“But Paulinus says he’s very popular.”

“Oh, with the army; they think the world of him. But the Roman plebs just want a tax cut and lots of chariot races. Therefore, if one raises the taxes one must spend elsewhere. Usually on pomp and spectacle.” Flavia gave a small, dry smile. “I’m only a featherbrained Christian, my dear, but I do know how these things work.”

I was starting to learn, myself.

“Well, the boys will be happy,” Flavia said. “I’m afraid to say they simply adore the Colosseum. Maybe I can leave them with their father and plead a headache before the blood really starts to flow. That’s what Julia and I always did. Oh, dear, I do miss her.” Flavia sighed, rather sadly. But she looked up at me and smiled again. “I’ll miss you, too, Athena. You’ve been marvelous company.”

“Why don’t you call me Thea, Lady Flavia?” My hand strayed up to the lump of jet—Domitian’s eye—that sat at my throat. “I’m going to Rome, too.”

And I would be seeing the games.

ROME

UNDER the Colosseum, Arius could already hear the crowd. “Feisty today, aren’t they?” Hercules observed. The dog, curled up on Arius’s cloak, snored oblivious.

Methodically Arius stripped down and readied himself. The blue kilt. The greaves. The mail sleeve for his fighting arm, embossed all over with what some wealthy fan had imagined were barbaric symbols. At the familiar routine, the demon woke and stretched inside him, not snapping at the leash as in the old days but still looking around with a certain interest. Arius stretched, reaching for his sword. A sword with beautiful balance and a special left-handed grip, forged just for him. Being the best had its privileges.

“It’s time.” Hercules reached for his own sword, a miniature copy of Arius’s.

The cheering was louder. Dust sifted down from the ceiling as they wound through the dim passages. Just outside the cages of doomed Christians, Gallus cornered them.

“Ah, so glad I caught you. Good luck today, good luck. You do know you have two fights today, don’t you, dear boy? Yes, just wanted to be sure. And in case there are any other surprises, well, don’t be surprised!” Gallus patted Hercules on his diminutive head, ran a hand along Arius’s bare arm, and disappeared with a wink of jewels.

Hercules looked after him. “Is it just me, or has that bastard got something up his sleeve?”

“It’s just you.” Arius turned his head up, catching the sound of the applause again. In the cage behind him, the Christians moaned and crossed themselves.

Today, he thought, today’s important—and wondered why.

THEA

A SPLENDID parade. How could it not be? I sat in my curtained litter in the back, but I still saw it all, peeking through the black silk curtains.

Rose petals. Banners. Trumpeters—a modest number, since it was no military triumph we were celebrating, but simply the festival of Volturnalia. Praetorians, rank by rank in their red and gold. Paulinus, back from the German front and looking very noble on a black horse, much cheered. Flavia and her husband in litters, smiling and bowing as only royalty can smile and bow. Emperor Domitian himself in a gold chariot, flanked by Flavia’s proud sons. The younger boy was Vix’s age. Then there was me, in a silver litter with the curtains fluttering just enough to let them catch a glimpse of a purple silk gown, a flash of silver and amethysts, a bare white ankle on black velvet cushions . . .