by Ben Kane
What point is there in living? I am nothing. No one. A prostitute, she thought bitterly. A slave with no living family, apart from the bastard who fathered us. And while the prospect of revenge on the noble who had raped her mother still appealed, she knew it was a hopeless quest. All Fabiola had to go on was a statue of Caesar that she had seen once in Maximus' house. Using the embers of her desire for revenge, she continued working numbly, haunted constantly by thoughts of Romulus. Of how Gemellus had dragged him away to the ludus. How close they had come to meeting the night of the brawl outside the Lupanar. How she might have found him more quickly if she had taken on Memor as a client sooner. Guilt ravaged Fabiola from dawn till dusk.
When a new girl from Judaea arrived in the brothel, it had seemed a good opportunity to find out about where Romulus had died. A way to start letting the sadness go. But the tales of the eastern deserts were terrifying: the boiling heat, the lack of water, the natives with lethal bows. Fabiola's imagination was flooded with vivid images, each more gruesome than the last. She began to sleep badly and suffer from nightmares. Soon she was taking mandrake just to get some rest at night.
Late one morning Fabiola was still lying in bed, avoiding the world. Two miserable months had passed in this fashion. Despite being offered a better one by Jovina, she had retained the original tiny room given her on the very first day in the brothel. It was comforting to her. Fabiola's favourite clothes hung from iron hooks on the walls; bottles of makeup and perfume sat on a low table alongside. A shrine now took up one corner; on it sat a statue of Jupiter, surrounded by dozens of votive candles. Over the years, Fabiola had spent countless hours on her knees before it, praying for her family. She had also been generous with her donations at the huge temple on the Capitoline Hill.
All her efforts had been in vain.
Romulus and her mother were gone.
As far as Fabiola was aware, there were no regular clients coming to see her until that evening. It was a small consolation as she had slept little, thanks to a graphic nightmare about Romulus being disembowelled by a slashing Parthian sword. She still couldn't banish the image from her mind.
'Romulus.' Her head slumped and Fabiola let a tear form in her eye. Another followed, and another. Then the dam burst. Grief overcame her and she began to sob, deep surges of anguish erupting from the depths of her soul. She hadn't cried since her first day in the brothel. Now she couldn't stop.
She cried for her mother. For Romulus. For her own lost innocence. Even for Juba, who had always been friendly to her.
The gentle knock startled her.
'Fabiola?' The voice was Docilosa's.
She gulped, wiping her eyes with the edge of the blanket. 'What is it?'
'Brutus is here. He wants to see you.'
Her lover wasn't due to visit for two days. How could she bear to appear happy? 'Now?'
Docilosa opened the door and peered in. She took one look and entered, closing it quietly behind her.
Over the previous four years, the older woman had proved herself reliable on many occasions, running errands, buying items outside the ludus and feeding Fabiola snippets about Jovina. Fabiola had come to trust Docilosa more than any of the prostitutes. Caught up in the race for popularity, none could be completely relied upon. Not after Pompeia.
'What's wrong?' Docilosa sat down on the bed, taking Fabiola's hand in hers.
She sobbed even harder.
'Tell me.' Docilosa's voice was kind but firm.
It all poured out. Every last detail, from Velvinna's rape to Gemellus' nightly visits. Romulus training with Juba and his sale to the ludus. Her own arrival in the Lupanar.
Docilosa listened without saying a word. When Fabiola had finished, she leaned forward and softly kissed her on the forehead. The gesture meant more to the young woman than anything had in her entire life.
'My poor child. You have been through so much.' Docilosa sighed, her eyes dark with sorrow. 'Life can be very hard. But it goes on.'
'What's the point?' asked Fabiola dully.
Docilosa took her by the arm. 'That handsome noble out there is the point! Brutus would do anything for you.' She smoothed Fabiola's lustrous hair. 'He would, you know.'
Fabiola knew Docilosa's words were true. Brutus was indeed a kind, decent man and she was genuinely fond of him. To jeopardise in any way her best chance of a life outside the Lupanar would be very foolish.
'Dry those eyes and get dressed,' said Docilosa. 'You mustn't keep him waiting.'
Feeling more composed, Fabiola nodded and did as she was told. Being able to open her heart to a sympathetic ear had lifted some of the weight from her shoulders. Docilosa helped her choose a low-cut silk robe and apply some ochre and perfume. Thanks to her good complexion, Fabiola had not yet resorted to using lead.
'Thank you,' she said warmly.
Docilosa nodded. 'You remind me of what my own daughter might have been like.'
Fabiola felt a pang of guilt. She had never asked. 'What happened to her?'
'Sabina was taken from me when she was six,' replied Docilosa in a flat tone. 'Sold to one of the temples as an acolyte.'
'Have you seen her since?'
Docilosa shook her head. Tears formed in her eyes.
Fabiola reached out and hugged her. 'Bless you,' she whispered.
With a little smile, Docilosa regained control of herself. 'Go on,' she said brightly. 'He 's in the usual place.'
Fabiola disappeared up the corridor.
Her lover was waiting in the bedroom where they had first slept together. It was the only one that Brutus would use and Jovina was happy to allow this privilege. Customers as rich or as frequent as the staff officer were uncommon.
'What a surprise!' Fabiola swept in, making sure her cleavage was on full view.
A powerful smell of incense filled the air and only two oil lamps had been lit. Rose petals covered the bedspread. Docilosa had done well to prepare the chamber at such short notice.
Brutus stood up, surprising her. Normally they tumbled straight on to the bed. He seemed unusually serious.
'Is everything all right?' she asked, slightly worried. 'Shouldn't have taken me so long to get ready, but I wasn't expecting you today.'
He smiled as she kissed him. 'It's not that.'
'What then?' Fabiola said, sweeping her lashes down, hoping he would not notice her reddened eyes.
'I've been talking to Jovina.'
He had her attention now. Generally Brutus' conversations with the old crone tended to last no longer than it took him to pay her. He did not like the madam either.
'About what?'
He could contain himself no longer. Brutus took his right hand from behind his back.
Fabiola stared at the rolled parchment he was holding for a moment. Then the blood drained from her cheeks. 'Is that . . .?'
He nodded. 'Your manumissio.'
Fabiola's heart pounded as she took it. Of all the things she had expected today, the document naming her as a free woman was not one of them. Her spirits rose from the dark pit at the thought of leaving behind the Lupanar for ever. With all its tawdry luxury and grandeur, it was still just a brothel full of expensive whores. Perhaps Docilosa had known something, she thought. Life does carry on.
Taking a deep breath, Fabiola looked up. 'Why now?'
Brutus was embarrassed. 'It should have been long ago,' he muttered. 'But I've been so busy. You know how it is: the situation between Caesar and Pompey changes every damn day.'
Laying a hand on his arm, Fabiola smiled radiantly. It was a smile she knew he loved. 'What changed, my love?'
'Things are deteriorating in the city faster than ever.' He frowned. 'Clodius slipped Caesar's leash long ago and Milo has never really called anyone master. Their gangs control the city almost completely now. Elections are being postponed because officials who preside over them are at risk of their lives. Rome is becoming too dangerous.'
Fabiola nodded. Since the news of Crassus' defeat and
capture, public violence had escalated sharply. Murder on the streets was even more commonplace now; rioting and the burning of public buildings were a daily occurrence. As rough and tumble politicians like Clodius Pulcher and Titus Milo entered the race for power, Rome's future seemed increasingly dark. With Caesar bogged down in Gaul, Pompey was staying neutral, waiting for the Senate to beg for his help.
'I want you somewhere safe,' said Brutus. 'Out of the city until things calm down. It seemed like a good time to buy your freedom.'
Fabiola's heart soared at the thought. 'May the gods bless you for ever,' she said and kissed him again.
Delighted by her response, Brutus immediately began talking about his new villa in Pompeii and the improvements that could be made to it. As she listened, Fabiola's guilt returned with a vengeance. Freed for just a few heartbeats, she was already forgetting about Romulus. Tears filled her eyes and she turned away.
Brutus stopped mid-sentence. 'Fabiola?'
'It's nothing. I . . .' she managed, her chin wobbling.
He stroked her face. 'You must tell me what's wrong. I can help.'
As always, Fabiola was touched by his concern. 'It's my twin brother,' she said sadly.
'You have a brother? A slave?' Brutus laughed. 'I'll set him free too!'
'You can't.'
The noble smiled gently. 'He couldn't cost more than you did.'
She began to ask and he put a finger to her lips.
'Jovina drives a hard bargain,' was all he would say. 'Tell me about your brother.'
'Romulus was a soldier in Crassus' army.'
Brutus looked confused.
Without revealing her sources, Fabiola explained what she had learned from Memor and Vettius about Romulus' escape from the ludus and his likely part in the invasion of Parthia.
Brutus had seen plenty of combat in Gaul and had intimate experience of the common soldier's terrible lot. Having heard the account of Carrhae, he knew it was highly unlikely that Romulus was alive. Racking his brains for what to say, Brutus patted her arm awkwardly.
Neither spoke for a moment.
Suddenly Brutus' face brightened. 'He could be one of the captives,' he said bluffly. 'Let things settle down for a few months and we'll see about sending an envoy to the east. Might be able to buy him back.'
While obviously bravado, it was deeply tempting to believe his reassuring words. Desperate for something to hold on to apart from revenge, Fabiola let herself do that. She thought of the ten thousand prisoners taken by the Parthians. No one knew what their fate would be. Except the gods. She closed her eyes, praying as she had never done before.
Jupiter, keep my brother safe from harm.
Once the initial euphoria at receiving her manumission had cleared, Fabiola had asked Brutus for another favour. He had been delighted to oblige, the price for a mere kitchen slave scarcely ruffling the surface of his coffers. Thanks to his campaigns in Gaul with Caesar, Brutus was richer than ever. Freeing Docilosa meant that Fabiola had an ally to take with her to her lover's villa. She would not be alone when Brutus had business in Rome. Fabiola had also asked Brutus to buy the two doormen, but Jovina had refused point blank. They were worth too much to her.
Fabiola's departure from the Lupanar was a memory she would cherish for the rest of her life. Jovina had fawned and sighed, sorry to see her best earner leave; the other women had laughed and cried by turn; surprisingly, Claudia had sulked, finally jealous of her friend's good fortune. Touching Fabiola's heart, it had been Benignus and Vettius who had been the most upset. 'Don't forget us,' Vettius had muttered, looking at the floor. She would not. Men as reliable as the two huge slaves were hard to find.
The day after her manumission, the lovers travelled to Ostia, Rome's port. Tied up by one of the jetties was the Ajax, Brutus' low-slung liburnian. Smaller than a trireme, with two banks of oars, the fast boat was his pride and joy. Keeping its jutting prow driving straight into the waves, Ajax' captain stayed close to shore to avoid being swept out to sea by the stormy weather. Encouraged by the constant pounding of the drum, the hundred slaves on the oars worked hard to carry Brutus and Fabiola down the coast. Their destination was Pompeii, in the popular bay of Neapolis. It was about six days' journey to the south.
Fabiola did not like travelling by ship. Protected from the rain and wind by a thick fabric canopy, sitting in luxury by a glowing brazier, she was uncomfortably reminded of life 's fragility by the water pounding off the hull. But Brutus was in his element and spent the voyage recounting his campaigns in Gaul.
Fabiola was intrigued by the full details of Caesar's battles. If only half of what Brutus told her was true, his general really was an amazing leader and tactician. Pompey would have his work cut out winning the race for power. By the sixth day, Brutus had still not spoken of the Venetians' rebellion three years previously, an uprising that had been put down thanks to his expertise and ability. When she gently reminded him of it, Brutus had the grace to blush. His modest, unassuming manner was one of the things Fabiola liked most.
'The Veneti had surrendered to us twelve months before,' he began. 'But during the long winter, the tribe 's druids persuaded their chieftains to seize a group of our officers who were out requisitioning supplies. The dogs thought they could get a huge ransom for them and retreated to their strongholds, which were built on islands in tidal estuaries. We couldn't approach them by land, except at low tide.'
Fabiola had never heard all the story before. She nodded encouragingly.
Once started, it did not take much to keep Brutus talking. 'When spring came, we built a fleet of triremes on the River Liger and sailed up the coast. Really caught the bastards by surprise!'
Fabiola braced herself for a moment as the Ajax hung on the crest of a wave before sweeping down into the trough. 'Is it much further?' she asked.
Brutus immediately called out to the captain, a gnarly old Greek in bare feet, who was alternating his time at the rudder with spells on the deck bellowing at the slaves. He listened carefully to the reply. 'Not long now, my love. We passed Misenum and the mouth of the bay a while ago.'
Fabiola smiled. 'Didn't the Venetians have proper seagoing vessels?'
'They did! Big, deep-bottomed craft with huge sails that were far superior to ours,' said Brutus, grinning triumphantly. 'But Mars blessed us with flat calm weather and we rowed in one afternoon, hemming them against the jetties and cliffs below the villages. Just to make sure, I had ordered dozens of scythes tied on long poles and the sailors were able to cut their rigging to pieces.'
His lover gasped admiringly.
'Our boarding parties swarmed over and we took the settlements in double-quick time. Freed the officers too.' Brutus sighed. 'Caesar wanted an example made of the Veneti, though. We executed all their leaders and sold the whole tribe into slavery.'
Fabiola adjusted the pearl-encrusted gold brooch which held up her hair and tried not to imagine the scene: the cries from injured and dying warriors on the ships; the sea red with blood and full of bobbing corpses. Thatched roofs on fire, women and children screaming as they were beaten and tied with ropes, new slaves to make Rome even richer. It was hard to justify anything that Caesar did in its name. There should be more to life than warfare and slavery.
Sensing her unease, Brutus took Fabiola's hand. 'War is brutal, my darling. But once Caesar is in power alone, he will have no need to conquer anywhere else. The Republic will be at peace once more.'
