Perhaps it was all deniable, Julia thought as she picked up her spinning again. Bato flopped down on the mat next to the brazier and went to sleep, his nose buried beneath his paws.

'Julia, Julia Antonia!' her father bellowed from the courtyard. 'Come here, daughter of mine.'

She knew that tone of voice. There was little point in hiding or pretending she had not heard. She twisted the thread around the spindle's handle and placed it on top of the wool.

'Here, Father,' she called from the window. 'Shall I come down or you come up?'

Her father, dressed in the white toga he wore to court, shielded his eyes and gestured for her to come down. Julia's heart sank to the hem of her gown. His face was thunderous. In his hand, he held a sheaf of scrolls.

As she ran down the steps, she tried to think of a reasonable excuse for this afternoon. Should she mention it first or wait for him to bring it up? Perhaps he wanted to see her about some other misdemeanour.

'What is this I hear about two gladiators fighting over you?' her father thundered as she entered the atrium.

Julia swallowed hard. How could she explain? She widened her eyes and began the explanation she had concocted. A white he, but she knew another scandal might turn her father against her.

'Two gladiators fighting over me? Father, you know how the rumours fly in Rome—'

Her father cut her short with an impatient gesture of his hand.

'The entire Forum was buzzing about it late this afternoon. My very own daughter in the centre of a gladiatorial brawl! Bringing her family so publicly into disrepute! I never thought you would be involved in so vulgar of a display. Not my daughter I said, but Fabius Claudius swore it was you. And he has known you since the day you were born.'

'I wasn't at the centre, more to one side,' Julia mumbled, picking at the skirt of her gown.

'I didn't quite catch that, Julia. Look at me when you speak.'

Julia forced her gaze from her sandals.

'I said I wasn't in the centre of the fight,' she shouted.

Her father's eyes widened at her voice.

'But you don't deny they were fighting over you.'

'Over me?' Julia shook her head and said quickly before she lost her nerve, 'They were fighting over Bato.'

'Bato?'

Her father lowered his eyebrows and pierced her with his dark stare. The elephants began trampling Julia's stomach. Any hope of glossing over the incident or giving a polite lie vanished. Her father had adopted his inquisitorial lawyer pose.

She began to rapidly explain what had happened, her words tripping over one another in the rush to get them out. When she reached the end of the tale, Julia's voice faded away and she waited. If her father thought she had brought disgrace on the family, he was capable of banishing her or worse. Cold sweat began to prick the back of her neck. She should have run when Valens approached her. Her only hope was that she had told her version of events before Sabina had had a chance to poison him with the bath-house version.

'It was all down to this dog of yours escaping from Caesar's niece?'

'That's right,' Julia said. She twisted her belt around her hand, feeling the cord dig into her palm. He had to believe her.

'That rascal.' Her father's face broke into a wide grin. 'I should have made you return him to your ex-father-in-law weeks ago when you first arrived back on my doorstep. Senator Gracchus should take care of the dog, if his adopted son refuses to. Rascal then and rascal now. I knew there had to be more to it than my daughter behaving badly. You have never given me cause to worry about such things before. In that case, I shall have to thank him with the largest bone possible.'

The words of protest died on Julia's lips. She looked at her father in amazement. 'I don't understand. You want to reward Bato?'

'That little escapade has resulted in three briefs coming in for me today. Everyone is discussing it. It has raised my profile no end.'

'Then you're not angry?' A great wave of relief washed over Julia.

'Had the gladiators actually been fighting over you, that would have been another matter entirely, but as it stands—it is another of Rome's rumours. The dog will do as an excuse. People can be reminded of whose dog he was to begin with. The name of Gracchus should strike fear into the scandalmongers' hearts. They wouldn't want to anger two powerful politicians from opposite ends of the spectrum—Caesar and Gracchus.

Julia felt the tension rush out of her, leaving her body tired as if she were the one to have fought a battle with Aquilia.

'Who are the briefs from?' she asked, a suspicion forming in her brain.

'They were sent from Caesar by special messenger. This morning, nothing—by late afternoon, I am back in favour.' Her father grinned and patted the scrolls. 'He is pleased that you, or rather your dog, raised the games' profile. You have ensured the match will be on everyone's lips. And Caesar wishes to reward me for it. Caesar always repays his debts.'

Julia stared at her father and offered a small prayer of thanks to Venus. When was a scandal not a scandal? When it resulted in work for her father!

'I am pleased Bato was of service,' she replied quietly, trying to hide her relief.

She stood, shifting from foot to foot, waiting for her father to dismiss her with a nod as he normally did.

'Shall we go for a walk?' Julius Antonius gestured towards the garden. 'Spend some time together? I see little of you these days.'

Julia released a breath. That was all? No explosion. No threats to marry her off. He wanted something, but what? She had at last something to bargain with.

'A walk with you, Father, would be a lovely idea.'

They took several turns about the enclosed garden, speaking of nothing very much. Her father stopped by the portrait bust of her mother, hidden in a small nook between two clipped bay laurels.

'How like her you are,' Julius Antonius said, placing a hand on the statue's shoulder. 'It seems hard to believe that her shade has been in Hades these last five years.'

'I remember her as being very kind, a model of Roman womanhood.' Julia ran a hand over the smooth marble, tracing the outline of her mother's mouth.

'Sabina wanted me to get rid of the bust, but I refused. Had it moved here in this nook to where it can't be seen from the house.'

'Sabina took the news in her usual calm and collected manner?' Julia laughed, pleased that her father, contrary to appearances, did not give in to Sabina in all things.

'Her shrieks could be heard from here to the Aventine. The she refused to speak to me for a week. But she gave in when she realised I was determined. It cost me a violet gown though.' Her father gave a barking laugh and then his face sobered. He placed his hand on the shoulder of the portrait bust. 'Now that we are here, Julia, there is something I must ask you.'

'Yes, Father?' Julia's heart leapt. Would he ask her for her opinion about Mettalius? Perhaps In the wake of the briefs, she could convince him Mettalius was not the man she should marry. That his star was on the wane in the Senate…

'Is there anything going on between you and that gladiator?'

Julia's heart stopped. She pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders. How to answer? If her mother were here, Julia knew she could explain the situation and her mother would understand, but would her father? He had changed so much since her mother's death and she knew what Sabina's reaction would be. Could she take the risk? She looked at his stern mouth. Later, she knew, she'd get down on her knees and ask the gods to forgive her for deceiving her father, but she hoped they would understand.

'We have met once or twice. First in the marketplace, then here and when he returned Bato to me this afternoon,' she said, choosing her words and making sure her voice sounded strong. 'I'd hardly call that something going on.'

She offered a quick prayer up to Venus that no one had seen the kiss she and Valens had shared earlier this morning. Surely, since Venus was the goddess of love as well the protector of the Julius family, she'd understand and help her.

'You are willing to swear that on the shade of your mother?'

Julia looked directly into her father's eyes. 'I have done nothing to be ashamed of or to bring disrepute on this family, you know that. I am willing to swear it on her shade.'

That much was true. She had not done anything that would disgrace the family, nor did she intend to. She knew her father would misinterpret the answer, but she had no choice. The guilt she felt at the evasion threatened to close her throat and stop her breath. If he asked more directly, she'd have to confess. There was a difference between not answering the questioning and deliberately lying. She had learnt that from her father discussing his legal cases, but the thought held little comfort.

Her father's eyes assessed her for what seemed to be an eternity. Julia's palms became damp. She fought the urge to wipe them on her gown. Then suddenly his face cleared and he patted her shoulder.

'You know what your stepmother will say. She is desperate for an alliance with Mettalius. The betrothal should be announced without delay, according to Sabina. She wants to formally consult her augur on the appropriate day and time.'

Did he guess? Or had she fooled him? His words should make her feel better, but they made the pit in her stomach grow. She sank down on a bench and stared at the bust. Her mother's firm chin and the set to her jaw gave Julia courage. Her father must still have feelings for her mother, even though she had been dead for the past five years. 'If Sabina wants to marry Mettalius, she should do so herself.'

Her father gave a sharp intake of breath.

Julia refused to allow herself time to panic. She stood up and pressed her hands together. She had to act. 'Father, I will not be made the scapegoat of some made-up scandal in order to further Sabina's social ambitions.'

'Mettalius would be useful to the family, that is true, but others may make offers because of Caesar's favour.' Her father squeezed her hand. His smile was tender.

'Are you saying I don't have to marry Mettalius?'

A twinkle appeared in her father's eye and he looked more like the man she remembered from her childhood dreams than the stern figure she had encountered over the last few years.

'Your escapade this morning has changed matters, Julia. I intend to play a waiting game. See which way the wind blows. Other more suitable alliances may appear. Question me about the war with Spartacus? Champion that dictator Sulla! At my own dinner table! Who does Mettalius think he is?'

Julia sank down into a curtsy. 'Thank you, Father. I will not make you ashamed.'

The twinkle disappeared and her father looked once more like the man she had faced across the dinner table last night.

'Mind you, if I hear you have been consorting with gladiators in public again, I may be forced to take stronger measures.'

Julia went still.

'What sort of measures?' She pushed the question around the lump in her throat. She had to know.

'As I am sure you are a respectable matron like your mother, I will have no need. If you'll excuse me, I shall leave you to contemplate your mother while I dress for dinner.'

Julia ran her fingers over the bust of her mother and placed a smile on to her lips. Her heart felt as if it were breaking. She had no doubt of what her father's threat meant. In exchange for her freedom, she agreed to give up Valens and their growing friendship. It wasn't as if there was anything between them, she argued with her heart. Yesterday, she had been unaware of his existence. But the words did nothing to ease the pain in her heart.


Valens walked through the shadowy garden at dusk. The clipped bay laurels cast long shadows over the finely raked gravel paths. In a secluded nook, Julia sat by a portrait bust of a woman who shared the same firm chin, and determined mouth. She sat as remote and still as the statue, eyes fixed on a distant spot, seemingly oblivious to his entering the garden.

'Julia,' he called softly, trying not to startle her, the speech he had decided on forming in his mind. He'd apologise one more time, then leave. He had only sought her out in order to make sure she had arrived back safely and recovered from her fright. That was the end to it. Unemotional uninterest. He was focused solely on the arena. 'Julia, we should speak.'