‘Go, girl. Find your husband and stay with him – or if not him, the Lady Sulpicia Lepidina.’ Indike was up, pulling her dress back down. She could not speak, but the gratitude showed in her eyes as she fled.

‘Lady?’ Piso blinked as he started. ‘The Lady Claudia? Is that you?’

‘It is, and come in time. That woman is free, so what you tried to do was rape. Still, I am sure that we can persuade her to forget this ever happened.’

He was very drunk and anger flashed into his face as his mind cleared a little. ‘Slave or freedwoman, what’s the difference? I have many consuls among my ancestors.’

‘And wouldn’t they be proud,’ Claudia said before she could restrain herself. Piso had begun to pull up his breeches, but stopped. ‘You have fought like a hero,’ she went on, for a wildness was coming into his eyes. ‘Worthy of your family and worthy of praise and reward and honours to come. Do not throw all that away in a moment of weakness.’

‘You are right, lady.’ Piso stood as straight and dignified as a man can when holding up his trousers with one hand. ‘It is the drink. I must thank you for stopping me and beg for your discretion.’

Claudia smiled, feeling the tension fading. ‘Of course, tribune.’ She lowered her sword.

‘In the old days men would have sung of you,’ Piso told her. ‘Warrior maiden, never having trained her woman’s hands to Minerva’s distaff or basket of wool, but hardy to bear the brunt of battle and in speed of foot to outstrip the winds.’

‘Poor Camilla,’ Claudia said, recognising the lines from the Aenied and remembering how, long ago, even Ferox had compared her to the Volscian heroine. ‘But we are Romans and so destined to overcome the proud in war and not share her fate.’

‘We are Romans…’ Piso’s face changed like cloud passing over the moon. The rational, educated aristocrat fell away and rage filled his eyes. His left hand shot forward and grabbed her wrist, squeezing and twisting with a strength she would not have guessed he possessed. Perhaps she was tired, for she should not have been surprised like this and the thought brought a moment of panic. She slapped him with her free hand.

‘Bitch!’ he hissed and punched, catching her on the cheek as she tried to twist out of the way. Her sword fell with a clatter that seemed loud. ‘We’re all dead,’ he screamed and taking hold of her pushed with all his weight. ‘All dead! So nothing matters, nothing!’ She tried to strangle him, but his brute strength broke the lock and then he lifted her up onto the table. Her hand found a cup and she flung it at him, but missed and then he had both her arms and was pinning her down, his weight pressing onto her.

‘You’ll do better.’ The words were soft, almost tender and so surprising that she stopped struggling, wondering whether this was all some perverse joke. ‘You are so beautiful. A lady rather than some slut.’ His breath reeked of wine, and pressing her down with one elbow she felt the other hand take the hem of her tunic. He stood beside her, and she kept her legs tight together, but could not work out how to kick him. ‘Steady, girl, gently now,’ he whispered as if soothing a nervous horse. ‘It’s all right, it’s all right.’