by Ben Kane
Romulus' blood began to boil. 'It's a bit late for that,' he growled. 'Might have been better if you'd stood by his side instead of keeping Antonius outside.'
'How dare you?' Brutus snapped. 'It's not that simple.'
Romulus was so angry that he forgot the difference in their status. 'Really? Perhaps you'd care to explain how it's possible to swear service to someone and then plan their murder.'
Brutus' lips pinched with fury. 'I answer you only because Fabiola is your sister. He'd become a tyrant who treated the Republic with contempt.'
'Caesar ended decades of strife and civil war,' Romulus retorted, contemptuous that the noble had succumbed to Fabiola's charms when he had had the strength not to. 'He was the best future for this country and you know it. Not forgetting that you were his sworn follower.'
'Romulus,' Fabiola said, stepping forward. 'Please.'
Uncaring, Romulus let all of his fury out. Subconsciously, he knew he was transferring some of his anger at Fabiola — and himself — but he didn't care. 'Call yourself a soldier? Fucking coward, more like.'
'Scum,' Brutus shouted. 'You're nothing but a freed slave!'
'Scum, eh?' screamed Romulus. 'At least I stood up for Caesar, while you didn't even have the balls to stick a knife in him.'
Apoplectic now, Brutus stabbed a finger towards Romulus. 'Kill that whoreson! And his friend.'
With malevolent grins, his gladiators shuffled forward. They didn't care who the young soldier and his companion were.
'He's my brother!' Fabiola cried.
'I don't care who he is,' Brutus replied, the veins on his neck bulging. 'No lowlife speaks to a nobleman in that way and lives to tell the tale.'
'Get out of the way, Fabiola,' said Romulus urgently. 'No.' Fabiola raised her hands in supplication towards Brutus. 'Please calm down, my love. The tyrant is dead. That's what matters. There's no need for further bloodshed.'
'Listen to you,' Romulus snarled, his rage boiling over at his sister now. 'The "tyrant", was he? What did you care about that? All you wanted was revenge on the man who raped our mother.'
Brutus' face went white. 'That was your motive?'
Fabiola lifted her shoulders proudly. 'It was. That's why I picked you rather than any of the other fools who visited the Lupanar.'
Brutus looked stunned. 'I chose you first.'
'Maybe so,' Fabiola replied. 'After that, though, it was all my making. You were my path to Caesar, and I did absolutely everything to make sure that you preferred me above all others.'
Brutus raised a hand, trying to push away the words. 'No,' he muttered. 'You're lying.'
'Why would I do that?' Fabiola spat. Spittle flecked her lips. 'Revenge is the only thing that kept me sane while I whored myself with you and a thousand others. I was right all along about the bastard too.'
Her distress pierced Romulus to the core.
Brutus reeled away, overcome by Fabiola's confession.
Things started to happen very fast.
The gladiators made a rush for Romulus and Tarquinius. Four against two, and better armed, they had an excellent chance of ending the fight before it had even begun. Drawn forward by her outburst, Fabiola was standing between the two sets of adversaries. Romulus darted in desperately, trying to shove her out of harm's way. He succeeded, but in doing so left himself open to attack. Tarquinius swept in alongside, wielding his axe in a blur of motion which slowed three of the fighters down. The last, however, saw a golden opportunity and struck Romulus in the chest with his metal shield boss. Delivered with the force of a running man, it knocked him in a heap to the ground. Winded, Romulus could do nothing more than look up dully at the murmillo.
With a satisfied growl, the gladiator swept back his right arm to deliver the death blow.
'NO!' Fabiola screamed, throwing herself into the blade's path.
To the end of his days, Romulus would remember the sight of his sister's body arcing through the air above him, and in slow motion, the sword tip come shoving through the side of her ribcage. Warm spatters of blood covered his face, and then Fabiola landed on him, a warm, immobile heap. For a moment, Romulus couldn't comprehend what had happened. Then the terrible truth hit him. He wrapped his arms around Fabiola, and an inchoate bellow of pain left his lips. It went on and on, until his throat was raw. Lost in a sea of grief, he was vaguely aware that the murmillo hadn't finished him off, and that people were shouting.
'Romulus.' Tarquinius' voice was very gentle. 'Let her go. Sit up.'
Like a sleepwalker, Romulus obeyed, feeling Fabiola being rolled off him. Pulling himself upright, he saw that his tunic was totally saturated in his sister's blood. She lay across his knees now, as beautiful as ever, but her mouth hung open slackly, and her piercing blue eyes had already gone dull. She was dead. 'Why?' Romulus whispered. 'Why did you do it?'
'You were her only family,' Tarquinius replied. 'Wouldn't you have done the same for her?'
'Of course,' Romulus sobbed.
'Well, then.' Tarquinius put his arm around his shoulders. 'She was a woman, but possessed the heart of a lion.'
'Fabiola?'
Romulus looked up to see Brutus standing over them. He took in the rest of the scene too: one Thracian was down, screaming, clutching at the stump of his right arm, which must have been removed by Tarquinius' axe. Two of the others were ministering to him, while the murmillo who'd killed Fabiola lay nearby with Brutus' dagger buried to the hilt in his back. Steadfast to the last, Mattius was beside him, his kitchen knife ready. 'She's dead,' Romulus snarled at Brutus. 'No thanks to you.'
This time, Brutus didn't react to his taunt. His face contorted with grief, he knelt down and lifted Fabiola's bloody corpse off Romulus' legs. Rocking her to and fro, he began to keen.
Romulus' anger faded when he saw the depth of Brutus' grief. Clearly he had loved Fabiola, which made him easy prey to her wiles. After all, manipulation had been her main weapon. Romulus' sorrow grew even greater. His sister had not been like that as a child. Before, he had not really appreciated what Fabiola had been forced to become, but her confession had brought it all home. To endure the Hades of men using her body day after day, she had focused all her energy on imagining revenge upon Caesar. It was all that had kept his twin sane.
While his life experience had also been brutal, Romulus knew that he'd made the right decision not to join Fabiola. He'd killed men in cold blood at the behest of others before, but would do it no more. Furthermore, while Caesar's crime had been great, his grant of manumission rivalled it as an act of kindness. Fabiola had not received such a gift, though — instead, the dictator had tried to rape her, his own daughter. Was it any surprise that she had become twisted and bitter?
Then Romulus remembered how Fabiola had freely given her life for his, which proved that she'd had another motive to survive the hell of prostitution. Him. At this example of simple family loyalty, he broke down and wept again. The thought of Fabiola was what had carried him through the horrors of Carrhae and beyond. How alike they had been without even knowing it.
Tarquinius stood over the two sobbing men and Fabiola's body for long moments. When he spoke, his voice was low and urgent. 'The crowd is coming back.'
Romulus lifted his head and listened. Sure enough, angry shouts could be heard approaching from the main way which led to the city. He looked down at himself, covered in blood. Brutus did likewise. 'They'll kill us for sure,' said the noble. He called over the two unhurt gladiators. 'Carry her back to the arena,' he ordered.
Romulus knew it was time to leave. In more ways than one. With Caesar dead, he owed the Republic nothing. Octavian was reputed to be the dictator's heir, but that didn't mean Romulus wanted to fight a civil war for him, or anyone else. Standing, he stared at Brutus.
The noble sensed his question. 'Her funeral will be in eight days.'
Romulus nodded once. Despite his earlier fury, he could tell that Brutus would tolerate his presence as Fabiola was buried. The noble owed him that m
uch.
Brutus gathered his men and was gone. Having lost too much blood, the injured Thracian was left to die.
Without further ado, Romulus and his companions headed for the nearest alley. It would be easy enough to work their way past the crowd and back into the city. Tarquinius handed over his cloak. 'Best not to advertise where you've been.'
His mind spinning, Romulus donned the garment. Eight days afforded enough time to tidy up his affairs. What would he do after that? With Caesar dead, there would be no campaign to Dacia and Parthia. Yet the thought of going back to his farm was wholly unappealing. The bugle of an elephant in the nearby arena carried through the air, and suddenly Romulus knew that he could never be happy in Italy while the slightest chance of Brennus being alive remained. He caught Tarquinius' eye and saw that the haruspex had read his mind. What about Mattius, though? There was no need to break it to him immediately, thought Romulus.
'Mattius, I have another job for you.'
'What is it?'
'Go to the Mithraeum and tell Secundus what has happened,' said Romulus. 'Caesar's heir may need some muscle in the coming days.'
Mattius repeated his words perfectly; nodding determinedly, the boy turned and ran off.
Romulus watched Mattius until he was lost to sight. Great Mithras, watch over his path, he prayed. Jupiter, Optimus Maximus, keep him from harm. He'd need to see the lawyer whom Sabinus had recommended and have his will made out in favour of the boy and his mother. Romulus' heart ached that he would have to be left behind, but Parthia and Margiana were no places for a child. Here in Rome, under the guidance of Secundus, Mattius had a chance of a future — which was more than life had offered him and Fabiola.
The haruspex looked up at the banks of scudding cloud overhead. Within a few heartbeats, a smile worked its way across his scarred face. 'I am destined to travel east again,' he announced.
Romulus looked sadly at the gladiators carrying Fabiola, and then towards the temple where Caesar's body still lay. He had lost his sister and father in the space of an hour. It was a devastating blow, yet his mother had been avenged. What had happened turned Tarquinius, and Brennus, if he was still alive, into his only family. In a strange way, that set him completely free.
At a stroke, Rome had lost its position as the centre of his world.
It mattered less than Romulus thought.
'I'll come too,' he said.
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