thought you might have gathered."
"I've heard rumours," Gaius replied stiffly.
"Well put, young Claudius," the man nodded. "Oh, my daughter, Valeria Vipsania. I gather you've met."
"I've met him," Vipsania responded calmly. "He ignored me."
Gaius stared at her, and gasped. She was incredibly beautiful, or at least he thought so. And then a sudden thought struck him. The prophecy! She was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and he had really ignored her. That left . . . the ugliest one of all!
"He did have other things on his mind," her father said calmly. "There was a defence to organize."
"He did that with remarkable efficiency," Vipsania said, "and even made spare time. And guess what he would rather do in that spare time than talk to me?"
"I hate your guessing games," her father admitted.
"He'd rather drop stones off the bridge." She turned to Gaius and challenged, "That's true, isn't it."
"That'll look impressive on a report to Little Boots," Gaius said wistfully.
"On a par with collecting Neptune's treasures, instead of invading Britain," Vipsania challenged. "I presume there was a reason."
"To win a bet with you," Gaius responded impulsively.
"What makes you think I'd want to bet with you?" came the curious reply. At least, Gaius noticed, it was not derisive.
"Romans love betting," Gaius said.
"Roman men like betting," Vipsania corrected.
"But you think you're as good or better than a man," Gaius found himself saying. Once in, there was no going back. "You're bound to think you're cleverer than me."
"Perhaps I am."
"Then you'll take the bet to prove it."
She looked at him cautiously. "So what is this bet?"
"I take a piece of steel," Gaius said, "a piece of rock four times as heavy, and probably about ten times as big, and a piece of lead about the same size as the steel, but twice as heavy, and I drop them off the bridge at the same time. I bet you can't tell me what order they'll hit the water."
"This is important?" Vipsania asked with a frown.
"It is if you want to win bets."
"Well, Vipsania?" her father asked. "Seems a good bet. He can't cheat, and you're always moaning to me about the cruelty of Little Boots' games."
"And what do you think about gladiators?" Vipsania stared at Gaius.
"Totally uncivilised," Gaius shrugged, "although to be fair, I've never been to see any."
"You've never been to any?" she asked in surprise, touched with disbelief.
"I told you his family were . . . shall we say . . . at best unusual," her father smiled.
"Anyway," Gaius turned the conversation back to his challenge, "you wish to offer a guess?"
"Everyone knows the answer to that," she said with a touch of disbelief that anyone could even contemplate considering this a problem. "The order is the order of weight, and provided they are weighed properly first that's obvious."
"How much do you wish to bet?" Gaius smiled.
"What do you mean?" she frowned.
"I bet you're wrong," Gaius replied evenly. "So, if you're right, what do you want, or, put it another way, if I'm right, what do I get."
"You're serious?" she looked at him. "You must be mad."
"You want?" he challenged.
"OK, if you wish to go ahead with this stupidity," she frowned, "you clean out our host's pigsties, and I mean you, personally."
"Now there's a challenge," her father grinned. "I ought to warn you, young Claudius, that verges on a Herculean task."
"Accepted," Gaius shrugged, "provided you accept a task of similar unpleasantness if you lose."
"So you think the lead will hit first?" Vipsania frowned.
"No. I think provided they are all released at the same time, they will hit more or less together."
"That's silly!"
"Then accept the bet!" he challenged, and turned to take a goblet of wine from a tray that was being carried around.
"You've got an open-ended . . ."
"No! Your father is a witness. No harmful tasks, just unpleasant."
She looked at him more thoughtfully, then said, "I'm curious. Just what horrible task have you got in