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

'Come now, Caelius,' Aufidius interjected. 'Sooner a whore soothes your brow, the better!'

The redhead forced a smile.

The other's eyes remained stony.

'It's Caelius' balls need soothing more than anything!'

Most laughed at the joke.

The equites continued drinking and talking, but the convivial air had been lost. Eventually conversation petered out altogether. In the tavern's din, it was noticeable only to those at the table.

'Who's for the Lupanar?' Aufidius drained his cup to a chorus of approval.

Following Caelius, the group weaved out on to the rutted surface of the street. Two prone bodies lay in the dirt a few steps from the door.

Caelius kicked the nearest in the belly. 'Won't forget us in a hurry.'

The lean man pursed his lips in disapproval.

They had not gone far when Caelius collided with a young girl hurrying through the semi-darkness. She was knocked to the ground and a basket of meat and vegetables went flying.

Recognising a slave by the light wrist chains, Caelius backhanded her across the face as she got up. 'Watch where you're going! Clumsy bitch!'

The girl fell back into the dried mud with a cry, her worn shift riding up slim, shapely legs.

'She meant no harm, Caelius,' said Aufidius, helping her up.

The young woman was about seventeen, very pretty, with dark hair and blue eyes. Uneasy in the presence of nobles, she bobbed her head in thanks.

'Sorry, Master,' she mumbled, turning to leave.

Caelius was having none of it. He had seen how attractive she was. Grabbing the front of the light woollen shift, he ripped it to the waist, revealing a pert pair of breasts. The girl cried out in terror and embarrassment, but Caelius' blood was up. He tore the dress completely off her shoulders.

She backed away and was instantly blocked by two of the others. Aware they could not help, the bodyguards moved discreetly into the shadows. There was no one else around to help a lone slave. From dusk to dawn, Rome's streets were the province of the lawless. Only the foolhardy ventured out without guards. Or a slave sent on an errand.

'Please, Master.' The girl's voice trembled. 'I meant no harm.'

Caelius grabbed her arm. 'This won't take long.'

There was a murmur of agreement. Only the lean man and Aufidius remained silent.

The girl moaned with fear.

'Let her go.'

'What did you say?' said Caelius incredulously.

'You heard me.'

'Rot in Hades!' Shaking with anger, Caelius took a step forward. 'She 's only a damn slave.'

The lean man plucked a long-bladed dagger from inside his toga. 'I am sick of you.' He held it nonchalantly by the tip. 'Do as I say.'

Caelius' eyes darted to the bodyguards.

Instantly the knife was poised to throw. 'I can put this through your heart before they come five paces.'

'Calm yourself, my friend,' said Aufidius, looking worried. 'No point anyone getting hurt.'

He smiled. 'That depends on Caelius.'

The rest watched the argument unfold. It had been brewing for months, and none of them wanted to oppose the powerful and ambitious noble.

Scowling furiously, Caelius released the girl.

The lean man beckoned her over. 'Enjoy the Lupanar,' he said, gesturing commandingly down the street.

'He disapproves of two lowlife citizens getting a beating, then stops an equestrian screwing a slave?' spat Caelius in an undertone. 'The prick is going soft. Or mad.'

'Neither.' Aufidius shook his head. 'He is far too shrewd.'

'What then?'

Aufidius ignored the question, clapping the redhead jovially on the back. 'It's time for more wine!'

Caelius let himself be led away and the others followed meekly, glad the argument had been settled without bloodshed.

It would not always be so.

'See you in the Senate tomorrow,' the lean man called after them.

He stood in silence, holding the slave until the group was some distance away. Two personal bodyguards waited in the shadows. The girl peered at him nervously, hoping to be released, but when the noble 's piercing gaze turned back, it was filled with lust. Tightening his grip, he dragged her towards an alleyway.

She whimpered with fear. It was obvious what was about to happen. Only the rapist had changed.

'Be quiet, or I'll hurt you.'

Glancing up from his latest pile of vomit, the burly equestrian saw the pair disappear. 'Probably planned it all, so he could have her to himself,' he muttered. 'That man will not stop at quaestor.'

'He'll be a consul before long,' complained Caelius. The redhead had not seen the girl's fate.

For centuries, Rome had been governed each year by two elected consuls, supported by military tribunes, judges and the Senate. It was a system that worked well if the participants complied with the law. Historically, the pair of officials, effective rulers of Rome, had changed every twelve months. This ancient statute had been passed to stop individuals from holding on to power. But since a civil war over enfranchisement thirty years before, Rome's democracy had been slipping into decline and the important positions had changed hands less than a dozen times in a generation. Ambitious nobles such as Marius, Cinna and Sulla had begun the trend, forcing a weakened Senate to let them retain the consulship long term. Now only a favoured few ever succeeded to the posts, which were jealously guarded by the richest and most powerful families in Italy. It took incredible drive to become a consul by sheer merit.

'The prick will make a mistake eventually,' snarled Caelius. 'Everyone does.' Still seething with anger, the redhead knew he was too drunk to outwit his enemy. Dragging his companion away, he staggered towards the Lupanar.

The lean man strode into the darkness, the girl held firmly by one arm. Waste and broken pottery discarded by the inhabitants of nearby houses littered the alley. Finding a suitable spot at last, he ripped her light shift off and shoved the slave to the ground. She fell awkwardly, exposing a triangle of dark hair at the base of her belly. Adjusting his toga, he swept open both legs with a foot and lowered himself to his knees. The girl cried out in terror. With a shove he entered her, sighing with pleasure.

The lean man thrust in and out eagerly. His wife had not been well for some time and his physical needs had been neglected. Caught up with furthering an ambitious political career, he had gone for months without sex.

The girl's eyes were wide with fear.

'Look at me again and I'll cut your throat!'

Hastily she obeyed, jamming a hand in her mouth to keep silent. Tears rolled silently from between closed lids. This was the lot of a slave.

With a loud moan, he climaxed, pushing deep inside.

She did not open her eyes as he got up, rearranging his toga.

The lean man stared down with a satisfied smile. Even with a swollen, tearstained face, the girl was a real beauty. Lust sated, he could return home. He had to finish the speech on public spending for the next day. If it was well received, his chances of election as quaestor would be greatly enhanced. Having served in the priesthood of Jupiter and as a military staff officer, he was determined to proceed along the noble 's career path – the cursus honorum – as fast as possible.

He was sure his father would have been proud to see how far an only son had risen. Though patrician, the family had not been wealthy. His father had worked hard in the Senate for many years to achieve the rank of praetor, just below that of consul, shortly before he died.

Initially the young man's own career had been helped by the family's connections, which opened many doors that would have remained shut otherwise. Long years of listening to his father's conversations with political allies, watching debates in the Forum and attending society banquets had also paid off. He had become a consummate politician and a suitable marriage had cemented his social position. The union of an aunt to a powerful consul had brought him into the public eye, but when his uncle had died during a period of civil war, his progress had faltered somewhat. Sulla's bloody reign had been dangerous for anyone with different ideas. The first general ever to march soldiers into Rome, Sulla had executed virtually everyone who got in his way. It had earned him the nickname of 'the butcher'.