by Ben Kane
His fanciful notion was quashed a moment later as he neared the passageway to the back. Instead of the clash of arms, he heard only men’s shouts and laughs. Mixed with the ribaldry were the screams of women. Lots of them. Romulus had been a soldier for long enough to know what this meant. The fight was over, and the raping had begun. His knuckles whitened with anger on the axe handle.
Praying that the thugs would all be lost in pleasure, Romulus shuffled down the corridor, carefully checking each bedroom. Gaping holes in the ceilings of many showed where they had entered, but they were all empty. The noise seemed to be emanating from the central courtyard, leading Romulus to the conclusion that Fabiola and the defenders had retreated there. Faced with attackers dropping into every room, it made sense. It hadn’t changed the outcome, though, he thought, worry eating his guts.
‘Wake up, you bitch!’
He came alive at the angry shout, which had come from the next chamber along. A loud slap and a terrified wail followed in close succession. Ensuring that the passageway was clear, Romulus tiptoed closer, Tarquinius’ axe at the ready. Peering around the doorframe, he made out the naked lower half of a woman lying on the bed. Her struggling arms were pinioned by a pair of laughing thugs while a stocky third figure was stripping off his clothes and armour.
‘I’ve waited years for this,’ he panted. ‘So I’m really going to enjoy it.’
Romulus felt sick. Should he intervene, or proceed to the courtyard? Doubtless this scene was being played out all over the brothel. How could he find Fabiola among all the prostitutes, and save her without also leaving this wretch? Unsure what to do, he watched for a moment.
The woman on the bed was injured or half-conscious, because when her tormentor yanked her legs apart, there was barely any resistance. Just a low, terrified moan, which instantly brought back memories of his mother lying beneath Gemellus. Having just seen the merchant, it was too much to bear. Romulus was moving before he knew it. He went in fast and hard, maximising his chances against three uninjured men. With his back to the door, the stocky would-be rapist was oblivious to Romulus’ desperate charge. The pair of thugs holding the woman’s arms spotted him at once, though.
Their warning shouts came too late to stop Romulus bringing the battleaxe down on the rapist’s right shoulder, cleanly taking off his arm. A great roar of pain left the man’s throat and he staggered away, bright red blood spurting from the wound. Fortunately, he stumbled into one of the thugs, thus preventing him from going on the attack. The other man was so shocked that he was still reaching for his sword when the axe came humming down to split his skull in two halves. Cleft almost to the chin, his visage wore an expression of total astonishment. Bone and gore flew everywhere, and he dropped to the floor without a sound.
Dragging the blade free, Romulus spun around to face the last ruffian who had managed to extricate himself. With an evil expression, the man shuffled closer, sword at the ready. Romulus took a step towards him. Suddenly the pain in his head was overwhelming. A physical duel was more than his weary body could bear. Then he looked down at the naked figure on the bed and was stunned to recognise Fabiola. A searing fury such as Romulus had never felt before shot through him, sweeping away his exhaustion in a tidal wave of adrenalin. Bellowing an inarticulate scream, he leapt forward to the attack.
Covered in blood from his mutilated comrade, the third thug was already intimidated by the speed of the mad-eyed legionary’s entrance. Now his anger unnerved him. Rather than fight, he sprinted for the door. His sandals slapped off the floor as he fled, shouting for his fellows. Romulus knew that any respite would be brief. The ruffian would be back with reinforcements very soon, and then both he and his sister would die. Unless, by some tiny chance, they could escape first. In the meantime, every precious moment had to be wrung from this most unexpected of reunions. Ignoring the moaning one-armed man lying in the corner, he ran to the side of the bed, dropping his axe alongside. Using the shreds of her dress, he gently covered his sister’s nakedness as best he could. She flinched at his touch, breaking his heart. ‘Fabiola,’ he whispered. ‘Fabiola.’
There was no reaction.
He shook her by the shoulder. ‘It’s me, Romulus. Your brother.’
At last Fabiola’s eyes opened, revealing a void of terror. Then her pupils widened, and she gasped. ‘Romulus?’
Chapter XXIV: Discord
Crying tears that he’d never shed in all the years of their separation, Romulus could only nod. ‘It’s you. ‘You’re alive.’ Incredulous, Fabiola reached up to stroke his cheek with a shaking hand. ‘Thank all the gods.’ A sob of relief shook her. They gazed at one another, scarcely able to believe their eyes. After the years of heartbreak and separation, the gods had finally allowed them to meet. It seemed that the impossible had come true. After a moment, Romulus grinned. Eventually Fabiola did too. They clutched each other’s hands, scared to let go.
‘Are you alone?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
Fabiola’s face crumpled. ‘All my men are dead. Now the bastards are raping the prostitutes.’
‘I know,’ Romulus replied heavily. ‘What can just two of us do, though? We should try and get away. Now.’
Guilt twisted her pretty features. ‘I can’t just leave the women. They’re my responsibility. Help me to sit up.’
Romulus pulled her upright.
Fabiola saw the semi-conscious bleeding figure in the corner. There was a sharp intake of breath. ‘The whoreson is still alive!’
‘Not for long.’ Romulus indicated the enormous pool of blood around him, and the bleeding hole in the side of his trunk.
She smiled. ‘Sextus has been avenged then.’
Romulus looked back at the motionless shape. ‘Who is he?’
‘Scaevola,’ she spat. ‘He’s a fugitivarius. Works for Antonius.’
‘The Master of the Horse ordered this?’ cried Romulus. ‘Why?’
Fabiola had no time to explain. Noise from the corridor stopped their conversation in its tracks. Strangely, it was coming from both ends. Escape was now out of the question. Gripping the axe, Romulus got to his feet.
‘Who are you?’ a rough voice demanded from near the courtyard. ‘Antonius’ men? Come to check we’ve done the job properly?’
‘No,’ came the calm reply. ‘Raise shields!’
Following the order, Romulus heard the familiar clink of scuta off each other.
‘Quick! Back outside!’ shouted the thug to his companions.
Hope flared in Romulus’ heart as the tread of caligae clashed off the mosaic floor. When a middle-aged veteran in a battered bronze helmet popped his head round the door, Romulus could have cried with relief.
‘Secundus!’ Fabiola cried delightedly. ‘You came!’
‘Of course we did,’ he answered. ‘Couldn’t get here quick enough when Tarquinius told us what was happening.’
She beamed, and he smiled benevolently.
‘You all right in here?’
‘Fine,’ Romulus replied. ‘Thank you.’
With a pleasant nod, Secundus withdrew. From the noise, Romulus judged he had at least twenty companions. Plenty to deal with the situation. As the danger subsided, the pounding in his head became resurgent. Wincing, he sat down on the edge of the bed.
Fabiola noticed the blood in his hair at once. ‘What happened?’
‘Gemellus hit me,’ he muttered, lifting a hand to the wound. ‘Not hard enough, though, thank Mithras.’
‘You met Gemellus?’ she gasped.
‘I saw the whoreson coming out of a temple and followed him to the hovel he called home.’
‘Called,’ said Fabiola slowly. ‘Did you kill him?’
‘No,’ replied Romulus. ‘I was going to, had sworn it so many times over the years. But I couldn’t. He was utterly pathetic. It would have made me as bad as him.’
‘So you walked away?’ Fabiola’s voice was incredulous.
Romulus nodded, seeing the fury in his
twin’s eyes. Clearly she would not have acted with the same restraint. This realisation was shocking, but he forced himself to continue. ‘Then the coward attacked me from behind. Fortunately Tarquinius was at hand. But for his knife throw, I’d be lying in an alleyway with my skull caved in.’
‘Tarquinius?’
‘A friend. You’ll meet him later.’
‘So Gemellus is dead?’ Fabiola smiled. ‘Can’t say I’ll miss the piece of shit. It would have been good to tell him I own his latifundium near Pompeii, though.’
Romulus was shocked. She also ran the Lupanar. ‘How much does a property like that cost?’ he asked.
Fabiola’s face clouded. ‘A lover bought it for me. Decimus Brutus.’
‘Where is he?’
‘We argued,’ she revealed. ‘He left.’
Noise wafted in from the courtyard: the clash of swords off each other, shouted orders from Secundus and the thugs’ wails of terror as they realised that there would be no escape.
Romulus was trying to piece things together. ‘What has Antonius to do with it then?’
She flushed. ‘Stupidly, I had an affair with him. Brutus found out.’
Romulus indicated Scaevola’s blood-sodden corpse. ‘Yet he worked for Antonius?’
Fabiola ignored the question. ‘It’s so good to see you!’
Romulus smiled, acutely aware that she had just changed the subject. Why? Stop it, he thought. Your wildest dream has just come true. ‘It’s amazing,’ he agreed. ‘We were children the last time we saw each other. Now look at us: all grown up. Mother would be so proud.’
Fabiola’s expression grew sad. ‘Did Gemellus tell you what happened to her?’
‘Yes. I lost it when he did,’ Romulus answered. ‘Sliced his cheek right open. It felt good for a moment, but it didn’t bring her back.’
‘Never mind. She’s in Elysium now,’ Fabiola declared robustly. ‘I’m sure of it.’
They sat in silence for a moment, honouring Velvinna’s memory. The noise of combat from outside was dying down, to be replaced by the prostitutes’ screams of distress. Fabiola could take it no longer. ‘I’ve got to help.’ Getting up, she selected a dress from the selection hanging on the wall. With her modesty restored, she turned to Romulus. ‘Come on. I’ll take you to another room where you can rest, away from him. Bastard.’ She spat on Scaevola’s body.
Struck by her steely will, Romulus followed Fabiola into the corridor. She must have suffered terribly here, he thought. Sold into a brothel at thirteen, and forced to sleep with men for money. It’s not much different to rape. For his part, he was glad that his path had been to fight and kill men. Yet his sister had survived, and grown into a smart, confident woman. Romulus was already proud of her. ‘You’d make a good legionary,’ he said.
‘Secundus says I fight well,’ she revealed proudly. ‘Soldiering is best left to men, though. After all, it’s just about brute strength and ignorance, isn’t it?’
Romulus laughed at her dig. ‘There’s far more to it than that,’ he protested. ‘Look at someone like Caesar. He’s the most incredible general.’ His face lit up. ‘The man can read a fight like no one else. Turn the tide of combat with a single order. Win against all the odds.’ He grinned at Fabiola. ‘I’ve even met him.’
‘So have I,’ she spat back.
Romulus recoiled at her fury. ‘What did I say?’
‘Nothing,’ Fabiola muttered. She had been burning to tell her brother about Caesar since the moment she’d clapped eyes on him, but had held back. The moment had to be right. Now Romulus’ obvious admiration for the dictator filled her with anger and confusion.
‘Don’t you like him?’ asked Romulus. ‘He’s meant to be charming towards women.’
Fabiola’s rage could no longer be contained. ‘Don’t you see? He tried to rape me,’ she screamed.
Romulus’ eyes bulged with shock. ‘He did what?’
‘Fortunately Brutus came back, so the whoreson couldn’t carry through with it,’ she continued. ‘But he did enough for me to know.’
‘Know what?’
‘Who he was.’
He gave her a confused look.
Fabiola took both of his hands in hers. ‘Caesar was the one who attacked Mother.’
Romulus didn’t really take in the words. ‘Eh?’
She repeated herself. Then, to make it crystal clear, ‘He raped her.’
Shaken, he pulled away. ‘How do you know?’
‘The look in his eyes, and his tone. His words – they . . . I just knew,’ Fabiola said, her voice shaking with passion.
His mind reeling, Romulus looked away. ‘You mean . . . you think we are . . .’
‘Caesar’s children. Yes,’ she replied.
‘Gods,’ Romulus muttered. The man he idolised – his father? Who had raped his mother. How can that be, his mind screamed. It went against everything he’d come to believe in. ‘Did you ask Caesar if he’d done it?’
She looked at him with scorn. ‘Of course not. As if the bastard would admit to it anyway.’
‘Then you can’t be positive it was he.’
‘I can,’ she retorted vehemently. ‘You weren’t there. And you only have to look at yourself! Look in a mirror! Can’t you see it?’
Romulus studied his sister’s face, which was contorted with anger. ‘Steady now. I believe you,’ he said, reeling at her words. He did look like Caesar.
‘Good.’ She relaxed a little. ‘Then you can help me kill him.’
His mouth fell open. ‘You’re joking.’
‘Do I look as if I am?’ she shot back, her eyes blazing.
‘Hold on,’ Romulus protested. ‘You have no proof.’
She tapped over her heart. ‘I know it here.’
‘That’s not enough. The Republic needs Caesar. Thanks to him, there will soon be peace.’
‘What do I care about that? Why should you, for that matter? You’re a slave,’ Fabiola shouted. ‘He raped Mother.’
Shaken by his sister’s revelation, and feeling guilty that his feelings for Caesar did not match hers, Romulus did not answer.
‘Fabiola?’ called a voice.
Her eyes opened wide. ‘Brutus?’
Romulus peered over her shoulder, seeing a brown-haired man in an expensive tunic walking down the corridor. His pleasant face wore a look of deep concern. ‘Are you hurt?’ he cried, breaking into a run. Behind him trotted a group of tough-looking legionaries.
‘Oh Brutus,’ Fabiola cried. Her bottom lip began to tremble, and a tear ran down her cheek. ‘I’m fine. No one touched me.’
Romulus was confused by his sister’s body language. Was this real or affected emotion?
Clearly, Brutus thought it was genuine. Reaching them, he pulled Fabiola into a fierce embrace. ‘I came as soon as I heard,’ he whispered, his voice cracking. ‘Thank all the gods.’ He muttered an order and his men immediately began checking every room. ‘Bring me any you find alive,’ he cried. ‘I want to know who ordered this.’
‘It was Antonius,’ said Fabiola. ‘I’m certain!’
Brutus looked unsettled. ‘Not so loud,’ he murmured, patting her hand. He glanced at Romulus and smiled. ‘This must be your twin brother.’
Fabiola wiped away her tears. ‘Yes.’
Romulus saluted. ‘Honoured to meet you, sir.’
Brutus inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘The gods are truly smiling today.’
‘They are,’ agreed Fabiola, beaming. ‘How did you know who he was?’
‘Apart from the fact that you look like two peas in a pod?’ Brutus grinned. ‘The scarred man who came to warn me about the attack told me. A friend of yours?’ he asked Romulus.
‘Tarquinius? Yes, sir. He’s an old comrade.’
‘He’s waiting outside,’ said Brutus. The implication was obvious.
‘With your permission, then, sir?’ Romulus requested politely. It was time to fade into the background. A reconciliation between the two lovers lo
oked possible, so he must not intrude. There was a great deal to reflect on too. Caesar was not just his general, he was – perhaps – his father, and Fabiola wanted to kill him. While Romulus had sworn the same if he ever discovered the rapist’s identity, he was shaken to the core by the fact that it was Caesar. This was the man who had freed him from slavery. Whom he’d followed through thick and thin, from Egypt to Asia Minor and Africa. Whom he’d come to love. Romulus felt sick with confusion.
‘Of course.’ Brutus glanced at Fabiola. ‘We’d best get you back to my domus. Romulus can visit later.’
‘Don’t leave it too long.’ Fabiola reached out a hand. ‘Bring your friend too.’
‘We’ll be along soon,’ said Romulus.
‘Everyone knows my house,’ said Brutus. ‘It’s on the Palatine.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Romulus was halfway down the corridor when he heard Brutus ask, ‘Who raped your mother?’
A sudden tension filled the air.
Romulus stopped.
‘What’s that, my love?’ Fabiola’s laugh was brittle and unconvincing, to Romulus at least.
‘I heard the tail end of something you were saying when I came in. Something about who had raped your mother. You’ve never told me about that.’
‘Of course not,’ she replied. ‘It happened a long time ago.’
‘You sounded furious,’ said Brutus. ‘Who was it?’
Romulus waited for Fabiola to say the words ‘Julius Caesar’, but she didn’t.
‘Well?’ prompted Brutus gently.
‘I’m not sure. Mother never told us,’ she said. ‘What I said was that someone like Scaevola could have raped her.’
Romulus couldn’t believe his ears.
Yet Brutus seemed satisfied. ‘Is the whoreson here?’
‘Yes. In there.’ She pointed. ‘He’s dead. My brother killed him.’
