"Wonder—what you missed!"

Looking at him, while trying not to, she felt aware of that.

The house porter was starting to pay attention. She touched Vespasian's hand briefly, and turned to go in. "Good night, Caenis." They were friends again. His voice dropped; once more she felt stricken by its private, benevolent note.

She looked back. Vespasian had started walking down the narrow alley between the house and the temple, which would eventually take him back down into the Forum or to the Circus Maximus; then he also turned. Suddenly smiling, he raised his arm in farewell. She watched him retrace his steps, closely shadowed now by the two guards. Rome at night was dangerous, yet he had a knack of walking without haste so he seemed invulnerable. Lunging toward him from their dreadful alleyways, robbers and bullies would stay their intended ambush and wait for easier prey.

It was how he walked through life: steady and unperturbed, a man who knew his way and who would arrive unscathed.

SEVEN

Veronica knew about the walk in Caesar's Gardens by next day. "Well; you were seen, Caenis!"

People called Rome a place where everything was noticed, and Veronica made it her business to ensure that any snippets about anyone's indiscretions were certainly picked up by her.

"I can assure you," Caenis commented bitterly, "I have done nothing—"

"Glad to hear it," Veronica interrupted. "Make them wait. They enjoy it more if they're keyed up—and if they enjoy themselves there is always a slim chance you might too! He'll bring you a present next time, to make sure."

About to protest that he already had done so, Caenis realized that her powers of rhetoric would not stretch to justifying a Lucanian salami and a parchment of pickled fish.

"He won't," she declared in a tiny saddened voice. "I have decided not to see him again."