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'If he chucks a stone, he's done for,' muttered Petronius. 'I'll have the little tyke. '

It was a hot day along the waterfront at the mouth of the Tiber in Ostia. Petro and I had badly needed a drink. It was so hot we only made it to just outside the vigiles patrol house and into the first bar.

This was a sad backtrack. Our principle had always been, 'Never go into the first bar you see because it is bound to be rubbish. '

For the past fifteen years or so, since we met in the queue to enlist for the legions, whenever we sought refreshment we had always strolled a good distance away from home and work, in case we were followed and found. Actually we had sat in numerous bars that were rubbish, but not many that were full of associates we wanted to avoid and very few that our women knew about.

Don't get me wrong. We two were pious Romans with traditional values. Of course we admired our colleagues and adored our womenfolk. Just like old Brutus, any orator could say of us that Marcus Didius Falco and Lucius Petronius Longus were honourable men.

And yes; the orator would make that claim with an irony even the most stupid mob would understand…

As you can see, in the heat I had drunk up too quickly. I was already rambling.

Petronius, the experienced enquiry chief of the Fourth Cohort of vigiles in Rome, was a measured man.

He was here after putting his name down for detached duty. It was a pleasant life, especially since the villain he was waiting for never turned up. I was here to look for someone else, though I had not told Petro. Ostia, the port for Rome, was vibrant but its vigiles patrol house was falling apart and the bar outside was terrible. The place was little more than a shack leaning against the patrol-house wall. After a fire, the vigiles rankers would block the side street as they crowded around with mugs of liquor, desperate to soothe their raw throats and usually just as desperate to complain about their officers. At present the street was almost empty, so we could squat on two low stools at a tiny table with our legs stuck out across the pavement.

There were no other customers. The day shift were having a lie-down in the squad house, hoping that nobody set fire to an oily pan in a crowded apartment, or if they did that nobody sounded the alarm.

Petro and I were discussing our work and our women. Being still capable of two things at once, Petronius Longus was also watching the boy. The little lad was too intent; he looked like trouble.