Authors: Ben Kane
Romulus took a step towards the Lupanar. Fabiola probably wasn’t working there any longer, but someone would know where she’d gone. He’d soon track her down. How might his sister have changed? Romulus wondered excitedly. What would be her reaction to him? Deep in thought and with his reactions slowed by ten days of drinking, he didn’t really take in the large party of unshaven heavies strolling along just in front of him.
The doormen in front of the Lupanar did, however. ‘Look lively, boys,’ shouted one, an enormous shaven-headed man with gold bands around his wrists. ‘Trouble!’
Romulus heard the familiar sound of
gladii
leaving their scabbards. Startled, he looked up. Armed with axes and clubs as well as swords, the thugs were charging headlong at the brothel’s entrance. Rather than stand back or retreat, the guards drew their own weapons and spread out in a defensive arc around the doorway. His heart pounding, Romulus turned and fled back down the alleyway. Who knew what was going on, but this was not his quarrel. Besides, he had only a
pugio
to defend himself. When he judged it safe, he stopped and looked back. Thanks to the permanent semi-darkness which existed in all narrow streets, he could see only a roiling mass of figures moving backward and forwards. From the blood-curdling yells and screams, men were being seriously injured or killed.
‘Should have fucked my sister,’ said a piping voice behind him. ‘You’d be finished by now, and looking for your friends.’
Romulus turned to find the skinny urchin who’d given him directions nonchalantly eating an apple. His smug expression spoke volumes. ‘Did you know there was trouble here?’ Romulus demanded, taking a step forward. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Hades below, I could have been killed.’
‘I did try,’ answered the boy, looking scared. ‘You weren’t interested.’
Romulus remembered the offers of more information and relaxed. He wasn’t going to pick a fight with a scrawny child who owed him nothing. ‘True enough,’ he said gruffly, eyeing the brawl again. ‘So what’s going on there?’ Silence. Looking down, Romulus saw an outstretched hand.
‘Nothing free in this city, sir,’ said the urchin with a cheeky grin.
Romulus tossed him another
sestertius
.
The response was instant. ‘It’s some kind of feud between the Lupanar
and another brothel. Quite a few men have been killed. Although it’s been going on for months, things have been quiet recently. Until today, that is.’
‘What’s it about?’
The boy shrugged. ‘Not sure. Want to try my sister now?’
‘No,’ Romulus snapped, frustrated that his search had ended before it had even begun. Where else could he go? Nothing came to mind, and he decided to rejoin Sabinus and the others. He could always return to the Lupanar in the morning. ‘I need a drink,’ he muttered.
‘The best inn in Rome is very close,’ volunteered the urchin. ‘Want me to take you there?’
Romulus smiled. He liked the boy’s spirit. Clad in rags, and no doubt half-starved, he was still obviously resourceful. ‘No. But I’d say you can take me a shorter way to the Forum Boarium than retracing my steps, eh?’
‘Of course! Two
sestertii
.’
Romulus chuckled. ‘Quite the businessman, aren’t you? Don’t push your luck, though. I’ve already paid you five times more than I needed to.’
This produced a serious nod. ‘One
sestertius
it is,’ said the urchin, proffering a grubby paw.
‘When we get there,’ Romulus warned.
Laughing, they shook hands. At once the boy darted off, leading Romulus through a confusion of alleys which joined the Capitoline Hill to the Palatine. During the recent celebrations, Romulus had had no time to explore the city, and of course the triumphs had taken place on the largest thoroughfares. It made his journey now all the more poignant. These were the type of streets on which he’d grown up. No more than ten paces wide, their unpaved surfaces covered in rubbish and waste, and with three-and four-storey buildings on both sides blocking out all light apart from a narrow band of sky high above. Open-fronted shops sold everything from bread to vegetables to wine, their goods sprawling out on to the street. There were potters, smiths, carpenters, barbers and every other profession under the sun. Inns, brothels and money-changers’ premises were situated side by side, each one with its attendant begging leper or limbless cripple. Rows of shuttered windows overhead belonged to the cramped
insulae
, or flats, in which most citizens lived.
While he wasn’t familiar with their exact location, Romulus could remember running errands for Gemellus through similar quarters. The memory of his
former owner brought a stab of anger. Where could he be? Romulus scowled. Was there any point going to the house where he’d grown up? Probably not, but at least it would be a place to start. Right now, though, the thought of meeting Sabinus and his comrades was far more appealing.
It was then that Romulus walked past a nondescript opening between two
cenaculae
, or apartment blocks. Something made him go back to take a second look. About fifty paces in, and surrounded by derelict houses, was a temple he’d never seen before.
Sensing his customer stop, the urchin came scurrying back, his bare feet silent on the dirt. ‘Nearly there, mister.’ He tugged at Romulus’ arm. ‘It’s not that way.’
‘Which deity is that dedicated to?’
The boy shivered. ‘Orcus.’
The god of the underworld. Romulus smiled thinly. Where better to make an offering that might help him find Gemellus? It had to be worth a quick visit. He was half a dozen strides into the alleyway before his guide could react.
‘Sir! What about the inn?’
‘I won’t be long,’ Romulus replied over his shoulder. ‘Wait outside for me.’
Grim-faced, the urchin obeyed. While the stained stone altar in front of the shrine might terrify him, he wasn’t going to miss out on the promised
sestertius
.
Romulus walked up the steps to the main entrance, past the usual seedy-looking soothsayers, vendors of food and trinkets and men selling little squares of lead sheet. Stopping by one of these last, he bought a piece of the heavy grey metal. Romulus leaned against a pillar and used his knife tip to scratch on it a curse upon Gemellus. Plenty of other worshippers were doing the same, or paying hovering scribes to do so on their behalf. Once more, Romulus was glad he could write. This matter was deeply private to him and he had no wish to share it with anyone. He looked again at his words. ‘Gemellus: one day, I will kill you, very slowly.’ It was what he’d silently mouthed as the merchant had left him in the
ludus
. Satisfied, Romulus folded the square and headed inside.
A robed acolyte guided him to the main chamber, a long narrow affair filled with devotees. There were separate rooms available for more private visits, but Romulus had no need of them. After so long away from Rome,
the chance of being recognised was slim to none. He took his place in the queue which was wending its way towards the large fireplace at the back of the room. Upon reaching it, each supplicant bowed their heads, said a prayer and tossed their offering into the flames. High on the wall above, overlooking all, was a circular depiction of the god similar to the one on the portico outside. Romulus glanced at Orcus’ dark-eyed, bearded face, whose hair consisted of a mass of snakes. He shuddered. The image was intended to strike fear into his heart, and it worked.
He continued to shuffle forward to the fire, however. The desire for revenge burned stronger than his dread, just as it did in the hearts of the other people present. Romulus studied the faces he could see, wondering what suffering or wrongdoing had brought them here. There was a good cross-section of society in the large chamber. He could see shopkeepers, plain citizens, slaves and soldiers like himself, even an occasional nobleman or -woman. Romulus smiled, feeling his self-belief grow. No one was unique: they all had a grudge to settle. Reaching the front of the queue, he was stopped by a short, wide-faced priestess with long brown hair tied up behind her head. Like all her companions, she was dressed in a simple grey robe. She was quite plain, but Romulus was struck by her deep green eyes. He watched as she raked the fire using a long iron poker, pushing the heaped metal squares deeper into the blaze.
‘You may approach,’ she said at last.
Romulus bowed and tossed in his piece of lead, along with several
denarii
. I have few desires in life, he thought. Orcus, grant me this one.
A curt nod from the priestess told him that his audience with the god was over. Romulus obediently moved on, walking behind those who had offered before him. He sighed, wondering if his request would bear fruit. It felt even more of an impossible quest than his search for Fabiola. What chance had he of finding a bankrupt merchant in such a large city? There was always divination, he supposed. After Tarquinius’ lessons, he’d attempted it a number of times, but the shock of being accurate had put Romulus off since. Facing death on a daily basis meant that life was better lived in uncertainty. That way, he wouldn’t spend his time worrying about things that were essentially beyond his ability to influence. Not yet, he thought. Let’s see what Orcus offers first.
The urchin was still waiting outside the temple. He looked enquiringly at Romulus, who gave away nothing. ‘The Forum Boarium,’ he ordered.
‘Follow me, sir.’ Eager to leave the shrine behind, the lad was off like a bolt from a
ballista
.
Owing to the number of devotees clogging the alleyway, their pace slowed as they neared the junction to the street they’d been on previously. Putting Gemellus from his mind, Romulus was already thinking of the inn where he’d meet Sabinus and the others. He was thirsty for a cup of wine. Perhaps there’d be women there too.
A little way ahead, someone stumbled and fell against the person in front. A loud curse was the instant response. Despite a profuse apology, the hapless individual was subjected to a tirade of abuse which only died down when those who were waiting to exit the alley began to complain. Romulus frowned as the outburst died away and the crowd began to move again. He could not see the speaker, but the voice was familiar. Like a lightning strike from on high, recognition hit. Although he hadn’t heard it since his first day in the
ludus
, Romulus recognised Gemellus’ sarcastic tone.
Full of awe, and a little terror, he looked back at Orcus’ temple. What devilry was at work for this to happen so fast? There was no time to ponder it, just to act. He elbowed the protesting urchin out of the way and muscled his way forward, desperate to catch the merchant. Romulus’ efforts earned him a chorus of protests, but no one had the courage to stand up to the vengeance in his eyes. Panting with anger, Romulus reached the street a few moments later. His head turned this way and that, searching, but the crowds here were even denser than in the alley. Gemellus had vanished.
‘Damn the whoreson to Hades!’ Romulus yelled. ‘He won’t escape for ever.’
His outburst elicited barely a glance from the passers-by. Rome was full of drunk soldiers shouting insults and causing trouble. Prudence was always the best option in such cases.
Worming his skinny frame alongside, the urchin glanced reproachfully at Romulus. ‘Trying to get away without paying me?’
‘What?’ Romulus snapped. ‘No, of course not. I just heard the voice of someone I’d dearly love to meet. I followed him, but he’s disappeared into the crowd.’ Then he smiled. ‘Want to earn ten
sestertii
?’
It was an enormous sum for a half-starved street child. ‘Tell me what to do,’ he clamoured.
Romulus made a stirrup of his hands. ‘Climb up,’ he ordered. ‘Look for a short, fat man with a red face. He sweats a lot.’
Quickly the urchin obeyed, placing his calloused feet on Romulus’ shoulders and balancing by resting one hand against the wall of the nearest building. Raising his other hand to his eyes, he peered up and down the street with quiet intensity.
Romulus could hardly bear the tension. ‘Well?’ he demanded.
‘I can’t see him,’ came the disappointed answer.
Romulus bit his lower lip until it bled. Curse Gemellus for evermore, he thought. I’ll never get a chance like that again. Gods don’t hand out such opportunities twice.
The other’s next words nearly stopped Romulus’ heart. ‘Wait,’ he said. Then his voice grew shrill. ‘That way! Sixty paces that way!’
With an urgency he’d never felt before, Romulus helped the boy down.
‘Follow me,’ he cried, heading left.
Romulus charged after him like a raging bull.
Half running, half walking, they pushed and shoved their way into the mass of people moving along the street. Progress was slow, but the urchin was so thin and nimble that he fitted into spaces that Romulus never could. Climbing over amphorae of wine laid on beds of straw or piles of ironmongery, he thumbed his nose at the indignant shopkeepers and soon drew far ahead. His piping voice carried back, however, giving Romulus extra impetus. ‘Hurry! I can see him!’
Sick with nerves, Romulus ploughed on. By the time he’d reached a crossroads, he had closed the gap with the urchin to perhaps twenty paces.
‘Left!’ came the boy’s shout.
Romulus obeyed, using a small gap in the crowd to gain another six steps. He loosened his
pugio
in its sheath, wondering what part of Gemellus he’d cut off first. An ear? His greasy nose? He grimaced. Maybe he should castrate the bastard first.
A thin hand reached out to stop him.
Startled, Romulus took in the urchin by his side. ‘What is it?’
‘He’s gone in there.’
Romulus’ gaze followed the boy’s pointing arm down a narrow lane
strewn with rubbish and broken pottery. A few paces in, a huge dung heap steamed gently. His nose wrinkled with disgust. ‘You’re sure?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, sir. A short fat man with a red face, like you said. He looks very poor.’
He’d have to be, thought Romulus, eyeing the alley with some satisfaction. Any
insulae
down there would be rat-infested, stinking hell-holes. ‘Come on,’ he said, leading the way.