“The first time I went to an Imperial banquet I saw an orgy,” Calpurnia said bluntly. “And the second time I went I saw an assassination attempt, an arrest, and a murder. I don’t really think I want to try a third time.”

Paulinus could not stifle a smile, teeth gleaming in his sun-darkened face. “I suppose I can’t blame you.”

“I’ve been to see the augurs, Paulinus,” Calpurnia said. “About a date for our wedding.”

“Oh?” said Paulinus cautiously.

“It seems there is nothing auspicious enough,” said Calpurnia. “Not for months.”

“Oh,” said Paulinus.

They exchanged a certain glance, and restored their attention to Trajan and Marcus respectively. I sent Paulinus the slow smile that always turned his knees to water. He nodded back curtly, and looked away. Playing cool in front of his friend and fiancée, of course. We’d see how cool he was once I got him alone. Really, if Domitian could amuse himself, why shouldn’t I?

The midday executions dragged past, and then the gladiators marched through the Gate of Life in their purple cloaks, pairing off for the preliminary fights. My daughter leaned forward, her eyes bending on the muscled armored figures. I looked at her irritably. “Since when is Little Lady Squeamish a gladiator fan?”

“I’m not,” she said, eyes still fixed on the arena. “I went for the first time at Matralia, and it was all fairly awful. But it is interesting.”

I brushed a fly away from my wine cup. “You’ve got a crush on a trident fighter, I suppose.”

“No . . . it’s just that the gladiators are supposed to care about dying well, and all they care about is not dying at all.” Her eyes traveled from the arena to the packed tiers of the Colosseum, the laughing cheering crowds of plebs and patricians alike. “People don’t seem to see that.”

“Perhaps it’s the young Barbarian who makes your heart pound?” I smiled. “Such low tastes, Sabina. Even an ugly little girl with foaming fits can do better than a gladiator.”

“Trade seats with me, Sabina,” Marcus intervened smoothly. “My view is better.”

They traded seats, a move that placed her on Marcus’s other side next to Calpurnia. Sabina leaned forward toward the arena again, and my husband immediately engaged his almost-daughter-in-law in some boring discussion. Paulinus was busy listening to Trajan outline a proposed method of revamping the legions, and around us the crowd was shouting encouragement to the gladiators as they warmed up with wooden weapons. “Marcus,” I said, “fill my cup, will you?”

“Of course, my dear.” He leaned over to fill my goblet, and I leaned toward the arena, at last starting to enjoy myself as the Emperor gave the signal and the gladiators fell on each other with hoarse shouts. Nothing like a good slaughter to clear the head.

“By the way,” Marcus said casually, handing me my goblet. “I’m divorcing you.”

“Mmm?” I blinked, looking up from a pair of Egyptians tussling over a trident.