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.
Chapter XXII: Gemellus
For 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.
‘Answe
r 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?
Romulus set to slicing open the lower part of Gemellus’ tunic. Lying like a slab of meat on the butchers’ block, the merchant did nothing to stop him. Only the movements of his chest and his piteous sobbing gave the lie that this was not a side of beef or pork. Off came Gemellus’ wet, stinking licium, his undergarment, revealing his wizened, unwashed manhood. Romulus laughed when he saw it. ‘Not much to lose, is it?’ he taunted. ‘I bet it’ll hurt all the same.’ Leaning forward, he grasped the shrunken bag below and pulled it tight to make the cut easier.
Gemellus’ throat opened and he began to wail anew.
Romulus’ pugio was a hairsbreadth away when something made him stop. Turning his head, he saw the urchin observing him with an expression of absolute terror. Their eyes met, and Romulus was reminded of himself as a boy, witnessing people being robbed and injured on the streets of Rome. Abruptly he felt his senses return, and a wave of shame swamped him. What am I doing, Romulus thought, looking with disgust at Gemellus’ sagging flesh. Torturing an old man while a child watches? What have I become?
Wiping his dagger clean on Gemellus’ tunic, Romulus stood. ‘You’re not worth it,’ he said, breathing heavily. ‘Living in this shithole is punishment enough.’
Gemellus didn’t answer. Clutching alternately at his bleeding cheeks and his exposed privates, he lay motionless as Romulus sheathed his pugio.
‘Come on,’ Romulus said to the relieved-looking urchin. ‘Time to find that inn, and pay you.’
The boy came alive at the mention of money.
‘Are you hungry?’ Romulus asked, ushering him towards the street.
There was a vigorous nod.
‘Tell you what,’ Romulus said, keen to show that he wasn’t a complete thug. ‘You’ve been a great help so far. I’ll throw in some food as well as the ten sestertii, all right?’
The urchin’s face split in a beaming smile. ‘Thank you, sir.’
Romulus grinned, ruffling his hair. Decent meals had been rare in his childhood too.
His little guide gave him a tentative smile in return, but abruptly his expression changed to one of alarm. ‘Look out!’ he cried.
Too late, Romulus began to turn. Something heavy smashed into the back of his head and stars exploded across his vision. His knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground, catching sight of Gemellus right behind him. Still half-naked, the bloody-faced merchant held a large lump of rubble in his hands. ‘Little bastard!’ he spat. ‘I should have had you crucified alongside the Nubian.’
Sprawled on the rough ground, Romulus tried to turn over, or to draw his dagger, but he couldn’t. All his strength had gone, and his mind wavered on the very edge of consciousness. His eyes closed, which was a great relief. He was vaguely aware of the urchin rushing at Gemellus, screaming for him to stop, but the cursing merchant slapped him away with ease. When the boy tried again, Gemellus smashed him across the face with the back of his hand. Sobbing, the urchin withdrew. A moment later, Romulus felt someone looming over him. With great effort, he rolled on to his back.
Leering triumphantly, Gemellus raised the piece of brick high. ‘I’m going to enjoy smashing in your skull,’ he said. Blood dripped from his wounds on to Romulus’ tunic. ‘Shame your sister’s not here to watch. Then I could fuck her afterwards.’
Impotent rage flooded through Romulus at the insult, but he was helpless to react. A mass of stabbing needles were radiating from the back of his head and he was seeing double. Clumsily he raised a hand, but like his other limbs, it seemed to belong to someone else. Unable to do more, Romulus sagged back down. After all I’ve been through, he thought wearily, this is the way I’m going to die. Should never have got Juba to teach me how to use a sword. At least he’d still be alive. Romulus’ remorse over the death of his friend triggered sheer resignation. He watched passively as Gemellus swung down with all his might.
This is my punishment, he thought.
Instead of crushing Romulus’ head like a rotten egg, though, Gemellus collapsed on top of him. The chunk of rubble fell from his slack fingers with a crash, and he went limp. Confused, Romulus lay there for several heartbeats. Gemellus did not move again, prompting him eventually to try and sit up. The merchant’s dead weight on top of him was far more than his nerveless fingers could shift, though. Even the tugging efforts of the urchin made little difference. Romulus closed his eyes. All he wanted to do was sleep anyway.
A moment later, a deep, sonorous voice joined the boy’s piping tone. ‘Let me help.’
It sounded familiar, but Romulus didn’t know why. He felt Gemellus’ body being rolled off him. To his surprise, the back of the merchant’s ragged tunic was saturated with blood. Protruding from the middle of the red circle was the bone hilt of a knife. If Gemellus wasn’t already dead, he would be soon. A dull relief settled over Romulus, partly because his former master had received his just desserts, and partly because it had not been he who finished the job.
‘By all the gods, it is you,’ said the voice. ‘Both of you were in danger!’
Romulus looked up. Flanked by the urchin, Tarquinius was stooped over him. Utter amazement mixed with groggy understanding. ‘What are you doing here?’ he croaked with a leaden tongue.
Typically, the haruspex didn’t answer. Gently turning Romulus’ head so that he could assess his wound, he probed through the matted blood and hair with expert fingers.
Fresh agony flooded outwards from the area. ‘Jupiter, that hurts,’ Romulus protested.
‘Hold still.’
He obeyed, using the opportunity to focus on the cloaked haruspex. Apart from a caved-in cheek and a few more grey hairs, his friend had scarcely changed. Yes, Romulus thought, pleased by his instinctive reaction. That is what he is – my friend. I forgive him for what he did. At once he felt lighter, and his lips turned upwards in a pleased smile. ‘Is that your knife?’
There was a nod.
‘Thank you,’ Romulus muttered.
‘I was in a real hurry. Who knows what made me glance down this alleyway,’ said Tarquinius, pressing down on Romulus’ skull here and there. ‘Thank all the gods I did.’
‘It’s good to see you.’
Tarquinius paused for a moment to regard him. ‘You’re sure?’
Romulus nodded, and then wished he hadn’t. His head felt like the drum on the rowing deck of a trireme. ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘I
’ve missed you.’
‘Likewise.’ The haruspex grinned, taking years off his age. He wiped his bloody fingers on his roughly spun tunic. ‘Mithras and Fortuna are truly smiling on you today. I can’t feel any breaks. A day’s rest and you should be fine.’
Unanswered questions that Romulus had been carrying around for an age started to surface. ‘Why did you disappear in Alexandria? Who looked after you?’ he demanded. ‘Where have you been since?’
‘Later,’ replied Tarquinius, looking concerned. He got to his feet. ‘You’ll be all right on your own for a while, won’t you? This lad can accompany you back to your camp.’
Worry was a most uncommon emotion to see on the haruspex’ face. ‘What’s going on?’ Romulus asked. ‘Can’t it wait?’
‘I didn’t want to bother you,’ Tarquinius muttered. ‘There’s trouble at the Lupanar.’
Surprised by Tarquinius’ awareness, Romulus shrugged. ‘I know. Nearly got mixed up in it myself. Who cares, though? It’s just one lot of thugs fighting another.’
‘It’s far more than that,’ said Tarquinius quietly.
Uncomprehending, Romulus stared at him.
‘Fabiola runs the Lupanar now.’
He could have hugged the haruspex. She was there? His sister was found? ‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes,’ Tarquinius replied. ‘She’s inside too, and the ruffians attacking it won’t stop until they’ve killed her.’
Horror gripped Romulus. ‘How do you know?’
‘I heard them talking as they came up the street.’
Romulus cursed. If only he’d got there before the heavies. At least he’d have been inside then, and able to defend the brothel. He racked his brains to recall who’d been on the street. He’d seen no one else apart from the thugs, but then Tarquinius was a master at remaining inconspicuous. ‘What were you doing there?’