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‘No, you heard the physician. You need to rest and recover.’

‘If I’m not your guard any more, you can’t tell me what to do,’ said Gia, lightly. ‘And you’ll need that Jupiter dagger, won’t you, as evidence, before you go charging off to confront him?’

‘Fine, okay, you’re right about that.’ Claudia retrieved the arrow from the inside pocket of her robes, where it had been poking her in the side since they’d fled the arena. ‘We should compare them. But you’re still officially discharged from duty, remember?’

‘Whatever you say, Empress,’ said Gia, retrieving her sword in a way that suggested she wasn’t taking being fired very seriously at all.

Gia instructed her handmaids Aurelia and Nadira to retrieve the knife, hidden in a chest beneath her bed. They returned trailing Damocles, presenting her with the weapon for inspection and lingering curiously.

‘Where did you find these weapons?’ he asked.

‘The arrow was shot at us today, in the Circus Maximus,’ explained Claudia. ‘The knife was found among Prince Darius’s belongings. The weapons are both made of the same dark golden brass, sculpted by a master who paralleled Vulcan.’

‘They match,’ affirmed Gia.

‘Look at this detailing, right here,’ said Claudia. ‘I think they were made by the same person.’

‘If the prince is responsible, he must’ve chosen their design on purpose, so you would think a Roman man was behind it,’ said Damocles. ‘Perhaps he hoped to capitalize on existing tensions.’

‘But how would he know he wouldn’t get shot himself, trying to play the hero?’ asked Cassius. ‘He seemed genuinely distraught by the death of Mehdi. I don’t believe it.’

‘I should speak with the charioteer before I confront him,’ said Claudia. ‘Maybe he can tell us something useful.’

‘Ah! About that,’ said Damocles, stiffly. ‘There is also someone else down there who is keen to speak with you.’

They descended into the stony palace dungeons, which were freezing cold and smelled of ancient dank. A handful of thieves and disrupters were held here, awaiting sentencing, including the man dressed as a charioteer, held behind iron bars and captured in chains.

Here too was Hieronymus, her former advisor, his robes soiled.

‘Please, Empress, I beg you to let me go,’ he said, in a raspy voice. ‘I have made a mistake. I drank too much. I spoke out of turn.’

He looked smaller, older, wearing no sandals.

‘Damocles.’ His eyes fixed on the consul. ‘My friend, my old friend. You won’t let them kill me, will you? You wouldn’t do that to me.’

‘It is no longer in my hands,’ said Damocles solemnly.

‘There is no excuse for the things you said,’ said Claudia. ‘You accused me of murder. It is completely unforgiveable.’

‘You’re right, you’re right! I… I was just upset about losing my job. I take it all back. I don’t really think you had anything to do with it, I swear, Empress. Whip me, banish me, but I beg you, do not kill me.’

‘Why should I show you mercy? You have shown none to me.’

‘I am not one of them. I didn’t conspire against you.’

‘A likely story,’ said Claudia. ‘It was a coincidence, then, that you were shouting your mouth mere moments before this charming fellow tried to have me killed? I think not.’

She looked to the charioteer, in the cell beside him. The man laughed, spraying spittle.

‘You have enemies everywhere,’ he said.

‘He’s talking out of his arsehole,’ said Hieronymus. ‘I don’t know this man. I’m not in league with him. I wasn’t part of it, I swear on the lives of my grandchildren.’

‘Perhaps he is telling the truth?’ said Damocles hopefully.

But Claudia wasn’t feeling so charitable. She ignored him, moving on to the charioteer.

‘The empress in the flesh, paying me a prison visit,’ he said. ‘Aren’t I lucky?’