She returned with the wine on a silver tray and handed him one of the two slender goblets. He held the glass up to the light and slowly revolved its gracefully thin stem between his thumb and forefinger.
“Don’t you like Campania?”
“Very much,” he answered. “But it’s the glass that interests me. This goblet comes from my father’s plant near Tyre.”
“Oh, really?” She smiled. “I’m glad. I knew they were made in Phoenicia, but I didn’t know they came from Senator Piso’s glassworks. Herodias gave me several pieces from a set Antipas brought her. They are lovely.” She lifted her own goblet and admired it in the moonlight. “Such beautiful craftsmanship. You know, I’ve never understood how they can be blown so perfectly. And I love the delicate coloring. Now that I know they come from your father’s factory, they’re all the more interesting to me, and valued.” She set the goblet down and sat quietly for a moment studying the resplendent full moon. “Longinus, I’m so glad you’re back in Rome,” she said at last. “It seems you’ve been away in Germania, and before that in Palestine, for such a long time. Did you ever think of me while you were away?”
“Yes. And did you ... of me?”
“Oh, yes, often, and very much. In spite of Aemilius.” She picked up the goblet, then set it down again on the tripod and leaned against his shoulder. “By the Bountiful Mother Ceres”—she bent forward, slipping her feet out of the sandals—“I can’t get comfortable, Longinus. I’m too warm. This stola’s heavy, and I’m so ... so laced.” She stood up. “Wait here; I’ll only be a minute.”
Diagonally across from them a thin sliver of lamplight shone through a crack in the doorway to Claudia’s bedroom. She stepped into her sandals, walked around the spraying fountain, and entered the room. “I won’t close the door entirely,” she called back, as she swung it three-fourths shut. “That way we can talk while I’m getting into something more comfortable.”
“I really should be going,” Longinus said. “I have early duty tomorrow.”
“Oh, not yet, please. Do wait. I’ll be out in a moment. Pour yourself some wine.”
He poured another glass, sipped from it, then set the goblet on the tray and settled back against the cushions. His gaze returned to the widened rectangle of light in her doorway. In the center of it there was a sudden movement. Surely, he thought, she isn’t going to change directly in front of the open door. Then he realized that he was looking into a long mirror on the wall at right angles to the doorway; he was seeing her image in the polished bronze. In stepping back from the door she had taken a position in the corner of the room just at the spot where the angle was right for the mirror to reflect her image to anyone seated on the couch outside.