‘You are a barbarian, are you not,’ she said, as her fingers brushed water from her eyes. ‘But at least that should tell you that you are awake. The dream does not have to spoil.’

He came towards her, and it was difficult to swim because the pool was not really deep enough for him, but he did his best, toes now and then scraping the bottom. They floated, only a little apart.

‘I wish I had had a chance to shave,’ he said.

Lepidina frowned. ‘And I wish that tonight would last, that I was not who I am and could act as I wished.’ She reached out and ran her hand over his cheek, grimacing. ‘It is rough, and I am not one of those women who take pleasure in roughness and vulgarity, but it does not matter now. I think you love me.’

The change of subject shocked him as much as the directness, and he sought refuge in well-tried jokes. ‘I cannot help what you think.’

‘I also think you are a better man than you pretend to be,’ she began, ‘and I—’

‘This is not the time to talk,’ he said, interrupting, and he went forward, sliding his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. They floundered, heads dipping almost under the water, until they came up again and he kissed her. Her legs folded around him, gripping him tight, and they lost balance again, but it did not matter for they had each other and all that mattered was to hold each other close.

Later, Flora herself guided them to her most opulent room. It was Samhain, the lady was safe from harm and the laws and rules did not apply.

XXIV

SULPICIA LEPIDINA LAY on one side, head on a cushion, watching him. ‘The sun has risen.’ Her voice was sad. ‘I guess that is no longer Samhain and the world will soon return to how it was.’

Strictly speaking the festival lasted until dusk, so it was still Samhain, but the daylight hours were a time for placating spirits set loose the night before and persuading them to return to the Otherworld and not haunt the realm of the living. There were more fires and more sacrifices and dances, but these were less of a celebration and the mood was always different, little better than that among the hundreds of hung-over Batavians who began the task of clearing up the debris of their own revels.

Ferox reached out to touch her hair. For a moment her smile grew warm, although there was something brittle about her in the pale light that came into the room through the cracks in the high, shuttered window.

‘I am glad to have a good memory,’ she said. ‘Its sweetness will carry me through the days to come.’ The lady took his hand and kissed his fingers.