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‘I will prove it! Get your hands off me! Don’t you know who I am? I served the emperor Tiberius. He was a real leader!’

His voice faded as they dragged him away.

Claudia reapplied a well-practised smile. She would not give him the satisfaction of visibly disturbing her, though inside she felt as if she had been punched in the stomach by Hercules.

‘Today is a day of celebration and victory,’ she said, ‘so I shall keep your attention no longer. Let us thank the goddess Meditrina, pray for good fortune, and, most importantly, enjoy the races!’

Another hesitant cheer, another tremulous pause.

‘All hail the empress!’ chanted the Cult of Diana, faintly, under a fluttering of boos.

The band began to play, though Claudia was still standing. The host reappeared. The momentum of the event moved forward, like the wheels of the chariots now riding out to roars of applause, and Claudia’s moment to change the world was over.

She waited for a response but there was none. Nothing. Some whispering. Some glances. Yet there was no instant outpouring of support, nor any violent retaliation. It was strangely anticlimactic.

Claudia remained on her feet, stuck in time, as everyone else sat down. She didn’t know if she should be embarrassed or triumphant. She had imagined protest, mockery, perhaps even a riot. What she hadn’t imagined was that she’d fail to make a mark at all; that the games would go on as if she hadn’t spoken a word. Perhaps Damocles was right, about change. She had moved so far and so fast, she had not left an impact.

‘They’re not taking me seriously,’ she said quietly.

‘They will,’ said Rectina, ushering her back into her seat. ‘It takes people time, to reconfigure their minds.’

‘The people of Rome are used to hot air,’ said Pliny the Elder, ‘to emperors making proclamations that never come to fruition. You will show them in your actions, in your deeds.’

‘It went better than I expected, I must say,’ said Damocles, mopping his brow.

‘You were brilliant, just as I knew you would be,’ said Gia, standing behind her.

Claudia turned, her gaze lingering as she suppressed the urge to touch her or take her hand.

‘I want to be empress one day!’ said Athena, who’d taken off her gladiator helmet and donned a makeshift sash.

‘You can take over as advisor after me,’ said Rectina.

‘Wow, really?’

Who would rule after her, Claudia wondered, should she live long enough to appoint an heir? But the thought lasted only a minute before her attention was demanded elsewhere.

As the chariot races continued, Claudia tried to relax, watching as the vehicles charged past the lap markers shaped like eggs and dolphins, as water was sprayed on the dusty track, as the competitors wove around bollards, their chariots leaning dangerously to one side, as the thunder of horses and applause filled the arena.

‘I fear I underestimated you once again,’ said the prince, under the noise of celebrant cheering.

‘Are you impressed?’

‘You’re either very stupid or very brave.’

She blinked at him rapidly. ‘Thank you, Darius. I shall take that as a compliment.’

‘It was intended as one. Brave, stupid people have done much good in the world.’

‘Wise words, as always.’

‘I find that we are in unison. I have the same vision, one in which men and women are both free, to live truly. I do not know if it is possible, within our lifetimes, but I admire your ambitions.’

Claudia opened her mouth to reply when something whistled past her ear, in motion like a small bird.

She brought one hand up to her face reflexively.

‘What was that?’ she said.