Caenis whistled, which made Athenaïs giggle. She was deeply in awe of the secretary for being able to read and write, even though Caenis had made it plain since she first entered Antonia's household that to anyone half sensible she was perfectly approachable. Athenaïs immediately made her try on the dress, then squatted on the floor to alter the hem length, frowning with concentration as her nimble fingers flew. She seemed even more excited than Caenis was herself.

"I don't suppose you could persuade Pamphila to find me an undertunic too?"

Athenaïs scoffed. "I don't suppose you would like to try being the person who asked her?"

"No; I know my limits, dear!"

So Caenis came to the pantomime in her own shift, but a gown that had once belonged to the daughter of Mark Antony. It was one that showed its pedigree, in a shade of amber brown, as plain as it had once been expensive. Veronica would think it dull stuff, but Caenis recognized true elegance. It was linen woven through in Tyre with Chinese silk, a material so light she found it fabulous to wear. The dress moved as she moved; it lay soft against the skin, tenderly cool during the heat of the day, then with the evening chill whisperingly warm.

"You look nice," Vespasian remarked. No man had ever said that to Caenis before; none had ever thought he needed to. But he, as usual, was examining her. "You look happy."

For the first time Caenis glimpsed that although exquisite features and fine robes must help, real good looks depended on a glad heart. "Happy?" she quipped. "Well, strolling out with a bankrupt will soon settle that! Shall we walk?" she asked helpfully.

"I do have the price of a litter for my female companion."

"Of course," she murmured. No slave traveled in such style. Teasing him helped cover her unease. "But I was afraid that if you spent your small change now, you might have to miss your intermission honeycake."