When we fell out, Petro went back to the vigiles. It was where he belonged. He was enquiry chief of the Fourth Cohort, and even his pofaced hard-man tribune had to admit Petronius was damned good at it. He had thought he was going back to his wife too. But once Arria Silvia gave up on him, she had wasted no time finding herself a boyfriend-a potted-salad seller, to Petro’s complete disgust. Their children, all girls, were still youngsters, and although Petronius was entitled to keep them with him, it would be stupid to attempt to do so unless he remarried quickly. Naturally, like most men who throw away a happy situation for a trifle when they think they can get away with it, he now believed that all he wanted was his wife back. Silvia was settling for her beetroot molder instead.

Helena thought that, with his record, Petronius Longus might find it just as hard to acquire a new wife as to reclaim the old one. I disagreed. He was well built and decent-looking, a quiet, intelligent, affable type; he had a salaried position and had shown himself to be a handy homemaker. It was true that at present he was living in my squalid old bachelor apartment, drinking too much, cursing too openly, and flirting with anything that moved. But he had fate on his side. Looking bitter and wounded would work the right charms. Women love a man with a history. Well, it had worked for me, hadn’t it?

If I could not give him the whole story about Famia yet, I had plenty of other news. “I have a lot to tell you.” I had no compunction about exposing Anacrites’ dalliance with the gladiatorial sword. Petro would settle for that scandal, until the fuss died down and I could explain the Famia fiasco confidentially.

“Free for dinner?” he offered.

I had to shake my head. “In-laws.”

“Oh, of course!” he retorted, with an edge. My in-laws, now I tentatively called them that, were senatorial-a swanky alliance for an informer. Petronius still did not quite know whether to mock my good luck or throw up in a gutter. “Jupiter, Falco; don’t apologize to me. You must be dying to present yourself as the wonderboy imperial favorite with the new middle-class credentials.”