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Claudia feared that responding in anger would make the rumours appear true, so she merely shook her head and sat, frozen, as waves of heat and dread rolled over her, a fake semi-smile on her face.

She hoped the joke would end there, and they could all move on, but the play dragged on for a century, or so it felt.

She soon realized what a terrible decision being tolerant was, as the play debased her further and further. Lesbionicus had one sole trait as a character, which was her love of Sappho, played to the extreme to suggest she had a strong preference for women, particularly her gladiator, portrayed as a money-grabbing rogue with no real care for Lesbionicus. She was glad Gia wasn’t here to see it.

‘I should not die without one last kiss,’ said Lesbionicus, to another chorus of laughter.

‘How much will you pay me?’ said the gladiator.

The audience lapped it up like thirsty cats. Only the Cult of Diana remained silent, furious on her behalf.

The people had heard the rumours too. They’d seen the graffiti. Claudia knew this, and yet, experiencing it first hand was entirely different. She was in the thick of it now. She could see their faces and hear their whispers. There was no escaping the truth, or hiding it from sight.

The play ended with Lesbionicus running off with the treasure-seeker’s daughter, which inspired the audience to boo and jeer, uttering comments so depraved her brain blanked them out immediately.

When the torturous performance finally ended, the actors bowed to exultant applause. The audience looked to her for a response, as was customary when the emperor was in attendance.

‘Have the entire company arrested,’ she stated coldly.

‘All of them?’ asked Damocles.

‘All. Of them.’

‘Very well, Empress,’ he said.

Politics was a circus, and right now, Claudia was the clown, but she was still the empress, which meant they had to follow her orders.

Damocles and some of the soldiers bustled off to arrest the actors, as directed. A chorus of protests sounded from backstage. It wouldn’t help her win the people over if she became a tyrant, though they called her one anyway as they were escorted off the grounds.

She could see how easy it would be, to become one.

Cassius loudly resumed his conversation with the prince about life, death and the soul, flashing her a look over his shoulder.

She nodded, grateful for the distraction.

The gladiatrices Livia and Dido soon stepped up to fight, to give a performance of their skills – an attempt to attract funding for their gladiatrix school. Yet the atmosphere couldn’t have been more hostile. Some in the crowd continued to heckle, asking them to take off their armour. The atmosphere quickly soured.

‘I’ll take your head right off of your shoulders,’ Livia yelled, when one man threw the traditional piss-cup.

‘Come on down here and fight me woman-to-man, if you think you’re hard enough,’ Dido goaded.

Claudia thought the day couldn’t get any more diabolical but then Gia reappeared, moving through the wall of people.

‘I need to speak with you, Empress, right away,’ she said, ignoring the unfolding brawl currently spilling into the orchestra.

Her face was solemn, and she hadn’t even heard about Lesbionicus yet.

‘Now is not the time, I’m afraid,’ Claudia said.

‘It can’t wait,’ Gia insisted, looking pointedly at Darius.

‘What’s the problem?’ asked Damocles.

‘Nothing!’ Claudia said. ‘Nothing at all.’

She struggled to extricate herself from the middle of the crowd, almost knocking over a jug of wine in her clumsiness.

‘I need to step aside for a moment… for fresh air. Please do continue enjoying the uh…’ She looked to the stage, where Livia and Dido were now beating the man who threw the piss-cup. ‘Performance.’