"You have to be thirty years old." Caenis felt younger, but since she did not know her age she bluffed it out. Antonia pursed her mouth, yet let that issue drop. "You are forcing my hand, Caenis!"

Caenis made no reply. There was a long, not entirely amicable silence.

Antonia asked stiffly, "Do you want to get married?" Caenis shuddered. "Do you wish to set up in some business? Run a salon? Open a shop?" Caenis laughed. Antonia breathed; the rings on her gnarled fingers flashed restlessly. "Would you leave me?"

"Not if you would let me stay."

Antonia knew she was beaten.

She sighed. "Don't expect too much," she warned. "A slave is sheltered; a free woman faces more responsibilities than you may realize."

Although Caenis was too sensitive to argue, she lifted her head; she saw Antonia close her eyes momentarily, with a faint smile. They both knew Caenis would glide into responsibility fearlessly. She was ready to be her own woman. To hold her back would condemn her. Anyone who cared for her must sympathize.

"Perhaps you will be good enough," the lady Antonia instructed her, with petulant formality, "to prepare for me another of these documents." Caenis knew her well enough to wait. "You will not be asked to buy your citizenship. Caenis, you are stubborn and independent—but, my dear, this was to be my gift to you and I refuse to forgo that pleasure!"

* * *

So it was now to a distinguished imperial freedwoman that Vespasian had to dispatch his least ruffianly slave. Not only was Antonia's house the highest-ranking private home in Rome; by virtue of their position close to the imperial family, her freedwoman possessed more clout than any tax collector's son. Vespasian would not consider visiting the House of Livia without his own patron, Lucius Vitellius, and he felt wary of making a personal approach to Caenis before he knew how she would react. He was not entirely certain his scab-kneed lad would be admitted.