"No!' An almost kindly note came into Cleonyma's voice.

"Your man told me you know his story.'

"It's very simple.'

"And reprehensible? He's running away from something] Or do I mean somebody?'

"Yes.'

"Anyone special?'

"Ought to be!'

"I'm no good at riddles.'

"Leave him alone, poor man.'

I changed the subject obediently. When a witness is such good value, no informer causes upsets. So we moved on to the last member of the group. Phineus.

"I can't say he has ever upset me, but the young girl is right about his habits. He crawls around the women. Any chance to stand too close, put his damn arm around a waist, give a surreptitious squeeze. All the time, he speaks very respectfully. For me, that's the most annoying part! He backs off if anyone stands up to him – though the inexperienced girls don't understand that.'

"Valeria?'

"She was nineteen; she was a bride; she was fair game. Statianus was jealous, but useless, of course…'

Cleonyma paused. I listened too. She had heard Helena calling us.

Cleonyma and I turned back. I put out an arm to shepherd her -then in view of the strictures against Phineus, I thought better of it. Bright woman that she was, Cleonyma noticed and gave a short laugh.

Just before we reached the house, she took a small glass flask from a bag she was carrying, and discreetly supped liquor. Then, straightening up, she walked firmly indoors. Beneath the thick layer of face powder and the gold jewellery, she was showing her age but as we re-entered the house she looked serene, collected and, to a casual observer, quite sober.

Helena was talking to Aquillius. I saw her frown slightly. There would be a good reason why she had interrupted my tete-a-tete. She knew that Cleonyma and I were not discussing tombstone design.

The widow tottered over to Minucia, leaving me free to investigate.

"Marcus, Phineus has asked Aquillius for leave to travel to Delphi; he says he ought to go and look for Statianus!'

"He has given me his parole.' Aquillius already knew I disapproved.

"So you are letting him go?' I was horrified.

"Actually no. I just want you to know that, Falco. I refused him permission.'

"Well, that's a start – How will you ensure he stays in Corinth?'

"He won't disobey my orders,' Aquillius claimed stiffly. I gazed at him, letting him read my doubts. He gazed back, visibly wavering."Oh dear… Well, he told me he would send one of his men.'

"One of the drivers he uses?' That pulled me up. This was an aspect I had been neglecting."Tell me, quaestor – does Phineus have workers who routinely accompany clients on these tours?'

To my surprise, Aquillius did know the answer."No. He hires local people at every site, as and when he needs them.'

That was a relief. He probably hired different ones each time, depending on who was available, so it was unlikely these temporary workers were suspects."Should have guessed! Piecework.'

Aquillius was puzzled, so Helena explained."Paid by the job and then dismissed. Phineus doesn't keep a regular workforce because he is probably too mean. This will be cheaper.' At least it saved me having to spend days wearing myself out in aimless interviews with hostile muleteers and bloody-minded factotums.

I gazed around the banqueting room. We had been granted the full service of the governor's chamberlain, chefs, and table slaves. Most of them would be top-class household staff brought to Greece from the governor's house in Rome. Providing a huge, slick entourage would

be part of establishing his personal status, as -well as an essential tool of Roman diplomacy. Even on campaign, Julius Caesar used to impress shaggy Gallic princes with an enormous marquee which contained not just flunkeys and folding thrones, but a portable floor mosaic. Now that tragedy had brought the Tracks and Temples group at least temporarily within the embrace of their embassy, they were dining off gold plate for once. I would never have risked my best dinner service with this lot, but the governor was not here to object, and Aquillius must see it as his duty to supply the best tureens and salvers.

That did not stop Sertorius grumbling as he passed us that he would have thought Cleonyma would have bought in better wine.

As part of my funeral duties, I had chosen the wine. It was perfectly acceptable. The food had been good too, even though my annoying nephews had played their now-customary game of pointing to cauldrons of aromatic cooked meats, loudly screaming"Pelops!', then giggling hysterically. At most dinners it"would not have mattered, but people on this tour had had myth laminated on to their fraught brains. The tasteless reference to cannibalism among the deities was lost on very few of them.

I looked around for the boys. With Albia and Young Glaucus, they were now amusing themselves fairly politely. Cornelius had brought his soldiers board game and Albia was teaching Glaucus to play, while the boys sprawled on the serving table as spectators. So long as she stopped with the black and white counters and did not start initiating my trainer's son into other moves, I could leave them to it.

Helena, Aquillius, and I surveyed the wake. People had been badly in need of a release; with plenty of nourishment and drink inside them, they were now letting go. The noise level had risen. Soon this would be like a celebration, with little reference to the dead.

First to go was the seating plan. Amaranthus had stayed put, staring into space alone. He looked saturnine and brooding. I wondered if he was considering who would next be picked off by the killer. If so, it definitely bothered him. If he was the killer himself, he should have tried to look more nonchalant.

His partner Minucia had turned her back on him. I could not tell if the couple had had a tiff today, but she was totally ignoring Amaranthus as she ministered to Cleonyma. Cleonyma was standing beside her; she now wore a little wavering smile, not saying much but looking blissful and swaying very, very slightly. It would not last; any minute now she would crumple and weep uncontrollably.

Sertoria Silene had left her family's table and was intently

conversing with Indus. Their voices were low, as a sign of respect for the occasion. Still, they looked as if they had been chatting for some time; it was unforced and agreeable. Her children were not bothering them, for one thing. She was talking with an assurance she never dared show with her husband, while Indus responded happily. Tiberia and Tiberius were slinking around in a colonnade, stalking a kitten they had chosen to torment. A slave they had not noticed was standing in the shadows, keeping an eye on them. She was grasping a large metal ladle. Good.

With his friend Indus occupied, the slyer bachelor, Marinus, was deep in conversation with the widow Helvia. She was letting him enjoy himself as a raconteur while she rearranged her stoles and chuckled at his stories. Now that I knew I should distrust the air of muddled innocence, Helvia seemed a much more intriguing character. She wore a necklace of rather good gold chains. Was this unexpectedly fine item her secret bait? Was Marinus, who thought himself such a smooth operator, about to be tickled into a subtle trap by Helvia's chubby fingers?

Marinus talked on. This was what he did so well. I could just overhear him. Most garrulous fellows with a reputation for an"endless fund' of tales have a much smaller stock than they reckon, but Helvia fluttered admiringly even when his anecdote about the"magic' temple doors that were operated by underground fires came around again. Yes, I could see it now; Helvia knew what she was doing. Marinus clearly underestimated her and his career as a sponger could be under threat.