It was time for Anacrites to report to the Emperor. Momus was asleep, his dirty toes turned out.
Anacrites looked at me from that smooth, cynical face; I decided I could work with him-so long as I always kept one hop ahead.
'You're assessing me for Vespasian,' I suggested, 'while Momus-'
'Puts in a nightly report on us both!' Anacrites breathed with clerkish contempt. His light eyebrows lifted scornfully. 'So, Marcus Didius Falco, where does that place you?'
'Just settling old scores with Pertinax!'
Anacrites could not bring himself to trust me; sensible lad. Nor, needless to say, did I trust him.
Tonight when he got up to leave I unravelled my crumpled toga and tagged along. We went out very quietly, leaving Momus behind, fast asleep.