Idris returned home from Felix’s after he’d delivered the collected money of one of the Sicilian’s clients. Since his employer had sprained a finger, Idris had temporarily stepped in to ‘convince’ the more reluctant debtors, those who rather responded to physical than verbal persuasion. He never took Hylas with him on such jobs; though he knew that the young Greek probably had no illusions left, he simply felt the need to spare the cheerful young man the darker side of their trade as long as he could. Nevertheless, he had started to teach him the basics of self-defence; the young Greek’s own methods, biting and scratching, were quite effective, yes, but, as the Silure had pointed out, made him vulnerable as he had to be close to his opponent. After trying this and that, they had settled for a tiny slingshot – which Hylas promptly forgot at home most of the time.

The kittens were nowhere in sight, probably they were dozing again in their favourite place – on the roof of the peristyle beneath the window of the pergula where Idris had left them a cushion. They must be tired, the Silure mused with a sarcastic smile, considering the state of the main room. Obviously the wee ones had enjoyed themselves immensely while he’d been away; the room was a mess, and Idris supposed things wouldn’t be much different in the small chamber attached to it, or up the stairs in the pergula. It escaped him how such tiny creatures could cause such a mess. Yet they just sort of made it happen without the slightest effort.

Hylas hadn’t been back from his visit at Rufio’s farm when Idris had been over at Felix’s; the Sicilian had also briefed him about his role for the dinner early this evening. Idris would act as Felix’s bodyguard and Hylas, they had agreed with amused smiles, would simply act as Hylas – just in case some of the distinguished guests had already become quite acquainted with their young friend in a cubicle at the baths. They had agreed to meet at Felix’s around the tenth hour, and since it was just past noon, there was still plenty of time left for something else – paying a visit to Messalina. And Sextus.

The first part was easy and fun. Aricia’s spy trotted after him like a well-trained dog as Idris led him through the maze of alleys around the forum, walking in loops and circles before he entered the Three Sheets down at the harbour. Now, knowing that Sextus had found shelter elsewhere, he could get rid of the pesky shadow at long last. He entered through the front door, exchanged a few words and coins with a patron and slipped out through the back door, leaving it to his pursuer to deal with the den’s regulars.

When he entered the road leading to Messalina’s impressive residence, he quickly dusted off his clothes and ran a hand through his hair, reminding himself to leave all things in place. The woman was a friend of his lover, after all. Though it had only been a few days ago, he couldn’t wait to see Sextus again. The Silure rapped politely with his foot against the door, and when it opened after a few seconds, he found himself staring at an incredibly broad chest, squeezed into an expensive tunic. Idris’ gaze trailed the long way up from the door slave’s chest to the short and solid neck and to the square chin, further up until he met the man’s eyes, deep-set beneath the shadow of a pair of bushy eyebrows that reminded Idris of an owl. “Yes?” the slave growled. Obviously the Silure didn’t meet the standards of the house. “My name is Idris, and I’m here to see your Mistress.” “You think? We’ll see.” On that remark the giant retreated and shut the door in Idris’ face.