Felix was in no hurry to go back to his apartment, since he’d more or less promised Hylas and Rufio several hours alone to – do whatever they wanted to do – and so finding the Jew seemed amenable to passing some time in friendly talk he ordered more mulsum brought to their table. “If you’ve nothing more urgent, maybe you’d like to share this with me?” he offered. “The name’s Quintus Valerius Felix, by the way.”

      “Thank you, it would be my pleasure,” the Jew accepted quickly with a smile.

      Simon volunteered he was from Sidon, and since Felix had been to Sidon several times on business himself, investigating shipments of glass and purple dyes for his father Valerius Cordus’s import business, they talked for a while about the city. Felix decided Simon himself must be a businessman of some kind, since he certainly didn’t seem poor, either in appearance or manners.

      As they talked, Felix could help noticing that although he himself diluted the strong honeyed wine well, as any Roman would, the Jew barely added any water to his own cup. By the time they were three-quarters through the jug, Simon had become quite open and talkative with the drink. However, Felix got the impression something was still bothering the Jew – he kept glancing over his shoulder occasionally as if expecting someone he’d rather not see walk through the door.

      Naturally of a curious disposition, Felix eventually felt urged to ask casually, “So what is it that brings you to Pompeii, Simon? Is it just business or do you have friends here, maybe?”

      “I have a job to do for a friend called Azur Naboridus,” Simon paused, but as Felix showed no indication that the name meant anything to him – which it didn’t – he added, “I’m looking for a man called Marcus Domicius Romulus.”

      Felix nodded politely. Again the name meant nothing to him. It was only when Simon mentioned this gentleman had an adopted son by the name of Marcus Valerius Tullius that alarm bells rang for Felix and he gave the Jew a suddenly speculative look. Was it possible that the young man who had gatecrashed Philandros’s party yesterday evening, the one with a sense of urgency and overzealous bodyguards, was the same Marcus Valerius Tullius that Simon was referring to? It seemed to be too much of a coincidence if not…

      He smiled with cool consideration and refilled Simon’s wine cup before leaning closer to lower his voice. “I think I might possibly know of a Valerius Tullius. But why would you be wanting him, Simon the Jew? Or is it your friend Naboridus who wants him so badly?”