The Road to Rome (50 page)

‘Oh Brutus,’ Fabiola cried. Her bottom lip began to tremble, and a tear ran down her cheek. ‘I’m fine. No one touched me.’

Romulus was confused by his sister’s body language. Was this real or affected emotion?

Clearly, Brutus thought it was genuine. Reaching them, he pulled Fabiola into a fierce embrace. ‘I came as soon as I heard,’ he whispered, his voice cracking. ‘Thank all the gods.’ He muttered an order and his men immediately began checking every room. ‘Bring me any you find alive,’ he cried. ‘I want to know who ordered this.’

‘It was Antonius,’ said Fabiola. ‘I’m certain!’

Brutus looked unsettled. ‘Not so loud,’ he murmured, patting her hand. He glanced at Romulus and smiled. ‘This must be your twin brother.’

Fabiola wiped away her tears. ‘Yes.’

Romulus saluted. ‘Honoured to meet you, sir.’

Brutus inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘The gods are truly smiling today.’

‘They are,’ agreed Fabiola, beaming. ‘How did you know who he was?’

‘Apart from the fact that you look like two peas in a pod?’ Brutus grinned. ‘The scarred man who came to warn me about the attack told me. A friend of yours?’ he asked Romulus.

‘Tarquinius? Yes, sir. He’s an old comrade.’

‘He’s waiting outside,’ said Brutus. The implication was obvious.

‘With your permission, then, sir?’ Romulus requested politely. It was time to fade into the background. A reconciliation between the two lovers looked possible, so he must not intrude. There was a great deal to reflect on too. Caesar was not just his general, he was – perhaps – his father, and Fabiola wanted to kill him. While Romulus had sworn the same if he ever discovered the rapist’s identity, he was shaken to the core by the fact that it was Caesar. This was the man who had freed him from slavery. Whom he’d followed through thick and thin, from Egypt to Asia Minor and Africa. Whom he’d come to love. Romulus felt sick with confusion.

‘Of course.’ Brutus glanced at Fabiola. ‘We’d best get you back to my
domus
. Romulus can visit later.’

‘Don’t leave it too long.’ Fabiola reached out a hand. ‘Bring your friend too.’

‘We’ll be along soon,’ said Romulus.

‘Everyone knows my house,’ said Brutus. ‘It’s on the Palatine.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ Romulus was halfway down the corridor when he heard Brutus ask, ‘Who raped your mother?’

A sudden tension filled the air.

Romulus stopped.

‘What’s that, my love?’ Fabiola’s laugh was brittle and unconvincing, to Romulus at least.

‘I heard the tail end of something you were saying when I came in. Something about who had raped your mother. You’ve never told me about that.’

‘Of course not,’ she replied. ‘It happened a long time ago.’

‘You sounded furious,’ said Brutus. ‘Who was it?’

Romulus waited for Fabiola to say the words ‘Julius Caesar’, but she didn’t.

‘Well?’ prompted Brutus gently.

‘I’m not sure. Mother never told us,’ she said. ‘What I said was that someone like Scaevola
could
have raped her.’

Romulus couldn’t believe his ears.

Yet Brutus seemed satisfied. ‘Is the whoreson here?’

‘Yes. In there.’ She pointed. ‘He’s dead. My brother killed him.’

What’s going on? Romulus wondered. Fabiola was lying through her teeth. The realisation hit him hard. Brutus was a loyal follower of Caesar. She didn’t want him to know because she wasn’t sure how he would react. I’m supposed to agree to murder him without batting an eyelid, though. This when Fabiola actually has no definite proof, just the fact that Caesar came on to her a bit forcefully and he and I both have aquiline noses. She had probably drunk too much wine that night. Romulus knew that he was inventing reasons not to believe Fabiola’s story, but couldn’t help himself. When he glanced back at his sister, she winked at him. Brutus missed the gesture.

Rather than being reassured, Romulus was infuriated. Fabiola was clearly used to manipulating men, and now she was treating him in the same way. A previously unthinkable idea popped into his mind. Could Fabiola be trusted?

Of course she can, he thought, she’s my sister. My twin. My own flesh and blood.

His response was instant: who’s trying to work me. Bridling now,
Romulus started down the corridor. They would have to talk about this again: in private.

His happiness soured, Romulus went in search of Tarquinius.

Romulus’ reunion with the haruspex was all that he had hoped for, and more. Walking to the Mithraeum, which Tarquinius had suggested they do, seemed to take only a moment. The delighted urchin tagged along, awestruck by the twenty-five
denarii
that his expertise had earned him. To Romulus, the extra sum was a trifle for getting him to the Lupanar in time to save Fabiola. As he realised later, he had made a fan for life in the boy, whose name turned out to be Mattius.

Romulus told the haruspex about his experiences in the army, including his exposure as a slave in Asia Minor and Petronius’ courage in standing by him. About returning to the
ludus
. Not usually demonstrative, Tarquinius sighed at Petronius’ death and gasped to hear how Romulus had killed the rhinoceros. ‘Gods,’ he breathed. ‘After seeing that beast captured, I wouldn’t have given you a chance in Hades.’

Romulus shook his head, not quite believing it himself.

‘That was when you met Caesar.’

‘Yes.’ Romulus related the tale of how he had been freed.

There was a shocked gasp from Mattius at this point.

‘Slaves are no different than you or I,’ Romulus explained, aware that the urchin probably looked down on the only class lower than his own. ‘They can do anything, given the chance. As you could, if you want to.’

‘Really?’ Mattius whispered.

‘Look at me, and what I survived,’ Romulus replied. ‘Yet I was a slave once.’

Mattius nodded determinedly.

Tarquinius chuckled. ‘Yet rather than enjoying your freedom, you volunteered to fight in Caesar’s army?’

Romulus flushed. ‘He believed my story. It seemed the honourable thing to do.’

‘He would have appreciated the gesture,’ said the haruspex, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘You fought in the African campaign, then?’

‘Yes. Ruspina was like Carrhae,’ revealed Romulus. ‘We had almost no cavalry, while the Numidians had thousands. It should have been a massacre,
but Caesar never lost his cool.’ He went on to describe his attack on Petreius, as well as the battle at Thapsus.

‘I’d heard that the Pompeians’ elephants hadn’t had the same success as the Indian ones did against the Forgotten Legion.’

Romulus’ guilt over Brennus resurfaced with a vengeance and he told the haruspex about how he’d saved Sabinus at Thapsus.

Tarquinius’ face grew sombre, and when Romulus was finished he did not say anything for a few moments. They walked on in silence until Romulus realised that the haruspex was studying the sky, the air and everything around him. Trying to see if anything would be revealed about Brennus. His heart rate shot up.

‘It’s too far away. I can see nothing,’ Tarquinius said at length. He sounded disappointed.

Romulus felt his shoulders slump. He jerked them back forcibly. ‘If I can drive off an elephant, what could Brennus do?’ he demanded. ‘He could still be alive!’

‘Indeed he could,’ the haruspex admitted.

Romulus grabbed his arm, hard. ‘Did you have any idea that this might happen?’

Tarquinius met Romulus’ gaze squarely. ‘No. I thought that Brennus would meet his death by the River Hydaspes, avenging his family. I saw nothing beyond that.’

Romulus nodded in acceptance. ‘Did you look further, though?’

‘No,’ Tarquinius replied with an apologetic glance. ‘Who’d imagine that one man could fight an elephant, and live?’

Romulus could not bear the idea of his beloved comrade and mentor facing torments and dangers without him by his side. Swallowing, he changed the subject. ‘What happened to you in Alexandria?’ he asked. ‘Why did you disappear?’

Tarquinius looked awkward. ‘I was ashamed,’ he said simply. ‘I thought you’d never forgive me for not telling you before, and that I deserved to die.’

The pain in his voice tore at Romulus’ heart, and again he thanked Mithras for bringing them together. ‘It didn’t warrant that,’ he said.

‘Well, I’m still here.’ Tarquinius’ lips twisted upwards in a wry smile. ‘The gods haven’t finished with me. Of course I never foresaw more
than a return to Rome with you. Once we were parted, I was unsure what to do.’

‘Did you not sacrifice, or attempt to divine?’

‘Constantly.’ He frowned. ‘But I kept seeing the same confusing images. I could make no sense of them, so I went to study in the library, thinking that something might be revealed.’

Romulus was all ears. ‘Did it?’

‘Not really. I saw danger in Rome, but couldn’t be sure if it was to you, or Fabiola, or someone else entirely.’ The haruspex sighed. ‘I did see Cleopatra, though.’ He lowered his voice. ‘When she was pregnant with Caesar’s child.’

Startled, Romulus jerked around. The Egyptian queen and her son had recently been installed in one of Caesar’s residences in the city, provoking much talk among the population. Despite being married, the dictator was publicly honouring his mistress. Romulus hadn’t given it much thought before, but what Fabiola had just told him changed things completely. If she was right, they and Cleopatra’s child were half-siblings. His mind boggled.

To his alarm, Tarquinius’ dark eyes were studying him closely.

Romulus looked away. He wasn’t ready to share that information just yet, or Fabiola’s demand that they kill Caesar. What he needed was time to think about it all, and to decide what he should do.

The haruspex didn’t ask him anything. Instead, his story unfolded, leading right up to his drunken encounter with Fabricius, which had unexpectedly won him a passage back to Italy. ‘I never thought to return here,’ Tarquinius said. ‘Although it has taken this long to know why, it was the right thing to do. Being there to stop Gemellus was a true blessing.’

‘You also saved Fabiola’s life,’ Romulus added gratefully.

The haruspex smiled. ‘I should have guessed that both of you could have been in danger.’

‘You said that Gemellus was your owner once,’ Mattius piped up.

‘Yes,’ Romulus answered. ‘He mistreated my mother terribly, and beat us regularly for the most trivial reasons.’

‘Sounds like my stepfather,’ said the urchin darkly. ‘He deserved to die then, surely?’

Romulus’ face grew sombre. ‘Perhaps. I’m glad that I spared his life, though. Revenge should not be the only reason for living.’

Mattius fell silent, making Romulus wonder what his family situation was like. He’d have to find out. Falling into a reverie about the day’s events, he missed Tarquinius’ approving look. After all his travails, the gods had shown him their favour once more. His only worry was Fabiola’s shocking revelation, which still hadn’t fully sunk in. He couldn’t stop thinking about it either. After all he’d been through under Caesar – the marching, the fighting and killing – how could it be that the dictator had raped their mother? Damn it all, Romulus thought. I love the man, as does every legionary in his entire army. But I hate the bastard who raped my mother.

Tarquinius’ hand on his arm startled him. ‘This is it.’

Romulus looked up. They were high on the Palatine Hill, a wealthy area, and although plain, the high wall of the house before them was an imposing sight. ‘The Mithraeum is here?’ he asked in surprise, remembering the veterans’ ragged look.

‘Left to them by a wealthy army officer who’d converted to the religion,’ Tarquinius disclosed. ‘It’s even more impressive inside.’ He rapped on the door in a staccato pattern.

‘Who goes there?’ came the challenge from within.

‘Tarquinius, and another friend.’

The portal partly opened and a stolid veteran peered out. Seeing Romulus behind the haruspex, his face split into a grin. ‘This must be Fabiola’s brother. Enter.’

Romulus bid farewell to Mattius, who promised to call by each morning. Following Tarquinius inside, he was bowled over by the first thing he saw: an immense, brightly painted statue of Mithras crouched over the bull, which dominated the
atrium
. The oil lamps that burned in alcoves all along the hallway gave the figure a most forbidding air. He made a deep bow, remaining in obeisance for several heartbeats to show his respect and awe.

The doorman was watching him when he straightened. ‘It has that effect on everyone. The atmosphere in the Mithraeum is even more intense.’

Self-conscious, Romulus grinned. Already he felt at home.

‘You’ll want a wash and a good meal first,’ Tarquinius butted in. ‘I can take you to the temple later.’

Looking down at Scaevola’s blood on his arms, Romulus nodded. With his headache and weariness combined, he felt utterly drained. It was a
familiar feeling after combat. With luck, though, he was done fighting for a while. How good it would be to take up Sabinus’ invitation and visit him on his farm, Romulus thought.

After he’d sorted things out with Fabiola.

His stay in the
domus
proved to be a welcome break. Because Romulus was a devotee of Mithras, the veterans received him as another comrade. Knowing that Fabiola would need time to re-establish herself in Brutus’ good books, Romulus took the opportunity to catch up on lost sleep, and to think. Accompanied by the limpet-like Mattius, he made a brief visit to the honour guard’s camp, seeking out Sabinus and the rest of the unit to let them know he wasn’t dead. The legionaries’ bleary faces, wine-stained tunics and demands that he join them for more revelry were not hard to refuse. Making his excuses, and promising to visit Sabinus, Romulus headed back to the veterans’ house. The previous period of riotous celebrations had left him exhausted. A contemplative life of regular meals, prayer and rest was like manna from heaven. Of course it was more than just a need to take it easy. As Romulus soon realised, what he was doing was trying to decide how he felt about Caesar raping his mother, being the dictator’s son, and Fabiola’s demand that they kill him.

After three days, Romulus had solved nothing. He was even more confused.