“Oh, but we do love acquiring new provinces,” Sabina said. “And isn’t it better to keep all these legions busy rather than let them get bored and stir up trouble?”

“I’d keep them busy by other means.” The pen was tapping thoughtfully in Hadrian’s hand now. “A program of building, perhaps…”

“Trajan doesn’t want to build. He wants to be Alexander.”

Hadrian gave an uncharacteristic snort. “Every Emperor wants to be Alexander.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Dead at thirty-two with everything I built coming to pieces around my bier? No. I would settle for being—Hadrian.”

Sabina propped chin in hand. “And what’s that?”

His eyes gleamed. “Something the world has never seen.”

Sabina looked at her husband: his cropped beard, his heavy shoulders even more imposing in his breastplate, his hand restless and his eyes turned on some inner vision. What that vision might be, Sabina had no idea… but she sometimes wondered if her husband had been entirely truthful with her when he said all he wanted of the world was to travel it. He seemed to have other ideas too, ideas he didn’t share so readily. “A pity we’re stuck here until the siege is done,” she said lightly. “It’s such beautiful countryside in Dacia, I’d rather be exploring.”

The thoughtful gleam vanished, replaced by the fire of enthusiasm she liked so much better. “Gods, yes. I’ve never seen better hunting country! Wolves the size of bears; the dogs bagged a pair last week that might have been Romulus and Remus in the flesh. I’m having the pelts cured; they’ll cover my bed with tails to spare—”

“Legate.” A tribune entered, saluting and removing his helmet. Sabina saw it was Titus. “Dispatches from Rome. Shall I bring them in?”

“Yes, at once.” Hadrian gave a last sigh for the hunting fields of Dacia and returned to his writing tablet.

Sabina put her cup aside and rose. “Perhaps you will be good enough to escort me to my own tent, Tribune?”

Titus kept his eyes scrupulously away from her. “I would be pleased to do so, Lady.”

Hadrian gave an absent good night, and Sabina took Titus’s arm as they left. “Let’s stop at the stream first,” she said as soon as they were out of earshot. “I finally got Vix’s tunic off him for washing—it’s stiff enough from dirt to stand up all on its own.”