I knew better. Tall, graceful, and grave, Helena Justina read widely and kept up with world affairs. Born to bear and educate senatorial children, she was giving culture and good sense to mine. And she kept me in hand. "Representing progress we had the Great King; an ideal provincial monarch-civilized, keen to be part of the Empire, utterly go-ahead. Then there was Verovolcus, his closest aide, still at heart a tribal warrior. Murdering the Roman project manager was repugnant to the King, but Verovolcus honored darker gods."

"I never dwelt on his motives," I admitted. "So was it really just an artistic feud that blew up out of proportion-or more political? Was Verovolcus expressing barbarian hatred for Rome?"

"How did he react when you confronted him with the crime?" asked Aelia Camilla.

"Spat fury. Denied it. Swore he'd get me."

"Just like any cornered suspect," Helena observed. Our eyes met. Communal discussions made me ill at ease. I would much have preferred a private boudoir exchange.

"So, Marcus, let me understand you," her aunt pressed on intensely. She moved against the embroidered cushion at her back, so her bangles shivered and gold flickers freckled the ornately coffered ceiling. "You told Verovolcus he would not be tried for the murder, but must go into exile. The punishment for a Roman would be exclusion from the Empire."

"But for him I suggested Gaul."

We all smiled. Gaul had been part of the Empire for longer than Britain, but we were Romans and for us even Gaul was backwoods territory.

"He could have sailed straight to Gaul from Novio." From his couch, Gaius' thoughtful voice proved me right: he had been listening in. "True. I assumed he would."

"Would riding off to Londinium seem less obvious to his friends? Less shameful, say?" Maia enjoyed a puzzle.

"Or was he heading somewhere else?" Helena tried. "No, if you pick up transport in Londinium it always goes across to Gaul. He gained nothing by coming here."