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Aurelia entered Darius’s room as his servants crowded outside in the corridor, leaning over the balcony to observe a golden monkey stealing the lunches of several Roman senators.

Aurelia looked around furtively, then removed the Jupiter knife from her robes. She wrapped it in a discarded toga and stashed it in one of the prince’s travelling crates before slipping away.

Outside in the garden, flushed with fear and thrill, Aurelia met with a general and two senators. It was Tacitus, Thelonius and General Aquinas, the same three men who had tracked down her cousin Marcellus and brought him to Rome to oppose her.

‘Is it done?’ asked Aquinas, a sullen-looking man with hooded eyes, their irises a penetrating, cold blue.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good girl,’ said Tacitus, the man with long, greasy hair.

‘You’ve done well. The gods would be proud. We are grateful for this and for the information you’ve given us,’ said Thelonius, the tallest, baldest and most amiable of the three.

‘Will you free my brother now?’ she said.

‘Soon,’ said Tacitus, smiling. ‘You’ll be rewarded by Emperor Marcellus when he returns from Britannia.’

Emperor Marcellus?

‘How long must I wait?’ asked Aurelia. ‘If the empress finds out, she could have me killed.’

‘He will return before the Plebeian Games,’ said Thelonius. ‘Keep faith, and believe in the plan.’

The image faded.

‘Not Aurelia,’ said Claudia. ‘I trusted her.’

Another ripple of colour on the water’s surface showed bright-eyed General Aquinas paying the chariot riders at the Circus Maximus, equipping them with Jupiter’s bows and arrows. In amongst them was the unkempt, red-nosed prisoner Claudia held in her dungeon.

Aquinas retreated into an empty corridor before re-emerging in the arena, climbing several sets of stairs to stand in rank several rows behind the imperial box, watching impassively as a guard was shot in the throat by the same arrows he’d provided.

In the dark mirror of the pond, a third and final scene formed, revealing Aquinas again. It was the day of Claudia’s confirmation ceremony, recognizable by its flags and standards, the streets crowded with people.

The general approached one of the Pantheon guards, handing him a bag of coins.

‘You are sure?’ said the guard.

It was the dead praetorian; the one Gia had killed.

‘As sure as the gods,’ said Aquinas. ‘Do not fail me.’

He pulled out the knife, branded with Jupiter’s seal, and pressed it into the guard’s gloved hand.

The image paled again.

Darius removed the necklace, his cold hands at Claudia’s nape, while she attempted to process what she’d just seen.

It was possible that these images were just magic enchantments meant to deceive her, yet she believed them instinctively. She had always known a plot against her was possible, if not inevitable, but witnessing the extent of it in clear vision left her breathless, shaken.

‘Your cousin works against you,’ said Darius, putting the lotus pendant back on himself. ‘He is absent on purpose, so you will not suspect him, but his people are all around you. He is gathering supporters, ready for his return to Rome. They are trying to cause a dispute between us. Marcellus has much to gain, should our union fall apart.’

‘I do not doubt that,’ she said.

‘Unlike me, he will be readily accepted by the people who object to you. He need only remove you from power to get his wish. Unlike you, he will do what these men want, without question. He left on their orders. The military will do as he says, including remove you from power.’

Claudia was shaking, though she did not feel cold.

‘Marcellus will soon return to finish what he started, and when he does, it is important that I am here,’ said Darius. ‘Rather than kill you, it might be more expedient for your cousin to take you as his bride. That would consolidate his position.’