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Yet the mood was nervous, oddly subdued. She and Gia barely spoke on their way to the Pantheon.

When her father came to power, the people were largely disinterested. At first sight, he wasn’t as bad as the emperor before him, or the one before that. It was business as usual. Another Julio-Claudian with a golden wreath on his head. The appointment of Decimus had been dreadful and dreaded, yet the people knew where they stood on him. They knew what he represented, even if it wasn’t good.

But Claudia was a mystery, in the way that all women were a mystery to most men. In this moment, she was both a dictator and a saviour, everything and nothing. The people hadn’t concerned themselves with her, and thus they knew little about her, other than the way she looked.

The men would make much commentary on her appearance that day, she was sure. Claudia was glad she wouldn’t hear it over the drums and horns and the clatter of horseshoes, the chanting of cultists and the patter of applause.

The parade advanced slowly, the roads ahead of them crowded. It took almost half an hour to travel the short distance to the Pantheon. When they were stationary, the crowd seemed to grow even louder.

Claudia felt suddenly claustrophobic, trapped in her chariot in the eye of a storm. She climbed out, accompanied by Gia, her handmaids and advisors, along with a small group of guards. The crowd roared, but it was a feral sound, like the audience before a gladiator match.

Claudia hadn’t wished to give a speech or to reside over ceremonial games to mark her commencement, like her predecessors. She had chosen to appear only briefly before the public, to make an offering to Minerva at the Pantheon, then leave the people to an evening of revelry. This, she felt, was the perfect balance. The ceremony wasn’t ostentatious enough to enrage the public, nor spartan enough that she appeared weak as Rome’s first woman ruler.

As they approached the imposing building, Claudia’s handmaids fell back, but Gia stepped forward.

‘You should not be unattended,’ she said, gently touching her arm to hold her back.

‘It is safe. Everything had been arranged.’

‘What harm can it do, if I accompany you?’

‘No one but the empress may enter the Pantheon today. All of the entrances are guarded. I am safer in there than out on the street.’

‘If you’re sure?’ said Gia, though she continued to look hesitant.

‘I need to do this alone. Every emperor before me has done the same thing. Besides, some things are between a girl and her goddess.’

Gia lowered her hand, nodding in acceptance.

‘I’ll stay close by. Call out if you need me.’

‘You know I will,’ said Claudia, with a lingering glance.

Steeling herself, Claudia walked alone up the steps to the terrific sound of a city in celebration, passing through the enormous pillars of the veranda and into the ancient building.

It made her skin tingle, the hairs on her arms standing alert as she stepped into the cool, ancient tomb within, its circular oculus channelling a beam of sunlight.

The Pantheon was colossal in scale, its walls carved from floor to ceiling, and in each alcove, a different altar to a different god.

They watched her, unmoving, as the noise outside quietened, unnaturally muffled.

She spun in a circle, bowing to the circle of the pantheon and wondering who might look through the eyes of these sacred statues to spy on her, as she knew gods were prone to do.

She greeted Venus, in her windswept short-robed beauty, then Fortuna, shrouded, and Diana with her deer, before standing in front of Minerva. The goddess of wisdom was sculpted in victorious glory, her shield protecting her body and holding upright a spear. She had a serene, peaceful look of all-knowing wisdom on her face.

‘I come to you now, my goddess, as empress of Rome,’ said Claudia. ‘I remember vividly the first time you appeared to me and told me I was destined to wear my father’s crown. You said I’d rule some day and be the leader the world needed. I did as you advised. I did what was necessary. You know the sacrifices I have made.’

The flames danced, as if in response.

‘You know what I have done, and what I am. Now, as I stand in the temple of all gods, I have finally arrived in the future you predicted. I am here, thanks to you, and I am ready, but I need you by my side.’

Standing before the statue of her goddess, she felt her strength building, her resolve hardening.

‘I have already achieved things I didn’t think were possible, but I still need your guidance, your protection,’ she said. ‘I wish to speak with you directly, empress to goddess.’

Fire crackled in the silence.

‘Perhaps a mortal can never ask anything of their patron. Perhaps it is rude of me even to ask.’ She paused, setting her shoulders. ‘But I think I know your character. I know your nature. I believe that you would be here, if you could be here, on this day.’