She scooped Flavia up, set her on the nearest table with a kiss and a bowl of flour to play in, and reversed out of the culina with the steward at one elbow and Thrax solid and golden on the other. “Better open the gates. The line looks even longer today.”

What a mess. The rains coming far too late in the season, and the Tiber overflowing its banks, and then the Pons Silica crashing down. Entire blocks of crumbling tenement collapsed in a shower of old bricks and mortar; several granaries flooded and the grain turned moldy; shops closed everywhere as shopkeepers fled for higher ground. The fashionable house Lollia shared with her new husband, Salvius, had water lapping over its doorstep, so she had retreated with Flavia to her grandfather’s vast house clinging to the higher side of the Palatine Hill. Still, even her grandfather had been robbed by the flooding—two tenement buildings belonging to him had come down, and four streets’ worth of client shopkeepers had been forced to close their doors.

“No pushing—you’ll all be served, so please line up.” The crowd filed into the courtyard, ten days ago a vista of winter lilies and early spring moss, and now just a sea of mud. Lollia had the slaves well drilled now; a calm and orderly line meeting the human tide with baskets of flatbread, cauldrons of barley soup, armfuls of coarse blankets.

“Domina,” the steward complained, “some of these people are common plebs from across town. We have an obligation only to feed our own clients.”

“Feed them all, Aelius. We can afford it.” Slaves, plebs, tenants, they all held out their hands, drenched and shivering, and Lollia’s job was to stand to one side with a hefty bag of coppers, distributing money and soothing words. She knew how to do it, too, no matter what her cousins might say about how she never got her hands dirty. They’re ones to talk. I might like my parties and pleasures when times are good, but at least I know how to roll up my sleeves when necessary. Her grandfather had taught her that—he had been a slave, after all, and slaves didn’t forget where they came from.

“There’s plenty for all,” Lollia soothed. “Yes, you can take another blanket if you need one. Goodness, madam, you shouldn’t be out in this rain in your condition. When is the baby due? Go to the kitchens and warm yourself by the fire before you go. No, sir, my grandfather has suspended all rents until business resumes. Open the bakery when you can and don’t worry about the rents. Madam, you may talk to my steward about the damage to your roof, all necessary repairs will be made—”

“Domina,” Thrax said softly at her elbow in his vague Gallic accent. “You should not be here. You make yourself ill.”