The Spook Who Spoke Again
Author: Lindsey Davis
Date: 2015-03-05 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: fiction; mystery; historical fiction; rome; kindle
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Contents

Also by Lindsey Davis

Title Page

Copyright

ROME: the Circus of Gaius and Nero in the Transtiberina - August AD 89

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Also by Lindsey Davis

The Course of Honour

Rebels and Traitors

Master and God

The Falco Series

The Silver Pigs

Shadows in Bronze

Venus in Copper

The Iron Hand of Mars

Poseidon’s Gold

Last Act in Palmyra

Time to Depart

A Dying Light in Corduba

Three Hands in the Fountain

Two for the Lions

One Virgin too Many

Ode to a Banker

A Body in the Bath House

The Jupiter Myth

The Accusers

Scandal Takes a Holiday

See Delphi and Die

Saturnalia

Alexandria

Nemesis

The Flavia Albia Series

The Ides of April

Enemies at Home

Deadly Election (publishing 9 April 2015)

Falco: The Official Companion

THE SPOOK WHO SPOKE AGAIN

A Flavia Albia Short Story

Lindsey Davis

www.hodder.co.uk

First published in Great Britain in 2015 by

Hodder & Stoughton

An Hachette UK company

Copyright © Lindsey Davis 2015

2

The right of Lindsey Davis to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 1 473 61700 1

Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

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ROME: the Circus of Gaius and Nero in the Transtiberina

August AD 89

1

As soon as I got there, my mother said, ‘We must put on a revival of Falco’s old play to celebrate.’

It sounded as if she was trying to make me feel at home, but now I had no home. She had come and removed me from where I lived with my other mother and Falco, and taken me to Nero’s Circus, where her troupe of entertainers had arrived to work for a season. I think it is wrong that a very intelligent boy should have to live in a tent. Especially if he must share it with his mother and a large snake.

My change of circumstance came as no surprise. I had met her, the mother who bore me, because she came to our house every few years to have a look at me. She was very tall, with bulging muscles. She never wore respectable dress, only theatrical costumes. She must have decided what size to wear many years ago when she was smaller, so I could see parts of her that I had never been able to inspect closely on other women, even on statues, squeezing out of her tiny costumes. The clothes were bright coloured and trimmed in exotic ways. I keep lists of interesting things and after several visits I had written down: glass spangles, feathers, fur, braid, gold cord, silver beads, and leather fringing. The feathers were from peacocks, ostriches and parrots, all birds she had owned herself in her menagerie, though some had pined away and had their feathers plucked after they died, she said.

According to her, she visited my family out of affection for me, to see how I was getting on. My other mother, the one who brought me up, let out a snort as she said that affection had nothing to do with it. Thalia, my mother, wanted to see if I was useful yet. I was twelve now, or so she claimed, although my other mother muttered that I was probably eleven because Thalia fudged my date of birth as part of her daft scheming to disguise who my father was.

I am not supposed to know about that. Why does my father need to be disguised? Is he a god who visited earth one day? That would make me a demi-god, like Hercules.

I am good at listening so I have discovered three definite things. Number one: I am Marcus Didius Alexander Postumus, son of Marcus Didius Falco, yet Falco is not my real father, he adopted me. When I question him, it sounds as if he did not want to do that, yet I have to admit he treats me the same as the others, except of course I am a boy so I have special rights. According to Falco, who is a rather dry person, my special rights as a Roman are to be bullied by my female relatives and to eat porridge, the dish of our ancestors. We never have porridge at our house so this cannot be right.

If my father had the kind of son he likes, it would be someone boisterous who makes a lot of friends, and who is pally with his father all the time. They would go fishing off the Probus Bridge and wrestle each other around the house, damaging vases, while my mother asked them to please grow up. This is not me.

The second and third things I have found out are as follows. Number two: my mother who bore me always says that my father was Didius Favonius, the auctioneer who founded our family business. I mean the business in my adopted family. Favonius, who was also known as Geminus because he liked to cause confusion, died before I was born. He was Falco’s father so this is why an obligation to take care of me was imposed on Falco. But when Falco and my other mother speak together in private, which they often do although I can find a way to listen if I want to, sometimes they allude to a man in Alexandria. He is Number three. I do not know his name because they just say ‘the man in Alexandria’ in hinting voices. They appear to consider he occupies a position of importance, though they also call him a zoo-keeper. That is interesting, though not something to be proud of. I do not know how I can go to Alexandria to ask him anything, so I generally pay him no attention. Being my father is a demanding honour which cannot be left to someone in Egypt whose social rank and occupation seem mysterious.

If I ever find out he really is a person of importance, I shall hasten to him in order to take up my rightful place. ‘Don’t do that,’ says my sister Albia; ‘I met him, Postumus; he is a philanderer, despite being married. Like most of the bastards.’ My sister is an embittered woman, even though she denies it. But she has an unusual past so can therefore expound on many subjects in a firm tone of voice.

My other mother is Helena Justina. She nearly had a son of her own, but her baby died when he was born, so she had to have me instead, because I had been dumped on Falco to be taken care of. Helena and Falco had adopted Albia before, but that was from choice because they found her running wild in horrible Britain and she looked intriguing. Sometimes I feel that Helena does not like me as much as her daughters, but she hides it well. Most people do not take to me, I know, which was why I valued Ferret.

When my real mother came to fetch me from home, my other parents sat down for a council and gave me the choice of whether to go. Legally I belong to them, but morally Thalia has a claim on me. Falco and Helena asked very kindly if freedom to decide for myself worried me, but I set their minds at ease. I decided the experience would be one of value to someone with an enquiring mind, as I have.

My other mother sternly told Thalia that if I went with her, there were conditions. Helena Justina is good at conditions. Falco says it is her natural gift, yet he still loves her.

Helena’s conditions about me are cleverly thought out, which is what she is like: first, if I ever want to return home, I must be allowed to do it straightaway. Second, Thalia is not ever to take me outside Rome. Third, I must be sent over the river to have dinner at Falco’s house once a week. I suppose then they will quiz me about whether I am happy living in a tent with circus performers and animals, or do I want to be a boy in a respectable home again. Their concern is unnecessary because if I want to go back I shall just do it of my own accord, using a map I have drawn to avoid asking directions from any strangers who might be unreliable. Fourth, I can have my ferret.

The fourth condition was breached on the first day.

What I am writing down here is the conversation that I would have had with Ferret, if I could still talk to him, about my life with the entertainment company. In the time that I owned him, which was one year, seven months and three weeks, we had many exchanges in private. Talking to Ferret helped me explore my ideas about the world. I found him an excellent companion, who never made a fuss about listening to me. He did not try to put forward ideas of his own. When you talk to other people, unfortunately they are prone to joining in, as if they think you want to hear an alternative to your own theories, but their ideas are mostly inferior to mine so I don’t.

You are wondering why I could not speak to him now. I regret to report, Ferret was no longer available to be my companion. A huge snake called Jason had eaten him.

My mother Thalia, who is Jason’s owner, claimed I was mistaken and Ferret would turn up. I knew she was lying.

I was extremely annoyed about this. If nobody else cared about knowing what happened, which they obviously didn’t, it was up to me to investigate, as my father and my eldest sister do in their work as informers. I have watched how they go about it so I know what to do. When I had proved who was to blame, I must then impose justice. Father and Albia have explained this. Murder is a capital offence. The cruel person who commits murder has to die. This is the law. Superior-quality murderers are told to commit suicide with their own swords in order to save state expense, says Falco, while inferior ones are sent to the arena lions and gobbled up. That provides public entertainment and a warm sense of well-being in criminals who have managed not to get caught, says Albia.

Being devoured as a punishment would be appropriate for the python after he ate my ferret, but I was not sure how to arrange it. I have never heard of a snake being condemned to the arena. Or even put on trial first. Of course, if my father was a god and I was a demi-god, there would be no problem. Hercules strangled two snakes in his cradle, so I should be able to manage one python.

Jason behaved as if he thought himself superior quality, but I doubted whether he would commit suicide on my orders. He didn’t own a sword. Thalia says he is easy to train, but only by her because he is used to her. If I wasn’t a demigod, I might not manage to execute him myself, because I could see he is too strong. When Thalia does her rude dance with him, even though she is large she can barely carry his weight on her big shoulders. However, those of us who investigate guilty acts must go beyond the mere explanation of what happened, my other mother, Helena, says. We have to ensure justice on behalf of victims, to help their grieving relatives and friends. Also, there has to be social order.

So I decided Thalia was to blame because she owns this snake, and she kept him loose in her tent. If Ferret was to be properly avenged, I must apply the penalty. I would have to execute my mother.

2

The first thing you have to do when you investigate is make notes about the crime scene. This depends on being able to gain access, because the guilty parties or other annoying occupants may try to keep you out. Inspecting the scene of my ferret’s death was no problem, however, because I was living there. And so I can easily describe it.

My father has told me how to write up an enquiry. I don’t have a paying client to report to, but I still have to be specific, to help any poor barbarians who might read my account one day. So pay attention, hairy barbarians: the death of my ferret took place in the year of the consuls Titus Aurelius Fulvus and Marcus Asinius Atrantinus. Do not ask me who they are. Nonentities who won’t annoy the Emperor, says Falco. Ones who like risk, adds Albia. It happened in the city of Rome in Italy, Europe, the World. It was August and scorchingly hot.

A famous fact is that Rome is built on seven hills, but I know there are more. I have been making a list in my geography notebook and so far I have counted twelve hills, if you include the Oppian, Janiculan, Vatican, Cispian and Velian. While Mons Testaceus is a hill too, it consists of broken potsherds so I have decided that it doesn’t count. I believe the real ones are called: the Capitoline, Palatine, Aventine, Esquiline, Quirinal, Caelian and Viminal. As you can see, the hills of Rome are very badly organised. If I have identified the real Seven Hills correctly, they are all on the other side of the river from where Ferret was killed. They are in the main part of the city, where I grew up.

The river I mentioned is the famous River Tiber. It is the most important river in Italy, though it is full of brown mud and its flow is often sluggish. Don’t fall in or jump in because you may catch horrible diseases. It goes right past our house (where I used to live before Thalia collected me), which is on the Marble Embankment, a favourable position where you can look out and watch ships. Before the embankment was properly built, the house flooded every year. I have never seen that happen, I am sorry to say, but our downstairs rooms all have strange patches on their plaster and in winter they smell peculiar.

From our roof, which my father has cluttered up with flowerpots, you can look over the river at the Janiculan Hill. That is one of the extra hills of Rome that have been incorrectly added in by people who are not methodical. Lying below the Janiculan ridge is the Transtiberina district where many colourful foreigners live. It is the only official district of Rome on that side of the river. I was brought up on this side in the Aventine District, which is number thirteen. Thalia had taken me across to the Transtiberina, number fourteen, which is where Ferret was going to have his fatal meeting with the python. It was the first time Ferret and I visited the Transtiberina properly because I am not allowed to cross any of the bridges on my own.

Sometimes rules like that are imposed on me by Falco or Helena, who say it is for my safety. Usually I just pretend I have forgotten them telling me, and then I do what I want anyway. The rule about the bridges had managed to be followed correctly, mainly because I had not yet examined the lifestyles and character of any foreigners, a subject I was saving up until I could study them properly. I believe there are rather a lot of them and it will take a long time to place them all in categories.

I was interested to be taken across the river now, though as we made the journey many of the people we passed stared at us, which I found unpleasant. Thalia had clearly never heard my father’s rule, which he endlessly tells us, of do not draw attention to yourself. Her tiny clothes and the way she bulged out of them caused much excitement. She could never have gone on surveillance anywhere, if she suddenly spotted a villain who needed watching. The villain would notice her at once. She was in front, riding a donkey and carrying my luggage, so I lagged behind as much as possible hoping that nobody thought I was with her. Some whistled. Some called out rude words. I tried to remember the words, to add to a collection I keep.

From other occasions when Thalia had visited Rome, I had worked out why she set up camp in the Transtiberina. A lot of the people who worked for her and all of the animals were foreign, so they fitted in over there. Another reason was that the entertainments they gave to the public generally happened in that location. At the far end of the Janiculan Hill, the north end, the Emperor Nero had built a Circus, when he wanted to race in chariots with people watching and cheering his expertise. It’s called the Circus of Gaius and Nero because the earlier emperor Gaius began it, only he was killed for being a crazy madman. He sounds an interesting subject for study. Later, Nero thought it would make a good place for chariots. He was also a crazy madman so went well with Gaius. I could say like someone else we know, but I had better not in case our emperor kills me. He is fond of executions.

Close by is another arena that was built by the first Emperor, Augustus, who was horribly sane, a building which is called the Naumachia because it can be flooded with water in order to be used for mock naval battles. Once a year, Thalia and her people put on shows in Gaius and Nero’s Circus and in the Naumachia, though not when it is full of water.

When we got there I found that the entertainers were living next to the Circus. They had created a village of tents, alongside which were cages and pens for their menagerie. I could hear barking and roaring from some distance away. The tents were all sizes and made of different materials, such as skins, felt, leather and hemp. Most had fancy swags or banners hung on them so the effect was untidy but cheerful. On average, the tents had long ridge poles and straight sides, like temples, but some were round with pointed or domed roofs, like the famous Hut of Romulus on the Palatine Hill to which I had once been taken as an educational visit. It is made of sticks and smells bad inside.

Thalia had the largest tent, a long dark red one that I saw at once was luxurious compared to the others, so this showed that she was the most important person here. I was glad that I was not expected to live in an inferior tent.

Her tent had a fine round entrance with a domed roof. When we arrived, Thalia said, ‘Stay here for a mo’ in the pavilion and don’t touch anything.’ Adding, ‘I know what men are like! Juno, don’t I know it …’ I hoped she wouldn’t tell me anything embarrassing about why she said that.

Left on my own, I stood in the doorway, letting my eyes grow accustomed to the dim interior. Soon I made out that the inside roof of the first part was decorated in moon and stars designs. This formed a reception area. Beyond it lay one long private room, but big enough for Thalia’s bed, and many piles and baskets of stuff. There were wooden supports at various places, which you had to dodge around. Thinking about it afterwards, a furious chase could happen around those tent poles if somebody was trying to rush away from a dangerous antagonist. No antagonist would come after Thalia, they would be too scared of her.

She had dumped my possessions on the ground while she went off to stable the donkey. I noticed that its welfare was more important than seeing to me, which was because Thalia is good with animals. In my experience, she is less good with boys. But she thinks she is. When she came back, I was still standing in the doorway. She gave me a suspicious glance as if she thought I probably had gone in and touched things, though of course she found no evidence. I am very good at not leaving a trail.

‘Come in, don’t be shy, Postumus. Nobody’s going to eat you,’ she said. Then ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, showing that she is an alert woman. ‘I ought to have said something about my snake – I suppose you met Jason?’

Yes, I had.

While I was by myself, waiting for her to come back, I heard a sudden rustling noise. There was a large pile of cluttered up garments and what looked like curtains close to the doorway. I was rather surprised when I saw that the tangled mound was moving. Out of it slid Jason. He had come to have a look at me. I looked right back, which he seemed not to be expecting.

I knew who he was. I had heard about him. My father hates him. Falco tells us anecdotes. He has known this snake for many years from encounters with Thalia. He always says Jason looks for a reason to run up inside his tunic and bite him somewhere painful. I knew that pythons can bite; they really overpower their prey by squeezing tight until they are suffocated, but snakes do have teeth, which are sharp, to help them fasten on to their prey while they start constricting.

You probably wonder why a boy who was brought up in a nice home in Rome knows all the facts about snakes. We have a library, which contains an encyclopaedia. I am allowed to read whatever articles I like, so long as I don’t drop ink or parts of my lunch on the scrolls, also if anyone else has left a slip to mark their place while they are working, I must never remove it. I don’t, although sometimes for fun I add a lot of extra slips to confuse people, poked in beside articles no one would ever want to read, for example on Theological Syncretism or on the Sieve of Eratosthenes. I wish I had my own sieve, the Sieve of Postumus.

I looked up snakes. As soon as I was told that I had a mother who owned pythons and who danced with them in public, I thought I had best know what I had to deal with. So I knew what to expect from Jason when he slithered out of the garments and curtains. Sections of him kept coming until he was six feet in length. That meant he was fully grown. If he seized hold of me, I would find him powerful and hard to escape.

His markings were mainly shimmery gold, with irregular patterns of dark brown and sometimes white, as if his skin had cracked and deeper colours were leaking through. He had dark eyes, so I could tell he was not shedding his skin, which I had learned would make his eyes turn blue. His head was shaped like a trowel and I looked at his mouth carefully because I had been told that a large python can eat a small boy. Only a very sensational encyclopaedia would inform you of that, but I heard it from Katutis, my father’s secretary. Katutis comes from Egypt and likes to tell me amazing nonsense to see if I foolishly believe him. It is a very annoying habit. Why would a person want to be a nuisance to somebody else?

Sizing up the situation carefully, I could not see how I would fit in, even though snakes’ mouths are specially hinged to enable them to eat large things. My sisters call me chubby, which would now be very useful if it protected me from Jason.

I wondered if he would let me take hold of his jaws to test how wide his mouth would open. It might be premature to try so I would observe him more, before I did any experiments. Experiments need to be thoughtfully planned. I have learned that by having them go wrong.

He reared up and swung about, taking a good look at me. His tongue was flickering. That is so they can smell you. A nervous boy might have been frightened but I decided not to let him think it. My father had always told us Jason was a bully. Father says you have to stand up to bullies because they will be very surprised. Sometimes for a joke, he adds they will be so surprised they’ll hit you harder. But you will feel better in yourself, he adds comfortingly.

I folded my arms and said in a clear voice: ‘My name is Marcus Didius Alexander Postumus and I have come to live here. Thalia is my birth mother so I shall have certain privileges. I expect you believe you are king of this pavilion, but all that is now changing. Don’t give me any trouble or I shall be compelled to assert my authority.’

He hissed at me.

‘I presume you are insecure and nervous,’ I replied calmly to the presumptuous python. Falco had warned me he had a nasty attitude. ‘But that’s enough nonsense, Jason.’ I thought about picking him up and putting him back in his pile of curtains, but I could see he was too big. If he was stretched up vertically by his pointed tail, he would be one and a half times as high as I am. His body was fat and round, indicating he would weigh a lot if anyone tried to lift him and put him away to make the tent tidier.

To subdue him I would have to use my superior status and personality. ‘Behave yourself please. I am the young master and you will just have to put up with it.’

Jason immediately became cowed. He curled up in a ball as if he was trying to hide. That was when my mother came back.

‘I’m glad to find you getting on so well together,’ she remarked. ‘If you have an old tunic you don’t want to wear, we can put it near his nest so he can get used to your scent.’

I did have an old tunic in my luggage, because when Helena was packing for me she had said, ‘I shall put this in, darling, so you can make a bed for Ferret where he will feel at home.’ She had not said she was relieved to be getting rid of him because of him scenting his territory all around our house, although I knew she must be. Mothers are a little fussy about smells. He also jumped out at people unexpectedly while he was busy exploring.

Anyway, instead of complaining, Helena Justina stroked his fur and told me she would miss him. ‘Though not as much as I shall miss you, Postumus.’ This was an example of her being a kind and loving mother, which she is. I decided I should jump into her arms and hug her in case Helena was feeling miserable about me going.

Look after your mother, Father always says. Of course I am a dutiful boy. Still, it was going to be rather time-consuming, now I had two.

Thalia told me some more about Jason, who remained curled up. ‘He’ll soon unwind his daft self and come nosing out to see who I’ve brought to live here. Snakes are inquisitive and they love to explore.’ I informed her that the same is true of ferrets. Mine would be popping his head out of my sleeve any moment to look around the place where I had brought him. He likes expeditions, though I have to keep hold of him in case he runs into any dark places and I can’t lure him back out.

‘Hmm,’ answered Thalia, in the kind of voice people use when you have just asked for permission to go outside and watch two drunk men fighting one another on the embankment. I now realise she must have been thinking Ferret might pop inside Jason for a look around in him, and Jason would eagerly let him become lunch. ‘Don’t go upsetting my big boy, Postumus; pythons easily go right off their food if they are worried about anything. Next time someone catches a rat I can show you how I have to tempt this big softie into eating.’ She had a thought. ‘As for your ferret, I suggest you keep him close with you, where you can supervise what he gets up to.’

She did not say why. She must have known what was likely to happen.

3

I was allocated bedding and a pillow, which I was to stow neatly in daytime. This seemed silly, since the tent was full of clutter, but I bided my time about mentioning what I thought. We ate a meal with other people then I went to sleep in my mother’s tent, with no idea it would so soon become a crime scene. If I had known, I would have made a drawing of where everything was, especially the position of the python.

Next morning, everyone got up as soon as there was any light. I was still sleepy. Thalia explained that they all had to look after the animals, a task with which I must help them now I was here. She did not ask whether I agreed. I saw what my family had always meant when they said she would want me to be useful to her. I was to be shovelling out fouled straw.

I discovered my job when I was taken to meet the menagerie keeper. Lysias was a thin man with a weird expression and long hair tied into a rat’s tail on top of his head. I saw that he preferred being among the animals to enduring people. He had chosen to be an eccentric character. I respected him for that. I tried to see how he had arranged his hair, thinking I might grow mine long and do it the same, but I could tell he did not like me looking.

My mother left me at the menagerie while she went to rehearsal with some acrobats. Lysias inspected me, sniffing the air, just as the python had done yesterday. He introduced his two assistants, Hesper and Sizon, who were busy throwing raw meat to the animals. They were low-grade, crude men, not minding if they got blood on their tunics.

‘Thalia’s boy,’ said Lysias, meaning I was important.

‘She’s got a weird one there,’ replied Hesper. ‘He does a lot of staring.’ Staring is one of the things people usually notice about me.

Sizon made no comment, only handed me his broom with a gesture that made a statement: he had done the menial tasks until today, but now he was glad it was my turn.

Lysias became extremely stern as he explained that I was never to go into any animal’s pen or cage unless the others had moved out the animal to another cage for safety. None of them ever went into a cage on their own. Once a man called Fronto had been eaten by a panther when he accidentally let himself be trapped with it. Nobody who had heard him screaming or who helped gather up his bloody remains would ever forget. Not that there were many remains, declared Lysias with a cruel laugh. ‘Don’t mention Fronto to Thalia. It’s old history but she still gets weepy. She made us keep that panther for years, out of respect, in case part of Fronto was still inside.’

I asked had she been very fond of Fronto? Hesper chortled no, only being humped by him. I worked out what that meant, so I nodded wisely. Lysias told Hesper to watch it, without specifying what needed to be watched.

The animals they had were: a wild boar (very grumpy), antelopes (who huddled together and kept trembling), a camel, two young cheetahs who had long legs and unpleasant manners, a bull, a kennelful of trained dogs and three ostriches who caused a lot of trouble. ‘Watch out, they peck.’ The best was a half-grown lion called Roar.

They had had a giraffe until last week when it had died. I was sorry to hear that, I commented politely. Hesper sniggered that I hadn’t minded eating a steak off her for dinner last night. I think he was trying to upset me but I agreed it had been tasty and there was no point being put off eating a creature I never even met, so then Hesper looked disappointed.

He and Sizon were disappointed again when they moved the wild boar out of his cage for me to clean up after him. They thought I would refuse to do anything, or that if I tried I would be useless. They were ignorant people. I just went in and got on with sweeping out the poo and stinky old bedding. I knew how to take responsibility for animals. I had Ferret, after all. I had to look after him myself; it was one of Helena’s conditions for me owning him at home.

We had also once had an extremely old dog who was prone to accidents. She belonged to all of us, though mainly Father. Anyone who saw a mess on a mosaic had to run and clean it up at once, to stop Father becoming miserable because he loved that dog and could not bear her becoming so old and helpless. Uncle Lucius Petronius came to gently ‘help her on her way’. I don’t know how he did it, because although I wanted to watch he shut the door.

After that Father buried the dog at our other house on the Janiculan Hill, where my dead grandfather and baby brother are. He didn’t give her a tombstone but he told us if he had, it would have said: Nux, best and happiest of dogs, run with joy through all Elysium, dear friend. We all liked to talk about her jumping up on ghosts. I wondered whether they would squeak with spooky surprise if Nuxie came up behind and sniffed them with a cold nose.

After I got the boar’s cage nice and clean, I asked where to put the sweepings, so Sizon led me to a barrow; I just sensibly picked up the straw on a shovel, loaded the barrow then wheeled it to the midden heap. Straw is light. It was not onerous. I cheered myself along by an incantation of ‘O pigshit, pigshit, pigshit, pigshit!’ which is a famous saying by my grandfather, Geminus. He must have been jolly. My marching song seemed to impress Hesper and Sizon.

The whole job was smelly and dirty. Luckily I was wearing the old tunic Helena had given me to be Ferret’s bed. I had left him asleep in my best tunic instead, which would be nicer for him. He had tried running around all night, exploring, and in the morning he was so dozy he only wanted to stay behind so that is why I left him in the tent. Jason seemed to be a nocturnal creature too, and Thalia snored, so it had been quite noisy in the tent. But when I left in the morning, Jason was asleep and I forgot he might pose a danger.

At the menagerie, I decided I would make scientific notes about the different kind of droppings that the animals deposited. I explained to Hesper and Sizon how this would need to be done, tomorrow when I brought a note tablet for making descriptions and a ruler for measuring the pieces of poo. I have a surveyor’s folding measure that Father once brought home from the auction house, because he thought I would like it. This was correct. I use it all the time. I could tell that Hesper and Sizon failed to see the seriousness of my planned experiment.

At lunchtime my mother came along. They tried to hand me back to her but they had no luck. Announcing that she was glad we were all getting on together so nicely, Thalia went off again, saying she had to have a meeting in her tent with a man called Soterichus, a dealer in exotic animals. The meeting was private. Lysias would have to look after me that afternoon. I was given strict instructions not to go along and interrupt. ‘I suppose you know what “strict instructions” means, Postumus?’

I nodded. ‘Strict’ ones are where it is best to wait a long while before you ignore them, so it will seem better when you pretend that because you are only a little boy, you forgot being told the instructions.

Having diligently mucked out the cages, I found myself at a loose end. This often happens to me. When I am allocated a chore, I carry it out methodically. I never waste time gossiping. What is the point of that? Brooms are not for leaning on. I never have much I want to gossip about anyway. I keep things to myself for future use.

If I can invent a better way to do a task than other people use, which I generally can because I am more scientific, I usually speed up the process, whatever it is. Soon my task is completed, and to a good standard. Then I have to find something else to do.

When Lysias inspected my work he seemed both surprised and impressed. That was what I had expected. ‘Of course it all has to be done again tomorrow, young Postumus.’

‘Of course it does,’ I agreed calmly. ‘Animals poo out their bowels every day, just as you do, Lysias. Unless you have constipation.’

‘That’s my business,’ said Lysias, with a guarded expression.

‘Or if you can’t go, it isn’t!’ I jested merrily.

He just glared, but this was a good conversation with him.

To while away the rest of that afternoon while Thalia was having her meeting, I looked around the menagerie and inspected how it was run. Members of the public were being allowed in to look at the beasts. A very beautiful young woman called Pollia was taking their entrance money. She was dressed like an acrobat in a short skirt that showed her legs a lot, at least as far as her Diana the Huntress boots. I could tell she didn’t really want to do that job, so I offered to take over. I like to be helpful, if I have nothing else to do.

Pollia rushed off happily. Before she went, I saw her giving Hesper a squeeze and a kiss. I made a note that Hesper must be her boyfriend or her husband. In my opinion anyone that beautiful could have done better for herself.

Although I was not yet investigating a crime, I knew that in any new circle of acquaintances you should take notes of who belongs with whom, because it may be useful to know if anyone is cheating on someone. You then don’t say the wrong thing at social gatherings. That is easily done unless you concentrate hard. So I decided that once I had access to my note tablets in the tent again, I would devise a chart of people who were linked to each other. I could write down all those I met. Once I learned their names and something about them, I would draw lines between the ones I noticed were particularly friendly with each other.

While I was taking the menagerie’s entrance money from the public for Pollia, I realised that the entertainers ought to charge a larger ticket price. I had several times visited the imperial vivarium at Laurentum, where a collection of wild elephants roam about the sand dunes; Laurentum is a coastal town not far from where we have our seaside holiday villa. The point is, I knew how much it costs to be admitted to see the imperial elephant herd, so I reasoned that we could ask for almost that much money. Not quite as much, because these were not the emperor’s animals. On the other hand, nobody had to travel anywhere to see them, they were conveniently here in Rome.

I didn’t ask Lysias, but when I took over I just raised the ticket price myself. It wasn’t written anywhere. When people arrived they were told what they had to pay. Nobody argued when I said my new cost. I told everyone they must now apply my new price. Although they looked surprised, they seemed to accept what I said.

The entertainers were lucky to have my expert knowledge. To make the increased price good value, I gave visitors a short lecture on the animals they were going to see, and I showed them around myself, making sure they learned as many useful things as possible. People ought to have an educational experience, not just stand by the cages with their eyes popping, waiting to squeal if some wild beast roared at them. That is no benefit at all.

Roar did roar. His body was half-grown but his roar was already stupendous. I liked him.

As the afternoon wore on, the public stopped coming. I was tired and growing bored. I really wanted to go to get my note tablets, to start all the new charts and lists I had invented. Also, I thought it was high time someone kept accounts for the menagerie ticket money. Thalia still never appeared again, so I wandered closer to her tent. Perhaps she had just forgotten to come and fetch me.

I had asked Lysias who Soterichus was and what my mother was discussing with him.

‘He’s an animal importer from North Africa. He supplied the damned giraffe that sickened on us. Thalia will be having a go at him over that, then trying to extract a refund. We know he wants us to take a crocodile off his hands as quid pro quo. Nightmare. Can’t be trained to perform and they are too bloody dangerous. She won’t fall for it – at least I damn well hope she doesn’t.’

As I mooched about looking at the tent, I noticed the door flaps to the round entrance part had been lowered, though the tapes down the edges were not actually tied up. I was thinking about squirming close and peeking through the flaps to see what was happening inside.

While I was planning my move, I had one of my big ideas. North Africa is where Egypt is.

I went back to the menagerie and asked Lysias what part of North Africa the beast supplier had come from.

‘Alexandria, I suppose. They all do.’

So that was when I solved the mystery. Soterichus must be ‘the man in Alexandria’ that Falco and Helena Justina spoke about. I knew then why I was forbidden from interrupting. Thalia wanted to stop me meeting him. The man who was in her tent with her must be my real father.

4

I assumed Thalia and Soterichus must be doing ‘what men and women do’ which is what my sisters say to keep it a secret from me. I think I know what it is, though I have never seen it happening. Julia and Favonia explained that this is how people make babies, so I wondered if my mother would have another one. Since I had three sisters already, two of them very annoying, I didn’t need more and even though silly people sometimes suggest I must want a little brother, they are wrong.

I decided to go in and put a stop to this.

I strolled up to the tent humming, so it would seem as if I was breaking the strict instructions by accident, while very busy thinking about other things. When I went inside, I saw that what men and women do is to sit on cushions with a low table in front of them, containing little drinks cups for visitors, like the silver ones Father has for dealers at his antiques warehouse when he is trying to make them pay too much for items. There was also a large bag of money and tablets of lists. I had not known that making a baby is a financial transaction, though I suppose it makes sense. Father is always saying that bringing up his children costs him a lot of money.

I might ask my mother how much she paid Soterichus for me. She seemed too busy at the moment to ask. She wasn’t taking much notice of me coming into the tent because she had Jason coiled around her and he was fidgeting.

I was disappointed in Soterichus. He was an unhappy-looking man with a big belly and a red face. Although his beard was stubbly, otherwise he had very little hair, with what remained being crinkled and greyish. He was dressed in a long brown tunic, with deep, brightly coloured braid on the hem. He wore battered old sandals through which big ugly toes were visible, with thick snagged nails, and he had several bangles on his hairy arms. All his skin was the colour of burnt wood and he smelt like the menagerie.

Thalia didn’t seem too bothered by me appearing in the tent. She was still trying to organise Jason more suitably around her. ‘This is my lad. Say hello nicely to Soterichus.’

‘Hello,’ I said, not nicely because I was so displeased to learn I had been fathered by a glum man in horrible sandals. ‘My name is Marcus Didius Alexander Postumus. Postumus is supposed to mean I was born after my father had died.’ That was if my father was my grandfather Favonius.

I was watching Soterichus closely, but he made no reaction to being told he was dead (if it was him). He just gave me a nod, as if a no-account person had been introduced to him, then he seemed to be waiting to return to his transactions with Thalia. She looked put out; she was concentrating on the python. You would think if he was arranging to have another baby Soterichus would want to inspect me, to see how well the first one had turned out. Or perhaps he could instantly tell from my impressive demeanour.

I decided to bide my time before letting them know I knew he was my father.

‘Do you want to fetch your ferret, darling?’ asked Thalia, in a kindly voice. By this she was indicating to Soterichus that she was a good mother. It was the first time she ever said ‘darling’ to me, though Helena does. Falco calls me Scruff although I am not scruffy at all, but a neat person unless I have happened to get dirty; He says his nickname is ironic.

I nodded and started looking around the tent; then came the horrible moment when I began to realise Ferret was not there. Thalia and Soterichus continued their meeting. It involved a tense conversation about the giraffe. They were pretending it was all trading banter, but I could tell they were just saying routine things, not meaning anything real. He claimed he would persuade her to have the crocodile eventually, because he knew she wanted it really. She said he was smooching as usual but he could forget it. Crocs were lethal. She did not have the staff or the facilities. He said yes but the public adored them. She called him a rude word.

I had not heard that word before; it was obviously very bad. I would have to write it down.

While Soterichus was spluttering in surprise, I said loudly, ‘My ferret’s gone!’

‘Cough up, Soterichus,’ Thalia ordered him. ‘The giraffe was piss poorly from the off and you bloody well know it. You pulled a fast one when you passed him off, more fool me for believing you … Postumus, dearie, I shall help you to look. He can’t have gone far. He must have burrowed in somewhere.’

She jumped up, pretending to help me, though I could tell it was only to show she would definitely have no more to do with Soterichus’ offer of the crocodile. She still believed nothing had happened to Ferret.

As Jason slid off her when she leapt to her feet, I felt a terrible premonition creeping over me, like when you have accidentally stood in a very cold pond. I looked at the python. He smirked back at me. He was the kind of guilty criminal who stands there and dares you to accuse him, saying ha, ha, you can’t prove anything, while he’s laughing.

I said, in a quiet voice, ‘I wonder if Jason has eaten my ferret.’

‘No, Postumus darling, of course he hasn’t. Jason had a rat two days ago, he won’t be hungry again yet.’

‘He has eaten Ferret! I know he has.’

‘Don’t get yourself worked up.’

I wanted to scream and create like a very little boy, but I was twelve, or more likely eleven as Helena would say, so I knew better. I wanted to cry big tears, because I had lost my friend Ferret and also I was afraid he must have had a frightening experience when the snake attacked him. I hated to think of him in that predicament. He must have been horribly surprised. I always looked after him as nicely as I could, so he was not used to anything bad happening. I hated to think of him slowly going down inside the python, at first perhaps still alive. I wondered what that must have felt like.

I wished we had never come here. I wanted to go home. Sometimes I imagined that if I could just run home, I might find Ferret sitting up on his normal bed there and it could be as if none of this had happened to us. But I knew that was no good.

I went back to searching, madly throwing things aside while I looked everywhere again.

Thalia went out to Soterichus in the round part of the tent. I heard her say in a low tone, ‘You had better go. I need to see to him. His pet is lost and you can see his poor little heart is broken.’

I did not say goodbye or watch Soterichus leave. Even if he was my father I had no interest in him now.

Thalia helped me hunt for Ferret. She was very methodical. She said she had had to hunt for lost creatures before. I bet she meant Jason. Our searching made him agitated, so Thalia wound him up and fastened him in a huge basket. She didn’t think I noticed, but as she fed his coils into it, she ran her hands over his body, which I guessed was to check if she could feel Ferret inside him. After she tied down the lid of the basket, we could hear Jason thumping about and trying to break the container so he could escape and cause havoc.

I had once thought a python would be an interesting pet to have, but now I just hated Jason. He was a killer. I hid my feelings, which I am very good at, but I was already deciding I would prove what had happened to Ferret. If I could find any bits of him, I would hold a proper funeral. And then I would make those responsible pay for his death.

5

Thalia kept refusing to admit that Jason must have killed Ferret. We searched the whole tent and even went to those next door, asking if anyone had seen him. Nobody had.

I didn’t want any dinner. I went to bed. I was pretending not to mind as much as I did. Thalia tried to soften me up but I stayed quiet and private. My father and sister say you should never consent to be drawn in by people you need to investigate. Trust nobody. People are all devious. Suspect them all. So I played the brave boy and agreed whatever was said to me. However, I was not talking. I kept my thoughts to myself.

In the morning Thalia sat down with me saying, as if she cared, that we would keep searching when we had time. I was not to worry about it. He was bound to turn up again.

She knew nothing. Well, she wouldn’t admit it. Classic, as Falco would say. She would be found out. I would do it.

At least now Ferret was officially designated a missing person, so I was allowed to write up posters in order to describe him and to seek information.

LOST: Sable ferret, guard hairs dark, mask white, tail dark, paws dark, eyes black, nose pink, expression sweet, character lively, answers to Ferret. Useful info to MDA Postumus care of Thalia, finder’s fee. No timewasters, please.

Thalia had offered to pay a small reward for anything that led to his return. That was easy for her to say. She knew she would never have to cough up.

I wanted to go to the vigiles and make a report, but Thalia would not let me. In the Transtiberina I didn’t know where the cohort lived so I couldn’t just go by myself. She claimed they had better things to do, saving peoples’ lives in fires, letting burglars run away and harassing innocent performers about their entertainment licenses.

When someone goes missing you have to consider whether they have recently been anxious over anything. I supposed Ferret might be worried that he had come to a strange new place. I didn’t think so, because I was here with him. In the past he had visited the coast with me and came along if anybody ever took me on an outing. Albia took me with her to Nemi to bring me out of myself, though it didn’t. It never bothered Ferret. He just wriggled inside my tunic during the journey and became madly excited when he could explore a new place.

Lysias said if Ferret was a dog or some other kind of animal he might run off and try to find his own way back to what he thought was his real home. I should send a message to Falco and Helena in case he turned up. I didn’t know who would carry a message for me, but if Ferret appeared at our house on the Aventine, they would know I needed to hear he was safe and to have him back immediately. My parents have thoughtful natures. But I couldn’t see how he would travel through the streets to their house without some other boy deciding to grab him to have as a pet of his own.

Hermes and Sizon asked if Ferret had a girlfriend he might have eloped with. They were giggling about their suggestion, trying to annoy me. ‘Has he run off to have a fling, or is he unlucky in love and has gone into hiding to get drunk and mope? Ooh, you don’t think he could be suicidal, do you, Postumus?’ I ignored them.

On my own I thought about that. The menagerie had plenty of animals but no female ferrets he could have fallen for. Anyway, he was loyal to me. Or, as Helena Justina would announce to nobody in particular in her special voice, as a male, he knew when he was well off.

The next question was, did he have any enemies? Only Jason. Normally, when they belong to a responsible boy, captive ferrets have nothing to be afraid of.

I could not remember who told me this but I knew in the wild ferrets are attacked by large birds of prey, badgers and foxes. If he had gone into the lion’s cage to look at Thalia’s half-grown lion, Roar, that might have had fatal consequences but nobody I spoke to had seen him heading towards the menagerie, let alone Roar’s cage. In any case, I had been at the menagerie myself all that morning and much of the afternoon, so he would have seen me there and come joyfully to jump down my tunic-top as usual. He could have poked his head out and looked at the lion from there.

I could find no witnesses to anything that happened in the tent. Unless somebody went in secretly, only Thalia and Soterichus had been there after I left Ferret behind that morning. Thalia vouched for Jason being on good behaviour all the time she was there with Soterichus.

She didn’t go back until the afternoon. Her python must have done the dirty deed by that time. When she arrived with the animal trader, Jason smarmed up to her looking all innocent. That was good enough for Thalia. She would never hear a word against him. She never gave a thought to my pet.

It was deadlock.

Well, I usually win situations like that.

Today I had to go and clean up after the animals again, though only the most dirty cages. The entertainers loved their beasts, or at least took care of them because they were valuable, but did not muck them out every single day or it would cost too much in new bedding. About mid-morning I had finished, so the head keeper, Lysias, said I should go to the Circus and see the rehearsals which might cheer me up. He couldn’t bear me hanging around all moody. Frankly, I myself had had enough of him complaining about my attitude. When people suffer a bereavement, others should show them consideration.

Hermes took me along to the Circus, though the building was large and right beside the tents so I was hardly going to get lost. I asked if he had come with me because he was hoping to get another kiss from the beautiful young woman called Pollia, like yesterday. Hermes jumped at that. He looked at me sideways and said no fear, because Pollia was married to one of the acrobats. They would be practising together and only a fool would touch her.

I must have seemed surprised. Hermes warned me to keep mum. I said that would be a lot easier if I had a fig pastry to take my mind off the secret. I had noticed a sweetmeat seller with a tray, right outside the entrance gate. Hermes congratulated me on not being as dumb as I looked, then he bought me a cake.

Some things are just too easy.

The Circus of Gaius and Nero lies along a large road called the Via Cornelia. It is a very pleasant situation in the Gardens of Agrippina, who was Nero’s mother. Helena Justina says bringing up Nero was nothing to be proud of; she tried hard to do much better with me. I consider I have brought myself up, but to save offending Helena I don’t say so. I am generally a credit to my upbringing. Sometimes I accidentally do something bad, but if I am careful she doesn’t find out.

Agrippina owned the land between the River Tiber and the Vatican Hill, where this Circus had been built. Like the Circus Maximus near my own home, it is a long, enclosed monument for racing chariots, with ranks of seating balanced on many fine arches. It has a solid barrier running up the centre, called the spina. The chariots dash up one side as fast as they can, career around the turning point at the end, and zonk down the other side. Each time they complete a circuit, a marker is removed to signify how many laps. Most races are seven laps. Removing markers helps drivers to pace themselves and to know when they have finished, assuming they avoid crashing. Of course everyone hopes chariots will come to grief, with huge splinters and wheels flying all over the place and someone screaming horribly as they die.

In the middle of the spina at this Circus I saw a huge obelisk. Hermes informed me it had been brought to Rome from Heliopolis in Egypt. It was of a red colour, covered with signs that are called hieroglyphics, with a big metal ball on top. Falco’s secretary Katutis was trained at a temple in Egypt, the land of his birth, so he can read hieroglyphics. I was sorry he wasn’t here to tell me what these said. I might try to draw them and ask him later, though there were rather a lot. Now I was investigating the death of Ferret, I might not have time.

On one side of the track, Thalia and her people were doing various kinds of acrobatics. She was trying to train the half-grown lion to walk along two ropes from the top of the spina to a special stand where someone stood offering him food. Roar didn’t want to do the trick so he just stayed still, with one big furry paw on each rope, while she called to him. She saw us and gave up, grumbling as she arrived, ‘I must have spent half my life trying to get one beast or another to perform this trick. I had an elephant who refused to do it for years and now here’s Roary playing me up the same. He will do it, sir. He will be ready by September.’

Then I saw she wasn’t saying this to me, but a man who had been waiting quietly. He was Sir. He wore a heavy toga over a white tunic with purple stripes to show he was very important. Thalia had to be polite him. And she was hardly ever polite to people.

Hermes ignored the important person; he insisted on interrupting, telling Thalia how he had brought me along to be cheered up. As soon as the important man heard me mentioned, he started across to where I was standing on the track (because we had come in through the main gate at ground level). When I recognised him, I immediately said hello nicely, without being told to. Thalia rushed up too, muttering to me not to bother a magistrate.

He said, smiling, that it was all right. ‘Postumus and I are old friends.’ It was Manlius Faustus, the aedile I had seen a few times with my eldest sister, Flavia Albia. She is an informer and knows all types of people, even disreputable ones.

Thalia looked amazed, then seized on the connection eagerly. She said I should sit with my friend Faustus while the company performed for him, because he was reviewing their acts as one of his official duties, seeing if any were good enough for the Roman Games next month. ‘You can help him decide to have us!’ she said to me, winking heavily.

Albia had told me this Faustus was a man who never said much, but when he walked into a room, he had better find you doing something he approved of. I knew for myself that he had a strict attitude. He once told me off, for being out in the streets on my own at night, because I needed to observe the proceedings of the Festival of Ceres on the Aventine. Albia said he meant it for my protection, then she told me off too.

Last month he saved my sister’s life when she was very ill, so all her family had to be grateful to him. I was prepared to take the lead and schmooze him, as my father calls it. I was the family representative.

Faustus and I walked up steps and found ourselves seats from which to watch the acts. While we waited for them to start, he said in a friendly tone, ‘I am glad to see you, Postumus. I need to ask you a favour, if you don’t mind.’

I replied, ask away then.

‘Flavia Albia is bringing me to dinner at your house. Your parents have invited me, to meet everyone.’

I was surprised because Albia didn’t want us all to inspect Faustus and ask him nosy questions. Albia thought Father would stomp about complaining about her new boyfriend, which he usually did, so when Father dropped hints about how it was high time he met this Faustus, she just looked as if she was very busy thinking about something else and she did not answer him. She was good at that. I had studied how she did it, so I could follow her method.

‘Naturally I am apprehensive,’ said Faustus. ‘Since you and I already know one another, I hope you will be there to give me kind support.’

I promised I would, adding that we were all intrigued, since we had thought my sister would never find anybody to suit her because of her difficult standards. ‘There are bets that you will run away when you find out what she’s really like. My other sisters are saying, “Albia is such a terror; even if he is wonderful, she will soon throw him out”.’

Manlius Faustus winced. ‘Is it inevitable?’

‘No, we think she likes you.’

‘Really?’

‘Don’t worry, we have ordered her to be nice to you. By the way, on behalf of our family, Manlius Faustus, thank you very much for rescuing Albia when she was having the squits and dying on the floor.’ My mother, Helena Justina, thought somebody ought to say this and get it done soon, or he would think we had no manners. And Helena said it wasn’t enough for Father to take him for a drink, to which Father replied obediently, all right it could be a drink with three kinds of olives in nicknackeroony bowls.

‘Your mother wrote to me very touchingly,’ Faustus told me.

That was when I felt I should explain to him my state of having two mothers, one of whom was Thalia. She was at that moment winding Jason around her body and preparing to show off her famous snake dance, which Falco called an eye-watering cultural experience. I believe Faustus had already heard all about my situation, probably from Albia, because he wanted to discuss whether I was happy here with the entertainers. Albia must have told him to check up.

He confided to me that he had lost his own mother when he was young and had missed her badly ever since. So I was lucky to have two. Then he said, I should probably view Helena Justina more favourably. Not only had she brought me up from a baby, but she was the best choice for a boy who might go far in life. Helena was a senator’s daughter which could be an advantage.

I agreed with that, but said I had thought coming here would be a useful experience. Fair enough, replied Faustus. Enjoy it for the time being. He seemed a reasonable man, for a friend of Albia’s.

I explained about having to go home once a week for dinner, so we could make it the same day as he had to go; he said that would work neatly. ‘There is something else I could ask you to do, Postumus, if you were interested.’ I said again to ask away. ‘I may be organising a wedding soon.’

‘Is that another job an aedile has to do, sir?’

‘No, this would be a family occasion. If it happens, I shall need a sensible boy to be the chief torch bearer, in the procession afterwards. It is quite a responsibility,’ said Faustus, looking sideways at me. ‘Apart from the religious aspects, the other boys who hold the torches – you know it’s obligatory to have the groom’s snivelly little nephews and the bride’s horrible cousins – they all have to be supervised carefully, in case they set fire to anything.’

I liked the sound of that. I mean supervising horrible little cousins. I don’t mean setting fire to stuff. If you burn someone’s house down, they can sue you for compensation. This had been explained to me. Several times, actually.

‘So it will be the real works with all the nuts, including relatives?’ I had heard Helena Justina describe weddings in that way.

‘Yes. A big public show.’

So lots of people would see me with the torch. Excellent!

Then we ended our chat, because Manlius Faustus had to evaluate the acts that Thalia was announcing. I wanted to take a good look at the performers, just in case one of these had gone to Thalia’s tent yesterday and seen something, or even stolen my ferret. This rehearsal turned out to be a good chance for me not only to be on good terms with my sister’s important new friend, supposing he managed to last with her, but also to size up suspects.

6

Even though they had known that the aedile was coming to watch them, the performers took a long time to sort themselves out. While we waited, Faustus said the demonstration was for the Roman Games, which take two weeks in September. They are the oldest, most famous Games in the calendar and this year it was his task to organise them. Of course he needed to do that well, to obtain a fine reputation afterwards. I thought it might be good to be an aedile myself one day, as I am sure I could organise people, though I might find it all a worry.

When Faustus reminded me what happens, I remembered going to the Ludi Romani with my parents on past occasions. There is a good procession of chariots, which then do races, and horsemen, and also drama. Thalia wanted to be in the theatrical events. She now showed Faustus her snake dance. I had never seen anything like it. From his face, neither had he. Thalia and Jason swayed together while the python wound himself around her in curious ways, though he was so heavy she could hardly support him slithering. I wondered how she had thought up this dance? And however she trained Jason to take part? asked Faustus, sharing my amazement.

Flutes were played at the same time. Other musicians then played tibias, drums and lyres to which acrobats tumbled, walked tightropes while twirling batons and parasols, and juggled with a large variety of things. First a few people at a time, then slowly everyone joined in.

Manlius Faustus sat still, watching. He showed no sign of whether he liked anything, just sometimes wrote notes on a waxed tablet. All the performers were watching him to see what he thought, but nobody could tell. His slave Dromo had brought along a whole bag of tablets for him; when I asked to borrow one, Faustus gave me one at once, making sure it was nice and waxy, and also a stylus like his own. I tried to see what he was writing but he used shorthand symbols that I didn’t know.

I wanted to make a list of all the performers but there were too many. They moved around so much I lost track of them, which was annoying. Sorting out my suspects would be hard.

I saw Pollia being thrown in the air and caught by two men, so one must be her husband, but which? They were called Laurus and Pedo. Pollia could stand on her hands and bend entirely backwards until she grabbed her own ankles. Then they picked her up and threw her between them again, while she remained in the form of a joined hoop. And they rolled her along.

Another very beautiful young lady called Silvia came skipping up to them, doing a cartwheel as she arrived, then she and Pollia were both tossed to and fro for a time, before they climbed onto the men, with a small woman called Sassia bounding up to jump on top as well until they made a pyramid of bodies. Then someone flipped some coloured balls up to Sassia, which she juggled, only dropping one; a golden crown was thrown up to her too, which she caught right on her head.

They all jumped down. They landed lightly, pointing their feet elegantly. This time, Faustus applauded, so I did too, assuming it was etiquette. I saw Thalia mutter something to Sassia, after which she came to us and put the crown on the aedile’s head with a fancy gesture. He allowed her to do it, though I thought it was really not correct to involve him like that. He politely wore the crown during the next act, then took it off again and placed it on the free seat on his other side from me.

We watched more performances. I had lost track of the people’s names. While we sat, I found myself thinking about Ferret. That saddened me. I wished I had him down my tunic now. He would have enjoyed looking out at the performances, twitching his whiskers. I could have talked to him about it.

When there was a pause while equipment was wheeled in for a balancing act, Faustus asked me quietly why I was feeling unhappy. He may have thought it was being with Thalia instead of at home. I hoped he would not tell my parents since I had no wish to cause trouble in their minds. So that he would understand, I decided to tell him what had happened to Ferret. He listened in the same way he had watched the acts, still not speaking. He seemed a thoughtful person. This is very unusual.

The next time we were waiting for something to happen, I asked whether, being a magistrate, Faustus could help me investigate. He replied rather regretfully that his remit didn’t really cover that, because apart from organising public festivals it was more about patrolling markets and bath houses. Rome has a lot of those. Some are disreputable. And brothels, I suggested, since I had heard my two younger sisters giggling over it when they were discussing our Albia’s new friend.

‘Unfortunately, yes; brothels,’ agreed Faustus in a solemn tone. Clearly he was a man of duty. I knew these were rare so I was pleased to have met one.

The next thing that happened was that a new group of people arrived. Thalia loudly greeted them. They were actors. Their leader was called Davos. Thalia had only announced the names of the other performers when it was their turn, but she brought Davos right over and introduced him. His troupe was here to show Faustus their acting in the hope he would accept them for a play at the Roman Games.

‘I’ve known this fellow for years,’ Thalia said in a glowing voice. ‘You will find him the best – and I’m not just saying that because he happens to be my husband!’

That made me jump. Davos was a solid man with straight grey hair. If he and Thalia were married, surely that made him my father? Another? This was rather complicated. I took a good look at him, finding him preferable to the animal-seller, Soterichus. But when he noticed me staring he gave me a strange look, not friendly.

In other respects, Davos seemed at ease. He tossed the golden crown at someone standing on the track, then sat himself down right alongside Faustus. He began explaining their play, a comedy which he said he had just dug out of their chest of scrolls in honour of my father, Falco that is, who once wrote it. He writes things but we try to avoid having them read out to us because we think they are terrible.

Faustus said that he was a new friend of Falco’s daughter, Flavia Albia, so he (Faustus) hoped he (Falco) would be pleased if his play was accepted for performance. ‘I’m being judged – Don’t get me into trouble here!’

‘He’s a mad bugger,’ answered Davos, as if this was a compliment. ‘Don’t worry. He’ll be thrilled we haven’t dumped his piece of nonsense on a midden-heap.’ That sounded as if disposing of the play might have been a possibility.

‘Make your pitch then.’ I noticed Faustus gave such orders in an easy way; he was comfortable with his importance and people seemed to take it well. I would like to be like that. He listened patiently while Davos confessed that the scrolls had become rather jumbled up since the last performance; in fact, he said with a chortle, to be honest The Spook Who Spoke (which was the play’s strange title) had always seemed jumbled even in performance. Mind you, that was in the Palmyra desert, which explained a lot. The night had ended in a riot, though he assured Faustus that had nothing to do with Falco’s play’s noble lines or vibrant theatricality. If Faustus liked the sound of it, the actors could unscramble the scrolls in a twinkle. Something could be made of it.

I wondered if we would see a riot here in Rome?

Davos began describing the play. He had a deep, powerful voice that was lovely to listen to, even though his conversation was crude. ‘You get the usual comedy banalities. Innocent, slightly dim adolescent is passionately in love with a gorgeous girl in a brothel –’ I glanced at Faustus who smiled at me. ‘I can’t remember offhand whether loverboy’s dad is a soft touch or a scheming miser, but he’s lost at sea, until he turns up alive and well. The mother’s a harridan in a fright wig. Always gets laughs. A ghost pops up to put the mockers on everything, everyone pairs off and we have a sing-song with a folk dance to send the audience home in good spirits.’

‘Any extras?’ asked Faustus. He seemed to know what to ask. I wondered how you learn to be an aedile. Perhaps there was an instruction book.

‘As many as you can take. A young woman – well, she’s got five children and isn’t as young as she looks – plays the water organ. That usually follows on its own, because getting the organ on stage is a palaver. If Thalia’s still got her donkey who does tricks, we’ll write him in for extra light relief.’

‘The crowd generally likes “business”?’

‘Absolutely – if Ned’s dead, the lads can mess about with a rope. We once tried to use Jason as the rope – you know, he starts stiff, the rope wrestlers don’t notice what they’ve picked up, suddenly they get a big surprise that it’s a live snake, so they run off screaming while the audience hysterically wets itself – sadly, the scaly bugger was too unpredictable on stage.’

‘Hmm,’ commented Faustus, who now knew from me that Jason was a murderer of ferrets. ‘Is this python dangerous? I have a remit to deal with marauding wild animals.’

‘Oh Thalia has him under control. She loves the thing. Owned him for years without incident.’ Davos continued talking about the acts, in ignorance that the question was asked for my investigation. ‘Originally old Falco wrote in a pair of stand-up clowns who commentated –’

‘Clever cook and boasting soldier?’ asked Faustus, raising an eyebrow. He looked tired.

‘Got it in two! You may be glad to hear we have Congrio, who is all the rage. Very big star. I’m lucky to employ him. You must have heard of Congrio.’

‘A barber, a fisherman and an intellectual went into a bar …?’ suggested Faustus.

Davos winced. ‘Hilarious, trust me. It’s the way he tells them.’

‘Hmm,’ said Faustus again, making a short note on his tablet.

‘Would you like to hear him do his set about the man from Kyme?’

‘Too Greek. Make it a place that people in Rome may have heard of, Davos.’

Davos waved up the comedian who was a thin ugly person with bandy legs, very sure of himself. After a huddled discussion, Congrio announced grumpily, ‘Ditch Kyme then. For you, legate, it shall be the man from Ostia.’

‘Thanks,’ answered Faustus instantly. ‘I come from there.’

‘Shit!’ muttered Davos. ‘Quick! Think up another town, Congrio, for god’s sake! Any damned town, so long as it’s not famous for libel lawyers …’

‘Ostia is fine,’ Faustus soothed him. ‘I was having you on. I grew up at Fidenae.’

‘Too many comedians here!’ Davos commented, pretending to be hard done by. I could see that insulting a magistrate didn’t really bother him. This was like Falco, so if Davos was my real father, I would know what to expect.

Davos saw me looking at him again, so gave me another suspicious frown. Faustus saw that. ‘Davos, this is Marcus Didius Falco’s adopted son.’

Davos groaned. ‘Oh, you’re Thalia’s unexpected little bundle, are you!’

He didn’t seem pleased. I told him in a stiff voice, ‘I am Marcus Didius Alexander Postumus.’

‘Very nice!’ Davos didn’t sound as if he believed that. He wasn’t interested in me either, and went off to organise a rehearsal of The Spook Who Spoke for the aedile.

I took the chance to ask Faustus an important question. If Davos and Thalia were married, did that mean Davos was my father? Faustus replied, not necessarily. Then he assumed a kindly expression, adding that Flavia Albia was bound to say, he was almost certainly not. My sister Albia is famous for her wise experience of life.

‘You mean, Albia will ask, was any handsome wine-seller passing by, ten months before my birth?’

‘That would be like her.’

‘I don’t know. I wasn’t here.’

‘And that,’ said Faustus, ‘sounds like the punchline of a joke about the man from Kyme.’

I said I hoped then that the man from Ostia would be funnier. He laughed easily.

The actors performed a scene, which I found dull. It had a lot of talking and nothing happened. Afterwards Faustus took me down to Thalia and Davos on the race track. He gave orders that the full script of the play they intended to perform must be sent to him tomorrow at the aediles’ office so he could try to get to grips with it. Then they would not be allowed to vary a word after he approved it. He said he liked the acrobats, but he had to view several companies, so would only confirm whether Thalia’s were chosen for the Games once he had seen the others.

He gave some money to his slave Dromo, a sneery, spotty young man, who I could see was jealous of me being on such friendly terms with his master. Faustus told Dromo to run to the sweetmeat-seller and buy me a cake.

‘Can I have one?’ demanded Dromo; he was like the cheeky slave in Falco’s play.

‘All right. Just one; no more, Dromo.’

I think Faustus intended me to go along with Dromo on the cake errand but I stayed behind. I didn’t like the look of Dromo and I was hoping to hear what his master said to Thalia if it was about me. It was. The magistrate stood with one hand on my shoulder like an uncle. He suggested that Thalia should consider how I was a boy with potential, but if at some point in the future it ever became known I had worked with entertainers that would be a certain career impediment. She knew the legal situation.

Thalia gave him a nasty look but said quietly she would bear it in mind. Dromo came back and gave me a cake he had bought with the aedile’s money. He tried to pass me the smallest, but I pointed out that I had seen what he was doing so he had better swap them over.

After they left, Thalia changed her attitude. She told me in private that maybe Faustus was right. If I wanted to be a big rissole one day, I had best stop mucking out the menagerie animals. I asked what kind of rissole I could be. Thalia said, sounding less cross than before, that since Didius Falco was an equestrian and Helena Justina’s family were senators, the menu was mine to choose. As a Roman, I could be any kind of exotic rissole I wanted, with whatever fancy gravy I liked on it and a side dish of radishes. And I was not to worry because Falco knew what he owed me so he would pay for it. With fish pickle on the radishes.

From what I knew of Falco, that seemed a rash claim. He often said to his children that we shouldn’t raise our hopes because he intended to spend everything and only leave us his good wishes and a pair of old boots.

Thalia did not know about me taking visitors’ money for the menagerie. I decided not mention that, because I was halving the new increase in the ticket price with her, in case I needed any petty cash for my enquiries into Ferret’s disappearance.

7

I felt that my enquiries were bogged down. People in my family say this happens. You have to go home and rave about, groaning like an ogre, while everyone keeps out of your way. If you start throwing your boots at the walls too noisily, Helena comes in and settles you. She says, calm down, darling, you don’t frighten me but you are scaring your poor innocent children. Tell me what the matter is, please. Nothing is the bloody matter. I know, just tell me about it, sweetheart. You growl that the case is impossible, you wish you never took it on, why don’t you ever learn, you are going to sack the client and bugger it.

I see, says Helena.

Next day you get up, have a bright idea, and solve your case.

You can’t get bogged down on the first day, that’s too soon to lose heart. You have to do spadework first. Spadework or legwork. I couldn’t do legwork because I wasn’t allowed to walk off on my own, I was supposed to stay in the tented area or at the Circus track. So I did more spadework.

After the aedile left, the acrobats milled around. They were stretching, balancing and practising sleights of hand, juggling and manipulating. The kennelful of trained little dogs were running around pulling miniature chariots. Faustus had not witnessed this, which was a good thing because only half of the doggies did it, while the others broke out of their reins and scampered about, yapping naughtily.

I announced loudly that I would not tell my sister’s boyfriend, the aedile Faustus, that the company’s performing dogs were hopeless, so long as someone helped me find out what happened to my ferret yesterday. They all pulled faces, as if they were impressed.

You have to identify where everybody was when the crime happened. So I walked around asking each person whether they had been in Thalia’s tent yesterday morning, or if not, where? I made a list in my notebook, the one Faustus gave me (he had told me I could keep it unless he ran out of them). There were two columns, one column for people who admitted they had been in the tent and one for those who hadn’t, but when I finished asking, all the people were listed in the same column, saying they had not been there. This was no use. But at least I had now learned their names.

They all knew me too, so if anyone remembered anything helpful, they could come and find me easily.

I then made a third column for anyone I believed had lied to me. This was one: the tiny woman called Sassia. She had a face like a monkey and I could see all her bones. The reason I thought she was lying was that she was now wearing a green costume with fringes on it which I knew I had seen in the pile of clothes in the tent. It was a crucial clue.

On the other hand, it would be very dangerous for Sassia to go into that tent because if Jason thought she was a little monkey, he might make her his prey. But if she had badly wanted to fetch her costume, she might have shown him Ferret as a distraction from her.

I could not really remember when I saw the green costume. Was it before Ferret disappeared, or afterwards? Luckily it wasn’t my job to remember things, because I was not a witness. I was the enquiry agent. We don’t come under suspicion. We are in command.

If Sassia collected the costume this morning, she would be in the clear for the crime, which happened yesterday. I didn’t ask her that question. I was biding my time. I could make it a dramatic moment in my revelation of the suspect’s guilt.

You have to do that in public, gathering together all the interested parties so you can discount them or discredit them. Don’t forget that someone may own up who hasn’t really done it, because they are protecting someone else. There is generally someone with a long-lost lovechild they have not dared to name, or another person has been blackmailing someone to force them to keep quiet about a terrible thing that happened twenty years ago. This is life. Especially when it’s death. Especially murder, because nobody would kill another person just because they lost their temper, would they?

The acrobats were rather strange. When I was asking questions and working out who they all belonged with, Pollia was sitting across the lap of the one called Laurus; she looked extremely comfortable there so I asked if he was her husband. I knew it was wise to check. I carefully didn’t mention that I had seen her kissing Hesper yesterday. On no, said Pollia with a silly laugh, her husband was Pedo. I couldn’t understand it because Pedo at that moment was snuggling up to the other woman, Silvia. They were murmuring to one another and giggling the way people do when they are being all lovey. I didn’t know how to show all this on my chart of which people were linked to each other. These acrobats did not even try to make my job easy.

After I had made a whole lot of notes, I noticed the scene-shifters were bringing in the water organ that Davos had mentioned. I had only seen one from far away before, so I walked up to watch.

‘Oi, oi,’ said a young man called Theopompus as they were setting it up. ‘Here comes the supervisor! Watch your backs.’

I gave him a sickly smile, saying I hoped they knew how to do this without me helping.

A nicer one called Epagatus stood aside with me and discussed how they put the organ together. That left Theopompus with all the heavy lifting, which did not please him.

I knew something about this because in our library at home, I mean Falco’s house, we had a scroll with drawings of inventions. It included a hydraulus, which is the official name of a water organ. There is an octagonal base with the pipes on top, twenty four (I counted) in decreasing sizes. The big fat longest pipe was twice as tall as me, so it was a very imposing structure. The force of the water descending somehow makes air rise up from a chamber into the pipes which creates sound. A double keyboard is used to choose which pipe, and so which sound comes out. Epagatus tried to explain the works, but I could not follow. He was not a good explainer.

I wasn’t going to hear the hydraulus playing because Sophrona, the musician, had to look after all her brood instead that morning. Epagatus said that as well as five children she had a useless husband she couldn’t get rid of and also a lover, Ribes, the orchestra conductor, whom Epagatus called as dim as muck, and who was in fact the father of all her children. Theopompus called out scathingly, not too dim to have it away whenever he wanted, then let another idiot have the expense and trouble of his brats. Sophrona specialised in twerps. You wouldn’t think she was also capable of playing sublime music.

‘Does Sophrona’s useless husband know he’s being made a fool of?’ I asked.

‘Oh, no. He’s extremely short-sighted, is Khaleed. Nobody knows the number of times he’s glimpsed Ribes making a fast getaway from their tent with his tunic still halfway up his arse, and not realised it was him, let alone what he must have been up to!’

I was cross because that was another very complicated link to draw in my chart.

As the organ wasn’t playing, I wandered off to where a properties controller from the theatre company was sorting out equipment. Large baskets had been delivered, which he was emptying out and exploring. He had a fake baby wrapped in a moth-eaten shawl, enormous rattly cooking pots, a shaggy coil of rope, bags of wooden money and a very old home-made snake with spangly eyes. He waggled the snake wildly, hoping I would scream though I didn’t. Sand fell out of it.

They had some cracked leather armour for the boasting soldier to wear and a couple of wooden swords that any suitable character could use. I picked up one, struck a few attitudes and tried the edge. It didn’t feel sharp. ‘Would you be able to kill a person with this?’ I was thinking about my task of bringing retribution on whoever was to blame for my loss of Ferret. I really meant, would I be able to kill someone. Someone such as Thalia.

‘It’s blunt. That’s intentional. It wouldn’t go in, but if you ran at an opponent fast, you could inflict a really cracking bruise. Believe me, that has happened. Actors are always involved in deadly rivalries so they whack one another “accidentally”.’ I pricked up my ears, in case I had discovered more murky situations to investigate, then I reasoned that the acting troupe had only arrived this morning so none of them were relevant to the death of Ferret. While I thought about that, I swished the wooden sword about, frowning seriously.

‘What are you thinking of, Postumus?’ demanded the props man in a suspicious tone. His name was Dama. He seemed a better class of person than the acrobats, though not much better.

I gave him my mysterious smile. That normally settles a conversation. Most people who receive my mysterious smile go away in a hurry.

I had got the hang of investigating, and the next stage would be something that always happens to annoy the investigator. That was clear because of what Dama said: ‘Ho, ho!’ He sounded alert and stern. ‘Don’t tell me you are looking for a means to protect yourself, young man?’

8

This is what I mean about the next stage of the investigation. I know from my father and sister that when you have stirred up everyone sufficiently by your penetrating enquiries, the suspects and conspirators believe they have to defend themselves by trying to block you from asking any more questions. This is likely to involve some kind of violent attack on you. Suspects are always dim people who imagine you will be frightened off. They never reckon on courage and grit.

What it tells you is that you have touched a nerve and are worrying them by coming too near the truth for comfort. This confirms you are being successful. You can take heart – though you must also be extremely careful and keep looking behind you wherever you go.

Although Dama had suggested it was me who might need protection, I knew he must be bluffing. Underneath his question was a threat. What he meant was: ‘Are you wanting protection? – Because I am going to lure you down a dark alley and thump you horribly until you are covered in blood and can barely crawl home to be bandaged up and given hot soup.’

Of course there were no alleys in the Circus of Gaius and Nero, though threateners who were small enough could crouch down and hide between the seats, ready to jump out at you.

I gave Dama my thoughtful look, the one Albia says means I am considering whose head to put a hatchet in. Normally people who receive that smile then make themselves scarce. Sometimes I hear them muttering. If they complain to my parents, it used to be that Falco or Helena had a little talk with me, but they have now stopped bothering.

‘Oh,’ I replied coolly when he failed to leave the scene. ‘I am a boy, Dama. Naturally I like to pretend I am a soldier thwacking the enemy. I do it every day until my mother says, Alexander Postumus, do stop damaging the furniture and making such a racket. Please may I borrow this sword while nobody else is using it, so I can march around being a legionary in my imagination?’

‘No,’ said Dama.

‘It’s only a game, Dama.’

‘The theatre props are not toys, Postumus. Put it back immediately and don’t touch anything else.’

I put back the sword tidily as soon as he told me to, like a meek obedient boy. This time I gave him my saddest look, all downcast and big brown eyes.

‘Cut it out,’ said Dama. ‘Now hop off and irritate somebody else.’

I walked off as he had told me, still pretending to be well-behaved. I went far enough for him to think he had safely got rid of me, then I turned around. I was still in hearing distance. Of course I was, or there would have been no point.

‘Just one other thing, Dama, if you don’t mind.’ This is called tactics. Dama scowled. I ignored that. He was pretending I had not spoken to him. You have to carry on anyway, to catch them out. ‘What was the reason, please, why you thought I might need to protect myself?’ He wasn’t going to answer me, but I made myself look horribly anxious about it. ‘Am I in some kind of danger that I don’t know about?’ I sounded as nervous as I could. Since I didn’t know of any danger, I wasn’t really.

Dama still made no answer but he stopped looking angry. I waited a little then walked back slowly until I was close up again. I was showing I trusted him utterly, so it was his duty to be kind to me. I sat down cross-legged beside one of the props baskets. Then I waited. I am an extremely patient person.

‘You’re not in any danger,’ Dama said, after he had fiddled with the props for a while. Obviously I then knew I was in danger. That was a surprise.

He went on with what he was doing, though it looked as if he was drawing it out to avoid speaking. He had a huge cloth costume, like a gigantic circular sheet with holes for eyes, which I guessed was the ghost’s robe. Lots of plays contain a ghost though in the ones I have seen it never does much. People tell you that you will like the play because it is really exciting with a ghost, then it never is. They are just trying to persuade you to go to the play with them, so we can all be together as a family for once. It’s best to go. That keeps them happy and they will hand around a lot of sweets.

The ghost’s eye holes had grown tattered so Dama was sewing around them neatly. He had a basket of stuff for mending jobs, with glue pots, shears, hammers, thread and different kinds of wire and string. I would have liked to investigate these things, but decided not to. Or not while Dama was watching.

He put the costume material over his own head to try it out; most people would have made woo-woo noises and waved their arms spookily but Dama didn’t bother. He must be a man of the world. Anyway, I had the impression he didn’t believe in ghosts.

I had waited this long time, because I could tell he was not a bad man, but one who wished me well. So I asked in a little voice, ‘Who doesn’t like me, Dama?’

Finally Dama gave me a straight look. ‘I can’t comment on who likes you or doesn’t like you, Postumus, but you need to be aware of your position, boy.’

‘What position, Dama?’

‘With the other company. You are Thalia’s lad. They have been an established performing group for two decades. Everyone thought they were a communal troupe, each with joint interests. Shared fates and shared fortunes. But now suddenly you arrive. Some people are bound to suspect that Thalia brought you in to be the heir.’

Did that mean I would own the menagerie and the tents, and I could give orders to the acrobats?

‘I am only twelve.’ I didn’t confuse him by mentioning Helena’s theory that I might be eleven.

‘Well, you’re twelve now,’ Dama told me in a dark voice. ‘You will grow. Some people might not want to stick around to watch.’

‘What do they think is going to happen, Dama?’

‘What always bloody happens – injustice and ingratitude!’

‘Oh will that happen in the theatre group as well?

‘Who knows? It doesn’t bother me. I can always go home to the hills and keep pigs in my old age. That’s assuming I can stand the rural life and my foolish bloody relatives.’ He had thin grey hair, a beaten-up manner and he looked quite old already.

‘So,’ I asked carefully, ‘do you think the acrobats believe I am a threat to them?’

‘Well, they are all mad buggers. Some of them can’t think. Even the ones that can do seem to leave their brains behind when they put on rosin and take hold of a balance pole. The animal trainers are the worst misfits in the universe – and I say that after working with bloody actors. But look closely, Postumus, and you may catch a tiny whiff of discontent about how you popped up as Thalia’s pride and joy. Word has already run around about you reorganising the gate money at the zoo like some little eastern king in a turban. It would hardly be surprising if there are those are around here who are worried. They could well be hoping to get rid of you.’

‘So what do I need to do about it, Dama?’

‘Keep your head down and try to stop annoying people.’

I promised him I would stop being annoying. It was easy. People are always making me say that.

9

I am brave. I was not worried. If any of the animal-keepers or acrobats were coming after me because I was the unwanted heir, I would thwart them with my cunning. All I had to remember was to look behind me when I was going anywhere, listen for sinister footsteps following me and watch out if any door handles began to open silently, That would be when I was sitting still indoors, probably absorbed in writing up one of my note tablets by the light of a whickering lamp.

Of course in a tent there are no door handles. To enter a tent secretly, you have to untie the door tapes. That takes too long for you to creep up suddenly, because there is a long row of tapes that are tied up in bows all the way down the door flaps. They are not just to keep out unwelcome visitors while people inside are doing private things such as sleeping or nose-picking, they are to stop wind and rain. Weather is very insidious, Thalia had told me. I thought that was a silly thing to say in Rome in August.

Of course a bad person with murderous intentions wouldn’t wait around untying a lot of tapes. They would simply cut through them in a trice, one big swoosh with a brilliantly sharp dagger that they had honed for days in readiness. Then they would have the dagger ready, for coming to get me. I must find a weapon of my own to use to kill them first. While they were looking everywhere in the tent for me evilly, I would jump out from behind Jason’s basket and take them by surprise.

That reminded me about Jason. I still had to deal with him.

Nobody at the Circus of Gaius and Nero was bothered about me, they were all too busily rehearsing and practising. I went by myself to the stone armchair seats and sat a few rows from the front. I spent some moments thinking sad thoughts about Ferret.

These front seats are reserved for senators, so it was an appropriate place for a boy who might eventually become a big rissole. I would have explained this to any ushers who came to ask me to move off, but there were none that day. I was free to get used to the armchair seats, which I did almost immediately. They had an excellent view. They would be better with cushions, but a rissole would bring those, or have his people carry them in for him.

I had saved up the cake Manlius Faustus bought for me so I ate it now, rather slowly because it was not long since I ate the other one that Hesper had provided. At one time I did see Thalia stand up straight and look around, as if she wondered what had become of me and whether I was doing anything she wanted me to stop. I waved, giving her my innocent look. That’s the look Father says is about as innocent as a nicker’s nadger. He never explains what a nicker is, nor the purpose of his nadging tool. That’s Father. He has wild ideas. We are all used to it.

Thalia was too far away to tell whether I was up to something. My innocent look satisfied her. She just waved back cheerily and went back to what she had been doing. She didn’t know me as well as Helena Justina, who would have come over to check more carefully.

After I licked the stickiness of the cake off my hands and as far around my face as my tongue would reach, I spent the whole of the rest of that afternoon sitting in the senators’ seats and thinking. I did an extremely large amount of useful thinking. A lot of people would have been very scared if they had known the thoughts I organised.

One idea that came to me was this: if somebody wanted to scare me away, so I would go home and no longer threaten them by being the unwanted heir, they might have chosen the well-known wicked ploy I had heard about, the one where you don’t actually harm the person you are aiming at, but instead of that you do awful things to somebody else they care about. Had someone deliberately killed my ferret so I would take their hint?

If that is what they tried to do, they must be a person who didn’t know the rules. You are supposed to leave the body on display in public. This is to send a visible message. Also, the person who has to receive the message must be able to understand what it is.

If I had found Ferret’s limp corpse nailed on a big tent pole with his paws outstretched and his fur bedraggled, and with his dead eyes looking at me, I would have been very upset. I felt quite upset just imagining it. Even so, I would not at first have realised it meant, Get lost unwelcome newcomer, don’t steal our rights because Thalia is your mother. Or anyway, she’s one of your mothers.

When it was time to leave the Circus, Thalia came to collect me so I asked her straight out. ‘Did you bring me here because I am intended to inherit your company?’

‘No, I bloody didn’t!’ How angry she was! I understood what was going on. It happens among people who are in charge and therefore occupied by many anxieties. Thalia had had a long day of people and animals not doing what she wanted. She sounded tired. Being tired had made her cross. ‘I brought you to muck out the cages – and look where that’s got me!’ She had a rant, while I listened politely. ‘It’s all very well looking forward to the day when I can say, “That’s my son, the Consul; he’s my boy!” You will have to be forty years of age, so what will that make me?’ I decided not to ask her. Mothers are old to start with, while according to Helena, having children puts many extra years on them. ‘Gods in Olympus, Postumus, I’ll be a hundred and long past caring.’

‘I see,’ I said.

‘Well, if I’ve got to stick it out that long, I just hope I keep my libido and all my teeth.’

I had never heard of a libido. Since Thalia was so fond of it, it must be some exotic creature that I had not met when I was sweeping out the menagerie. I wondered if it ate ferrets.

I still thought Jason was my chief suspect. That meant Thalia was responsible for him doing what he did to Ferret. So as we went to have our dinner, I thought further about ways I might be able to impose retribution on Thalia.

10

We went over to where the theatre people had pitched their tents; we were having dinner with them that evening. It was supposed to be all friendly and festive. That means people who really despise one another are pretending to be best pals, although you can see they are not trying hard. Terrible music is played while you eat, on whiffly flutes and twangy string instruments of country design. People sing miserable songs about other people leaving home. The food is delicious though nobody notices; they all tuck into the wine flagons, then pretty soon some fights start.

As a sensible boy who had been properly brought up in a good home, I would have to be the peacemaker, which I would achieve with my impressive oratory. I had learned it from a grammar teacher I was sent to once, until he asked to be relieved of the burden. But I was not sure the actors and performers would have been taught to respect the power of oratory.

When we first arrived, Davos’ actors and Thalia’s acrobats and animal-keepers greeted one another as if they had not met properly earlier in the day. Some sounded quite cheerful and welcoming. A few groaned and muttered, though they did it in an open way that was meant to sound as if they didn’t mean it. ‘Oh it’s you again, you worthless lot. We heard you had all been thrown in jail in Arriminium!’

‘Was it your group who put on Medea at Neapolis and only two people came, both of them by accident because they thought it was to be fighting cocks,?’

‘And with a blind rat who left at the interval?’

‘No that was in Bruttium and it was a three-legged dog. The two men had been promised naked women in the chorus. They all stayed to the end, but only because someone had given them free tickets which they wouldn’t waste.’

‘Did you do the show?’

‘Yes, but we cut half the play so we could go for an early supper. And we put up the understudy as Jason.’

I was confused by this, since why was Thalia’s python in Medea? Then I remembered it was another Jason, the hero of the play.

‘That understudy of yours needs some practice, by all accounts!’

‘But he’s a pretty boy. He can just recite a laundry list and the women start fainting with pleasure. Any magistrates they are married to are so pleased the wives start taking an interest in sex again, they give us an extra night in the programme …’

And so forth. I didn’t know how to converse like that so I just kept quiet. Thalia had introduced me to a group of the actors, then she left me with them while she went and sat beside Davos. I presumed that since he was her husband and she had not seen him for a while they wanted to talk privately about their adventures in the meantime. In fact for most of the evening they said nothing at all to each other; I know people who would say that proved they were married and had been for a long time. I looked at them in case they were quarrelling, but they were just taking no notice of each other, side by side. It did make them look as if they were jointly the king and queen of the feast.

It was all rowdy but good natured. Everyone there seemed colourful in some way. They were used to having open-air dinners like this. Quite a few had not been at the Circus track that day so they were new to me. I also noticed children, though none of them came and spoke to me.

Some of the actors I had been left with got up and walked over to another place, but three stayed with me as if they did not mind having been asked to look after me. These all had real names, plus names of the character they were to be in my father’s play and titles of the kind of character that was. I was flummoxed about all these; when they tried to explain it they decided to stick with their characters’ names.

‘So I am Moschion,’ announced the young man. He had unruly yellow hair that should have been cut about a month ago, but he let it tumble around in a way I wished mine would go. He looked like a wild brigand. ‘I’m the young hero. He is dim and cowardly; he cannot bestir himself to action, so he needs prodding.’

‘I am the clever slave who has to prod him. I do everything to sort out the plot,’ said another man, who was older but equally untidy and exciting. ‘I am called Bucco.’ That meant Fatso, but he was very thin. He told me this enabled him to show off his powers of acting.

‘And I play the Virgin, traditionally so-called – always a laugh as she works in the brothel,’ added a young lady. ‘She is Chrysis and is very beautiful –’ I didn’t think she was. She had a big wart on one cheek and her mouth went down at the corner in an ugly way, though I realised she couldn’t help it. Helena would say, she probably made up for it with a lovely personality. I think that was true because Chrysis kept picking out nice morsels of food and feeding them to me in a dainty way as if I were her little pet sparrow. ‘I never get any stage time even though I am supposed to be the prize the men are all wild to get. Moschion is in love with me, but he is too useless. The Spook has to pop up and order the idiot to get on with it.’

‘Who plays the Spook?’ I asked with interest.

‘Anyone who isn’t doing much at the time. He’s covered up. He has no words. You can just throw his sheet over your other costume and prance on.’

That sounded like a good disguise.

‘Who is it the spook of? Who is dead?’

‘No one is dead, Postumus,’ the Warty Virgin corrected me sternly. ‘This is a comedy. Relatives are lost at sea, lovers are thwarted by mean parents, partners argue over a bag of gold, the jokes are terrible, but nobody can die or it would depress the audience. On comedy nights people come for pork scratchings, feeling up their neighbour’s wife and happiness.’

‘Until they go home very sick from too many snacks,’ added the Cowardly Hero gloomily.

‘But they smile through their vomit, darling!’ sneered the Clever Slave

That sounded a good trick. Next time something made me sick I would see if I could throw up while smiling.

‘It was supposed to be the ghost of Moschion’s father.’ Chrysis was musing, as if she remembered the play when it was performed before. ‘For reasons of his own, the actor-manager they had at the time, old Chremes, decided the father was only lost at sea so Falco had to change it. He was doing so many re-writes he got lost at sea himself over it.’

‘So you were there?’ I asked.

‘A mere child, Postumus! Falco’s big idea was this: the ghostly father would tell Moschion that he, his father, had been murdered by his uncle, who had then married his mother. Well, everyone poo-pooed that. In comedy mothers are always loyal to their husbands, that makes it so poignant when they deplore the men’s bad behaviour, especially when the father goes chasing after the Beautiful Virgin that the son is in love with.’

‘I see,’ I said.

‘And of course a son will always be true to his pa, even if his pa is an idiot and has paid money to the brothel-keeper to buy the son’s girlfriend to have her himself. Still the son stays loyal and respectful. This is how theatre works. You have to have known elements. The audience needs to feel secure.’

Chrysis insisted that Falco had wanted Moschion to be a respectful son to his missing father in the play, which she thought reflected Falco’s views. I corrected her because everyone knew Falco and Favonius had been estranged for many years. Falco still says Grandpa was as painful as piles. But Chrysis insisted you have to have a happy ending.

I asked what about someone who had several fathers in his life? I was thinking of me. As well as Falco, who had adopted me, I had his father Favonius and perhaps three others: Soterichus the animal-seller, Davos who was Thalia’s husband and the mysterious ‘man in Alexandria’ that my parents spoke about, if he was someone different from Soterichus. I did not name all these men to strangers, but I said there were a lot of possibles. The actors giggled and said, knowing Thalia, that was all too true. Bucco reckoned there were bound to be others too. Chrysis thought to be on the safe side I had better be loyal and respectful to them all. That would keep me busy.

Moschion was still laughing; he decided this would make a very good plot for a play. You could have the different fathers running in and out of the three doors that are always on a stage set while he, Moschion, tried to keep them from meeting each other. I complained he wasn’t taking my predicament seriously. Bucco apologised for him and said that now I could see that the Young Hero was indeed an idiot. It sounded as though Bucco was jealous of Moschion for always getting the best part.

They had poured wine in my beaker whenever they took some themselves so I seemed to become unusually talkative. I didn’t intend to mention anything secret but I did tell them about Hesper and Pollia and Pedo and the other acrobats. They guffawed. I then asked if they could point out Sophrona, so I could see if the water organist was very beautiful; Chrysis said Sophrona was nothing special (apart from being able to make all Hades of a noise on a hydraulus). I explained that I wondered how she had ensnared both her idiot husband Khaleed and Ribes the sneaky orchestra conductor who was the real father of all her five children. Bucco guffawed loudly, then he jumped up and strode off to another group of people to tell them what I said. Chrysis and Moschion muttered to each other that for a Clever Slave, he was never clever. Chrysis pointed out the five children, who were scampering around in a happy fashion.

Then I started to feel very sleepy and stopped talking.

The next thing I remember about that evening is that while the feast seemed to be going on for ever, Thalia came and took me back to her tent. She said she was going to stay with Davos, but I would be all right on my own. She helped me lay out my bed, and tucked me in, though she did not tell me a story, which Helena Justina does.

‘You can have Jason for company.’ Thalia must have seen me pull a face, for then she said if that worried me, she would fasten the python into his big basket. He didn’t want to be put in the basket; he rocked it from side to side as much as he could, but Thalia lifted a heavy cooking pot on top to hold the lid down.

I yawned a lot and made sleepy noises, so off she went, leaving me alone.

If I had had a sword, I could have lifted the pot off, raised up the lid of Jason’s basket, then sliced his nasty head off as he came out to have a look around. I didn’t have a weapon. But when I was sure the coast was clear, I squeezed out between the ties on the tent flaps and went to get one.

11

Away from the feast it was extremely dark. Nobody had wasted lamp oil by leaving lights in their tents. I couldn’t really see the Circus of Gaius and Nero, though I sensed where it was. In the dark it felt as if a giant had made it grow even larger so the huge long building stretched away endlessly.

I tiptoed through the other tents, though they all lay quiet. Only when I came near the Circus was there a faint light at the entrance. Torches were attached either side of the gates. They were too high up for me to lift one down. I had feared the Circus would be all locked up, but when I approached the two great gates through which processions entered, I found they had been left open a small crack.

By this time my eyes were growing used to the night. I edged through the gates and entered the deserted Circus silently. At this moment I remembered being told that you should never go to an empty building on your own without telling someone first, in case an accident befalls you, or some wicked person is lying in wait to tie you up and murder you after hours of gloating torture. You are bound to drop your oil lamp and be plunged into pitch blackness. But there was nobody at the Circus, they were all having their dinner.

Besides, you only have to worry about an ambush if a dangerous person that you are trying to catch has drawn you there with a fake message. The best thing is if you have worked out their whereabouts using your super intelligence, so you can jump on them suddenly. You just have to keep looking around for their brutal henchmen. But that is all right if you have secretly brought your own loyal assistants who are lying low, disguised as bushes and statues. You can summon them with your special whistle, then you all burst out and beat up the bad people. Then they cry, Oh Jupiter Best and Greatest! Postumus, you clever swine, we never expected that!

I knew this from Helena telling me stories.

Because it was summer, the sky had a little light still. It was past the time when swifts squeal about, though I heard an owl out in the Gardens of Agrippina. I could discern the long empty space inside the Circus. The banks of seats and the spina were shadowy shapes and the track looked a slightly different colour from them so I could see where it was. But when I walked forwards I couldn’t really see the ground, so I was scared of falling over. I made my way very carefully and slowly. The dry sand on the track was slippery underneath my sandals, though it made no crunching sounds. Nobody would hear me coming. Of course I wouldn’t hear them either.

I knew that when the acrobats finished for the evening they had left all their equipment propped against the spina, a little way down from the entrance. Most was small items for balancing or juggling, though they also had ladders and towers. The actors had brought less baggage. Davos had explained that if Manlius Faustus, the aedile, agreed to let them perform in the Roman Games, they would be allocated a proper theatre which would have its own permanent stage and backdrop. However, since they never knew what disreputable place they might have to work in, they did drag around with them a portable set with three doorways. It was so dilapidated they must have owned it a long time. It would be here, along with the props baskets that Dama had been sorting out. Those were what I wanted to investigate for weapons.

The first thing I stumbled into, to my surprise, turned out to be an animal cage. I could tell from the smells and snuffling sounds whose cage it was. I remembered how Thalia had been trying to make Roar, the half-grown lion, do a tightrope walk. After she became exasperated with his refusal, she had him left here so she could try again with him tomorrow.

I thought Roar must be lonely out here all on his own. Perhaps he was being punished for being naughty. He had to stay in his cage by himself until he apologised. I murmured hello to him, since we were acquaintances. I had met him at the menagerie when I was sweeping out the cages and I made him the high point of my tour for the public. He had not been appreciative of visitors, just padded about looking superior. Despite his attitude, people were really impressed to see a lion close up, even one who still had some growing to do.

I heard Roar come right up to the edge of his cage, where I was standing. He grumbled in the back of his throat because a lion always has to make out that he is dangerous. He then gave a huge yawn full of smelly breath. I wasn’t frightened of him but I stood back, because Lysias had warned me never to get too close or Roar could grab my arm through the bars and pull me in to eat me up.

When I walked on I could hear Roar prowling as much as he could in his travelling cage. Then he did a gigantic lion pee. It sounded like a big burst pipe from an aqueduct. I did a little pee myself against the spina, to keep him company. If it had been a competition, Roar would easily have won the prize.

I went on further, only to find that another enclosure had been built with hurdles; inside it were the nasty little performing dogs. One of them was digging a tunnel so they could escape. They had been provided with a lantern, a nightlight so they could find their foodbowls and the bedding that they slept in. They all rushed up to the edge of their pen when they saw me, yapping their stupid heads off, because they hoped I was bringing them more dinner. But I only stole their lantern.

After that it was easier to walk along to find the baskets and baggage that had been left piled up. I started to investigate these things, which took a long time. I could not remember exactly which was the props basket with the swords and stage armour. There were several, all looking as if they could be the one I wanted. None were labelled. If it had been my job, I would have made sure they were.

Their lids were fastened down with extremely stiff old leather straps or roped up with complicated knots. Fortunately I am known as a determined soul. I stood the mutts’ lantern on a bale of straw so it shed light where I wanted, then I began to open the containers one by one. If they were no use, it seemed polite to do them up again, so that made everything take twice as long. I knew you should never make a mess of other people’s property then expect some slave to come along to tidy up for you. Or your mother. She has better things to do. Helena Justina is very good at explaining this, and never even loses her temper, except one time when I had completely destroyed the salon and her brother was coming to dinner with his smart new wife. The wife soon divorced Uncle Aulus, same as his previous one, so what I had done didn’t matter as much as Helena had thought. But by then she had had a volcanic fit that quite impressed me.

In the end I did find the weapons. I made sure not to take the sword I had tried out earlier, the one Dama had told me to put back and not play with. I chose a different one that he had not given instructions about.

The baskets’ hard leather straps had made my hands hurt. While I stopped to massage my fingers, I thought I heard voices. Being a boy of quick thinking, I curled up small behind one of the sets of steps that I had seen the tumblers jump off onto a see-saw. It flung them up to the sky, so they did somersaults as they flew through the air until they landed on someone else’s shoulders. I wished I could do that. If I stayed with Thalia long enough, I would ask to be trained. I felt sure I could master it easily but if someone was going to give me lessons, first I would have to remember whatever I was supposed to have done that made my visits to the oratory teacher end badly. I believe that after the experience of teaching me, he left Rome unexpectedly. Father claimed the man had fled to become a hermit in the Tripolitanian desert, but Helena told me he just went to start a school in a new town. That was far enough for him to feel safe again.

There were definitely people here in the Circus. They were too far away for me to see them or tell who it was, but near enough to know that it was a man and a woman, who were arguing. Whatever they were quarrelling about must be important, for their words rang out bitterly and they kept at it for a long time. Sometimes they seemed to move around, as if they were pacing angrily up and down like Roar.

They seemed to be working their way towards me. If they came any closer they were likely to discover me. I wanted to avoid that in case they noticed I had taken a sword as part of my retribution plan and for protection as the unwanted heir. Never let the opposition know that you are armed, at least not until you have cleverly worked out who the opposition is and how you will dispose of them.

By now I thought the people I could hear sounded like Pollia and Hesper. I would have expected her to be rowing with her husband, Pedo, but perhaps he was busy doing something else. Besides, Pollia and Pedo could argue in their own tent, they wouldn’t need an assignation in a secret location after dark. Probably the argument would be short too. Once people get past ‘I cannot take any more of this!’ and so forth, someone storms off in a huff. If the children are crying, the other person will calm them down saying, ‘Don’t worry; they will come back as soon as they are hungry’. If it’s raining they come home sooner than that.

This arguing upset me. I decided I wanted to leave, so I had a good idea about how to escape. I wriggled among the baskets until I found the ghost costume Dama had mended. I pulled it over my head, tucked the sword I had come to get tightly under my arm, held up the many long folds of cloth, and went out towards Pollia and Hesper, weaving to and fro like a ghost. I couldn’t take the lantern with me, because I had my hands full of costume. Anyway, it would have made me more visible.

Pollia screamed at my sudden spooky appearance. Hesper let out a huge exclamation and I heard his heavy footsteps coming towards me. I could not see out of the costume properly because the eye holes were not where I thought they would be. Hesper was angry. As a crude man, he might not know the rule that nobody may lay violent hands on a free citizen of Rome. So I ran away as fast as I could, hoping I could find the right direction for the gates.

Hesper was easily gaining on me. The cloth of the costume tripped me up. I fell down with a mighty whack. Luckily it didn’t matter because I heard Hesper fall over as well, because the little dogs had finished making their tunnel to freedom so they all come pouring out from their pen and ran into him. He crashed to the ground as they scampered under his feet.

Holding the sword tight, I made a fast run for it, managing to reach the gates. Behind me was a horrible sound of Hesper yelling curses. Some were very bad words. Behind him in the distance I heard a woman weeping inconsolably. The dogs barked. Roar let out a huge roar. And when I looked around, pulling the eye holes into place, I saw that the lantern had toppled over on the bale of straw and set fire to it. Hesper had got up and rushed back to put out the fire. That was lucky for me.

Quickly I squeezed back through the Circus gates, wrestled my way out of the ghost costume which I dropped on the ground, then ran furiously fast back to Thalia’s tent, flew inside and jumped into my bed.

There I lay like a good boy. I was so tired out that I was falling straight to sleep. But just before I nodded off, someone came into the tent.

12

Someone was coming to get me.

The person sounded different from Hesper, heavier and more blundery. Anyway, Hesper must be still putting out the fire in the Circus. The first thing I noticed was this new person fumbling with the ties on the door flaps. I knew it wasn’t Thalia. She had gone back to the theatre people, to spend the night with Davos, who was her husband and she hadn’t seen him for a long time so they would have many things to discuss. Anyway, she knew how to deal with the ties quietly. They were her own knots.

Whoever it was came inside and began blundering around the pavilion. He was making noise as if he was a clumsy person.

I didn’t know what to do. I put out my hand and tried to feel if I could burrow under the side of the main tent to get away secretly, but the leather was pegged down too firmly for me to pull it up to wriggle through. You have to make a tent secure from rats or thieves and barbarians reaching in to grab your kit or the hunk of the bread you are saving for breakfast. Also you have to keep out mud and dust or floods if there has been a downpour. I know the laws of camping from my father (I mean Falco) and his great friend, Uncle Lucius, who love to describe how they were in the army once.

I thought I had better get away from here, but I must do it in some other way. I would have to get up, move quickly from my end of the tent through the round outer part, then run like mad. I had to go right past this man, before he saw what was happening.

I decided not to put on my sandals, which might make a noise and tell him he was not alone. I picked up the wooden sword, though. I crept to the curtain that separated the tent rooms. I was being perfectly silent, which I know how to do. Many people have commented on how well I can creep up on them. I am not allowed to creep up on Falco, in case he spins round and instantly kills me, thinking I am an assassin.

As soon as I slid through the curtain, I saw a large man. He did have a pottery oil lamp but very small and faint. He was also shielding the light with one hand so it illuminated the tiniest area, but then he turned from the place where Thalia had her bed and looked right at me.

‘Oi!’ he yelled. ‘Come here, you!’

He was going to grab me. He smelled of wine, which I knew meant he would be hard to reason with. It would be no use asking what he wanted or begging him not to hurt me.

I ran straight at him, with the sword held out in front of me. It hit him at waist level. Dama was right, the point would not go into him, but the man nevertheless wobbled right off balance.

I ran out past him. Hearing cries and struggling noises, I looked back through the doorway. Straightaway I recognised that the man was Soterichus, the animal-seller.

Soterichus had barged against the big basket. He knocked it, so hard the heavy pot on top fell off, clanging. The basket lid dropped off too. Jason the python instantly shot his head out. He seemed highly annoyed at having his sleep disturbed and his basket knocked over while he was inside it. His tongue was flickering more wildly than I had ever seen and he was making a strange noise.

Soterichus lay on the ground, waving his arms about and rolling, trying to stand up again. He was definitely drunk so this was very funny. One of his flailing arms hit Jason in the eye. I could see it was an accident. Jason, that dumb snake, thought it was on purpose. He was mightily displeased. Oh dear.

Jason slithered all the way out of the overturned basket in one long smooth uncoiling movement. Before we knew what was happening, he wrapped his strong body around Soterichus. He began squeezing. He was tightening as hard as possible.

Soterichus went very red in the face. His mouth opened, though he was too busy being squeezed to say anything. He couldn’t escape from Jason’s coils. I could hear him breathing in horrid jagged gasps.

I decided to address the unfortunate situation. ‘Jason is suffocating you,’ I said in a stern voice. ‘He is too strong for me to stop him, so I will go for help.’ Fetching someone to rescue the man was a polite thing to do. I didn’t say that I wanted to save Soterichus because I needed a discussion with him about whether he was my father.

I scuttled as fast as possible over to where the theatre people had their own encampment. In the dark I had to be careful not to get lost and I had no sandals on, so I was held up when I trod on stones and had to hop about squealing. Everyone was still having their dinner. I ran to Thalia, telling her at once what was happening to Soterichus. She leapt up. Bowls and cups scattered in all directions. Faster than I would ever have thought she could run, Thalia pelted off. Davos and lots of other people saw that this was an emergency so at once followed, leaving their foodbowls and beakers behind. I limped in the rear, until I was suddenly seized by Lysias, who saw I was barefoot. He kindly picked me up and carried me all the way back to Thalia’s tent, although when we arrived, he kept me outside while other people went in.

Not long after, two men dragged out Soterichus by his feet, with his head lolling in the dirt. They pulled long faces and told us he was dead.

13

I felt extremely annoyed. It was bad enough that I might need to execute my mother, once I could organise it, but now by hitting him with the sword I had helped Soterichus to fall against the snake basket, which offended Jason, who killed this man who might have been my father. How fortunate I was that Falco and Helena had adopted me. Otherwise I would soon be all alone as an orphan. I felt a worry I sometimes have: who would then take care of me?

‘He was carried off by shock,’ announced Davos. ‘The snake hadn’t finished; his heart gave out.’

People were fussing around me, so I pulled my sad little boy face. As I hung my head looking frightened, they asked gently what I had seen before I ran out of the tent. I replied in a brave tone that while I was sleeping in my bed where my mother had tucked me in, I heard an intruder. Startled by me and seeming drunk, Soterichus fell over. Jason escaped. I ran for help.

People sniffed at the corpse and remarked that yes, Soterichus had must have had a lot to drink; he reeked of it. Apparently he was known for it, too. Lysias patted me in approval for having been so observant.

‘Coming to sell you his crocodile!’ rasped Davos to Thalia, with a snooty look. ‘Still negotiating sales on your back, are you?’

‘Rubbish!’ Thalia threw back at him crossly. ‘Why do you think I made sure I was not in the tent when he toddled up?’

‘Because you know you can never resist temptation! Yet you left your boy there.’

‘I left my python too, may I remind you – I thought if Soterichus wandered by, he would just put his head in, see I wasn’t there, and bugger off. He would only be after one thing and it didn’t involve either Postumus or Jason.’

Somebody had found the wooden sword. Dama, the props man, asked me in a dark tone whether I had taken it. Thalia snapped that of course not because I was tucked up nicely in my bed by her, my loving mother, a poor little soul innocently waiting for an intoxicated livestock merchant to crash in and spoil my happy dreams. Dama backed off, looking nervous.

Hesper arrived. I was sure I would now have to confess about the sword, but Hesper told a story that he had been to the Circus because he smelled smoke and heard the little doggies barking. He made no mention of Pollia. While he was there, he said, he was terrified by an apparition that suddenly jumped at him, a man wearing the spook’s costume. Hesper reckoned it must have been Soterichus. Everyone agreed that Soterichus had no reason to steal a wooden sword from the props basket, so he must have been at the Circus for some other bad reason. They decided it was because he knew Roar was left there. Soterichus was hoping to kidnap our lion.

So that was all right. It served the lion-thief right that Jason constricted him.

‘How is the poor python?’ Hesper asked Thalia. Apparently it had taken lots of them to haul Jason off Soterichus, coil by coil. Once he started constricting, he wanted to finish the job.

‘Highly agitated. He never attacks people. He must have felt threatened to do anything like this. It’s going to take weeks to nurse him through it.’

Everyone then told me what a brave boy I had been. I was not to worry about what had happened. As the body of Soterichus was towed away somewhere else, even Davos was kind to me, taking me back to my bed and saying he would sit and keep me safe until I fell asleep again.

I would have fallen asleep quite fast, only Thalia replaced Jason in the big basket, which took her some trouble, aided by Lysias and Hesper. Jason did not want to be there. He kept me awake for a long time, bumping and banging as he tried to escape again.

14

Next morning everybody was subdued. Thalia had to go and tell the people who belonged to Soterichus that they would not be seeing him again. When she came back, to our surprise she brought the crocodile that he had been trying to sell her. She said it was compensation for him dying at our camp. Anyway somebody who knew what they were doing had to volunteer to look after the reptile. I watched its arrival at the menagerie. They had one rope tight around its long scaly snout and others on its body. He was struggling wildly. It took five men to drag him into the enclosure where they meant to keep him.

The menagerie would be closed that day. I offered to do dung-sweeping but Lysias said Sizon would do it today. That would teach him to drink himself into a stupor at the feast. Hesper wasn’t being much use. He was moping. Someone had given him a big black eye. I whispered to Sizon was it Pedo? To which he answered no, Pedo couldn’t hit a fly if it landed on his nose; the gorgeous Pollia whacked him.

Since nothing was happening there, I went to the Circus. I had asked Hesper if he would give me money for another fig pastry as my reward for keeping his secret. He said, no he bloody wouldn’t since it wasn’t a secret now, was it? He continued that if he found out what vicious bastard had snitched to Pedo, he would string them up and disembowel them with a rusty knife, extremely slowly. I was glad it was Moschion who snitched. I assured Hesper that it wasn’t me, so he snarled to get out of it. That was when I went to the Circus of Gaius and Nero, so as not to annoy Hesper any more.

The cake-seller wasn’t outside anyway. Instead, I found a public slave, the one who was supposed to sweep up, lock up and look after the torches. He liked to do anything that wasn’t work so he showed me his little equipment hut, where he kept his broom and had his lunch when anybody gave him any. I apologised for not being able to share a pastry with him.

The hut also contained the torches, with their pitch and the flint for lighting them. Remembering that the aedile Manlius Faustus had asked my help in a wedding, I asked if I might borrow one of the torches. I wanted to practise carrying it, as if I was in charge at the wedding procession. The slave said as I was so nice to him, of course I could.

The torch was large and quite heavy. I was glad I had conducted this experiment, because now I could advise Faustus to supply lighter ones. I did it well, but the snivelly little cousins and nephews he had mentioned would not be able to manage.

I took the torch with me into the Circus. There I saw Pollia, who had as big a black eye as Hesper’s. None of the acrobats were practising, so I went up to another young lady, the one called Silvia, who was sitting cross-legged against the barrier around the track. She looked rather gloomy. She said it was because Thalia had forbidden them to perform today.

‘Oh why is that, Silvia?’

‘Too dangerous when participants are having an enormous fight. You cannot risk dangerous throws when your life is in other people’s hands. There has to be complete trust. At the moment someone is likely get dropped – on purpose.’

Silvia pointed out Pollia’s eye, so I mentioned that Hesper had one the same, which Pollia had given him. Silvia snorted. She said it was Hesper who bopped Pollia, though no one knew who hit out first. Pedo, Pollia’s husband, was sporting two black eyes, one each from Hesper and Pollia. That would teach him to weigh in while his wife was disagreeing with her lover. What had it got to do with him anyway?

The little woman Sassia was limping, but she had refused to say how or why that happened. Silvia herself looked unscathed. I asked if that was because she led a moral life, and she replied, no it was because she knew how to hide what she was up to.

‘Will the quarrel be sorted out, Silvia?’

‘Better be. If not, our group will have to break up. Everyone will lose their job. Then Thalia will be short of acts and will have to sell her animals. She won’t get work – and so it goes on.’

I said I was sorry to hear that, then I left her so I could march about to do more practice with my torch.

Thalia called me over. She asked how I was after the upsets yesterday evening. She had been sent a message that my father, Falco, would be coming to the Circus later to watch a rehearsal of his play, The Spook Who Spoke. Afterwards he would take me home with him to dinner, because I was supposed to go every week according to Helena’s conditions and tonight they had the aedile Manlius Faustus coming.

‘Why does he need to see the play if he wrote it?’

‘Re-writes. Plays are all about re-writes. To see if he can twiddle with the script to make improvements. Don’t tell him the best improvement would be to start all over with a decent new play. I remember he’s very touchy about it … Helena has written me a note “Tell Postumus little dumplings”. What’s that about?’

‘Yum! My favourite dish.’ I was not surprised, since if Helena Justina knew I was coming to dinner she was bound to order this for me specially.

Thalia gave me a look as if she thought I might be criticising her as a mother, because she did not know my favourite. It is scrumptious roast chicken served with very little parsley dumplings floating in the juice. Well, I would have told her if she had asked me.

‘Now then,’ said Thalia then, in a tone of voice with which I am familiar. She seemed to have had second thoughts about me being tucked up in my bed all last night. I prepared for a talking too. ‘Can you assure me, Postumus, you were never in the Circus yesterday evening? You did not wear the ghost costume, or loose the dogs, or set fire to the straw? How did you feel about Soterichus dying in our tent like that?’

Albia says you should ask one question at a time, otherwise your suspect will only answer the easiest, where they can safely tell the truth. Nobody can have explained that to Thalia.

‘I was sad about Soterichus being constricted by Jason,’ I answered perfectly honestly.

‘Well, you know it’s a horrible way to die.’

‘I suppose so.’ The man had looked more puzzled than horrified. He seemed too bleary to understand what was going on. ‘But I didn’t want any harm to befall him. I was upset because it was important to have a discussion with him. I had been told he came from Egypt, which has a connection with me being born, so I specially wanted to ask him if he was my father.’

‘Bloody hell!’ exploded Thalia. ‘Only if he was a magician – I didn’t know him until five years ago. Anyway he came from Memphis, not Alexandria, which I can assure you was your place of conception. Mind you, it was on a ship I first met that filthy rogue Geminus so we can call you a sea-baby. Juno, you are a strange little tyke, Postumus!’

Oh good, she was so surprised she forgot her other questions. That saved me having to own up or to be a bad boy who tells lies. Helena and Falco have a rule that I must always tell the truth, which I have solemnly promised to obey, but that is in their house so it might not apply when I was with another mother. Thalia had not thought up any rules for me. If I stayed long, she might get around to it.

The only other thing that happened that morning was that Thalia got in a bate because no members of the public had paid to come inside the Circus. Apparently the usual thing was that after sightseers went to the menagerie they were offered cheap tickets to watch a rehearsal as well. Lysias, who was attending to Roar, told her that now visitors had to pay my new price for the menagerie they wouldn’t part with any more money afterwards.

Thalia and Lysias stood with their arms folded, looking across the track at where I was. They didn’t say anything to me, so I just continued to practise my walking in a torchlight procession.

I had some thoughts there on my own. I was considering this Circus that Nero had completed for chariot races. Afterwards I had been told it was convenient for the crucifixion of many Christians who had confessed to causing a great fire that nearly burned down Rome. This shows that you should never take confessions on trust because it is perfectly possible Nero started that fire himself to clear land to build his Golden House, or that it was simply an accident.

Confessions can be beaten out of people. That was a fact worth remembering. I had not forgotten my investigation into the python’s crime. Sometimes you must pretend to be busy doing something quite different, to lull your quarry into a sense of false security. Any boy knows how to pretend to be playing happily, while he is planning to do something else.

15

Lunch was on the hoof, which only meant flatbreads in the hand and carry on with what you were doing.

Since the acrobats were barred from performing, they just huddled by the racetrack so I went to sit with them. Hesper came slinking up to Pollia.

‘Don’t come whining around me, Hesper. You have ruined my marriage!’

‘You ruined your own marriage!’ snarled Hesper, trying to stop the others hearing, especially Pedo, Pollia’s husband. He was watching with a faint sneer. ‘I thought you were true but you ruined my life!’

‘Get lost, waste of space.’

‘Oh shut up, the lot of you!’ shrieked Sassia, the tiny woman. Everyone looked shocked. Questioning looks were passed between them. Sassia jumped up and strode off by herself, aiming a kick at Hesper as she passed him. I had no idea what that was for, though the others looked as if they had just twigged something.

The play rehearsal was starting, so I left them and went to sit with the actors. I looked around for Falco but I could not see him. That made me worried, in case nobody came to fetch me for dinner that evening.

The Young Hero was to play Moschion, the Prince of Chersonesos Kimbrike.

‘Wherever in Hades that is,’ muttered Chrysis, who was elegantly lolling in a seat alongside me. I tried not to look at the wart on her face, for I know that is rude.

‘Chersonesos Kimbrike is in the far, far north,’ I informed her. ‘We have a Map of the World on a wall at our house, so I have learned all the places.’

‘How clever you are! Plays always have to have exotic settings, Postumus. You couldn’t set a comedy in Italy or Greece, it’s too familiar.’

I didn’t recognise the Young Hero at first because he was wearing a black wig to show he was youthful and virile (even though dim and cowardly).

First Davos came on as the old father, in a long white gown with a staff. A short prologue explained to us that he was sailing off to Sicily.

‘Why is he going there?’ I whispered to Chrysis.

‘Absolutely no bloody idea, pet.’

‘To get him out of the way so he can come back,’ explained Davos, as he came off stage – which was actually off track, of course, since we were at the Circus of Gaius and Nero, not at a proper theatre.

Davos plumped himself down, holding a copy of the play, so he could wrote notes on it. He seemed to get bored with that quickly so he gave me the scroll to help me follow. It was not much help.

The play continued like this:

Mother: | Stay with us, Moschion, my son. Do not go to Germania Libera!
Pause. Even longer pause
Davos: | rushes back on stage
| Bloody hell, I’d already left for Sicily … No, wife, he shall go to Britain.
Mother: | Why, they are all mad in Britannia, and painted blue.

Father:

Then nobody will notice that Moschion is mad too. He shall be escorted by our loyal slaves, clever Congrio and wily Bucco.

Mother: | Then take good care of him for us, wily Congrio and clever Bucco.

Moschion, Prince of Chersonesos Kimbrike, then did not go anywhere, though his father did. Perhaps Moschion had stayed at home because he was supposedly going away to be educated at a university, even though he was clearly too dim. Besides he was busy pursuing the Beautiful Virgin so he had no time for study. There are no universities in Germania Libera, it is all huge forest.

Word then came that after two days at sea a warlike pirate sailed up and set upon Moschion’s father and killed him. I felt sad for Moschion.

Congrio, the thin old clown, was to appear next and tell jokes to cheer us up. I had seen him already on the sidelines, huddled with someone wearing the ghost’s costume. The ghost seemed to be telling him a new joke, which they were busy writing down. Congrio was clutching a large scroll that Chrysis told me was his joke book. If anyone tried to borrow or steal it, Congrio would kick off in an apoplectic fury. Sometimes if they ever found it unattended people moved it for a game, though they never moved it very far, nor owned up who did it. That was very funny.

Presumably because he had no time to learn the new joke, Congrio brought the scroll on stage with him and read it out. First he explained what had happened to the old man, Moschion’s father, who had ended up missing at sea. I said it to you in one sentence, but Congrio spouted on endlessly. If this was meant to be amusing, I failed to see why. Facts should be told in a plain way and get on with it. Then he did his joke.

Congrio: | Three intellectuals went into a bar.
Bucco: | aside Jupiter, who writes this stuff? You just can’t get the poets nowadays.

Congrio:

When the waiter came to greet them with offers of refreshment, the Platonist decided that since the three parts of the soul are Wisdom, Courage and Temperance, he would wisely ask for bread to line his stomach, bravely try a high priced wine, but restrain himself to a half flagon.

The Aristotelian disagreed. He thought the perfect form of the human soul is reason, separated from all connection with the body. So he would try to get extremely drunk on anything the waiter brought him, until his body had no idea where it was and his mind lost all capacity to reason.

The Cynic claimed the highest good is to spurn every kind of enjoyment, so he would order the terrible housewine then not even drink it. The kindly waiter took pity on him, offering to supply the primal substance identified by Thales of Miletus – which is water.

Bucco: | This is tedious. Get on before we all pass out!

Congrio:

The waiter brought their order, then the three intellectuals spent a pleasant afternoon at the bar, engaged in discourse of the finest kind, each one drinking according to his personal philosophy. Eventually it was time to leave. The waiter had been keeping a careful eye on them, for he had met intellectuals before. He jumped in to present their bills, pointing out that in the spirit of Pythagorus, the world is perfect harmony depending on number, and the most perfect number would be the price of their drinks plus a large tip for him.

The Aristotelian at once replied that the aim of human activity is happiness, for which material goods are unnecessary – so he had left his purse at home.

The Platonist responded with a smile that the waiter would not lose by this, for Wisdom, Courage and Temperance are united by Justice, so he would cover his friend’s bill as well as his own.

The Cynic wasn’t there by then. Needing to relieve himself of much primal substance, he guessed it was time to pay the bill and since cynics are shameless, he went out to the lavatory, dived down the alley and never came back.

Bucco:

The Spook claims this rubbish is not what he wrote. Let those who are to play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them.

Congrio’s joke had caused a lot of winces among the audience. They were making restless movements.

Congrio:

The other intellectuals thought the punchline needed more work. But the waiter said, what can you expect? Falco wrote it.

I had had enough of drama, so I slipped away quietly, taking my torch for more practice. It had gone out, so I went outside the Circus gates to the little hut. The public slave was asleep but he woke up and said since I was using the torch so much, I ought to have the bucket of pitch. He showed me how to dip the torch and replenish it so it would go on burning.

I spent some time by myself, marching, then I was bored. The torch was still burning well since I had used a lot of pitch on it. I had no way to douse the flame. Since I am a sensible boy, I did go and look at the cage where Roar was kept, because I thought he would have a bucket of water in which I could plunge the flaming torch with a huge fiery hiss, but the half-grown lion must have been thirsty that morning and had drunk it. I left the torch and the pitch container safely outside his straw-carpeted cage. I leaned the burning torch against the stonework of the spina where it could do no damage

Roar wasn’t in his cage. Thalia had taken him out earlier, hoping once more to entice him onto the tightrope, though he kept refusing. He was still over by the equipment, fastened with a rope on his leg, looking lonely. I went to speak to him. He was lying with his paws together, looking around with a sinister, snooty expression. It looked safe to go up and stroke him but I decided not to. He began chewing at the rope on his leg. I would have mentioned it to Thalia but she was too far away. Nobody else was nearby because they had all gone to stand around laughing at the play.

When I myself returned to watch more rehearsal, the action had moved on. I could not tell easily what was happening or why.

Chrysis: | Methinks I saw your father by the port.

Moschion:

Beautiful and virtuous Virgin, how can this be, for he is lost at sea, murdered most foully by a warlike pirate. Alas poor ghost!

Chrysis: | No ghost. Not dead.
Moschion: | amazed Not dead?
Enter Father
Moschion: | amazed again Father! Not dead! Mother, here is my father. Seasick, I think, coming from Sicily.
Mother: | amazed Oh Moschion, speak no more, for I believed him dead and I am married!
Pollia: | off stage More fool you then!
Father: | amazed Wife! Married?
Mother: | Husband!
Chrysis: | Help, ho; she faints!
Moschion: | Mother, mother, mother.
Father: | Attend your mother.
Moschion: | Father, father, father.
Enter Spook
Chrysis: | Here’s one who can explain all this. Speak, speak, Spook, speak to me!

The Spook was a good character. I liked him very much. I think the actor enjoyed playing him. He loped onstage in a wild manner, swaying from one side to the other, waving his sheeted arms and swooping. Even when asked, he did not speak. His not speaking was the scariest thing about him.

That was when new things happened, which interrupted the rehearsal. Over by the acrobats’ equipment, Roar must have gnawed through the rope holding him. He stood up to stretch his legs, then decided to go to his own cage where he felt comfortable and he might find a piece of bloody meat left over from his breakfast. He couldn’t get into the cage though. With a grunt, he jumped on top, which people noticed, then when they began shouting, he came off again with a grand flying leap. He was a rather clumsy lion. The half-grown beast landed on the bucket of pitch, which fell over onto a spare bale of straw, where all the contents rolled out. Roar took one sniff then sprang back. His next mistake was to knock into the torch even though he could see I had left it standing upright to be safe. He pushed the torch over too with one curious paw, so it landed in the overflowing pitch. That started a big whoosh of fire.

Roar was so scared by what he had done, he ran away. First he fled straight into the scene where the play was being acted. When he saw the Spook, he spun around with catlike tread towards the other actors. They all jumped in terror, screaming.

Exit pursued by a lion.

With one mighty bound, Roar then cleared the barrier by the track that was supposed to be protection if a chariot team crashed. He took off, jumping up the rows of seats to the very top of the Circus, where he stood on guard, roaring proudly.

Despite this, I noticed people pointing elsewhere. Gulp.

The overturned pitch was now a big wild fire, sheeting all up the spina which appeared to be burning even though it was stone. The effect was spectacular. This only lasted a short time, luckily, because all the men who worked for both Thalia and Davos went running as fast as they possibly could to put out the flames that were burning down this famous monument. But it had set alight the dry old wood of the temporary set with three doors and was licking over the baskets and hampers, with their ancient desiccated wicker. The men had to spend a long time working to rescue things and dampen down the raging flames. I could hear horrified exclamations at the damage.

This was not my fault, and unintended. Nevertheless, it seemed a good idea to go away while I could do so. I foresaw a lot of being talked to. I was just setting off quietly, when somebody scary stood in front of me. He was wearing the ghost’s costume.

At last the Spook spoke. It was a surprise. ‘Hold on there, Scruff!’

From the ironic nickname, then I knew that the Spook was Father.

16

Me: | Father!
Father: | Son!
Others: | Aah …
Father: | Come, some music!
Stagehands bring up the enormous hydraulus
Sophrona: | plays very loud music
Father: | aside Oh horrible! More horrible! Most horrible!

My father pulled off the ghost costume, which he shook out and folded neatly, then handed to Dama with polite thanks. To Thalia and Davos he said that his play seemed to be holding up well, to which Davos answered, yes it was holding up as well as it had ever done. He sounded as if he meant something different from the words. Falco just gave him a huge grin, the grin that looks as if you might not be able to trust him, even though he is pretending he is utterly dependable.

I felt my hair being scuffled up. I normally complained about that but today I liked it. My father said to Thalia, ‘I hear you just acquired a crocodile. That brings back terrible memories!’ His hand on my head now felt heavy and still. In a changed tone, he asked, ‘So, do you see anything of Philadelphion these days?’ Thalia gave him a narrow look. I knew nothing of any Philadelphion, so I leaned heavily against my father’s hip, wriggling to imply I was bored by the adults’ conversation. ‘Time I took this one home to face my daughter’s fancy man. He will have to stay with us tonight. Are you finding him tough to cope with? Shall we have him back permanently?’

‘Why? He is only a gossip-mongering, commerce-busting, death-dealing, sinister staring little arsonist. I can manage!’ Thalia exclaimed, before she looked around at the havoc in the Circus and faltered. ‘What do you want to do, Postumus, darling?’

Suddenly I decided I would like to live at home again. It was one of Helena’s conditions that I could.

‘Go and catch your lion,’ continued Father in a lenient tone, being kind to Thalia. ‘You know the child is in good hands. Helena never finds him a handful – after all, she’s used to looking after me. Say goodbye then, Postumus.’

I did as I was told, adding nicely, thank you for having me. Thalia crouched down to hug and kiss me, wiping away a fond tear. Above her, Falco secretly winked at me.

He and I walked pretty fast from the Circus of Gaius and Nero to the tents. He grabbed my things and made a bundle which he shouldered easily. I ran back to fetch my best tunic, knowing that with a guest tonight I must have it on at dinner. That was when I had a huge surprise. Curled up fast asleep in the bed that I gave him, alive and well, was Ferret.

‘Titan’s turds,’ observed my father in amusement. ‘I thought you lost him?’

At his masterly voice, Ferret awoke. With a joyful squeak, he jumped straight down the tunic I was wearing, then slithered around inside furrily, exploring. We were both thrilled to have found one another.

‘Time for a fast getaway,’ urged Father, as if he feared someone might come and stop us. ‘Let’s go home, Scruff, for porridge, the dish of our ancestors.’

I gave a wise smile, for I knew it would be chicken with little dumplings, my favourite.

So we set off back to the Aventine. My father was carrying my luggage with one hand, while his other firmly held one of mine to stop me getting lost. I felt a warm feeling of relief. I was going for dinner with Didius Falco, going home like brothers who had been out all day on an adventure. Also I was looking forward to seeing Helena, and hearing her cry happily, ‘Ah here he is! My littlest has come home again.’

Best of all, I had my ferret.

Get THE IDES OF APRIL, the first novel in Lindsey Davis's acclaimed Flavia Albia series.