Cicero said, 'Are there any cults in the city you have heard of that might practise such an abomination?'

'None. There are always the Gauls, of course – they are said to do such things. But there aren't many of them in town at the moment, and those that are here are well behaved.'

'And who is the victim? Has anyone claimed him?'

'That's another reason I wanted you to come and see for yourself.' Octavius rolled the body over on to its stomach. 'There's a small owner's tattoo just above his backside, do you see? Those who dumped the body may have missed it. “C. Ant. M. f. C. n.” Caius Antonius, son of Marcus, grandson of Caius. There's a famous family for you! He was a slave of your consular colleague, Antonius Hybrida.' He stood and wiped his hands on the sailcloth, then casually threw the cover back over the body. 'What do you want to do?'

Cicero was staring at the pathetic bundle on the floor as if mesmerised. 'Who knows about this?'

'Nobody.'

'Hybrida?'

'No.'

'What about the crowd outside?'

'There's a rumour going round that there's been some kind of ritual killing. You above all know what crowds are like. They're saying it's a bad omen on the eve of your consulship.'

'They may be right.'

'It's been a hard winter. They could do with calming down. I thought we might send word to the College of Priests and ask them to perform some kind of ceremony of purification-'

'No, no,' said Cicero quickly, pulling his gaze away from the body. 'No priests. Priests will only make it worse.'

'So what shall we do?'

'Tell no one else. Burn the remains as quickly as possible. Don't let anyone see them. Forbid anyone who has seen them from disclosing the details, on pain of imprisonment.'

'And the crowd?'

'You deal with the body. I'll deal with the crowd.'