I caught Maia’s eye and wondered again whether she had sneaked a look at the will. I could have unsealed the tablets. It is traditional to read a will in public straight after the funeral.

Stuff that for a game of soldiers. I wanted to inspect and evaluate this dodgy document when I was safely by myself. It remained in my belt. Every time I bent a few inches, the chunky tablets stuck in my ribs, reminding me. Every time someone fished for information, I played at being too overcome with sorrow to think about it.

‘Cut that out!’ muttered Petronius Longus, while he acted out supporting me. ‘Some of us know you would have gone to live as a pork-chop trader in Halicarnassus if you could have escaped being your father’s son.’

‘No point. He’d only have turned up,’ I answered gloomily. ‘Offering me a cheap price for bones — and expecting me to leave the marrow in as a favour.’

Petro and Maia stayed until last, helping to shepherd out the rest, then giving orders to the slaves. ‘Keep the house running as normal. Keep it clean and secure.’

‘You will have instructions later this week about the funeral feast, then you will be told where you will each be working afterwards. .’

I watched them, moving now like a long-established couple, although they had only lived together formally for one or two years. They had met after Maia was married and a mother, a status she respected with more diligence than her late husband deserved. Each now had children from first marriages, all of whom — were currently outside in the portico, quietly occupying themselves. Throughout the day Petronilla, Cloelia, Marius, Rhea and Ancus had behaved in magical contrast to the brats my other sisters dragged along. They would have shown up my own pair, had I brought them. My daughters were cute but unmanageable. Helena said they got it from me.