They pile onto the streets, muffled up in their cloaks. The shops are shuttered for the festival, but a number of other households are out for a stroll, taking the chance to get some air before the afternoon grows too dark. Amara takes Dido’s arm as they all amble to the Forum. Everyone on the street seems in high spirits, and even Paris is escorting his mother, who looks as if this was the present she has been waiting for the entire Saturnalia. Amara remembers the way Paris carried Simo from the burning bar, as if he were helping him, all the better to slip in the knife. She shudders.

Dido squeezes her arm. “Are you cold?”

Amara shakes her head.

Crowds are milling around the Forum, drinking and laughing, watching street performers and musicians. They stop near a man juggling torches. Amara watches the flames as they rise and fall, the man catching them in his gloved hands.

“I hoped to see you today.”

His voice is a memory from home. Amara has not met Menander in months, but hearing him, it feels like yesterday since she held him. She turns. For once, he doesn’t look entirely sure of himself.

“We said we would meet at the Saturnalia. I know that was some time ago,” he adds, seeing the flustered look on her face. “I’m only here as a friend. I brought you a gift.”

He holds out an object wrapped in cloth. She takes it, unwraps it. Inside is a beautiful clay lamp with a green glaze. The figure on it is familiar. It is a likeness of Aphidnai’s Helen of Troy, the statue from her hometown, the one she loved to look at as a child, when her father pointed it out to her with such pride. Menander made this for her. She stares at the lamp, unable to speak. Then she flings her arms around his neck. “It’s beautiful,” she says. “It’s the most beautiful present anyone has ever given me.”

Dido yanks hard at her arm, and she lets go, but Menander catches hold of her hand. “I know you have a patron, Timarete, I know this,” he says. “But if I were free, if I gained my freedom, would you feel differently?”

Amara withdraws her hand, at last understanding what Dido saw behind him.

“What’s this?”

She has never known Rufus so angry. Terror almost stops her heart. She pushes Menander aside to reach her boyfriend, but he blocks her embrace. “Who is this?” For a moment she is almost afraid he will hit her.