'Unlikely.' I was fairly sure. 'There is nobody with an interest. He killed the architect, the project manager for the King's new palace.'

'What? Pomponius?' As financial procurator, Hilaris ultimately signed off the bills for the King's palace. He would know who the architect was – and that he had died. He would also have seen my situation-review afterwards. But your report said -'

'All it had to.' I sensed a slight awkwardness, as if Hilaris and I answered to different masters over this. 'I was on site to clear up problems. I put down the architect's death as a "tragic accident". There was no need to start a scandal by saying Togi's man had killed him. The King will rein in his people and the crime won't recur. A substitute is running the site, and running it well.'

Hilaris had let me talk him through it, but he remained unhappy. The report we were discussing had been addressed to the governor, but I sent my own copy to Vespasian. I had always intended to give a more accurate statement to the Emperor later – if he wanted to know. Killing the story might help him preserve good relations with his friend the King. I did not care. I was paid on results.

The results Vespasian wanted were to stop a glut of wild expenditure on a very expensive building site. He had sent me, nominally a private informer, because I was a first rate auditor. I had discovered a feud between the King as client and his officially appointed architect. When it flared up, with fatal results, we found ourselves left with nobody in charge of a multimillion-sesterces scheme – and chaos. Verovolcus, who had caused this mess, was not my favourite Briton. He was damned lucky that Gaul was the worst punishment I devised for him.

'Did Pomponius have relatives?' Hilaris was still fretting away at his retribution theory.

'In Italy. He had a boyfriend in Britain who was rather cut up, but he's working on the site. We beefed up his responsibilities; that should keep him quiet. I can check he has not left the area.'