The noise in Rome"s streets was tremendous. To two young girls with only slaves and a nurse to provide them comfort, it was quite enough to produce shivers and tears.
Just turned four last September, Julia Titi cried out for her absent father. “Tata! Tata!”
“Tata"s coming,” consoled the nurse Phyllis. They had taken refuge in the peristyle garden at the back of the house, far from window grilles and doors. The drawback was they could more clearly hear the street noise, the shouts and screams quite drowning out the gurgles of the modest fountain.
As little Julia burrowed deeper into the old woman"s bosoms and whimpered, Phyllis held out an arm. “Come to me, Flavia.”
“No.” More than two years older than Julia, Flavia was cut from quite a different cloth. She would not be a beauty, yet so
