‘Provincials like me, I suppose.’

‘Oh, I didn’t mean…’

‘Only joking. But seriously, if Titus is to make a career for himself in the Senate then he must serve with the legions first.’

‘You could see to it that he gets a posting near home.’

‘We’ve been through this. The appointments get made by the imperial staff. I have no influence there, at least not at the moment. If you want him to be successful he must serve in the army first. You know that’s the way it is.’

‘Yes.’ Flavia nodded sadly and kissed Titus on the forehead. The infant sensed her mood and suddenly hugged her tightly, crushing his little face into her shoulder. ‘I just wish I could have him at this age for longer.’

‘I know. I really do. Maybe there’ll be more children one day. When you’re ready.’

Flavia stared up into his face, dark eyes full of painful memory that threatened to well up into tears. She blinked and then forcefully smiled away the tremble in her lip. ‘Oh, I hope so. I want so very many of them. And I want them with you. You promise me you will be careful?’

‘Careful?’

‘This new campaign of yours in Britain. You will be careful.’

‘Britain! How the hell…’ Vespasian’s brow creased angrily. ‘That’s supposed to be a secret. Where did you hear it?’

‘From the officers’ wives.’ Flavia laughed at his expression. ‘You men really do have a great deal to learn about keeping secrets, don’t you?’

‘Typical,’ Vespasian muttered. ‘Bloody typical. I swear my most senior officers to strict confidentiality and the next thing I know it’s common gossip. Is nothing sacred any more?’

Titus laughed and shook his head violently from side to side.

‘Now, don’t fuss, dear.’ Flavia patted him on the arm. ‘I’m sure the secret’s safe from everyone else. But don’t let’s change the subject. I was talking about Britain.’

‘So, it seems, is everyone else,’ grumbled Vespasian.

‘You must promise me you’ll be careful. I want your word. Right now.’

‘I promise.’

‘That’s settled, then.’ She nodded in satisfaction. ‘Now give the boy a hug and put him to bed.’

Vespasian carried the child over to the cot in the corner of the room. Leaning down, he pulled back the soft woollen covers one-handed and removed the warming brick. As he was lowered into the cot, Titus moaned and tightly clenched his hands into the folds of his father’s tunic. ‘Not tired! Not tired!’

‘You must go to sleep now,’ Vespasian replied softly as he tried to prise his son’s fingers loose. The boy’s tiny hands were surprisingly strong and his father struggled to unpick them as the child’s eyes welled with tears of anger and frustration. As the last fingers were worked free from the cloth round Vespasian’s neck Titus suddenly bit his father on the knuckle. Before he could help himself, Vespasian swore out loud.

‘Language!’ Flavia hissed. ‘Do you want him to pick up such words at his age?’