“What would you find, Caesar?” Coming forward from the doorway.

“Nothing.” He ran his fingers through the ends of her loose hair. “Smoke and a song.”

“Caesar.” She took a step forward, pressing her cheek against his hand. “Please.”

“Please spare your son? Why should I?”

“Because he’s a child.”

“Don’t you Jews have a saying—‘the sins of the father shall be visited upon the children?’ ”

Paulinus opened his mouth, but found no words. Nothing, nothing could break the terrible duel before him.

Thea held out her hands. “Mercy. Mercy, Domitian.”

Domitian tilted his head. “Did it hurt you, when I made him fight in the Colosseum?”

“You know it did.” Pressing her face against his hand again. “Please—let Vix go. Take me instead.”

“You’re a common singing Jew. What makes you think I want you?”

“Because you do.”

“Damn you.” Domitian released her face abruptly and turned away. “Damn you. A common singing Jew, and you’re the only one who plays back. The only one—”

His voice trembled a moment, and Paulinus saw Thea’s eyes flare. She took a step forward, running a hand along the end of the sleeping couch.

“What do you want with Vix, anyway?” she cajoled. “What use is he to you? You don’t like children—and as children go, he’s appalling.”

“True.” Domitian turned. “Is he mine?”

She blinked. “You know he isn’t. He’s too old to be yours.”

“I know.” Domitian looked up at the ceiling, reflective. “I suppose it’s just as well. A God cannot have sons—Jupiter himself murdered his child by Metis when he discovered that it would grow to be greater than he. But Vix . . .”

“What?”

Domitian shrugged. “He amuses me.”

“I used to amuse you.” Thea took another step forward. “Didn’t I?”

He reached up toward her cheek again. But this time he wound her hair around his hand and forced her to her knees.

“Fear me?” he said, and for the first time Paulinus saw terror in his face. “You fear me, Athena? Say it. Please say it. Please—”

Then she said it.

“Yes.”

LEPIDA

A short ride to the palace took me nearly an hour. A cart had turned over on some street or other; the wagons and litters were jammed for blocks. I had another time of it persuading the Praetorian to let me in. Only the assurance that I had information about a conspiracy—plus a good number of sesterces—bought me entry. Quite a changed place, with no messengers or courtiers or hangers-on scurrying about the lavish halls in their finest silks and perfumes. Only bunches of nervous-looking slaves, and absolutely hordes of guards.

“Lady Lepida!” Vix, the young darling of the Colosseum, caught my elbow impudently. “I’ve been looking for you—me and Prefect Paulinus.”

“You were expecting me?”

“We had a warning you’d come. I’ll take you to the Emperor. He’s gone mad; only you can calm him down.”

I smiled, letting him take my arm as I imagined his head stuck on a spear right beside his father’s. It was such a pretty picture that I didn’t notice when he led me down the wrong corridor. An empty slave’s passageway, not an Imperial hall.