The lockup for vagrants was a converted shop at the side of a temple.
'Well, this is a new one!' I chortled.
My nephew reassumed his old moody look. 'Uncle, how are you going to tell my mother I've been in jail?'
'With great difficulty, I expect.'
The jailor was an amiable duffer who shared his lunch. His name was Roscius. He had a grey spade-shaped beard and side whiskers; we gathered from his easy-going attitude that Herculaneum was the sort of inferior town which frequently arrested innocent visitors. He did keep a cellar, where he dumped anyone who looked a bit foreign, but we two had the honour of being chained to a bench where he could chat.
'Know a senator called Crispus?' I asked, mainly to impress Larius with my unflappable professional expertise.
'No, Falco.' The jailor was a man who spoke, then slowly thought about it. 'Not Aufidius Crispus? He had a house in Herculaneum; sold it to buy that boat-'
'Seen him lately?'
'No, Falco.' He thought; then opted for caution this time.
Larius felt things were unproductive. 'Show Roscius your pass!' I fetched it out; Roscius read it and handed it back.
Larius closed his eyes in desperation. I returned the pass to Roscius. 'Aha!' he said, not getting the point, but noticing that there might be one.
'Roscius, my friend, could you float that the way of a magistrate? If there's one named Aemilius Rufus, better choose him.' It still went against the grain, but whoever provided the jailor's lunch had used cold meat which turned up at the edges with a sinister dark rim. Our own relations were too far away to send provisions in. I reckoned I had about three hours before my nephew's hungry stomach gained the side effect of a very nasty attitude.
Roscius sent the pass to Helena's friend. We took turns with his flagon and all got slightly drunk.
Towards the end of a peaceful afternoon two slaves turned up to say that one of us lags had to stay locked up, but the other could come with them. I explained to Larius that he would have to be the hostage, since Rufus was the friend of a friend of mine.
'Just hurry up, will you?' Galla's treasure snarled. 'I could murder a bowl of Baian beans!'