took a census of the men in the Senate, you'd find the Spaniards are married to Spanish women, the Gauls to Gauls—and the Romans to their own kind. So, Marcus, that's why nothing is being said openly about Claudia and the quaestor?"

"Nothing ever will be. The Quinctii aren't buying. Having met Claudia's grandfather, I'd call him shrewd enough to see it."

"The girl could be hurt by this," Helena frowned.

"Only if she's daft enough to fall in love with the charmer. I dare say she may be, but it need not be irretrievable. Well there you are!" I exclaimed to Optatus. "A nice rich girl who may soon have a heartache, and be going spare in the marriage market!"

He took it well. "Thanks, Falco!" He managed a grin and I knew we were friends again. "But maybe Claudia Rufina isn't nice enough or rich enough!"

Helena and I both beamed at him. We do like to manipulate a man who stands up for himself.

Optatus was still niggling about the way I had to work. "I was taking you to task, Falco."

"About what I do?"

For all I know, when we converse in this friendly fashion, you are laying traps even for me!"

I sighed. "Rest assured. If there is a conspiracy, by the time the Quinctii started trying to arrange their cartel, you were on very bad terms with them. Only men who look amenable are invited on their friendly trips to Rome. Let's be fair to the Quinctii though; they may be honest as daisies."

"So you like to be fair!" he observed dryly.

"I've been caught out too many times! But I don't believe you were ever invited to join any price-fixing; you disapprove too strongly of corrupt practices."

Maybe I was being stupid. Maybe Marius Optatus was so utterly disgruntled by what had happened to him, that he was the moving spirit behind the plot Anacrites had wanted to investigate. He had just told us he was saving hard and harboring ambition. Perhaps I had been underestimating his importance here.

"I'm flattered," said Optatus. "So you will concentrate your efforts on the young ladies' handsome friend, Falco?"

"The charming Tiberius does pose one fascinating puzzle. If the Quinctii are villains, they appear to have everything well sewn up. But even so, the proconsul has sent Quinctius Quadratus on hunting leave."

"So what, Falco? He is a sporting type. He loves hunting; in a young man of promise that goes down well."

I smiled wisely. "In a young man who has just started a major public role, this phrase has other connotations. He's not hunting at present, is he?"

"He's enjoying himself in every way."

"Quite. Flirting with Aelia Annaea and Claudia. What a bastard."

"And he is influencing their brothers," Optatus told me. "Particularly young Rufius Constans; Quadratus has made himself the boy's mentor."

"That sounds unfortunate! But listen: I was telling you about hunting leave; you have to be aware of the subtleties here. In the army it's called 'being sent up country.' In civic life it's a different term, but same result: your quaestor is not actually expected to hunt. He can loaf on his father's estate, attend the gymnasium, entertain women—whatever he likes, just so long as he doesn't show his face. The fact is, at least temporarily, the proconsul has shoved this twinkling star out of the way."

Optatus looked pleased. He immediately saw that for the Quinctii and their ambitious plans this could be a disaster. The Senate might have been bought and the Emperor bamboozled, but here the proconsul had a mind of his own. Against all the odds, not everything was going right for Quinctius Attractus and his son. Apparently there was a black mark on a list somewhere, against the name of Tiberius Quinctius Quadratus.