“Well, there was food of a sort.” Mirah looked down at her round breasts. “My milk came in as soon as she was born, and then I could nurse them both.” She lowered her voice. “I even squeezed some out to drink myself. Two days without water, well, you do what you can. I thought we could name her Chaya? It just means alive.” Mirah’s chin quivered for just an instant. “She could have died.”

“You all could have died,” I said, and felt tears sliding down my face. My wife, who had just been dug out of her own grave with a crying baby in each arm, ended up being the one to comfort me.

TITUS

Titus was just passing the long pool in the gardens of Senator Norbanus’s house when a wave rose up from the surface out of nowhere and splashed his sandals. He stopped, looking back at the water, but the surface sparkled innocently. He turned toward the house again, and another wave came up and wetted the hem of his toga. This time he heard a giggle.

“I thought I’d offended the fountain’s water nymph,” he said aloud. “But I’m fairly certain nymphs don’t giggle.”

“I think they do.” Faustina’s sleek blond head rose over the pool’s marble edge at his feet, and she grinned up at him. “Nymphs are very silly. All they ever do in myths is run around drinking with satyrs and periodically get turned into trees.”

“A fair point. Isn’t it a little cold for swimming?” Spring had arrived, but the sunlight was still thin on the new grass. “Nymphs can’t catch cold, but I believe senators’ daughters can.”

“I like it. The cold water’s like getting hit by lightning—afterward I get warm and sleepy and doze all afternoon.” Faustina cocked her head up at him. “You look very serious and official.”

“I’m afraid I’m in a very serious, official mood right now. Is your father inside?”

“Yes, but my mother will murder you if you disturb him. He isn’t feeling well, and she’s trying to get him to rest.”

Titus bit back a curse. Several days of pondering and wondering before he’d decided to consult Senator Norbanus, and now he’d have to come back later.

“Is it important?” Faustina folded her wet arms along the pool’s marble edge.

“I don’t know. I was hoping he could tell me.” Titus shifted the armload of scrolls and tablets he’d toted along in one arm. Almost too much to carry alone, but he hadn’t wanted to trust them to a slave. “Something about the finances for the public baths.”

“What?”

“Nothing worth disturbing your swim for—”

“Financial irregularity?” Faustina said briskly.

“Well, yes.”