Two of the Emperor’s young tribunes had quarreled over Sabina, it seemed, each claiming her silver earring as a favor, and in the process knocked over a vase full of orchids, and Emperor Trajan had taken them by the scruff of their necks like puppies and tossed them outside. “Settle it like soldiers,” he yelled after them. “Take it out on each other, not your hostess’s house! Lady Calpurnia, I apologize for my men—” But Lady Calpurnia was laughing, and more guests were spilling out of the triclinium into the fresh-scented darkness of the garden to watch the two tribunes, who had drawn swords and sworn a good-natured bout to first blood. “And it had better just be a scratch,” the Emperor shouted at them, flinging himself down on a marble bench with his elbows on his knees. “I’ll need both you young sods when I go back to Dacia next year, so I won’t have you killing each other.”

Dacia? Titus wondered. Dear gods, I hope Grandfather doesn’t decide to send me to war. He could hear the words now: “A stint of military service is most useful in toughening the young.” No use at all to protest if you were the young person in question who didn’t particularly want to be toughened.

More of the guests had gathered now. Titus could see Marcus Norbanus standing beside his daughter, amused, and Sabina rolling her eyes at her suitors, her single earring glinting. The tribunes fell on each other with loud shouts, but even to Titus’s eyes they were too drunk to make it much of a contest. Some noisy clacking back and forth, an awkward stumble or two, and then one managed more by luck than skill to knock his opponent’s blade to the ground. “I win,” he proclaimed, waving his sword unsteadily up at the night sky. “Lady Sabina, I claim my prize—your earring, a token of—hic—token of love—”

“Not for a display like that,” she teased. “I like my tokens going for some show of genuine skill, please. I’ve got a household guard here who could mince you up like tripe within half a minute.”

“Do not!” the tribune bristled. “I could—hic—take any common bodyguard—”

“Let’s see, shall we?” she said, and Titus wondered if he’d seen a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes as they scanned the crowd. And then she was saying, “Care to show these professional soldiers how it’s done, Vix?”

The young guard who had told Titus to bring violets instead of lilies never hesitated. He tossed off his cloak, swung his arms in a quick limbering stretch, and was already unsheathing his sword as he shouldered his way through the drunken hoots of the crowd. “Don’t mind if I do, Lady.”