The Imperial gaze flicked upward at that moment. Paulinus flushed and applied himself to his dinner. Too late.

“So, Norbanus.” The Flavian voice dragged Paulinus’s eyes obediently upward. “You’re a tribune in my Praetorian guard.”

“Yes, Caesar. I’ve been stationed in Brundisium.”

“Mmm.” Domitian snapped for a secretary and dictated a quick postscript. “Centurion Densus’s command?”

“Yes, Caesar.” Wondering how the Emperor had known that off the top of his head.

“I know all my Praetorian commanders,” Domitian said as if he had read Paulinus’s mind. The Emperor had a broad ruddy face like an amiable shopkeeper, but Paulinus didn’t imagine that those black eyes missed much. “Your father is Senator Marcus Vibius Augustus Norbanus.”

“Yes, Caesar.”

“You are his only child?”

“I have a sister. Four years old. She likes apricots.” Paulinus closed his eyes. “Why did I just say that?”

“You’re nervous.” Unexpectedly the Emperor smiled. “We Caesars have that effect on people. Have some wine.”

Paulinus sipped gratefully.

“So. You weren’t stationed here in Germania?” Stamping various documents.

“No, Caesar. I was on leave. My cousin Lappius appointed me commander of the legions over my objections.”

“Your objections?” The black eyes probed.

“I wasn’t a good choice. I knew nothing about Germania, or Saturninus and his legions. I could never have managed without the help of Legate Marcus Ulpius Trajan. I recommend him in the highest possible terms.”

“He will be rewarded in due course. But you were in command.”

“It wasn’t much of a battle. If the Rhine hadn’t thawed—”

“I dislike the word if. ” The Emperor melted a stick of sealing wax in a candle flame. “If the Rhine hadn’t thawed—what of that? Fortuna favored you. You won.”

“Just don’t expect me to do it again.” It popped out of Paulinus’s mouth. “Um. That is to say—”

Domitian laughed. “Are you trying to get yourself punished rather than rewarded?”

“No, Caesar.”

“I hear you killed Saturninus yourself.” Secretaries went scrambling as Domitian tossed out a load of letters and scrolls.

“He committed suicide.”

“You could have claimed the credit. No one would have known.”

Paulinus shrugged.

“Spar with me sometime.” Abruptly. “I need the practice.”

“Caesar?”

“Yes, I know how to use a sword.” The pen wove in an elaborate parry before swooping down to sign a dispatch. “I’m dismally out of practice, since my sparring partners always allow me to win. An irritating habit. Would you allow me to win, Tribune Norbanus?”

“. . . No . . .”

“I thought not.” Domitian slid a hard thumb under a seal and rapidly scanned another letter. “So. You spared me the trouble of putting down Saturninus and his legions myself. For that I thank you.”

“Thank you. I mean, you’re welcome. Caesar.”

“It was not much of a rebellion, and I doubt it would have gone far. But you have saved me the trouble of subduing an angry province. And yet I cannot give you a triumph. Mutinies, even defeated ones, cannot be made much of.” Still scanning the letter. “Thus I find myself indebted to a man I cannot reward. How interesting.”