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“It’s not a question of power, ” Crispus declared, skirting the issue. “It’s the honor . I’m equestrian class, as you know; I’m not a noble, I don’t run after magistracies—in fact, I think they’re a waste of time and money!—but even I feel awe when I look at the consulship. You can go into the forum and read the names of every man who’s held the office, two of them every year, all the way back to the founding of the city—all the most famous names in history. Once a man has sat down in the curial chair he’s a noble, whatever he was before, and what’s more, all his sons after him are noble. The consulship is the summit of any man’s achievements. Tarius Rufus … he’s a nobody by birth, he’s scrambled his way up through the army to get where he is now, but he’s there, he’s made it. If you came in, at his hour of triumph, and threatened to make him a joke  … he’d kill you! And who could stop him? He’s a general and a friend of the emperor.”
    Hermogenes met his eyes and saw the boundaries of the other man’s hospitality. Crispus would not keep in his house a man who threatened a Roman consul with disgrace—not because he supported the consul but because he feared the consequences for himself.
    Hermogenes wondered, not for the first time, how bad those consequences could be. Crispus had implied they might even include death. It would be a terrible thing to die far from home, for nothing, leaving a household headless and a daughter orphaned. Nothing he could gain here was worth that.
    Was that extreme consequence very likely, though? Tarius Rufus was a powerful man, yes, but he was not an emperor: he was still subject to the ordinary laws of Rome. Surely even a Roman consul would find it difficult to murder a Roman citizen just because he was a creditor? Rufus was undoubtedly able to pay his debt if he wanted to. Confronted with a creditor who was a citizen, able to summon him in a Roman court, surely he would find it easier to give in and pay up?
    Rufus had chosen not to pay his debt before, and Hermogenes’ uncle and father had died because of it. To abandon the struggle before it was even begun would be a betrayal of their memory. No: Crispus was merely being timid in the face of consular authority. Hermogenes would press his claim—but he would try to involve his host as little as possible.
    He bowed his head. “Titus, I already told you that I want your advice on how to approach him tactfully. I do not want to offend him in any way. I want to settle this as quietly and peacefully as I possibly can.” It was all true, as far as it went. “Thank you for your warning.”
    â€œGood,” replied Crispus, relaxing. He noticed that his cup was empty again and held it out to the boy. When it was full he sat down on his couch again and gulped some. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t agree to pay you,” he said after a minute, wiping his mouth. “He might not give you all the money at once, but it isn’t as though he can’t afford it, after all. It may well be that he never even saw your uncle’s letters, and has forgotten all about the debt. Maybe he even thinks it was all paid off long ago. It’s entirely possible that his secretary has been taking the payments from his master’s estate and putting them in his own purse.” He frowned. “It might be better if you didn’t mention your uncle’s name when you make an appointment with the consul. That way the secretary, if he has been thieving, won’t try to stop you seeing him. And it would definitely be a good idea to take your contract, and any papers relating to the debt, and get them stored and registered at the public records office, so that nobody can interfere with them.”
    â€œAs you say,” Hermogenes said meekly. “How does one make an appointment to