by Ben Kane
'Are you sure?'
'They say the Parthian temples are dripping with gold. I'd join Crassus myself if I were younger!'
'He's at least ten years older than you,' needled Gabinius.
'Not all are born to be soldiers,' Mancinus huffed.
'I meant no insult.' Gabinius realised he had gone too far. 'Have another drop.'
Fabiola snorted silently at the crude approach. The offended merchant refused to be drawn again, and she left them to it. She padded down the corridor, robe flowing in the warm summer air that filled the house.
She found Benignus sitting in the kitchen while Germanilla fussed around, loading his plate with bread and vegetables.
The doorman's craggy face split into a grin when he saw her.
Fabiola pulled over a stool and sat down beside the huge slave. 'Busy last night?'
'Not too bad. Only threw out one customer.' Benignus took a mouthful of bread and chewed noisily. 'Silly bastard knocked the new girl Senovara about.'
'Is she all right?' Fabiola asked worriedly.
'Bruised and shaken, but she 'll be fine.'
'Who did it?'
'Nobody important. One of Caesar's soldiers wanting to blow all his spoils from Gaul.' Benignus grinned. 'He 's nursing a broken arm instead.'
'Glad to hear it.' Fabiola winked at Germanilla.
The serving girl reached under the wooden counter. Producing a large hunk of beef, she placed it on Benignus' plate.
'Is that for me?' The doorman's eyes were eager. 'From you?'
Fabiola nodded from under her long fringe. 'Keep looking after us girls.'
He beamed, revealing rotting stumps. 'Me and Vettius would kill anyone who tried to harm you.' Benignus patted the bone handle of his dagger.
Fabiola watched contentedly as the shaven-headed hulk wolfed down the meat. She had never needed to call for help as Senovara had the previous night. But if the occasion ever arose, she knew both would come running. Winning the doormen over had been simple. Instead of having sex with them, Fabiola had won their hearts by ensuring they always had good food, and that the best surgeon tended to any injuries they incurred.
The beautiful young woman slept only with men who could provide her with money, useful information or the possibility of freedom.
Chapter XIV: Rufus Caelius
Rome, late summer 55 BC
Tarquinius adjusted his position, moving his cloak slightly so it provided more of a cushion. He was sitting with his back against the wall of a house on a narrow street not far from the Forum. On either side of him were beggars and food vendors competing for business from the passers-by. The nearest, a middle-aged army veteran with one arm, was still wearing his russet-brown military tunic. He threw Tarquinius a curious glance, slightly resentful at having to move two feet closer to his neighbour. But the ten sestertii in his fist was more than he would earn in a day. Who cared why the blond stranger wanted to sit here? And he had promised the same every morning. The cripple caught Tarquinius returning his stare and quickly dropped his gaze, keen not to upset his new sponsor.
Diagonally opposite their position was a large, arched doorway with an erect stone penis protruding on either side from the wall above. The huge members were painted in bright colours to attract attention and it seemed to work. Many of the men walking past paused to stare through the open door. But few actually entered: instead they stood outside weighing their purses and looking wistful.
The one-armed legionary saw Tarquinius watching. 'Only the rich go in there.' He hawked and spat. 'That's one of the most expensive whorehouses in Rome. The Lupanar girls can drain a man dry!'
'Tried it?'
He laughed sourly. 'In my dreams.'
'Who owns it?'
'An old crone called Jovina,' came the reply. 'She 's worth a bloody fortune. And sharp as a blade. Always keeps her customers happy.'
The Etruscan nodded encouragingly.
Happy to have someone to listen, the veteran filled Tarquinius in on the comings and goings from the Lupanar. Soon the haruspex knew which prominent senators and nobles visited regularly, the methods used by the doormen to expel troublesome customers and the fact that few prostitutes ever set a foot outside the premises.
'What's your name, soldier?' said Tarquinius at last.
The cripple was both surprised and pleased. Few ever bothered to ask. 'Secundus,' he replied. 'Gaius Secundus. And yours?'
'Marcus Peregrinus.' Although Secundus seemed honest, there was no question of Tarquinius revealing his identity after the episode with Gallo months before.
'You served in the legions too?'
Tarquinius smiled. 'Not me! I am a trader.'
The explanation was good enough and a cordial silence fell.
Time passed and the two men began to share stories about their experiences – Secundus with the legions in Pontus and Greece, Tarquinius expanding on his visits to Asia Minor, North Africa and Spain. The noise of oxen pulling carts and the conversation of passers-by washed over them. Like all thoroughfares in Rome, the street was constantly busy.
At length, the Etruscan indicated Secundus' right arm. The shiny red stump had been evenly cut across and tiny scars were still visible from where stitches had been placed. It was a sign that it had been amputated by an expert. 'Where did you lose that?'
Secundus frowned, rubbing at the remnant of his arm. 'Tigranocerta.'
'You served with Lucullus?'
There was a proud nod.
'One of the Republic's greatest victories, I've heard.' The haruspex could still picture the scene on the ground before Tigranes' showpiece capital. Deep, intimidating pounding from the Armenian drums. Hot sun beating down on the massed ranks of legionaries. The sheer size of the king's host. It had been immense. Bucinae blaring orders from Lucullus' position, officers roaring at their men when they had heard and understood. The gradual advance towards the enemy, swords tight in their fists, sweat running down from under their helmets. Javelin volleys scything into the Armenian infantry. The panic spreading amongst them like wind through the trees. Tarquinius smiled. 'Even though you were vastly outnumbered,' he said.
'Twenty to one! Didn't take long for us to turn the savages, though,' exclaimed Secundus. 'It was nearly over when suddenly a big Armenian broke through the shield wall near me. Cut down four men in the blink of an eye.' The veteran's face creased with anger. 'I managed to hamstring the bastard, but he turned and hacked at me as he went down. Smashed the bone so badly the surgeon had to take the damn thing off.'
Tarquinius clicked his tongue in sympathy. 'That was the end of military service for you.'
'A man can't wield a gladius with his left hand.' Secundus sighed. 'And I only had three years left to serve.'
'The gods work in strange ways.'
'If they take any notice of us at all!'
'They do,' answered Tarquinius seriously.
'Seem to have forgotten me, then.' Secundus cynically indicated his clothes, which were little more than rags, and a worn blanket, his only shelter against the weather. 'Even though I still sacrifice to Mars.' The veteran glanced around to make sure no one could hear. 'And Mithras,' he whispered.
Tarquinius' ears pricked up. He was fascinated by the ancient and secretive warrior religion which had been brought to Rome by legionaries returning from the east. Only the initiated were allowed into the Mithraic underground temples, but he had heard many rumours when serving in Asia Minor. Bulls being sacrificed. The study of particular constellations. Ordeals of heat, pain and hunger as rites of passage between stages for devotees. Central tenets of truth, honour and courage. With luck, he might find out more from Secundus. 'Do not lose faith in the gods,' he said, scanning the narrow band of sky visible between the buildings around them. 'They have not forgotten you.'
Secundus grunted. 'Believe that when I see it.'
Tarquinius' dark eyes glinted.
Opposite them, the brothel's door opened and a huge slave with a shaven head peered ou
t. When satisfied there was nothing going on, he opened the portal fully and emerged, clutching a metal-studded club. A final check up and down the street was enough.
'Fabiola! It's safe.'
Secundus nudged Tarquinius violently. 'If this is who I think it is,' he said with a leer, 'we 're in for a real treat.'
The haruspex watched keenly as a black-haired young woman joined the doorman, a cloth-wrapped bundle in her hands. She was extremely beautiful and even a plain robe could not conceal her slim figure and large breasts.
'Hurry up,' the hulk urged. 'You know what Jovina's like.'
'Stop fussing, Benignus,' the prostitute said with a smile. 'You're not an old woman. Yet.'
Benignus grinned adoringly at her and the pair moved off in the direction of the Forum. Heads turned and whistles of appreciation filled the air as men noticed the stunning girl.
Fabiola's gaze glided over them as she passed and Tarquinius caught a glimpse of piercing blue eyes. Quickly he glanced down at the lava paving slabs, anxious to remain inconspicuous. But one look had been enough for the haruspex to detect deep sadness in her. There had also been loss. And a burning desire for revenge.
'A beauty, eh? Like Venus herself,' breathed Secundus. 'What I'd give for an hour with her.'
'How often is she allowed out?'
'About once a month. Always carrying something, too.' Secundus rubbed his grey stubble. 'One of the doormen goes with her every time.'
'She 's probably going to deposit money with the bankers in the Forum.'
'Won't be the takings,' said the veteran. 'Jovina hires half a dozen exsoldiers the days they bring that out.' His eyes lit up. 'It comes out in a bloody great iron-clad chest and gets placed in a litter. One of her bruisers sits on top of it all the way to the bank.'
'Her savings then,' Tarquinius commented. 'She must be one of the more favoured prostitutes.'
'I'll go along with that,' said Secundus wistfully.
'Have you no wife?' asked the Etruscan.
Secundus shook his head. 'She died of the flux five years ago. No one else will have me now.' He waggled his stump bitterly.
'Come now!' cried Tarquinius, clapping him on the back. 'Some wine will help lift your mood.'
The veteran was easily persuaded and Tarquinius led him away, enthusing about the nearby tavern he had discovered only the day before. The pair left their spot and walked in the same direction as the prostitute and her companion. Tarquinius made sure that the hostelry they visited happened to be close to the moneylenders' pitches in the basilicae on the Forum. Any information about the beautiful young girl might be useful.
Something told the haruspex that she was of importance.
Not just to his future, but to that of Rome.
Seeing Fabiola turned out to be the most interesting thing to happen that day. And that week. Tarquinius sat patiently in the same spot from dawn until dusk, talking with Secundus and barely moving unless it was to relieve himself in one of the tiny alleyways that led off the street. Always his gaze was fixed on the arched doorway opposite. Customers came and went; slaves were sent on errands to buy food. Occasionally Jovina sallied forth on some private business. Tarquinius watched the madam surreptitiously, taking in her beady eyes and the large amount of expensive jewellery that adorned her hands and arms. In the male-dominated Roman world, this was clearly a woman of considerable ability. A few questions in the local inns had confirmed this. Thanks to her range of customers and her dedication to satisfying their desires, Jovina was well respected. It seemed she also had influence in many circles. 'Half the Senate has visited the Lupanar!' laughed one innkeeper. 'The girls are incredible there. You should try it some time.' Making polite excuses, Tarquinius had left, his mind working overtime.
Despite its impressive range of clients, nothing had explained why his divinations kept revealing that the Lupanar was important. Every few days, Tarquinius sacrificed a hen at the temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill. And each time the reading was the same: the brothel was crucial to his past. And his future. The Etruscan could see that Rufus Caelius, his former master, had something to do with it. Logically that meant that the redhead would turn up at the Lupanar sooner or later. What he could not interpret was why an expensive whorehouse should impact on his future once he had taken revenge on Caelius.
Unless it had something to do with Fabiola.
'Got any female customers?'
Running a finger across his thick lips, the moneylender eyed Tarquinius speculatively. 'Maybe,' he replied. Short, fat and arrogant, the Greek was obviously amused at the question. 'Anyone in particular?'
'A girl by the name of Fabiola,' the haruspex answered. 'Black-haired. Slim. Very pretty.'
There was another smirk and the Greek leaned back on his stool, glancing at his two bodyguards, a pair of heavily muscled ex-gladiators. 'Do we know anyone like that?'
'I'd remember one like her,' one answered, making an obscene gesture.
The second sniggered.
Tarquinius had been expecting this. 'A man might pay well for such information,' he said quietly.
The Greek's eyes narrowed and he gazed at the haruspex, trying to gauge his reasons for asking. And the depth of his purse.
Around them rose the clamour of business as another day went by for the inhabitants of the huge covered markets in the Forum. Few gave Tarquinius a second glance; just another citizen down on his luck and in need of a loan.
The Etruscan waited. Silence was a powerful weapon.
The moneylender made his play. 'A hundred sestertii might jog my memory.'
Tarquinius laughed and turned to go.
'Wait!' He had overestimated. 'Fifty.'
Twelve denarii dropped on to the low table between them. It was two sestertii less than he had demanded, but the Greek wasn't about to quibble.
The silver coins were swept from sight. 'She 's a whore,' he sneered.
'Belongs to that old bitch who runs the Lupanar. Know it?'
Tarquinius nodded. 'What else?'
'Comes here once a month to deposit her tips. Brings along a brainless fool like this pair.' He jerked his head contemptuously at the men behind him.
The two fighters shuffled their feet angrily but did not dare speak. Work like theirs was well paid and hard to come by.
'Ever mention family?' asked the haruspex. 'Friends?'
The Greek's lip curled. 'She 's a fucking slave. Who cares?'
Tarquinius leaned in close, his eyes boring into the other's. 'I do.'
The moneylender felt his palms grow sweaty.
'Well?'
The Greek swallowed hard. His men could easily get rid of this troublesome stranger. Break a few bones if he ordered them to. But for reasons he could not explain, it felt like a bad idea.
'She mentioned something once about saving to buy her brother's freedom,' the moneylender admitted grudgingly. 'He got sold to the Ludus Magnus.'
Tarquinius had heard of the largest gladiator school in Rome. He smiled. The link with the Lupanar was not a false trail after all.
Fabiola's brother was a gladiator.
