The Forgotten Legion - Kane Ben (читать книги онлайн полностью без сокращений txt) 📗

Tarquinius did not answer immediately. Since the episode with Gallo, he had been careful to avoid human contact when at all possible. Had it been a mistake to kill the lamb? He took a quick look at the liver again. No. He relaxed. 'Why not ask one of the others?' Tarquinius indicated the nearby soothsayers.

There was a grunt of derision. 'All bloody liars, aren't they?'

'And I am not?'

'Been watching you. You're making no attempt to do business.' He pointed at the lamb's liver. 'And you're divining for yourself. Means you know what's what.'

'I don't normally sacrifice for strangers.'

'Work for some patrician bastard, eh?' growled the fat man. He spat a curse and turned to go.

'Wait,' said Tarquinius suddenly. 'Are you a merchant?'

'I might be. What's it to you?'

'Five aurei.' There was no compromise in Tarquinius' voice.

The merchant blinked. It was an extortionate amount of money for an augur to charge, but without arguing, he rummaged in a battered purse.

'Here,' he said, passing over five gold coins. 'This better be good.'

The Etruscan palmed the aurei and gently took the hen from him. It looked up with a beady eye, unaware that it was about to die. 'What age are you?' he asked.

'Fifty-one.'

'And you reside . . .?'

'On the Aventine.'

Tarquinius pursed his lips. 'Name?'

'Gemellus. Porcius Gemellus.'

'Why are you here?'

The fat man snorted. 'What do you think? To know what the bloody future holds for me.'

Tarquinius moved to one side, away from the dead lamb. Holding the hen down on the cobbles, he intoned a prayer of thanks to Jupiter. Then he slit its throat and watched as the blood drained out, filling little cracks between the stones. It flowed west: the direction where malevolent spirits lived. It was not a good start.

'Well?'

Without answering, the haruspex gutted the bird and laid out its entrails on the ground before them.

Gemellus watched silently, his jaw clenched.

Tarquinius' lips moved as he pondered the meaning of what he was seeing. It was no surprise that the merchant wanted guidance. He took a deep breath and began. 'I see problems in business. Financial worries.'

Gemellus was unsurprised. 'Go on.'

'But you need not worry about your biggest creditor.'

'Crassus?' said the merchant sharply. 'Why not?'

'He will take up a new post in the east,' said Tarquinius. 'And never return.'

'You're sure?'

Tarquinius nodded.

'The prick is going to die in Syria!' cried Gemellus, barely able to conceal his glee. Several people nearby looked over at the mention of the word. It was common knowledge how much Crassus wanted the governorship of Rome's easternmost province.

'That was not what I said,' said the Etruscan mildly. 'I said that Crassus would never come back to Rome.' It is Parthia where the arrogant fool will meet his fate. And I will witness it. 'That's good enough.' Gemellus smiled broadly. 'Anything else?'

Tarquinius probed the hen's liver, searching. 'Moving water. Waves? A storm at sea,' he pronounced.

The merchant looked confused.

'Ships full of beasts . . .'

Gemellus froze.

There was a delay as the haruspex peered at the channels of blood between the paving stones. 'Sink as they cross the sea.'

'Not a second time!' whispered Gemellus, his voice trembling. 'It cannot be true.'

Tarquinius shrugged. 'Only telling you what I see.'

'I sold my villa for nothing? For nothing?' Gemellus sagged down, as if the weight of the world had landed on his shoulders. 'There'll be no money to pay those fucking Greeks either.' He took a great swig from his amphora and turned to go.

'Wait.'

The merchant stopped, but did not look back. 'There 's more?'

'One day there will be a knock on your door,' said Tarquinius.

Gemellus spun round, his face pinched with terror. 'Who stands outside?'

Tarquinius concentrated for some moments. 'It is unclear. A man. A soldier, perhaps?'

Pulling his dagger, Gemellus shuffled closer. 'If you're lying,' he hissed, 'I'll cut your throat and feed you to the dogs.'

Tarquinius lifted his cloak and laid a hand on an unsheathed gladius, lying there for just such an occasion. It was easy to conceal and attracted less attention than the battleaxe. The sight of polished metal was enough. Gemellus spat on the ground and walked away, making the sign against evil.

Tarquinius glanced down at the dead hen, but could not see who it was that had scared the merchant so much. He shrugged again.

Not everything could be predicted accurately.

Chapter XII: Friendship

Nine months pass . . .

The Ludus Magnus, Rome, late summer 55 BC

Romulus spun to one side, hacking at Brennus as he swept past.

The Gaul parried the blow with some difficulty. 'Getting better by the day,' he grinned. 'You're strong too.'

Romulus lowered his sword, panting. 'I still can't beat you.'

The big warrior smiled. 'That might take a while yet.'

'I'm a better fighter now,' Romulus said defensively.

'You are. And still not even fifteen.'

'I want to be the best.'

'It takes many years to become a top gladiator,' replied the Gaul. 'You've come a long way, Romulus, and survived a serious injury too. Be patient. You have courage and strength and just need more experience.'

Romulus gazed round the baking hot yard. It was the centre of his world – unlike the Gaul, he was rarely allowed into the city – and claustrophobia was inevitable. There had to be more to life than weapons training, lifting weights and occasional fights in the arena. Even Cotta's lessons in tactics frustrated Romulus now, tantalising him with information about countries and places that he never saw. And outside the ludus' walls, great things were happening. News had reached Rome of Julius Caesar's recent punitive expedition against the barbarians in Germania. Now the rumours were that he intended to invade the mystical isle of Britannia. Every fresh piece of information about Caesar's campaigns sparked Romulus' imagination.

He wanted to be free – to throw off the chains of slavery. To discover the world.

Brennus' voice brought him back down to earth. 'Most men haven't got your balls and it shows in the way they fight. But you're like me. Nothing matters except victory!' He thumped his bare chest and laughed. 'Gauls fight with their hearts!'

Romulus scuffed the ground with a dusty foot, glad of the encouragement. For eighteen months, Brennus had been a good friend and teacher to him, building up his confidence and skill with weapons. Although he would never forget Juba, the Gaul had slowly come to take his place in Romulus' heart.

'Use your mind too. Anticipate what your enemy will do. Remember Lentulus.'

He flushed, determined never to be caught out again.

Brennus clouted him affectionately. 'Keep it up and you might end up with a rudis one day, like him.' He pointed at Cotta, who was breaking in his latest recruit.

The mention of freedom instantly brought back thoughts of his mother and Fabiola. 'I still want to show that bastard Gemellus a few tricks.'

'Forget him.' Brennus' voice changed, the laughter gone. 'Unless the gods are truly generous, you will never get the chance for revenge on those who hurt you.'

Romulus could sense real pain in the Gaul. His friend never spoke about the past, but Romulus suspected Brennus had suffered terribly before becoming a gladiator. 'Did something like that happen to you?' he ventured.

Brennus was silent. The candid question stirred memories, unsettling him. Brac. Liath. My son. He swept an uncharacteristically wild overhand blow at Romulus.