“And where did you get all those little gems of information, Cornelia? You wouldn’t know where to begin, but a historian knows what information is valuable. She dropped it all in your ear, everything Vitellius’s commanders needed to defeat Otho, and you passed it along for her.” Diana looked back at Marcella, now running a finger over the teeth of the comb in her hand. “Otho’s army lost, maybe because of her. And she even went along so she could watch the battle. So she could watch Otho die.”

“You think I’m a prophetess?” Marcella protested. “I never dreamed he’d commit suicide. I just went along because—”

“You wanted to see what would happen,” Cornelia echoed.

“And you came back,” Diana continued. “And Vespasian declared himself Emperor, and you thought you might start whispering in Alienus’s ear and others too, to see if they’d turn traitor. And enough of them did, and Vitellius lost his army because of it, and Rome tore itself to bits. And now we have a new Emperor and a bit of peace, and the first thing you do is take Domitian to bed and start whispering about—what? How he’d make a better Emperor than his brother?” Diana looked around, to Cornelia frozen in her towel, to Lollia bewildered and white-masked. “From all that what might happen, something did happen. Four emperors have ruled Rome this year. And our Marcella had her hand in the fall of three of them.”

“Well, four if you count last year too,” Cornelia’s sister confessed. There was a little flush on her cheeks . . . could it possibly be pride? “There was that little incident with Emperor Nero. But that was just a whisper, really, and I had no idea he’d follow my advice and actually commit suicide. What?” She looked around at them. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

They stared at her as if she had snakes for hair.

“You’re all making too much out of this.” Marcella put down the comb. “So I meddled a little. No more than a hundred other scheming senators were doing, for their own advancement. But you lay the blame for all three Imperial coups at my door?”

“You didn’t meddle for your own advancement,” Diana said, implacable. “Or for your own protection. I could understand that. You meddled for fun.”

Cornelia forced the words out through stiff lips. “And my husband died.”

“I didn’t know that would happen. No one could.” Marcella looked around at them. “You think I wanted harm to come to any of us?”