She wasn't pinching him, but her touch reminded the servant that he was dealing with Hedia, not her gentle, diffident husband. Candidus would obey, without question or hesitation.

The fellow made Hedia want to slap him. Well, cane him; she certainly didn't want her bare hand to touch his greasy skin. She had decided when she took charge of Saxa's household that so long as the servants obeyed her instantly, she would ignore any behavior that didn't directly touch the honor of her new family.

"At once, your ladyship!" Candidus said. He went down the stairs at the back of the Tribunal, taking each step individually but quickly.

Though a slave, Candidus affected a toga at public events like this one. The thick wool made him sweat like a broiling capon. In Hedia's present mood, the fellow's mere presence seemed an almost unbearable provocation.

She turned and almost cannoned into Alphena, who must have followed her. Hedia stifled a curse-she's following me to help, but this isn't the time for it!-and hugged her daughter by the shoulders and swung around her.

"Give me a moment, dear," Hedia said. "I must speak to your father."

Saxa sat with his hands on the arms of his chair, beaming and blinking. He no more understands the situation than a bull being led to the altar does! Hedia thought, then muttered a prayer that the metaphor might not be a prophecy.

Syra had righted the stool, Hedia leaned across it, graceful despite her hurry, and touched her husband's upper arm.

"Dearest," she said, hoping that concern wouldn't give her voice the whip-crack edge she knew it got at times. "Get up and thank the emperor. Raise your hands for silence. When things quiet a little, say that this was done by the emperor's gift. Make sure that at least the orchestra hears you. Do you understand?"