`Between fifty and sixty, as you would expect from her husband's and son's positions in the Senate. I wouldn't call her handsome, but -' Helena paused. `She had bearing and presence.'

That sounded as if Calpurnia was a vicious old bat. Since my own life's companion certainly had presence, I was careful of my phrasing: `She would have been no cipher in the marriage?'

`Oh no. She's a little defensive -'

`Bad tempered?'

`Let's say, very confident. Well groomed, but not wearing much jewellery. She seems cultured; there were reading-scrolls in the room. Mind you, there was a wool basket too, yet I reckon that was just for show! I can't see the lady actually spinning like a traditional good wife.'

`You suspect a slave had been sent out in a hurry to buy some wool so they could stage-manage appearances?'

`Could be. She had a mousy maid in attendance, to look modest.'

`How formal? Was she veiled?'

`Don't be silly, Marcus; she was at home. Her manner was reserved, but it should be, with nosy strangers coming to her house for days, trying to catch her out.'

`She was receiving well-wishers, though?'

`A queue of callers; I gathered I was lucky to find her alone. I felt that accepting condolences – from both genuine friends and even the wickedly curious – was an ordeal which Calpurnia Cara quite enjoys.'

`A duty?'

`A challenge.'

`She wants to test her own endurance?' I wondered.

`Oh I think she knows how capable she is,' Helena replied warmly.

The air temperature was dropping. Helena reached for her stole, which I helped to tuck around her. As usual it was a good excuse to explore her body affectionately.

`Do you want to hear this, Marcus?'

`Of course.' I was perfectly capable of groping a woman while extracting her evidence. My profession calls for a man to be physically adroit and mentally versatile, often at the same time. I could take notes while scratching my bum too.