Time Scout by Robert Asprin & Linda Evans

Huh. Given Roman preoccupation, with sex, l wouldn’t be at all surprised.

The stands filled up quickly. Margo was surprised how fast an enormous crowd could enter, the Circus. She tried to estimate the seating capacity, multiplying by the lines scored into the bleachers, and came up with more than a hundred fifty thousand. Surely that was too high? A group of laughing men and women took seats behind her, jabbing her uncomfortably in the back with their knees. Margo had to sit with her own knees tucked almost to her chin to avoid hitting the people in front of her. Well, maybe I didn’t guess too high. They were cramming people in like sardines. She hoped the wooden bleachers didn’t collapse under the weight.

The stands were almost full when a blare of trumpets signaled activity at the far end. Men on foot appeared, bearing tall standards that glittered brightly in the sunlight. Golden eagles surmounted rectangles marked SPQR. A roar rose from a hundred-fifty thousand throats. The whole stadium surged to its collective feet. Margo stood up, too.

What? Where?

Quintus Flaminius was pointing down the track.

A man had appeared behind the eagle standards, limping awkwardly onto the track from an entrance down near the starting gates. Robed in gleaming white, with broad purple stripes along the edges of a white woolen toga, he was the instant focus of attention. The crowd had gone wild Whoever he was, he moved on unsteady legs. Drunk? Margo wondered. Surely not?

Then the women behind her babbled something about the Princeps. Margo gasped. Claudius! She hadn’t expected the emperor to walk at the head of the procession. She’d pictured him as riding in a gilt chariot or something. Maybe that was reserved for generals who’d won battles. Claudius moved carefully, doggedly, lacking anything like stately grace as he led the procession into the great Circus.