The Road to Rome (46 page)

Vettius politely shoved Fabiola to one side. Leading three men outside, he despatched the first ruffian with a sword thrust to the chest. Unfortunately the second managed to badly hurt one of the doorman’s companions before his head was severed from behind by a gladiator.
The respite was momentary. Benignus was nursing a flesh wound to his chest, and a
secutor
was down. Roaring for more blood, the thugs pushed in even harder, their weapons licking out hungrily like so many snakes’ tongues. Fabiola could see that if she didn’t call her men back in, they’d all be killed.

‘Pull back,’ she screamed. ‘Get inside.’

Fabiola’s fighters were only a few steps away, but two more were slain before they could gain the safety of the brothel. Standing just inside the entrance, she watched in horror as, pleading for their lives, they were hacked apart. Benignus was last inside, managing somehow to smash a thug’s shoulder into smithereens with his club before the door slammed shut. Panting heavily, the doorman slid home the bolts. Quickly the others shoved forward the heavy items of furniture as fists and weapons hammered futile blows on the other side. Colourful insults filled the air as both sides recovered their strength after the brutal encounter. Although brief, it had been energy-sapping.

Fabiola was confident that their enemies’ efforts would come to nothing. Unless of course they’d brought a battering ram. Busying herself by attending to the wounded, she tried not to think of that eventuality. To her relief, Benignus was not badly hurt. Once she’d cleaned the gash with some
acetum
, one of the gladiators used a needle and some linen thread to stitch him up. Several of the others also had minor injuries. Only one man was critically hurt, suffering a deep slash on his right thigh which had cut down to the bone. A major blood vessel had been severed which pulsed out bright red blood all over the mosaic floor. Fabiola could not believe he was still alive. There was already a huge pool of it around the semi-conscious man. It was only after a tourniquet of rope and pieces of wood had been tied round the top of his leg that the bleeding stopped. Whether he survived was another matter.

By the time everyone had been attended to, the torrent of abuse from outside had almost stopped. Fabiola began to feel uneasy. Surely Scaevola’s rabble wouldn’t give up this easily? Opening the door would be far too dangerous, so she hurried to one of the bedrooms which had a window on to the street. Like most large houses, the brothel’s exterior was almost featureless. Just a few windows – high up and thankfully too small to admit a man – were present in the front wall. While this feature facilitated privacy and security, it was extremely difficult to see what was going on outside.

Standing on a stool, Fabiola peered through the green pane of glass. An expensive luxury, the small pane distorted the world beyond. All she could see was a group of men talking and pointing at the Lupanar. Worryingly, there were now far more of them, so reinforcements had arrived. A central, stocky figure appeared to be ordering the rest about. Fabiola’s pulse shot up. Was it Scaevola? She couldn’t be sure. Holding her breath, she watched for some time.

There was no mistaking the ladders’ shape when they came into view. Fabiola’s spirits plunged. This was an eventuality she hadn’t thought of. The men carrying them were directed to move up to the brothel’s wall, and she cursed bitterly. By lifting the tiles, the thugs would gain access to the roof space and then the whole interior of the Lupanar. With more than twenty men, they could attack in multiple places. She would have to divide her forces among the network of rooms, in the hope of containing their enemies’ ingress. Yet Fabiola panicked as she counted the ladders.

There were five.

She jumped to the floor, shouting for Vettius and Benignus.

One option remained. They would have to pull back to the central courtyard, which could only be accessed by two doors. There at least they could give a good account of themselves before they died. Fabiola knew that her fate and that of the prostitutes would not be that easy, though. The thugs would not be able to resist the temptation of so much flesh, and Scaevola wanted to finish what he’d begun years before. Fabiola’s flesh crawled at the memory and the anticipation of so much horror, but she did not allow her resolve to waver. One of the doormen could be detailed with the job of killing her and the women before they were captured.

Clutching her
gladius
, Fabiola ran to the reception.

All her dreams and hopes had come to this.

To nothing.

F
or a long time, there was no answer.

Bathed in an icy fury, Romulus pounded on the timbers again.

This time, he heard the sound of shuffling feet inside, and then silence.

‘Gemellus! Open up!’

A long pause followed, but Romulus was sure now that the merchant was on the other side of the door. He leaned his shoulder against the flimsy planks, and they immediately started to give. ‘Don’t make me come in the hard way,’ he warned. ‘I’m going to count to three. One.’

‘Who is it?’ The voice was querulous, and unmistakably that of Gemellus. ‘I’ve paid my rent this week.’

‘Two,’ said Romulus, sheathing his dagger on a whim.

‘Very well.’ A bolt was pulled back, and the portal creaked ajar. Blinking warily, Gemellus stood framed in the doorway. Grey-haired, he looked older and wearier than Romulus had ever seen him. His jowls now sagged from his stubble-covered jaw, and his gut was a great deal smaller. Never one for dressing up, the merchant wore a ragged tunic covered in food and wine stains. His sandals were worn out too. He looked like one of the homeless vagrants who lived around the tombs on the Via Appia, but had lost none of his arrogance. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded. ‘Do I know you?’

Romulus ignored the question. He couldn’t quite believe that this rank-smelling specimen was his former master. ‘Porcius Gemellus?’ he asked, just to make sure.

‘Yes,’ replied the merchant irritably. ‘What do you want?’

Romulus bit back his instinctive retort. ‘It’s been hard to track you down. I thought you lived on the Aventine. In a big house.’

Gemellus scowled. ‘I did, once.’

He had to rub some salt in the other’s wounds. ‘Lost it all, did you?’

Gemellus missed the sarcasm. ‘The gods turned against me. Every business venture I tried went wrong. Especially the last one,’ he moaned. ‘Should have made me as rich as Croesus, but it beggared me instead.’

‘The wild beasts,’ said Romulus, beginning to show his hand. ‘Shame they drowned, eh?’

Gemellus looked stunned. ‘How could you know about that?’ he cried.

‘I worked for Hiero for a while,’ Romulus confided. ‘Good man, that
bestiarius
.’

The merchant relaxed a fraction, but then grew suspicious again. ‘Hiero’s not after any money, is he? Tell him I’ve got nothing left, nothing. The fucking moneylenders took it all. Even had to sell my villa in Pompeii.’ His shoulders sagged.

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ sneered Romulus.

‘Eh?’ The first signs of fear appeared in Gemellus’ face. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ he breathed.

Drawing his
pugio
, Romulus smiled mirthlessly. ‘Nothing much,’ he growled.

Gemellus’ mouth opened in horror and he tried to slam the door, but Romulus wedged a foot in the frame, stopping him. They glared at each other for a moment before, with a quick movement, Romulus rested his dagger on the edge of Gemellus’ left eye socket. ‘Don’t you remember me?’

The petrified merchant let the door fall open. ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘Never seen you in my life.’

‘Look again,’ Romulus advised, moving the blade a hairsbreadth closer to Gemellus’ eye.

Panting with fear, Gemellus studied the brawny off-duty soldier before him. Black-haired, handsome, with blue eyes and an aquiline nose, he had a Mithraic tattoo on his upper right arm. Still he didn’t twig. ‘Did you work for me once?’

‘Oh, yes!’ Romulus laughed. ‘From dawn till dusk, seven days a week.’ Confused, Gemellus just stood there and Romulus grew impatient. He pointed the dagger at himself. ‘Look, you fool! You owned me, and my mother and twin sister.’

The merchant gaped with disbelief. ‘Romulus?’

‘Yes,’ he replied from between clenched jaws. ‘The very same.’

Gemellus’ face went grey with terror. He stumbled back a step, looking as if he’d seen a ghost. ‘“One day there will be a knock on your door,”’ he muttered.

‘What did you say?’

The merchant had gone into a daze. ‘“Who stands outside? A soldier, perhaps?”’

‘You’re right there, shitbag. First I was a gladiator, but now I’m a legionary,’ snarled Romulus, grabbing Gemellus by the front of his tunic and dragging him out into the alley. The merchant wailed with fear as Romulus slammed him up against the wall. ‘This is just the start,’ he hissed, carefully drawing his
pugio
along Gemellus’ left cheek. The merchant screamed as a thin line of blood ran down his face from the wound. Romulus smiled at him. ‘Time for you to pay your oldest debts.’ His voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘With your miserable stinking life.’

Gemellus began to sob. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Don’t hurt me.’

Romulus grabbed the merchant’s chin, forcing Gemellus to look at him. ‘I’m going to slice you into little pieces for what you did to Juba and my family,’ he promised. ‘But before I do, you’ll tell me exactly what happened to my mother and Fabiola.’

Fat tears of self-pity welled up in Gemellus’ eyes and spilled down his haggard cheeks, mixing with the blood from Romulus’ knife cut.

‘Speak!’ shouted Romulus, spittle flying from his lips. ‘Where did Fabiola end up?’

‘I sold her to the Lupanar,’ Gemellus finally admitted.

His casual manner stung Romulus to the quick. It was delivered in the same way as if he were selling an ox to the market. Quickly Romulus placed the tip of his
pugio
over the merchant’s chest. Whimpering, Gemellus closed his eyes. With great effort, Romulus restrained himself from slipping the blade between Gemellus’ ribs and into his cold-blooded heart. Patience, he thought. The merchant was going nowhere, and after years of living in the dark about his family, this was his chance to find out so much. ‘Go on.’

His eyes shut tight, Gemellus shook his head. ‘A few years back, I heard a rumour that she’d been bought by Decimus Brutus, one of Caesar’s right-hand men. Turned out later it was true.’

Romulus mentally noted the name for future reference. Perhaps that was the man he’d seen with Fabiola in Alexandria. Thanks to Tarquinius, he already knew that his mother was dead, but he wanted to hear it from the merchant himself. ‘And Velvinna?’ He pricked Gemellus with the
pugio
. ‘Look at me!’

Gemellus’ piggy eyes actually looked guilty. ‘She went to the salt mines.’

‘How much did you get for her?’ Romulus shot back.

The merchant shrugged. ‘I can’t remember.’

Another poke with the dagger, harder this time.

Gemellus squawked. ‘Two, maybe three hundred
sestertii
?’

It was a fraction of what a healthy slave would fetch on the block. Blind fury consumed Romulus. The idea that a living, breathing person – his mother – could be condemned to die in such a miserable way, and for so little, was too much to bear. ‘You filthy bastard,’ he hissed, slicing Gemellus’ other cheek open from ear to jawbone. ‘Meant nothing to you, did we? Just pieces of meat to fuck, to buy or to sell.’

Gemellus clutched at his ruined face, his chest heaving with loud sobs.

‘Answer me!’ Romulus roared. ‘Why did you do it?’

The bleeding merchant fell sobbing to his knees and clung to Romulus’
caligae
like a supplicant at a shrine. ‘Forgive me,’ he whimpered. ‘I am an evil man.’

Already Romulus’ feet and sandals were covered in blood. Disgusted, he kicked Gemellus away. There would never be a satisfactory reason why the merchant had treated them all so cruelly. ‘Stand up, you whoreson.’ There was no response, so he booted Gemellus again. ‘Up, I said. It’s time for you to feel some real pain. Before I send you to Hades.’

‘No,’ wailed Gemellus. ‘Please.’ A circle of wet appeared on the ground beneath him as he lost control of his bladder. ‘I’m an old man.’

‘Sewer rat, more like,’ spat Romulus. ‘Don’t like the rough treatment yourself, do you?’ The merchant did not answer, and Romulus knew he was going to have to stab him in the back. Gemellus was too afraid to face his own death. Yet he – Romulus – was unprepared to kill even a monster like this in such a cowardly way. Catching hold of Gemellus by the scruff of his neck, he forced him to sit up. ‘There,’ he said, panting. ‘You’re going to look at me while I cut off your balls.’

‘No!’ Gemellus’ voice rose to a cracked scream.

The next door along the alleyway opened and a man’s head poked out.

‘Get back inside,’ Romulus shouted furiously. ‘Or I’ll castrate you too!’

The householder vanished, terrified by Romulus’ threat. Things like this happened every day in Rome, and the powers that ruled the city couldn’t be bothered to employ a force to maintain order. Who was he to intervene?