“We’ll need at least two rooms,” Mirah was saying. “Not too far from the market. Not too far from the fort. And not next to any wine shops.” Wrinkling her nose at the drunk.

“Two rooms? On my pay?”

“Well, if you really want to sleep in the same room with a crying baby…”

“Two rooms,” I agreed. Secretly, though, I was hoping those two rooms wouldn’t be in Mog. I was tired of Mog. I didn’t want to go back to the German mud, the gray skies, the crude streets, the cold winds that would keep Mirah’s bright face wrapped in a hood. I’d spent ten years of my life in Germania, and ten years was enough. I wanted sun, I wanted heat, I wanted—well, I wanted Parthia, but how likely was that? The Emperor had already chosen the legions who would be accompanying him on campaign. It was too much to hope for that the Tenth would be called halfway across the Empire.

We reached the house on the Quirinal Hill with the potted orange trees, and we’d hardly mounted the step before Mirah’s mother popped out her head and demanded, “Did you tell him?”

Mirah laughed. “Yes, I told him.”

“Good! Now, we’ll just hope your business keeps you here in Rome until little Emmanuel is born. My Mirah shouldn’t have to give birth on the road.”

“Hannibal,” I said, “Hannibal Emmanuel,” but we had already been swept into the hall and three more aunts had descended on Mirah with cries of congratulation and a variety of Hebrew blessings, and after two months of living with my new family, I knew when to concede defeat. “There’s a friend of yours here to see you,” Mirah’s mother said with a distracted kiss to each of my cheeks, and I took my exit while I could, escaping into the atrium as Mirah got borne upstairs.

“I understand congratulations are in order?” Titus smiled from his seat under the potted orange trees, swirling a cup of wine in one hand.

“You arse,” I complained. “How did you know before I did?”

“Your mother-in-law told me while I waited, of course.”

“Mirah says it’s a boy.” I flopped down on the bench beside him.

“You think she’s right?”

“Either way, I don’t dare argue.” A servant girl came with another wine cup for me, beaming congratulations, and Titus and I drank a toast. “What brings you here, Titus? Looking very official too.” I eyed his snowy toga.

“I’ve been waiting on the Emperor—”

“And you call me the Emperor’s pet! You’re the one dogging his heels now—”

“He has been most kind to me, but that’s not the point. He has made a few minor decisions regarding the Parthian campaign, and one or two of them might interest you.”

I lowered my cup. “Like what?”