Well, no use thinking now of Nero with Galba on the throne. An old man, but it seemed certain enough he’d adopt Cornelia’s husband Piso as Imperial heir. Marcella smiled, thinking of her older sister’s regal command of Lollia’s wedding guests as she moved through the crowd. Piso, on her arm, had been dwarfed by all that majestic poise. If he does become Emperor, he’ll be the dullest one we’ve ever had.

“Marcella?” A peevish voice broke her reverie. “The slaves aren’t cleaning the mosaics properly. Have a word with them?”

“That’s not my job anymore, Gaius.” Marcella didn’t bother looking up as her brother came into the tablinum, stooping his height under the lintel.

“Yes, but Tullia will have the slaves lashed for it, and they don’t mean any harm.”

“You really could have done better for a wife, Gaius.”

“None of that,” he answered severely. “Our father selected her for me himself, before he died.”

“And our father was perfect?” Marcella raised her eyebrows. Certainly Cornelia and Gaius seemed determined to remember him that way.

“He was a great man!”

“And are any of us the happier for all that greatness?” Marcella said tartly. “Personally, I think great men are overrated.”

Gaius shifted, uncomfortable. “A Roman’s true duty isn’t happiness. It’s—well, duty.”

“Martial would have said that better. You never were any good at epigrams, Gaius.” Nor good at much else, truth be told. Marcella looked at her brother: tall, handsome, broad of forehead and sloped of nose, but somehow forgettable. He hadn’t even tried to match their father’s career in the legions, and now the Senate didn’t seem very impressed with him either.

“Maybe you could write me a few epigrams,” Gaius was hedging. “I could trot them out at parties and look clever.”

“Only if you pass me all the gossip from the Senate,” Marcella relented. “You know how I love news.”

“Here’s a bit for you.” He raised the eyebrows that Tullia had decreed he begin plucking lest he look like a caterpillar. “There’s rumors Governor Vitellius in Lower Germania will revolt. Even declare himself Emperor along with Galba.”

“Vitellius?” Marcella shook her head. “He’s a drunk. I saw him once at a faction party, and he could hardly keep upright after the first hour.”

“Well, it’s what they say. Not that it matters. Everyone knows Piso will be Galba’s heir.” Gaius brightened. “What a thing for our family, eh? I wonder if—”

Marcella looked down at the tablet on Emperor Galba as her brother chattered. It was hardly written on, but she put it away. Better to wait for another day, another month, when she knew more of Galba’s character. Besides, sitting on a throne changed a man. Who knew what Galba might become in another year or two?