Thank you, delectable demi-god. And by the way, nice arse!" I began a fast search of the neighbouring area. Parts appeared to be in the process of redevelopment; there were cleared spaces and a couple of elderly atrium houses standing empty. In a side street, I finally found the place where Diocles used to stay. I learned that his Auntie Vestina, a freedwoman of the imperial house, had lived for many years right beside the Temple of Hercules Invictus. The aunt's house had burned down about this time last year. The first woman I spoke to had not seen the aunt since. That would have been bad enough, but if Vestina had escaped and relocated I might have tracked her down eventually. Sadly, I found another neighbour who knew the whole story. The fire had started at night. Help took a long time coming. Vestina had been crippled with arthritis and she was asthmatic. She could not struggle out of her burning house quickly enough, and was killed by the smoke before she could be rescued.

Feeling melancholy, I cut back towards the Forum and started walking home. I hit the Decumanus Maximus at a crossroads, where it took a slight bend as it turned from its original axis towards the Marine Gate. This was a major junction with a shrine and market stalls, old established fishmongers and butchers. Ahead were public buildings, first the Basilica and then the Forum itself. Those bore the marble stamp of Augustus, telling locals and new arrivals how exceedingly rich the spoils of Egypt had made him, and how determined he was to be seen as ruler of the world. The area where the streets met was full of life. It made a sad contrast to the dead spaces behind me, though when the empty lots were redeveloped, that part of town would be a fine place to live. central and probably select. Some builder was due to make a killing if he could get his hands on the land, and it did look as if a steady acquisition programme was in progress. Around one corner from the Decumanus, in a scaffolded block that seemed to be already earmarked for redevelopment, I found a small group of vigiles. It was unexpected; Petro had never mentioned an outstationed unit, though we were a long way from the creaky patrol house, so it did seem a good idea. It was miles to run to the main patrol house to report a bath house on fire or to ask for reinforcements when someone had left his wife sitting on a captured burglar. They had a deserted shop set up as an office. The frontage of what must once have been an artisan's workshop was now a gaping hole, minus its pull-across doors. There were four men on duty, not the liveliest bunch I had ever met. At a beaten-up table they lolled around while awaiting citizens with complaints. I could see bits of chewed old loaves on the floor, which was rubble. There was a smell of wine, though none in evidence. I made a mental note to warn Petronius this bivouac needed sharpening up.

Name's Falco."

What's your problem?" I had not expected to be offered camomile tea and an almond fancy. Even so, the approach seemed belligerent.

Can you supply some information?"

We are not encyclopaedia salesmen." The pallid oaf who was addressing me showed too much of his surly slave origins.

Whatever happened to shmoozing the public? I pay my taxes, you washed-out bucket of whey!" Well I was supposed to pay, and in a previous job for the Emperor I had made many wealthy tax evaders say they were sorry and cough up. That was much more useful to the state than if I had paid my own. A new face homed in. Now then, sir!" This one must have attended a neighbourhood-relationships lecture. What were you wanting?"

Apart from a bit of courtesy? I'd like to know about a fire in the next street where a woman died last year."

We can give you courtesy, high class saluting, and a very hard kick up the arse," said the second man, the charming, witty one, while his idiot cronies ogled. We don't know anything about that fire. Details of past incidents are not made available to the public."

Not unless you pay the record-search fee," inserted a third specimen. I saw his partner thump him, telling him to shut up.

Search fees?" I folded my arms and looked thoughtful. Whose bright idea was that one? I know Vespasian needs to raise money for his civic building programme, but this is new. Is it special to the Sixth? Does it only apply when you cheerful lot are on duty, or is the procedure cohort-wide? Is this Ostia only? Or Rome-led?" Mistake, Falco. The mood grew sinister. Two vigiles who had so far only chewed apples now closed in on me. The loon who had asked for fees squared up. The main spokesman was already only a foot from me. None of them were tall. All were sturdy and wide. By definition they came from rough backgrounds and were employed for hard labour, fearless of danger. They were ill-shaved, dirty-tunicked heavy duty boys, who reeked of smoke and building dust, and none were frightened of me. They were off their home patch, twenty miles from Rome, and confident that their actions here were unlikely to be criticised. I could see why the people of Ostia must have ambivalent feelings about them. The spokesman placed a muscle-bound arm in front of two others.

Now then, lads. This seems to be the sort of grand fellow who will tell us he is best friends with the Urban Prefect." He made it plain that did not worry him. I kept cool and looked him straight in the eye. Prefects are too no remote to count, even if I knew any. I could have mentioned Brunnus – but most likely they hated him; citing their officer could be a very bad idea. I wondered what their names were, but thought better of asking.

We don't know anything at all about any fires last year," the spokesman repeated, inches from my face. His filthy finger prodded my chest. So, Falco He repeated the poke, much harder. We would like you to remove yourself!" The others all took a step towards me. Behind me, my exit was clear so I took it. I heard them laughing. I continued home, feeling soiled and disconcerted. On the first stretch of the Decumanus I kept looking over my shoulder, and I made sure I mingled quickly with the crowds once I reached the Forum. The moron who talked of search fees had plainly asked me for a bribe. The general threat of violence was real. I wondered whether this showed the reaction local people had met when they called for help, the night Diocles" aunt found her house on fire. Then I wondered whether Diocles had been staying with her, last year when the blaze happened. When I returned to our apartment I was gloomy and introspective. Any joy at finally locating the scribe's aunt had vanished when I learned of her death. My confrontation with the vigiles added to my foul mood. I told Helena about the episode, playing it down. We discussed the aunt's tragedy. I can see," I said, that if Diocles had always stayed with her in summer, he may have come back automatically this year. Once he got here, he could have booked into lodgings and then started brooding about what happened to his aunt. If he's sensitive, this could be why he has gone off somewhere."

You think he can't stand being here again, so he's taken himself to have a holiday at Lake Nemi instead?" After Helena asked, You don't think Diocles was applying to join the vigiles so he could expose some inefficiency that caused his aunt's death?" I pulled a face. I know what Petro would suspect if Diocles has a fascination with fires. he'll think Diocles is an arsonist."

No!"

Arsonists don't just start fires, you know. Some like to hide in a portico and watch what happens, but some want to show themselves as heroes who can save people and put fires out. Types like that regularly apply to join the vigiles. Smart recruiting officers have a nose for it and reject them." in

You met a recruiting officer. You thought Rusticus was smart, didn't you, Marcus?" I pondered that. Yes, I did. But thinking back to what he said, he was uneasy, Rusticus was fazed himself and didn't know why he had said no to the scribe. Diocles was a puzzle, not a phenomenon he recognised."