Niobe's having her fortune told in the form of an entrail-reading. Did she have to bring her own entrails to read? Well, not her own, obviously, but did she have to bring them from home, or does the diviner provide them? So many questions. I hope Steve the Wisecracking Time-Traveler gets here soon. The diviner slices up a section and digs through it, saying that although she isn't certain, Niobe's secret is probably safe. Niobe asks what good that does her, and the diviner says that it might help if Niobe could tell the diviner what she's hiding. Because then it would be certain, I guess, although the diviner doesn't say as much. Niobe says that it involves a child, and the diviner suddenly sees a male child in the guts. Or she was just playing the odds. Niobe gives up and gets ready to pay. The diviner volunteers that Niobe's husband is going to be rich as Croesus. But judging by her face, that news doesn't prompt Niobe to give her a huge tip. Nice try, though.

Julii Cooper is getting made up for her party. Servants parade by with a succession of fancy wigs. She contentedly contemplates the tonsorial menu.

Less content is Servilia, who appears to be going wigless and has a much smaller makeup crew. "What did I look like eight years ago?" she asks her maid. "Just the same," the maid says, wisely. Servilia's doubtful that eight years haven't taken their toll on her. I say she's a perfectly attractive lady. She's got kind of a Mary Steenburgen thing going on, but with crazy Roman hair. "Eight years of leathery Gallic trollops," the maid scoffs. "When did [Caesar] last see a real lady?" Servilia looks like she wants to be reassured, but won't let herself. How different she and Julii Cooper are. At least, that's what I think was engraved on the anvil that just plowed into my forehead.