He hoped to secure passage for the family from Britain to Armorica. This was a British colony in western Gaul, where a cousin of Carausias’s had a villa. There the imperial mandate still ran strong, and it was a refuge for many of the elite and wealthy from Britain. And there, as Carausias put it, the family could “ride it out until things get back to normal.”

But Carausias needed coins. Whereas the economy of the towns was mostly run by barter nowadays, the captains of the few oceangoing ships that still called at Londinium or the other main ports would accept payment only in the Emperor’s coin—and, it was said, at exorbitant rates at that.

That was why Carta was scolding Regina. “It would break Uncle’s heart if he knew—”

“Oh, Carta, don’t nag me,” Regina said, pouting into her hand mirror to see if her black lip coloring was thick enough. “You can’t get this sort of stuff for a handful of beans. You have to pay for it. And it is my money; I can do what I want with it.”

Carta stood before her, mixing the charcoal with oil on a little palette. “Your allowance is a gift from Carausias, Regina. He means to teach you some responsibility with money. But it isn’t yours. You must remember that. You came here from the Wall with nothing but the clothes on your back . . .”

Which was true, as she had learned over the years. Poor Aetius had had nothing but his soldier’s salary and a few meager savings. Even his chalet under the Wall had, it turned out, belonged to the army. Nobody knew what had become of her family’s money. It wasn’t a pleasant subject to be reminded of. Sometimes Regina regretted throwing away that dragon brooch of her mother’s. She could never have borne to wear it, but at least she could have sold it, and had a little of her mother’s wealth.

But all this was a bother. “I know all that,” Regina said crossly. “I just want to have a little fun, just for one night. Is that so much to ask? . . .”

Carta sighed, put down her cosmetic palette, and sat with Regina. “But, child, yesterday was just one night, too. As will tomorrow be. And the next night, and the next . . . What about the future? You don’t keep up with your share of the chores, in the kitchen, cleaning, in the stables.”

Regina pulled a face. She found her future hard to imagine, but she was sure it wasn’t going to involve mucking out stables.

Carta said, “And what about your studies? Aetius would be disappointed if he could know that you’ve all but given them up.”