He was right that here they had no WELCOME sign set into their scrubbed mosaic floor. However, letters addressed to Caenis were always promptly delivered, and Vespasian's slave was permitted to wait for her reply. At ease in her long chair in one of the tasteful reception rooms, with her own slavegirl in attendance for decency's sake, Caenis smiled a little as she dictated it to a thin Greek scribe.

So pleasant to hear from you; so kind of you to remember me. You may visit me here at any time, tomorrow perhaps if you wish. I should very much like to see you!

A.C.

Vespasian decided not to wait until tomorrow.

ELEVEN

The House of Livia, Antonia's house, like any substantial residence in Rome turned inward on courtyards full of quiet sunlight and the soothing splash of fountains. Blank walls faced outward, even though this dwelling possessed the added seclusion of a position on the Palatine. Everything was designed to eliminate the bustle of exterior crowds and to provide, even within the capital, a family haven of strict privacy and peace. The architects had not reckoned with the havoc that the mad Julio-Claudian family could cause in any haven, but for once the defect was not the architects' fault.

There was one courtyard garden, shaded in summer by a fig tree and overhead roses, surrounded by a colonnade. Nobody went there much nowadays. The wicker chairs and folding tables were stored on one side, together with terra-cotta urns of tender bulbs that had been brought under the roof for shelter.