“If I marry a general or a provincial governor I’ll be gone from Rome, and Father would rather I stayed close. But he’s going to be disappointed on that score.”

“Why? Got your eye on a general?”

“No.” Her gaze transferred back to the arena. “I’ve got my eye on the world.”

“Tall order.”

“Big world.”

“I’ve seen Britannia,” I offered. “Londinium’s a sinkhole, but Brigantia’s pretty—that’s up north.”

“Tell me about it?”

“Mountains,” I said. “Mountains and sea—and it’s cold, but the mist wraps the tops of the mountains and makes everything funny in your ears—” I talked about Brigantia, and Sabina listened with her whole body, drinking in every word as the horses thundered through two more laps.

“I’d like to see Brigantia,” she commented when I trailed off. “But I’d like to see everything.”

“Where’ll you start?”

“Judaea? Gaul? Egypt, maybe—their gods have animal heads, and I always thought that was interesting. Or Greece—I could visit Sparta and Athens, see which one really is better.”

“Spartans have the better armies.” I remembered the stories my mother had told me. “Or they did, anyway.”

“Yes, but what else have they got?” Sabina looked thoughtful, and the horses whirled past again in a cloud of dust and cheers. “Might be worthwhile, finding out.”

“You know how they get married?” My mother had told me the story. “They take all the girls up into the mountains at night, give ’em a head start, and send all the boys after ’em. Everybody’s naked, and whoever catches who gets married.”

“How fortunate we don’t do that in Rome. I’m a terrible runner.”

“I’m not.” I looked her over. “Run you down in a heartbeat, I could.”

“But would you want to? There’d be some hardy Spartan girl you’d fancy first. Much better for a legionary.”

“I’m not going to be a legionary.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Twenty-five years’ service. Not bloody likely.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes turned back to the arena again as the cheers redoubled—in the fifth lap, the Reds had pulled ahead of the Blues. “Oh, good. They’re winning.” She waved her pennant politely.

“Hey!” I stared slit-eyed at the man sitting behind Sabina, a big bearded man who had edged forward swearing at the Blues. “Keep your knees out of her back!”

“Maybe she liked it,” the man jeered, looking Sabina up and down.

“Take that back!” I reared up, grabbing a handful of his tunic. I was just in the mood for a scrap.

“Are you going to fight?” Sabina said, interested.

“Not much of a fight,” I said, after bloodying the fellow’s nose. He slunk off swearing, and I shook out my hand. “Maybe he’ll come back with some friends.”

“I rather hope he does. I’ve never seen a fight before.”