“Are you laughing at me?”

“Oh, no. Lord and God.”

“I won’t be laughed at by a Jewish slave. You may address me as Caesar. Can you get through that without giggling?”

“Yes, Caesar.”

TWO hours after midnight. A troupe of weary jugglers came out again to entertain us. Slaves brought out a hastily prepared dish, little cakes enameled in black sugar. Behind a pillar in the anteroom, I saw the slaves gawking. Guests stirred uneasily, no one knowing if they should interrupt us or not. I didn’t know if I wanted them to.

“This chamber—why all the black, Caesar?”

“It frightens my guests.”

“You want to frighten your guests?”

“It’s useful. I judge people on how well they handle fear.”

“But everyone is afraid of an Emperor.”

“You aren’t.”

“I passed your test, then?”

“For the time being. Should I reward you?”

“My friend Cleopatra would tell me to ask for jewels.”

“I don’t give women jewels.”

“I don’t want jewels, anyway.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Strings for my lyre. The imported kind, from the gut of a Cretan bull. They’re the best.”

“I’ll send some tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Caesar.”

“The first time I’ve ever given a woman bull guts.”

“At least it’s original.”

Four hours after midnight. The banquet should have ended long ago. Everyone yawned and dozed on their couches. Slaves drooped against the walls, trying to keep their eyes open. Musicians sawed tiredly at their instruments, recycling music heard at the beginning of the night. More people gathered in the anteroom behind the black curtains: I saw that Larcius had arrived with a worried Penelope. But no one dared to leave.

“My niece Julia. I suppose you’ve heard of her death?”

“It’s a great loss, Caesar. Rome’s loss.”

“Don’t mouth platitudes at me.”

“I’m not. I saw her once. She looked kind.”

“When did you see her?”

“At her wedding. I was fifteen.”

“I don’t remember her wedding.”

“Well, it was a short marriage.”

“She was very . . . she had a delightful giggle, when she did giggle, which wasn’t often. Shouldn’t have died. My astrologer Nessus said she wasn’t supposed to die so young. He’s never failed me before.”

“One hears she wanted to be a Vestal Virgin.”

“Spiteful dried-up old priestesses. She’d have been wasted on them.”

“Perhaps.”

“She was—she was a great comfort to me. And now everyone keeps shoving blond girls at me, as if she had been my mistress. Filthy-minded fools.”

“People like to talk, Caesar. What’s the use of having an Emperor if you can’t make up filthy rumors about him?”

“Did any of your former masters sell you for impertinence?”

“No, I’m usually very tactful. But you did tell me to talk.”

“So I did. I can’t think what got into me. I don’t usually like loose talk. And anyone who slanders my niece’s memory, I’ll hang.”

“Then you’ll execute a good many harmless gossips.”

“Traitors.”

“Innocents.”

“They’re all innocent when they’re dead.”

“It’s no use arguing with you, is it?”