"The answer to what?" Cornelius was easily baffled.

"To the question," I told him obliquely. Helena and I gripped one of the lads each and began walking home to our lodgings. "Now you two, where in Hades have you been for hours, worrying us crazy?"

They had been up the acropolis, looking for the Temple of Aphrodite. They had climbed for two hours up the massive granite spur – and taken another two hours back. They had found that the temple existed all right, on the highest crag of all, and that it did harbour prostitutes, who were businesslike, extremely plain, and not the least interested in two Roman boys, since they had hardly any money.

"We didn't want to do anything," Gaius assured me. "We were just curious."

"So you had a healthy walk!" Helena had been anxious, but knew how to avoid showing it. She had had enough practice with me. "I bet there is a wonderful view from up there." Gaius and Cornelius confirmed this. "So nice for the temple ladies to gaze upon glorious scenery, while they are waiting for new clients…"

We had found the boys. They were chastened. That would probably have been the end of it.

Then Cornelius stopped snivelling over being jostled by the Christians and got himself into more trouble by telling us about the sorceress.

The sorceress story took a while to be let slip. By then, Cornelius was back among our group, devouring his dinner at a local eatery as if he had never been scared. I noticed that Gaius remained rather quiet, but he was old enough to know they were in disgrace, even though we were no longer carrying on at them. That was still a possibility, once the wine flowed some more. Gaius knew that all the Didius family would moan on for days, polishing up the argument with every sit-down meal until somebody snapped and threw pots at the wall. "Shut up; it was nothing," he ordered his younger cousin grumpily.

"No, I know she was a sorceress! She had a conical hat."

"Well, that proves she was a witch," mocked Albia. "Was she casting spells behind a tomb?"

"No, she was beside the road," muttered Gaius.

"Vials of toad's blood?" queried Helena. "Purple fire? Dead men's toenails?"

"Jugs of water."

"We went up the hill for a long, long time," Cornelius complained. "We were tired out. We were desperate for a drink -"

"Climbing a steep hill, on a hot day. You took nothing with you?" Glaucbs asked laconically, laying his big palms flat on the table edge. He had been trying to teach them to look after their bodies. Both boys became shamefaced again.

"Anyway, it was all right," Cornelius sounded virtuous. "We got some. We came on this strange old woman -"

"Really old?" Helena checked with Gaius. He pulled a face, implying not necessarily. "And how strange exactly?" Gaius saw that defining female strangeness might embarrass him, so he ripped up a loaf and stuffed it in his mouth. Helena and Albia exchanged a glance.

Cornelius rushed on with his tale. This old woman was sitting cross-legged on a big ledge. She had water containers and some cups,

and she offered us a drink. I was scared of her but we were so hot, I thought we would die if we didn't have any."

"How much did it cost?" I asked. They wriggled and managed to avoid telling me.

"The thing was. Now Cornelius was indignant. "When we got just a little way further on, we came to a spring, which people told us was the upper fountain of Peirene. So we could have had a nice cold drink there for free. She cheated us."

"No doubt the upper fountain was where she filled her water pots… And that's sorcery?" Helena smiled at him. "Sounds as if she's just a good businesswoman."

Gaius cracked a clam shell, deliberately trying to break a tooth. He was mortified at being outwitted by some crone in a straw hat. I assured him the Corinthian drinks scam probably went back centuries. "You won't be the first sweet-natured innocent who fell for it."

"She wasn't local." Gaius spoke in a doom-laden voice. "Just an itinerant, passing through Corinth on her way to a new pitch. Uncle Marcus, we did talk to her; we tried to pick her brains like professionals. She goes to different places. She always sets up on hills. People flag, as they struggle with the climb, and are grateful she is there. She works at Olympia sometimes. She sits on the Hill of Cronus. So Cornelius and I think you should go up the acropolis here and talk to her."

"Well that's it." I banged my spoon down on the table. "This is the last time you two are let out on your own. As a consequence of today's ridiculous jaunt, I too am supposed to tire myself out and get heat stroke, in order to have some batty conversation with a gnarled old Greek granny who cheats little boys of their pocket money and calls it a public service."

Nobody spoke for a few moments.

"You could take a donkey," Helena suggested sweetly. After a second she added, "I'll give you some pocket money, darling, so the sorceress can cheat you out of it."

I was all set to scale the acropolis like an obedient informer. I would have gone mountaineering first thing next day. I got as far as preparing a portable breakfast, my hiking cloak and a staff to lean on. Then we had a visitor.

It was Aquillius. He had plenty of good manners, though little common sense. How are you finding the Elephant?" At last he looked around the courtyard of our lodging, and deigned to notice the building work. "So sorry, Falco; normally this is a very comfortable billet. Many people have recommended it. I don't know why nobody told me there was renovation going on. I could move you…'It was not a serious offer.

I brushed aside his platitudes. "I'll move us myself, if the wife wants it." No chance to ask her. Helena had spotted the quaestor's purple tunic bands as he wandered through the entrance arch; she had fled indoors. "What can I do for you?"

Aquillius handed me a scroll, another letter from Aulus. "This came for you!" He seemed impressed that we were receiving correspondence.

"Where from?"

"On a boat from Athens. Somebody knows you are here, Falco?"

"Lucky guess," I bluffed. "Wife's brother; nice lad. We'll have to try and get to see him; he's supposed to be studying, bound to be homesick." Since we had been told yesterday by Volcasius that Aulus had made himself scarce with Statianus, I decided not to link Aulus with my enquiry unless I had to. Statianus might yet turn out to be his wife's killer. If Aulus had allied himself with the bridegroom misguidedly, it could cause problems.

I was eager to read the letter – and to reply to it. Aulus needed to be warned off Statianus.

"Couple of points, Falco. Do you mind if we talk about business?" Aquillius was so used to treating his Greek post as a holiday, he seemed embarrassed to mention work. I waved him to a bench. Unwinding

myself from my cloak, which he had apparently not noticed, I dumped my hiking stave and sat down with him.

"I'm glad you're here, Aquillius. Something I need to ask you. One of the tour group.

"How do you find them?" he interrupted.

"They look like fluff balls, but every one is as sharp as a butcher's hatchet. One is missing. Plucking at the purple band on his tunic, Aquillius grew nervous that this lost parolee might be his fault. I'll rephrase that," I said, in a kind voice. "Make it two." Now he was even more nervous. Part of his purple braid was done for. "One is merely missing – Statianus, the dead woman's husband. I'm sure you've done a head count, so I am sure you realised." Irony is a wonderful tool. "Another of them is dead. I expect you know that too." I expected he did not know. Aquillius just looked wide-eyed and eager to please as usual. "Turcianus Opimus, travelling for his health, died at Epidaurus. That death needs to be checked carefully. Once people start dropping from unnatural causes, you have to scrutinise those who die from so-called natural ones.