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both of us are urging it. I will send my swiftest messenger to you, as soon as I have composed a letter to the legate. If you would be gracious enough to compose another, pontifex, my rider can take both despatches together. Then when we have an answer from Fabius, you can send a message to Londinium. That should still arrive in time to save the Imperial flamen a wasted journey.’
    ‘Of course, Excellence, anything you wish,’ the old priest assented, though with obvious reluctance. I wondered why, since he had virtually suggested this solution himself. Was he was suddenly regretting those lost donations to the temple? Or was he was unwilling to forgo the honour of appearing on a public podium in company with an imperial legate? ‘The temple and its servants are naturally at your command, in anything that does not touch directly on the gods.’
    If this was a struggle for authority, Marcus seemed oblivious of it. ‘Then I shall return home and write to Fabius Marcellus at once. I’ll send to you about the eighth hour. My man is an expert on horseback; he can leave tonight. I can arrange fresh mounts for him along the way, and safe passage for him across the sea to Gaul if necessary. Given fine weather he should reach Fabius Marcellus before he sails. For now, revered one, hail and farewell.’
    The old priest inclined his head, and with a gesture of benediction walked unsteadily back to his temple, presumably to start his sacrifice.
    Marcus watched him for a moment and then turned to me. ‘You are looking thoughtful, my old friend. I know that face. You’ve thought of something which might help to throw some light on this unnerving affair?’
    I was as mystified as he was, and if this was supernatural I didn’t want to get involved, but I made my suggestion all the same. ‘Merely that it might be prudent, Excellence – since the high priest has put the temple slaves at your disposal – to organise a little search. Of the temple and precinct and perhaps the streets around – just to be quite sure that someone hasn’t hidden this body somewhere obvious.’
    Marcus frowned. ‘It’s hard to see how anyone could have managed that. But as usual, old friend, you’re right. It would be reassuring to find a human hand in this.’ He turned to the temple slave who was still standing by. ‘See to it.’
    ‘At once, Excellence,’ the man replied, and hurried off.
    I made to do the same, and Marcus himself turned to leave, followed with evident relief by his servant. But before I could make my escape my patron called after me. ‘And you, Libertus, check up on that statue in the shrine. And call on me at home, about the same hour as I told the pontifex. Give the citizen his towel, slave!’
    The servant thrust the damp cloth into my hands, and they were gone.

Chapter Six
    I glanced uncertainly at Trinunculus who was still standing beside me. Of all the things I did not wish to do that afternoon, going back into that chilling little shrine was close to the very top of the list – ranking only a little after being sentenced to hard labour in the mines or being obliged to face the dogs in the arena. However, Marcus had given his instructions, and I was more or less obliged to obey them – otherwise there was a distinct chance that I might be faced with one of those even more disagreeable alternatives.
    I swallowed. ‘I suppose I must,’ I said, and added with as much aplomb as I could muster: ‘You will accompany me, of course?’ If I was obliged to go, I thought, I would be much more comfortable in the company of a priest. In the company of anyone, in fact, but of a temple priest in particular.
    Trinunculus nodded cheerfully. ‘Of course. Are you not here on the orders of His Excellence?’ He led the way from the veranda and back across the court towards the altar precinct. If he saw my nervousness he gave no sign of it. ‘This way.’
    Once more I followed him unwillingly.
    It was no better the second time. If