'He was opposed to it.' I could have guessed that. 'Titus wants you,' said Laeta. His voice dropped uncharacteristically. 'There are some odd circumstances surrounding the woman's escape… exactly your sort of thing, Falco.' Mterwards I knew I should have pursued that straight away, but the hint of flattery diverted me, then Laeta cunningly added, 'Anacrites believes his own resources will suffice.'

'''Resources''? Is he still using Momus, and that dwarf with the enormous feet? And I may know what Veleda looks like, but he hasn't a clue. He won't spot the woman if she steps on his toe and steals his arm-purse… Presumably, the troops Rutilius brought across from Germany to guard her on the journey all saw her? They should be able to recognise her. Has anyone thought of recalling them?'

'Titus. Titus cancelled their leave.' Titus Caesar could think in a crisis. 'They are yours.' Laeta quickly pushed a scroll of names at me. 'Anacrites wants to use the Praetorian Guard. Actually, we couldn't find the whole escort for you – some must have gone to see their mothers at the back of beyond – but these ten men and their officer have been told to report to your house tomorrow, in civilian clothes. '

These must be the ones who were so unlovable their mothers refused to have them home. 'I must tell my wife,' I sneered, 'that she has to entertain ten disgruntled legionaries, who have been robbed of their home leave, in our house for Saturnalia.'

'You'll have to pretend they are your relatives,' said Laeta, nastily. He thought he was insulting my family. He had not met my real relatives; nobody could be as bad. 'The noble Helena Justina will undoubtedly cope. She can charge us for their keep.' That wasn't the point. 'I imagine your young woman's domestic accounting is immaculate. The men have specific orders to behave politely…' Even Laeta tailed off, foreseeing the kind of domestic strife that now awaited me.

'During a festival devoted to misrule? Laeta, you're an optimist!' Glancing at the names on the list, my heart sank even more. I recognised one of them. Rutilius Gallicus must be the kind of bright commander who instinctively picks his most useless men for the most delicate tasks. 'Right -' I braced myself 'I need a full briefing on Veleda's host at this so-called safe house, your Labeo character.' Meekly, Laeta proffered another prepared scroll. I made no attempt to unravel it. 'What's my target completion date?' 'End of Saturnalia?' 'Oh flying phalluses!' 'My dear Falco!' Laeta was now smiling slyly, 'I know you will see this as a race against time, a challenge to beat Anacrites.' 'And that's another thing: I don't want to be pissed about by him. I want the right to overrule him. I want command of the exercise.' Laeta pretended to be shocked. 'Can't be done, Falco.' 'Then I'm out.' He had anticipated trouble. 'I offer you one concession: Anacrites will have no right of command over you. He keeps his normal reporting line; you remain a freelance. You will work to me, of course, but you are nominally acting direct for Titus Caesar. Will that suffice?'

'Have to. I don't want bloody Anacrites getting his debauched hands on the priestess before me -' I grinned salaciously. 'Claudius Laeta, I do know what she looks like, remember: the priestess Veleda is a beautiful girl!'

V

A genuine virgin was waiting on my doorstep when I returned home. That did not happen often now. In fact, I had always preferred my women to possess a degree of experience. Innocence causes all kinds of misunderstandings, and that's even before you get tangled up with your conscience.

This one told me her name was Ganna. She was late teens and tearful, and she begged me to help her. Some informers would have palpitations just thinking about this. I invited her in politely and fixed myself up with a chaperon.

I had never acquired a doorman. Ganna's scared rap on our dolphin knocker had been answered by Albia, our foster-daughter, who was scared of very little except perhaps losing her place in our family. Orphaned as a baby in the Boudiccan Rebellion in Britain, Albia was now also late teens and lived with us, learning to be Roman. With fierce defence tactics against any young woman who looked like a rival, she had commanded Ganna to stay outside. Then she forgot to mention to Helena Justina that a new client had called.

A young female client who was tall, lithe and golden haired… I knew I would enjoy telling my mend Petronius Longus about Ganna. He would be jealous as all Hades.

I made sure I told Helena straight away. I had put Ganna in quarantine in the small blue salon where we saw unexpected visitors; there was nothing to steal and no back way out. Nux, our dog, sat by the door as if on guard. Nux was really a crazy, mendly, frowsty little mutt, always keen to give visitors a guided tour of the rooms where we displayed valuables. Still, I had told Ganna not to make any sudden movements, and with luck she had failed to spot Nuxie wagging that disreputable tail.

Outside in the corridor with Helena, I applied a concerned expression and tried to look like a man she could trust. Helena's chin was up. She looked like a woman who knew exactly what kind of fellow she had married. In an undertone, I sketched in a rapid resume of Laeta's brief. Helena listened, but she seemed pale and tense; she had a slight frown between her dark, definite eyebrows, which I smoothed away with one finger gendy. She said she had failed to find her brother. Nobody knew where Justinus was. He had stonned out that morning and still not returned home. Apart from the one sighting by Pa at the Saepta Julia, Justinus had disappeared.

I hid a smile. So the disgraced Quintus was managing to evade confrontations. 'Don't laugh, Marcus! It's clear that his quarrel with Claudia was serious. 'I'm not laughing. Why spend money on a very expensive present for Claudia, yet not hand it over?' 'So you are as concerned about him as I am, Marcus?' 'Of course.' Well, he would probably turn up here this evening, blind drunk and trying to remember in which seedy wine bar he had left Claudia's present. We marched in on Ganna.

She was perched on a seat, a thin, hunched figure in a long brown gown with a plaited girdle. Her gold torque necklace study told us she came from some predominantly Celtic area and had access to treasure. Perhaps she was a chieftain's daughter. I hoped her papa did not come looking for her here. She had ice-blue eyes in a sweet face, upon which an anxious expression was making her look vulnerable. I knew enough about women to doubt that.

We seated ourselves opposite her, side by side formally like a husband and wife on a tombstone. Stately and brisk, with her best agates nestling on the rich blue gown that covered a wonderful bosom, Helena led the conversation. She had worked with me for the past seven years and regularly handled interrogations where my direct participation would not be respectable. Widows and virgins, and good-looking married women with predatory histories.

'This is Marcus Didius Falco and I am Helena Justina, his wife. Your name is Ganna? So where do you come from, Ganna, and are you happy to speak our language?'

'I live among the Bructeri in the forest beyond the great river. I speak your language,' Ganna said, with the same slight sneer Veleda had had when she made the same boast five years ago. They learned from traders and captured soldiers. The reason they learned Latin was to spy on their enemies. They enjoyed the way their Latin startled us. 'Or would you rather speak Greek?' challenged Ganna.

'Whichever is most comfortable for you!' countered Helena, in Greek – which put a stop to that nonsense.

As a supplicant, Ganna was fiery but desperate. I listened, watching her in silence, as Helena drew out her story. The girl had been Veleda's acolyte. Captured with Veleda, she had been brought here as her companion to give an appearance of propriety. According to her, Rutilius Gallicus had told them they would be honoured guests in Rome. He had implied they would be treated as noble hostages, like princes in the past, who were taught Roman ways, then returned to their home kingdoms to act as friendly client rulers. This was the explanation for placing the women in the safe house, with the senator Quadrumatus Labeo, a man Gallicus knew. They were there for some weeks, then Veleda overheard that she was really to end up paraded in chains in a Triumph and ritually killed. 'Very distressing for her.' Helena thought intelligent women should have foreseen it. 'You call us barbarians!' scoffed Ganna.