“No, I couldn’t hump her all day, as you so colorfully put it, and I’ll tell you why. Because I served Hadrian for more than six months on that campaign, and I admire him. I wouldn’t dream of poaching the wife of a man I admired, no matter how much I wanted her. Not to mention the fact that he’s an odd cold fish who holds grudges. I wouldn’t want to cross him and neither should you, even if he wasn’t your legate.” Titus rolled his eyes. “Your legate’s wife—not one of your brighter ideas, Vercingetorix.”

“Shut up.”

His eyes danced. “I’ll bet she was the one who broke it off.”

“You’re looking awfully pleased about all this,” I accused.

“Yes, frankly. You got everything on this campaign, Vix—the glory, the eagle, the promotion, the Emperor’s favor. It’s a rather low feeling, but I can’t help a touch of satisfaction that you didn’t also end up getting the girl.”

I thought of Demetra, and shoved the thought away. “What, are you jealous? I didn’t think you were the sort.”

“I’m not jealous of the promotion and the glory, that’s for certain.” Titus surveyed me. “You already got wine all over my synthesis.”

“Sorry.”

“Let’s get out of here,” my friend suggested. “Perhaps we should go get drunk? I confess I’ve never been completely swacked before. Surely tonight’s the occasion for it. ‘Seize the night; trust as little as possible in tomorrow,’ as Horace would say.”

“I’ll get swacked, all right,” I promised. “But I’m staying right here. She’s not going to run me out of any good party.”

“Oh, good gods be damned,” I heard Titus swear as I lurched out into the crowd.