“God, no.” Shuddering. “His father’s dead. Does it matter?” Her eyes flicked up at him. “Vix lives here, with Lady Flavia. I see him when I’m in Tivoli. It’s harmless!”

“Then why are you afraid?” Pause. “The Emperor doesn’t know, does he?”

“No. He doesn’t.”

“Why? Surely he wouldn’t care if—”

“I don’t know if he’d care or not. I don’t know. Maybe he’d shrug and say, ‘Who cares if you have a bastard brat?’ But maybe he wouldn’t.” Her eyes flicked up. “He doesn’t like children. He doesn’t like reminders that I’ve had other men before him. And I don’t think he’d like seeing the proof that another man got a strong son on me when the Emperor of Rome has not. You know him as well as I, Paulinus Norbanus. What do you think?”

Paulinus’s brain skittered to a halt.

“I’ve seen Vix three times in the past year.” Harshly. “Three. When he learned to use a sword I wasn’t here to applaud him. When he knocked Lady Flavia’s son unconscious in sparring practice I wasn’t here to thrash him. When he fell out of a tree and broke his arm I wasn’t here to bandage him. But even three times in a year is better than nothing.”

Paulinus looked at her.

“Don’t tell.” Her eyes pleaded nakedly. “Please don’t tell.”

He thought suddenly that out of all the months he’d lived by her side at the Domus Augustana, he’d never seen her face open up like it had when she smiled at the russet-haired boy.

“Oh, gods.” He raked his hair out of his eyes. “I’m supposed to fetch you back to the Emperor’s villa now. But I’ll give you an hour. All right?”

A smile broke across her face. She looked more abruptly beautiful, standing there in her dusty robe with her hair hanging down her back, than she did decked in all her jewels. She stood smiling for a moment, happy as a child, and then she turned and ran into the villa after her son.

Paulinus wondered if he was falling in love with her. Gods, that would be inconvenient.

“Paulinus Vibius Augustus Norbanus!” He turned and saw Lady Flavia standing at the garden gate. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since we were ten years old. Come into the garden where it’s cool, and tell me all your news.”

He started for the house. And realized that, for the first time in his three years as Praetorian Prefect and Imperial confidant, he had a secret from the Emperor.

Twenty-three

TIVOLI

THE gardener known to everyone at Lady Flavia’s villa as Stephanus was just bending down to wash his face in the water trough when a stone sailed out of the bushes and stung him on the shoulder.

He turned in one smooth instinctive movement, knife leaping from his belt to his hand, and lunged. Among the prickly bushes he caught a handful of rough tunic and yanked. Solid weight crashed into his knees. He staggered, losing hold of the tunic, and when he regained his balance he found himself looking at a nine-year-old boy.