“You know I can’t read, Dominus.” She dismissed the girls with a flap, coming to squint at the scroll in his hand. “Is that the Imperial seal?”

“It is.” Titus read the message again—brief and brisk, in a soldier’s scrawl. “By the Emperor’s own hand, if I’m not mistaken.”

“All the way from Armenia?” Ennia looked impressed despite herself. “What’s he got to say?”

“I’m being asked for a report on the baths. Also, my opinion is requested on various other official matters—why does he want my opinion, anyway? I haven’t got any ideas. Oh, and I’m being asked for a loan.”

Ennia gave her raucous laugh. “Didn’t take long for the news to get out, did it, Dominus?”

“I suppose not.” There had been more than one surprise to hit Titus after his grandfather’s death, but by far the greatest had been the terms of the will. His grandfather had left all his assets to Titus, and that had been expected; what had not been expected was just how extensive those assets were. “Who ever knew the old gentleman was so smart with his coppers, simple as he lived here at home?” Ennia had marveled. Titus had suddenly found himself the owner of a great many coppers, not to mention less tangible but no less profitable things such as silver mines, timber yards, properties in Ostia and Ravenna and Brundisium, villas in Baiae and Tivoli and Capri, a fleet of grain ships, a gladiator school, a block of tenement flats on the Esquiline Hill…

It had not taken long, apparently, for news of Titus’s increased fortune to reach the other side of the Empire. Campaigning’s an expensive business, Trajan had written frankly in his big open scrawl. A loan from you would help see my men paid on time this winter, and I’d not forget the favor.

“I suppose even emperors find themselves in debt,” Titus said, wandering back into his study. “Especially when running large armies. I’ll see to the loan right away.”

“You’ll never get it back,” Ennia warned. “Emperors, they’re notorious. When they say loan, they mean give.”

“‘All men cheerfully obey when worthy men rule,’” Titus quoted, scrawling himself a reminder to consult the steward in the morning. “Trajan can have my life if he likes; who am I to deny him my money?”

“That’s a quick way to end up poor.”

“Perhaps I shall. But loved.”

“Better get a rich wife, the way you’re splashing it about,” Ennia muttered. “Speaking of which, the locusts arrive in half an hour, and two of them said they’re bringing their daughters.”

“I believe they would prefer to be called guests rather than locusts, Ennia.” But Titus couldn’t help a sigh. “Daughters?”

“And a niece.” Ominously.