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Atia.
    ‘That’s very kind of you, but—’ demurred Gaius.
    ‘You have to,’ cried Aurelia. She clasped his hand in hers. ‘We haven’t seen you for weeks. You must tell us what you and your father have been up to, and what’s happening in Capua.’ She stuck out her bottom lip. ‘We get no news here, in the middle of nowhere.’
    At least Fabricius’ creditors leave us alone in this weather, thought Atia sourly. Come the spring, it will be a different matter. ‘Stay. Otherwise you’ll have to set out on your return journey within the hour. The low clouds and the snow mean it gets dark so early these days.’
    ‘How can I refuse?’ declared Gaius with a gracious half-bow. ‘I would be delighted to stay. Thank you.’
    Aurelia clapped her hands with happiness.
    ‘Entertain our guest, Aurelia. The tablinum is the warmest room.’ Atia made for the house. ‘I shall speak to Julius about the dinner for tonight.’
    ‘Shall we?’ Gaius indicated the path back to the front door.
    ‘Can’t we walk for a little while? It’s dark so much at this time of year. It’s good just to be outside, to breathe the fresh air.’
    ‘Whatever you wish,’ Gaius acceded. ‘Where do you want to go?’
    Delighted by the idea of his company, Aurelia pointed. ‘The only path away from the house that isn’t covered in snow is the one that leads up to the woods.’
    ‘Let’s go that way then.’
    The hours that followed were Aurelia’s happiest in many weeks. Her walk with Gaius had lasted until the light had dimmed in the western sky. With chilled faces and feet, they had stamped back into the house. Ignoring the empty tablinum, they had retired to the warmth of the kitchen, where they had got under the slaves’ feet and stolen tasty morsels of the food that was being prepared. Julius, the main cook, would normally have driven her out of his domain. Instead, he had offered her a bowl of the best olives and muttered something about how good it was to see her mood lift. When Atia came in to check on the meal’s progress, she too had looked pleased. Aurelia had pretended not to notice.
    Gaius had been full of small talk from Capua. Isolated on the farm, and locked in by grief, Aurelia took interest in stories that would have been of little appeal before. Her favourite was about one of the sewers in Capua, which had blocked a week before. Gaius went into great detail about the resulting overflow, which had swamped part of the city, filling homes and businesses with liquid ordure. A vicious frost two nights afterwards – usually a most unwelcome event – had proved to be the salvation of those trying to remove the vast quantities of sewage. ‘You have to see it to believe it,’ Gaius had said with a chuckle. ‘When shit and piss freeze solid, the result can be chopped up with spades into manageable chunks, tossed on to a cart and carried away.’
    ‘You’re making it up!’ Aurelia had said in delighted horror.
    ‘I’m not! On my honour. There was so much work that carters were coming in from every village for miles.’
    She had given him a wicked nudge. ‘Mother would love that story.’ Despite Gaius’ protests, she had persuaded him to tell the tale again – but before they dined.
    Despite herself, Atia had laughed her way through his account. ‘That must have been quite a sight,’ she said when he’d finished. ‘I imagine that the smell must have been far less severe than in summer.’
    Gaius had grimaced. ‘It was still bad enough – the affected area was only a few streets away from our house. Father had the slaves burning lavender and incense night and day to combat the odour.’
    ‘None of your household got sick then?’
    ‘No, thank the gods. Surprisingly few people in the city did; whether it was because of the cold or the amount of offerings they left at the temples, I don’t know.’
    ‘How is your father?’
    ‘He is well, thank you. He sends you his best wishes. I am to tell you that if