Cornelia blinked. She hadn’t thought of that name in a long time, not since he walked her home from the Campus Martius before Bedriacum and said such rude things. “Why would you want him here?”

“Because he roots for the Reds. He was cheering them on with me, the first races of this year. And any man who could stand off five to one like he did before the Temple of Vesta would have the spine to root out loud, no matter what the Emperor thought.”

Diana leaped to her feet swearing as the Greens clipped the spina, and Cornelia beckoned a Praetorian standing guard at the back of the box. A new man; she didn’t recognize him, but Vitellius had inserted many of his own men into the Praetorian Guard. “Can you tell me what happened to Centurion Drusus Sempronius Densus?” She didn’t know why she asked. Surely he had died at Bedriacum, or she would have seen him by now accompanying Vitellius with the other Praetorians.

“There’s a warrant for Drusus Densus, Lady. Treason.”

“Treason?”

“He survived Bedriacum smart enough, Lady, but Commander Valens winnowed through the Praetorians afterward. Dismissed a batch of them for turning on Galba.”

“But if most of them were just dismissed, why was Densus charged with treason?” The crowd was on its feet, shouting at something that had just happened on the track, but Cornelia hardly heard the screams.

“Commander Valens charged he must have sold out Galba and the heir, Lady. Maybe killed the heir, who knows. Valens figured he should be made an example of, since Otho made such a hero of him.”

“That’s absurd!”

“What’s absurd?” a voice intruded, and Cornelia looked up to see Fabius Valens standing at her shoulder, a goblet of blue-blown glass in one hand.

“Centurion Drusus Densus being charged with treason,” she said roundly. “He certainly did not have any hand in murdering my husband. I was there, I know what happened.”

“He failed to save your husband, though.” Lollia’s new husband dismissed.

“That was hardly his fault.” Densus might have been rude on occasion, but he was surely the farthest thing from a traitor. “Has he been executed already?”

“No. Never even arrested—got wind of it somehow and ran. No matter. He’ll never serve again.”

“But . . .” She trailed off.

Fabius smiled. “Consider your husband avenged.”

“I don’t need vengeance, Commander.” Not anymore. Not with Otho dead.

“I’ll decide what you need.”

Cornelia turned her eyes back to the track again, blindly. “What lap is this?” To Diana.

“The fifth.” Diana sat on the very edge of her seat, lips moving silently. The Blues and the Reds had swapped the lead a dozen times.

Fabius spoke very low, his arm grazing Cornelia’s. “You need a husband, and one of my friends needs a wife. Caecina Alienus, his name is—”