“A widow in your position, once wed to an emperor’s heir, taking a lover from the slums? Who is he?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Cornelia. “It’s over now.”

“I suppose he wasn’t the only one, was he! As long as they’re rough and common, you don’t care who they are, do you? I always knew that perfect front of yours was a sham—you’re nothing but a common slut—”

“Now, now,” Gaius said again.

“—and how long have you been disgracing this family? How long have you been making a fool out of me?”

Cornelia looked at her scornfully. “Tullia,” she said, “you were easy to fool. The next time a woman tells you she spent five hours at the bathhouse, rest assured she was not taking a bath.”

Tullia inhaled for a scream of rage, but Gaius put a hasty hand on her arm. “Dear, allow me. Cornelia—”

“I know what you’re going to say, Gaius.” Cornelia sounded tired. “Yes, I’ve been discreet. No one else knows but us.”

“And about twenty-two slaves,” Marcella added. “All eavesdropping as hard as they can.”

“This—soldier.” Gaius could barely pronounce the word. “Will he make trouble?”

Cornelia turned her head away. “No.”

“Whore,” Tullia hissed.

“Really, Cornelia.” Gaius looked reproving. “I would not have thought it of you. Have you no respect for our family name, our position, our reputation—to say nothing of your own—”

“Perhaps that can wait a moment.” Marcella rose. “Fascinating as Cornelia’s clandestine lover is, and I am fascinated, I’ve learned something else of interest this afternoon. Fabius Valens was captured and executed in Urvinum, and his troops have surrendered.”

Utter silence. Gaius swung around, and Tullia paused midway through another stream of insults. Cornelia stared blindly into her lap.

“The Emperor and his advisers know by now, and the news is leaking through the Senate,” Marcella continued.

Cornelia looked at her. “How do you know these things?”

“Domitian,” Marcella shrugged.

“The Emperor—” Gaius’s voice came out in a squeak; he cleared his throat. “The Emperor will deploy another army—”

“He doesn’t have another army. And the Moesian legions are marching on Rome. They’re camped about fifty miles north.”

Another frozen silence. All through November, Marcella thought, everyone had been so sure something would come to save Rome. Fabius Valens, or loyal legions in the south—or maybe the gods. Anyone or anything.

“Oh, no.” Tullia resumed her pacing, back and forth across the mosaics. “Oh no, oh no. Oh no. We can’t stay, Gaius, we can’t stay. Barbarians knocking at the gates, all those legionaries from Dacia and Germania—”

“Might I recommend Tarracina?” Color was coming back into Cornelia’s face now. “I spent two weeks there with my soldier from the slums. I admit I never got around to fixing the hypocaust, but the weather is lovely this time of year.”