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

'Just make sure you're back before dawn,' replied Severus. 'Or my life won't be worth living!'

Romulus shivered as the gate clicked shut with an air of finality. Hoping Memor was sound asleep, he warily followed his surefooted friend. Both were armed with swords and wearing dark-coloured lacernae.

A crescent moon added only the faintest illumination to the few stars visible. The light was reduced further by the three- and four-storey buildings around them. But in the Stygian gloom, Brennus seemed to have a sixth sense of where they were.

'It's so quiet!'

'Decent folk are all behind locked doors.'

An occasional burst of laughter from behind the blank wall of a house or tavern broke the silence as they trod the dirt of smaller streets. Shop fronts were boarded up, tenement doors barred, temples empty and dark. Mangy dogs lurked here and there, prowling for scraps. A few people scuttled by, eyes averted. Even the collegia thugs at each crossroads dared not trouble the Gaul and his companion: two large, obviously armed men.

'If anyone comes close, stare the bastard in the eyes,' said Brennus. 'Nobody out this late is up to any good.'

'Including us?'

The Gaul chuckled. 'Just be ready to fight at a moment's notice.'

Romulus checked his sword was loose in its scabbard. 'Why are there no watchmen?'

'The Senate has been talking about it for years, but they can never come to an agreement.'

A few moments later, Brennus ducked into a narrow alleyway. He turned, beckoning. 'Watch your step.'

Romulus sniffed distastefully. There was an unmistakable odour of human urine and faeces. Gingerly he picked his way after Brennus, trying not to stand in whatever was making the foul smell.

They soon reached a wooden door strengthened with thick iron strips. Music and the sound of men's voices were coming from within.

'Macro! Open up!' Brennus pounded on the timbers with a balled fist. 'Dying of thirst here!'

The din inside died down for a few moments. Brennus lifted his hand, about to demand entrance again when suddenly the door opened. The biggest man Romulus had ever seen stuck a bald head outside.

'How many fucking times have I told you, Brennus? Three quiet knocks.'

'I'm parched, Macro.'

'Don't care if this is the last tavern in Rome.' The doorman beckoned them inside. 'Keep it down the next time.'

'I'll remember.'

Macro sat back on a stool, still grumbling.

'Thank the gods that hulk wasn't sold to a ludus,' muttered Brennus. 'Can you imagine fighting him?'

Romulus shook his head. The idea of facing Macro in the arena was terrifying.

He soaked up the atmosphere as they picked their way between small wooden tables. It was the first tavern he had ever visited. Regularly placed rush torches guttered in wall brackets, shedding a dim light. The rough slab floor was covered with broken pottery, half-gnawed bones and spilt wine. A low hum of conversation filled the air.

Groups of off-duty legionaries packed the smoky room, dressed in calflength brown tunics, belted at the waist. Heavily studded army sandals stuck out everywhere from under tables and benches. Other customers were a mixture of ordinary citizens, traders and lowlife. Some stared curiously at the new arrivals, but most continued drinking and roaring with laughter. A few sang out of tune or played tesserae. In one corner was a low stage, where a number of men sat playing musical instruments with varying degrees of skill. Light wrist chains marked them as slaves.

Romulus grinned with excitement. This was far better than being stuck in the ludus.

'Let's drink here. Best to be standing if there 's trouble.' Brennus slapped his hand on the wooden counter that ran the length of the back wall. 'Julia! Your finest red wine!'

'I've not seen my favourite gladiator for an age,' said the pretty, darkhaired girl behind the bar. 'Beginning to think you had been injured.'

Brennus laughed. 'The gods are still favouring me.'

She batted her eyelashes. 'Who's this handsome fellow?'

Romulus quickly looked at the floor, aware he had been eyeing Julia's breasts.

'This is Romulus.'

Julia's smile broadened. 'The one you told me about?'

Nodding, Brennus gripped his shoulder. 'Good friend of mine. He'll be a great fighter one day too.' He clouted Romulus on the back, almost flooring him.

'Pleased to meet you. Any friend of Brennus is a friend of mine.'

Romulus blushed bright red, tongue-tied. Apart from Astoria, virtually the only women he had encountered since arriving in the ludus were prostitutes.

'Going to keep us standing here?' Brennus had sensed his discomfort. 'Our mouths are bone dry.'

'Of course.' Swiftly Julia placed two wooden beakers in front of them. With a flourish, she produced a small amphora. 'Vintage Falernian! Kept just for you.'

'By Belenus!' Brennus beamed with pleasure. 'You are a marvel, girl.' He slapped down an aureus. 'Tell me when that's done. And take at least ten sestertii for yourself.'

'Bless you.' The gold coin vanished before Romulus could even blink. 'Call when you need another one.' The barmaid ducked through a low doorway to the cellar and was gone.

'She 's beautiful.' Romulus' groin throbbed and he racked his brains for something clever to say the next time Julia appeared.

'Don't even think about it.' Brennus cracked open the wax seal and poured them both a generous measure. 'She belongs to the landlord. Macro gets paid extra to make sure nobody touches her.'

'Who's the owner?'

'Publius, son of Marcus Licinius Crassus. Who happens to be the richest man in Rome. Not someone to piss off.'

Romulus' ears pricked up. 'Crassus?' The sudden memory from his former existence was shocking. Life in the ludus left no time for reflection on the past. 'I've been in his house.'

'Really?' Brennus rolled a mouthful of wine round with obvious relish. 'When?'

'Gemellus sent me there once. Not long before I was sold.'

'What did you see?'

'Only the entrance hall. It was pretty amazing – solid marble floor, beautiful statues, you can imagine it. I saw a nobleman too, about your age.'

'Crassus is at least sixty,' mused Brennus. 'So it could have been Publius.'

'The doorman told me he had fought in the slave rebellion.'

'A slave like that under the same roof as the conqueror of Spartacus?' The Gaul lifted thick eyebrows. 'Not very likely.'

'He seemed genuine.'

'The best liars always do.'

'But he knew how it all started,' protested Romulus. 'And he got far too upset to be lying.'

Brennus seemed interested, so Romulus related Pertinax' tale, his own excitement rising in the telling.

'Stirring stuff.' The Gaul raised his cup in a silent toast. 'But look how it ended. Six thousand crucifixes on the Via Appia. That poor bastard stuck in Crassus' service. And us. In the Ludus Magnus.'

'It doesn't have to be like that! Men would follow you and Sextus to fight the Romans,' Romulus urged. 'Spartacus had an army of eighty thousand men at the end, all former slaves. It could work.'

The Gaul's eyes glinted. 'With Memor on the warpath, our life is only going to get harder,' he agreed. 'But this needs plenty of thought. We 'll speak to Sextus, see how the land lies. Decide who else to involve.'

'Soon,' warned Romulus.

'I know,' Brennus said heavily, draining his beaker. 'So let's enjoy tonight.'

Pleased, Romulus nodded. He saw there was little point pressing his friend further. Brennus had taken his words on board.

The big gladiator glanced casually around the room.

'Expecting trouble?'

'Call it previous experience.' The Gaul cracked his knuckles. 'Something kicks off in here at least once a night.'