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‘If you had a target on your back before, it will triple in size now,’ said Gia.

‘As long as the target is on me, and not you.’

Gia sighed heavily, as if burdened by thoughts she didn’t share.

‘Besides, I must do something,’ Claudia added, to fill the silence. ‘With the prince conspiring against me and Marcellus rising in rank in the army, I fear my reign will be shorter than I even envisioned. They will find a way to oust me and I won’t get the chance to change history. If anyone is to remember what we stood for, then I must act now, before it’s too late. I must do what I promised and serve the goddesses well.’

‘They might attempt to prevent you from making the announcement,’ said Gia, her brows knotting in concern.

‘They can try.’

‘Are you sure it is worth it?’ she said.

‘This is it. I have crossed the Rubicon. There is no turning back now. If we must fight a war with the gods, we will need an army of women at our side,’ said Claudia. ‘And I am the only one who can empower them.’

On the day of Meditrinalia, the colossal stadium of the Circus Maximus was packed to full capacity, creating a riotous, deafening crescendo of sound that carried throughout the city. The bars, restaurants, shops and brothels that surrounded it bustled with customers, all jovial and red-faced in the cool air, clinking glasses and singing, chanting prayers for good health.

Shaped like a squashed, elongated oval, the stadium had a strong and pungent aroma – of sand, sweat and blood. Here, Romans watched wild hunts and chariot races, the wooden benches teeming with people in togas and makeshift wreaths. A river’s worth of wine was provided, free of charge, for attendees, who eagerly filled the seats, whistling and stamping their feet, drinking from jugs they passed between rows and eating from baskets of hazelnuts, dates, olives and bread.

They knew who to thank, too, along with the goddess – as Claudia’s insignia was branded on every cup, bowl and vase. Every shield, every flag, every standard, every coin: they all bore her insignia.

Claudia was feeling positive. By the time she arrived, the people were merry enough to cheer for her, waving a rainbow of flags as her cult of women chanted in reverence. She was at the peak of her power, and she was about to make good use of it.

No one was talking about the play, or the prince, or the missing legion. Other than a few calls of ‘Lesbionicus’, all was well, in the political sense, at least. In her personal life, she was holding on by a thread.

As they climbed the stairs to the imperial box, Claudia looked to Gia beside her, but her guard’s attention was elsewhere, keeping watch of the feral, intoxicated crowd.

Gia had been distant ever since Claudia had asked to sleep alone. That uncrossed space between them made her ache, though she tried not to let it show. She had created the problem between them, and she had no right to pity herself for it.

‘Are you sure you’re ready for this?’ came a voice.

Claudia turned to see Rectina, smiling tautly.

‘Not really,’ said Claudia.

The elder woman was dressed more regally than usual, wearing the orange robes Hieronymus had once donned as Claudia’s advisor. She’d asked Rectina to replace his vacant role with little notice, and Rectina had reluctantly said yes, out of love for her and nothing else.

‘For what it’s worth, I already see you as a senator,’ Claudia had told her. ‘You’re more qualified in mind than most men on the benches.’

‘I shall do my best for you, but I fear the odds are against us.’

Rectina was the only woman of status Claudia knew well enough to approach, and her connections meant she had influence of her own. Still, Claudia was drawing more people into the imperial web, putting them in danger. Gia, Cassius, Dominic, Athena, Rectina: they were all here because of her in some way, and under threat.

In the present, Rectina squeezed her hand.

‘When you make the announcement, you should prepare for a hostile reaction,’ she said.

‘Is there any other kind?’

‘The people might seem welcoming now, but they can turn on the flip of a coin. I’ve seen it happen too many times.’

‘As long as they do not kill me immediately, I shall consider it a grand success,’ said Claudia.

Rectina and Pliny accompanied her in the imperial box, which was dressed with garlands and equipped with a banquet table. Here sat a group of her ‘courtiers’, so to speak, including Dominic, Celadus and the child, Athena, dressed in a makeshift gladiator costume.

She quickly engaged Gia in a conversation about her upcoming match against Livia the Legendary.

Surrounded by a squadron of guards holding flags and spears and shields, the box was raised above the rest of the seating, allowing them a better view of the action.