‘Anything else, lady?’

‘Thank you, no.’

Claudia lifted a small bronze-backed mirror she had brought and studied her face, bereft for days of any cosmetics. Were there lines around the eyes and mouth? She thought that she had seen them when she last looked, but washing off the dust and grime had reduced them to no more than hints. Sighing, she thought of her grandmother, the great Cartimandua, whose mirror had helped her to see the future. She had been a frightening old woman, usually stern until one of her rare moments of kindness. Enica sought in her own mind for the dead queen’s voice, for her certainty and guidance.

Instead there was a man’s voice from the hall outside, gruff and unclear.

‘Girl!’ the man was shouting now. ‘Here, girl!’

Enica could not hear the response. She had already drawn on her boots, and might have smiled at this mark of the Mother’s training. Shoes or boots first, each Mother told her pupils. ‘You can fight naked if you have to, but a firm grip on muddy ground will often save your life.’ Not worrying about undergarments, she pulled the fresh tunic over her head.

There was a scream, cut short in an instant.

‘Come on, bitch!’ The voice was Piso’s, very slurred and unclear.

Enica drew her curved sica from its scabbard and unlocked the door. There was no one in the hall, but her old clothes were scattered on the floor where they had been dropped. Across the way, two doors were shut tight and only the one in between them had light showing around its edges and underneath. She wondered about kicking the door, then decided that calm might be better. Enica lowered her sword to her side, and opened it.

Indike was on the table, face-down amid the plates and scraps of the tribune’s meal, her long dress bunched up over her bare buttocks. Piso was holding her down with one hand, while fumbling at his breeches with the other. The girl was sobbing, her whole body quivering with fear.

‘Stop, lord tribune,’ Claudia Enica said, doing her best to sound firm and level as her anger rose.

‘Piss off, Ferox!’ Piso mumbled without looking back. The broken fragments of the amphora showed that he had drunk the whole thing.

‘Stop at once!’ Claudia yelled at him. ‘You’re a disgrace, tribune, to your family and rank.’

‘Jupiter’s balls, at last.’ Piso’s breeches started to slide down. ‘Go away, you fool. You cannot judge a noble.’ Indike wriggled, trying to free herself, so the tribune slapped her hard across the bottom. ‘Still, you slut! Still!’

Claudia Enica went forward and pressed the tip of her blade against Piso’s throat.

‘You dumb bastard, Ferox, what are you playing at? She’s just a slave.’

‘I said stop or I slit your throat,’ Claudia told him. ‘And I am not Ferox.’

Piso stood up, turning his head and focusing his bleary eyes. He shuffled back, breeches around his knees. Enica kept the blade close to his throat, but let him move away.