"Yes."

"Will you take it?"

"Probably."

"There!" Narcissus exclaimed, like the nanny Vespasian had called him; Vespasian, to his credit, openly winced.

Unable to bear any more of this, Caenis was determined to go home. Narcissus embraced her as he usually did when she left. He said to Vespasian (so Caenis began to wonder just how many conversations about her these two had held), "I'll have to fix her up with a nice tolerant widower; somebody brave, someone the Empire owes a favor to—"

Caenis broke free. "Oh, you brass-necked cretin! Being saddled with a half-baked widower is not what I require at all."

Even Vespasian crackled, "Great gods, Narcissus—leave the poor girl alone!"

For a second she felt they were haggling over her, as Vespasian had once done with Antonia. They talked across her, about her, at her, with men's knowing air. They liked to flatter themselves they could help in her business affairs. They liked to fidget when she showed distress. Because they were men they were competitive. Neither wanted her. Neither wanted to know anything of her private aches. But neither wanted the other to show he knew her best.

Vespasian held out his hand. In front of Narcissus, she really had no choice; Caenis gave him her own. A Consul probably shook hands with hundreds of people every day. But not crushing most of them in such a deliberate grip. "Antonia Caenis."

When he spoke her name she had to look away.

* * *

After she had gone, Narcissus agitated primly, "Thanks. Anything happen?"

"We had a brief but bloody fight." Vespasian was staring at him. "Nothing unusual."

"Actually, I was afraid that seeing you might upset her."

Some grim jest twitched at one corner of the Consul's mouth.

"She's all right," he said. Helpless, Narcissus realized the full extent of the mistake he had made. "She's used to it," Vespasian stated drably. Then, after the faintest pause, "No doubt one day I'll get used to it myself."

TWENTY-FIVE

Claudius had married Agrippina on the New Year's Day immediately following Messalina's death. On that occasion Caenis made an excuse not to attend the wedding. She could not in conscience offer her support.

On the day Claudius was married, Lucius Silanus, who had been betrothed for years to the Emperor's infant daughter, Octavia, accepted the inevitable and committed suicide (a heavy hint that he was in disgrace had been dropped when he was struck off as praetor with only one day of the magistracy left to serve). Agrippina's son by her previous marriage, Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, was betrothed to Octavia instead.

At Agrippina's urging, Ahenobarbus was soon also adopted by Claudius. This raised some eyebrows. No outsider had ever been adopted into the patrician Claudian house, and besides, the Emperor had a son of his own; the adoption unnecessarily supplanted Britannicus. As a newcomer to the family Ahenobarbus took a Claudian surname; now he was called Nero.

One of the arguments used by Pallas to secure Nero's adoption was that Claudius ought to arrange a protector for his own boy. Ironically, from then on, even during his father's lifetime, Britannicus was treated at the Palace as an unwelcome guest of doubtful parentage; any slaves or freedmen loyal to him were gradually removed, and officers in the army who gave him their allegiance were encouraged to transfer abroad or promoted out of the way. His new brother gave him no support; entirely the opposite.

Next, Claudius agreed that Nero should be declared of age early, and start his public career. He became a consul designate without holding other positions, and was styled Prince of Youth. There was a difficult scene when Britannicus refused to address him by his adopted name. Britannicus was disciplined, his best tutors were dismissed, and he lost even more of his slaves.

At the age of sixteen Nero married Octavia. This made Octavia his sister, his cousin, and his wife; Claudius was both his father and father-in-law. Even by the contorted standards of the Julio-Claudian house it was unusual. Nero arranged celebratory Games in honor of the Emperor, appearing himself in full triumphal robes while Britannicus wore the usual narrow-striped tunic of a boy at school. People in the audience exchanged old-fashioned looks.

There was now a most unfortunate change: Britannicus briefly became popular again. Claudius, who for a long time after Messalina's death had viewed Britannicus with painful reserve, seemed to rediscover his original dislike of Nero, who was indeed regarded as highly unpleasant by all people of style and taste. Instead, the Emperor took to flinging his arms round Britannicus whenever they met, quoting darkly in Greek and exclaiming, "Grow up quickly, my boy, and your father will tell you his plan!"

Britannicus had become a stoical child. He took all this in apparent good part. He had two sensible allies throughout; one was Narcissus. The other, who held no official post, so she could never be dismissed, was his grandmother's freedwoman Antonia Caenis.

* * *

Caenis and Britannicus became good friends. Caenis was well-presented enough to carry a sniff of danger for an adolescent boy, yet ancient enough to be safe; she said she refused to mother him, though when he needed it she always did. Britannicus had been brought up rather primly; she discussed politics with him in a way that sounded treasonous and told him stories that were definitely rude. They played a private game of challenging each other in any situation to find a song from the drama to fit. He had an excellent voice. It was natural that Caenis should be drawn to a child growing up in the Palace so starved of affection yet so good-humored and sane.

She was giving Britannicus secret shorthand coaching so he could catch up with one of the other boys who shared his education. It was while they were practicing, ready to surprise the Other Boy, that the door flung open and someone shot into the room. There was no doubt who it was. It had to be the competitive rival, because Britannicus, with great presence of mind, slipped his notebook down the back of his reading couch and adjusted a vase to hide the water clock by which he had been timing himself. Then he winked at Caenis.

She had never seen him before, but she recognized the Other Boy at once.

Her protégé, Britannicus, was by now as tall as many men, with the same gaunt neck and prominent ears as his father; at thirteen he was going through a gangly, self-conscious phase. Since their mother's death both he and his sister Octavia were understandably solemn and withdrawn. This boy was quite different. Britannicus' friend—they were obviously friends—was a short, square, dynamic tugboat of a boy. He was built with the graceful solidity of an obelisk. He had a thick thatch of tightly curling hair, and though his nose was straighter than his father's, an identical upjerking chin and rectangular brow.

"Aha! New ladylove?" he cried, stopping in surprise. Britannicus blushed; he was old enough to be interested, yet young enough to be terrified of women.

Caenis tried to adopt the air of a sophisticated, extremely expensive witch. "You must be Titus!" she divined coolly. "Titus Flavius Vespasianus, son of Titus, voting tribe Quirina, citizen of Reate."

Both children were deeply impressed.

"This is the face-detector?" Titus demanded of Britannicus eagerly.

Britannicus replied with a nicely suave, secretive smile. He was learning fast; it was wonderful to watch. "Just a friend," he tormented the other, who was bursting with curiosity. "Going to give me a second opinion, I hope."

Caenis endured the odd experience of being eyed appraisingly by Vespasian's teenaged son.

* * *

It turned out that Narcissus was still worrying over his dynasty, pointless though that was beginning to appear. He had called in a physiognomist, someone who would tell Britannicus' fortune from his face. Since Narcissus entered the room almost immediately with this character, Caenis had no opportunity to say to the boys just what she thought of that.