by Ben Kane
At last she freed his erection from the underclothes. As she rubbed up and down with one hand, Fabiola looked carefully at Brutus. His eyes were still closed, but by his response, things were going according to plan. Concentrating on Pompeia's advice rather than what she was actually doing, Fabiola took him into her mouth.
She made the experience last a long time, just as the redhead had drummed into her. At the end, unable to take any more teasing, he held Fabiola's head in place, thrusting in a frenzy of lust.
Afterwards Brutus slept deeply and she lay watching his chest rise and fall. The officer was quite handsome in his own way. Fabiola was glad that he wasn't a horrible, fat man like Gemellus. A first sexual experience with someone like that would have been too like the suffering endured by her mother. She was also pleased that Brutus was an associate of Julius Caesar's. Like everyone in Rome, Fabiola knew of the ambitious former consul who had decamped to Gaul, determined to win new territory for the Republic and a name for himself. Ensuring that Brutus became a regular customer might be a good start.
When Brutus awoke, he found Fabiola observing him.
'That was very good, girl.'
'My pleasure, Master.' She stroked his chest.
'I've been without a woman for more than six months.' Brutus guided her hand downwards. 'Why don't you take off that dress?'
Feeling slightly self-conscious, she obeyed. Surprisingly, when Brutus had pushed Fabiola down on the bed, he began to caress her body all over, and when he entered her a few moments later, it was with a gentleness she had not expected. The pain was sharp but bearable and disappeared quickly. Fabiola found it quite easy to hold on to Brutus as he thrust in and out of her eagerly. She moaned loudly, gripping his buttocks with both feet to hold him in.
At the climax, Brutus cried out with ecstasy. Then he relaxed into Fabiola's arms, smiling contentedly.
She lay back, holding the taker of her virginity. The sheet below was stained with blood, vivid evidence. Fabiola had known what life in the Lupanar would entail, but had not truly understood what sex would be like.
It was good the waiting was over.
Later she took Brutus to the baths. Acting as a body slave, Fabiola washed and massaged him, rubbing perfumed oil into his skin. When she had clad the officer in a clean tunic, they went back to the bedroom.
There she aroused Brutus so much he was able to take her again.
'By all the gods, you are insatiable!'
'You make me like this, Master.'
'What a liar!' said Brutus as he got dressed. He touched her cheek. 'Good to hear it, all the same. And a pleasure to see such beauty. Gaulish whores are either hags or crawling with disease.'
'Stay in Rome, Master.' She batted her eyelashes. 'Come and see me every day.'
'Love to,' he replied with a smile. 'But I could not afford it! I will visit when possible. You satisfy me. What was your name again?'
'Fabiola, Master.'
Brutus removed an aureus from his purse and placed it on the table. 'This is for you. Don't let the old crone near it.'
Fabiola picked up the gold coin, clutching it tightly. 'I'll be waiting,' she said.
Brutus caressed one of her small breasts before leaving her alone.
A few moments later, Jovina was beaming at the bloody sheet. Her rapid arrival made Fabiola wonder if she had been waiting outside the door. The madam rubbed wrinkled hands with excitement.
'Brutus had the look of a satisfied man! Even said the price had been worth it. Well done, child.'
'You and Pompeia taught me what to do.'
'Teaching's not the same as practising something,' Jovina replied. 'Keep every customer as satisfied as Brutus and you'll go far.'
Fabiola nodded. There had been no choice about being sold, but she was determined to make the most of her new situation. Becoming the Lupanar's best prostitute would grant the power and influence Fabiola craved. She was not going to be just another whore in a brothel. There were so many things she needed to achieve, and having men in her thrall was the only method available. Freeing her mother from Gemellus was the most urgent task, although well nigh impossible. The merchant would never sell Velvinna if he knew that her daughter was involved. But it might be possible to get a customer to buy another slave, as a favour for Fabiola. And there was Romulus, sold to the death-trap of the arena. A way must be found to rescue her twin before he was injured.
Or killed.
She was brought back to reality by Jovina's voice.
'No point daydreaming about Brutus. One pleased customer doesn't run the Lupanar,' she said briskly. 'Have a wash and be at reception in half an hour, wearing a clean dress.'
Fabiola forced a smile. Clutching the tip, she pulled on her robe and left the madam calling for Docilosa to clean the bed.
The confident manner she had shown with Brutus was needed later. Fabiola's next customer that evening was a perspiring senator with a red face who did not balk at the price for two hours. Her ability to please was proved again as she teased the elderly man to a frenzied orgasm. No further clients appeared and Fabiola finally had the chance to gossip with Pompeia.
'One of Caesar's officers? The gods must be in a good mood. My first one was old and dirty.' The redhead made a face. 'Had to wash him for an age just to get rid of the smell!'
'Brutus gave me an aureus.'
Pompeia nodded in approval. 'Will he visit you again?'
'I think so.' A trace of doubt entered Fabiola's mind. 'He's returning to Gaul in two months.'
'Plenty of time!'
'Sure?'
'Make his next visit even more amazing,' Pompeia whispered, 'and he 'll be infatuated. Men are like that. Brutus will come running each time he 's back in Rome.'
Fabiola listened carefully.
'They say Caesar's star is in the ascendancy. So Brutus' will be also.' Pompeia gave her a sly wink. 'Just remember that.'
'I will,' Fabiola replied, delighted that her hunch had been correct. She resolved to do her utmost to win the young noble 's affections if he did return as promised.
Gemellus returned from the Lupanar in the foulest of moods. He had been outwitted by Jovina and his pride was wounded. To add to the embarrassment, the merchant had been publicly ejected from the brothel for the second time. The idea of visiting the madam with a gift of jewellery and sweet-talking his way to a percentage of Fabiola's earnings had only seemed fair. After all, the brat was making her a fortune.
The plan had gone spectacularly wrong.
Jovina had accepted the present readily enough, even serving some acceptable wine. They had talked politely about the state of the Republic and the economy before Gemellus had brought up the topic of Fabiola.
Jovina's face had gone cagey the moment the girl was mentioned. A queasy feeling had flared in his stomach, unsettling him, and he'd started badly by immediately demanding a cut of Fabiola's earnings. The sharp skills at bargaining which had been honed over two decades seemed to have evaporated overnight. Jovina had refused point blank and Gemellus had lost his temper. Beleaguered now on all sides by creditors, he had not forgiven the madam for duping him out of thousands of sestertii.
Gemellus hadn't even had the satisfaction of wrapping his fingers around Jovina's scrawny neck. Before he could lay a hand on her, the enormous doorman had again materialised as if from thin air. Benignus had plucked the merchant bodily from his seat, and carried him to the door. The colossus had held Gemellus' arms while Vettius drove two powerful punches into his solar plexus, winding him completely. A moment later, he flew out the door to land face first in a fresh pile of mule dung.
'Next time I'll tell them to cut your balls off!' Jovina had yelled.
Scandal did not take long to move through the city. It would only be a matter of time before Gemellus' enemies heard the news of his public disgrace. The merchant's poor standing with certain influential members of Rome's financial underworld would be damaged even further. The frantic attempts he'd made to keep his le
nders happy were all going wrong. Gemellus had managed to placate Crassus, his biggest creditor, but a number of the Greeks in the Forum had threatened to break his legs if he couldn't meet their extortionate weekly payments.
If he wanted to fund the bestiarius' expedition, Gemellus would have to sell the house in the Aventine or even his beloved villa in Pompeii. This realisation darkened an already black mood. He stalked along stone-floored corridors to the room Romulus and Fabiola had shared with their mother. Throwing open the flimsy wooden door, Gemellus found Velvinna on an old cot, sobbing into the pillow.
'Useless bitch. Why aren't you in the kitchen?'
'I am sick, Master.'
Gemellus was filled with disgust. Velvinna's once lustrous hair was matted with dirt. The features he had lusted after were etched with lines of worry and sadness. Although she was only thirty, Velvinna looked ten years older.
'Get up and do some work!'
'My children, Master. Where are my beautiful twins?'
Gemellus pursed his lips. He was sick of Velvinna repeatedly asking the same question. It did not matter how many times she was raped. The merchant stalked over and grabbed her by the hair.
There was not even the satisfaction of a whimper in response.
'With any luck the boy is dead,' he spat. 'I didn't do so well with the little vixen though. She's making her new owner a fortune in the whorehouse.'
Velvinna stared at him dully. It was almost too much to take in. 'Kill me, Master. I have nothing left to live for.'
Gemellus laughed. The idea that she would have a reason to exist was most amusing. She belonged to him – he could sell or even kill her without any legal implications. Whether Velvinna cared about Romulus and Fabiola or not was entirely irrelevant.
'I'll get a few hundred sestertii for you instead. The salt mines will take anything that breathes,' he said. 'I should have done it the same day as the brats. Now get back to work.'
'And if I won't?'
The merchant was so shocked that he released his grip on her.
'Everything I held sacred has been taken. My virginity. My body. Even my children. There is nothing left.' For the first time in her life, Velvinna's face showed no fear. 'Sell me to the mines.'
'Be ready at dawn!' Gemellus blustered, unsure what to say to a slave who requested certain death. Severe discipline and an incredibly harsh environment meant even the strongest of men survived only a few years digging salt. Someone as weak as Velvinna would last weeks at most.
He turned to go.
'One day there will be a knock on your door,' she said ominously.
The merchant raised a hand, but something held him back.
'Romulus will stand outside. And may the gods help you when he discovers my fate.'
Memories of Fabiola's defiance and the hatred in Romulus' eyes as he stood in the yard of the Ludus Magnus were vivid in Gemellus' mind.
Maybe she was telling the truth. Terror consumed him and he slapped Velvinna so hard that her head snapped back into the wall. She collapsed to the floor, the shallow movements of her ragged dress the only sign of life.
He eyed Velvinna's bare legs and a flicker of desire stirred in his loins. The merchant considered taking her there and then, but the prophecy had shaken him. He closed the door softly and walked away. In the morning, he would take Velvinna to the slave market. She and the twins would be forgotten for ever.
One day there will be a knock on your door.
Chapter XI: Prophecy
Rome, winter 56 BC
Tarquinius was squatting by the steps of the great temple to Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill. He felt at home here, in a place where echoes of the Rasenna were still strong. It was also an excellent spot to watch goings-on; to assess the general mood in the city. The Etruscan had been coming every day for weeks. Built by his people hundreds of years before, this shrine was the most important place of worship in Rome. It was busy from sunrise to sunset. And with political uncertainty now ever-present, business was better than ever. The bitter cold could not keep worshippers away and the complex was crowded and noisy.
Self-important priests stalked past, young acolytes scurrying at their heels; a group of lictores sat around, eyeballing anyone foolish enough to look in their direction. Small boys who had climbed the hill without parental permission gaped at the panoramic view of the sprawling metropolis. Ordinary citizens passed inside the doors to mutter their requests, ask for help with their problems, and curse their enemies. Stallholders roared and yelled, trying to sell food, wine and statues of Jupiter, as well as hens and lambs to slaughter as offerings. There were snake charmers, whores, jugglers, pickpockets; even a senator canvassing for votes amongst the wealthier devotees. All were here because of people 's constant desire to know the future.
Tarquinius smiled. Judging from the number of tricksters and con-men about, there was little chance of an accurate prediction. It was the same outside every temple in the world. In all his years of travelling, Tarquinius judged that he had encountered perhaps two other genuine soothsayers and augurs. Only one had been from Italy. His lip curled with contempt. The Romans might have smashed every Etruscan city and stolen their entire culture, but they had never completely mastered the art of haruspicy. Unlike Olenus, whose ability to see the future had been uncanny.
Eventually Rome draws you back. A desire for revenge.
But Caelius, the reason for him to linger in the capital, was proving surprisingly hard to find. With the last of his fortune long spent and his latifundium seized by moneylenders, the redheaded noble had taken up a new career, hoping to renew his fortune. Tarquinius had been revolted to discover that Caelius was now a slave trader, following in the wake of destruction left by Caesar's army in Gaul. Despite many attempts at divination, the Etruscan had been unable to discover Caelius' exact whereabouts. So he had waited patiently in Rome for nearly twelve months, biding his time. If he kept searching, animal entrails or the weather would eventually reveal something. And they had. The man who had killed Olenus would return to visit the city within the year.
Content with that thought, Tarquinius watched the nearby soothsayers plying their trade. Wearing blunt-peaked leather hats, the men were surrounded by clusters of eager supplicants with open purses. The Etruscan leaned back on his heels, studying the people 's faces. There was the barren wife, desperate to conceive a son; alongside stood the worried mother whose legionary son had not written home in an age. The gambler with moneylenders on his trail; the rich plebeian eager to climb the social ladder; the spurned lover eager for revenge. He smiled. They were all transparent to him.
The young lamb he had bought earlier bleated, taking his attention away from the crowds. Barely a month old, it was restrained by a thin cord round its neck that was attached to his wrist. The haruspex looked up, taking in the wind and the clouds above. It was time to see what lay in store for him.
For Rome. Tarquinius picked up a short dark blade that he used for sacrifices and close-quarters fighting. Muttering a prayer of thanks for its life, he pulled the lamb closer, holding up its head with his left hand. A swift slash of the razor-sharp metal and the young animal collapsed, blood pouring from the gaping cut in its throat. It kicked a few times and lay still. Flipping the body over on to its back, Tarquinius sliced open the abdomen and let the loops of small intestine slither on to the cold stone. After a moment, seeing nothing of interest, he moved on, expertly cutting free the liver. Balancing it in his left hand, the haruspex raised his eyes to the sky once more. He had performed divinations countless times, yet the ritual still excited him. Not once in fourteen years had the results been the same.
