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

'It was Pompeia.'

He gasped disbelievingly. 'You're friends with her!'

'Not for some time.' Fabiola was not surprised at his ignorance. Vettius and Benignus did not usually notice the intricacies of the interactions between the women. Quickly she told him about the tiny bottle that Docilosa had found under the tiles of Pompeia's floor.

'Just say the word,' Vettius muttered, clenching his fists. 'We 'll sort the bitch out. Take her for a little stroll by the Tiber one night.'

'No,' Fabiola replied firmly. 'That would be too easy. And too obvious. Jovina must not suspect anything or we 'll both end up on a cross.'

'But that's the second time,' Vettius snarled, stamping on the snake 's head to emphasise his point. 'Lupanar girls are supposed to look after each other.'

Fabiola did not say, but the snake made it three. There had been another occasion, months before, when three thugs had attacked her and Benignus as they walked to the Forum to deposit her savings. She had been suspicious even then at the manner of the attack, which had obviously been planned. Generally robberies in daylight were opportunistic affairs, but the men that day had foolishly followed the pair the instant they had left the brothel. Someone had given them information. And there had been no attempt to steal her money, a significant detail that had passed the huge doorman by. Instead the thieves had immediately borne down on Fabiola with drawn daggers. Quickly pushing her behind him, Benignus had left no chance of interrogating the lowlifes for information. He had been enraged at the threat to his Fabiola. Leaving one with a broken neck and the other spilling the contents of his belly into the gutter, Benignus had pursued the last into the crowd, returning a few moments later with a satisfied smile. And a bloody knife.

Now there could be no doubt. A daylight assassination attempt. Poison stored secretly. The rumours that were running through the brothel. A venomous snake in her bed. Coincidence could have nothing to do with it.

Fabiola had racked her brains to work out who might be responsible. There were few possible candidates. To her knowledge, not one client that had visited her had ever left unsatisfied. It was not Jovina either. Money meant everything to the old madam and Fabiola was her best earner. The doormen adored her. Catus and the kitchen slaves simply had no reason to want her dead. That only left the other women and Fabiola could read virtually all of them like a book. Cowed by their enforced prostitution, most were happy enough to live in Fabiola's shadow.

Pompeia. It could only be Pompeia.

Jealousy had overwhelmed the redhead completely. And when attacks outside the Lupanar walls had failed, she had resorted to more stealthy ways of trying to kill her enemy.

'You two are supposed to protect us, not make us disappear,' Fabiola said, patting Vettius' heavily muscled arm. Befriending the two doormen had been one of the best moves she had ever made. She knew both would die rather than let her come to harm.

Vettius grinned in response, but he was still plainly worried. 'I've been with Pompeia when she goes out,' he replied. 'Didn't think much of it before, but the slut's been talking to members of the collegia. And Milo's gangs. She 's even been to the temple of Orcus recently.' The doorman made the sign against evil. 'Only one reason to go in there.'

Vettius' words were worrying. People went to worship the god of death if they had malicious feelings towards someone. Swarms of vendors outside sold small squares of lead sheet to visitors, and nearby scribes would write whatever damning words their customers required. Fabiola had heard that the large pool inside the shrine 's walls was full of the tiny folded curses. She shivered at the thought and muttered a quick prayer to Jupiter for his continued protection.

'Let me kill her.'

At last she felt rage building inside her. This had gone far enough. 'I'll do it,' Fabiola said, meeting Vettius' gaze squarely.

He had opened his mouth to reply when Fabiola pointed at the now motionless snake.

'Cut the head off that thing for me.'

Vettius hurried to obey, pulling a vicious-looking dagger from his belt. When he was done, he looked up.

'Leave me the knife too.'

Vettius smiled and handed it over.

Fabiola gripped the bone hilt tightly, steeling her resolve, imagining Romulus killing to stay alive, first as a gladiator and then as a soldier. The chilling thought helped to give her strength. It seemed that things were not much different here in the Lupanar. Despite Pompeia's treachery, Fabiola remained focused on her one driving purpose in life: to save her brother. In her profession, there was only one way to achieve that: by gaining influence over the rich and powerful.

And no one would get in her way.

Chapter XXVI: Retreat

Parthia, summer 53 BC

Late in the afternoon, Crassus called together his seven legates. For reasons best known to Surena, the Parthians had not attacked for a while. Perhaps he was allowing his men a well-earned rest. The Roman general still possessed enough reason to utilise the breathing space this granted. Crassus' lack of cavalry was rendering the invincible legions helpless. Something had to be done. Fast.

Desperate for ideas, Crassus' bloodshot eyes moved around searchingly. Six of the red-cloaked officers avoided his gaze, staring down at the hot sand. Only Longinus had the courage to return it.

'What shall we do?' Crassus' voice cracked with emotion. 'If we stay they will butcher us.'

'Another charge and the men will crack, sir,' said Longinus immediately. 'Only one thing to do. Retreat.'

There were reluctant nods all round. The situation was dire. Roman armies rarely fled the field, but in this burning desert hell, the rulebook had been rewritten.

'With the baggage train gone, there is no more water. We must fall back to Carrhae.' Longinus spoke with utter conviction.

The others muttered in agreement. Carrhae had deep wells and thick earth walls. It would provide some respite from the lethal Parthian arrows.

'And after that?'

It seemed the death of Publius had rendered the general unable to make any decisions.

'Head north. The broken ground in the mountains will help us. With luck, we may find Artavasdes.'

Crassus' eyes closed. His campaign was in ruins, the plans of equalling Caesar and Pompey dust. 'Sound the retreat,' he whispered.

'The wounded, sir?'

'Leave them.'

'Are you sure, sir?' asked Comitianus, commander of the Sixth. 'I have over five hundred casualties.'

'Do what I say!' screamed Crassus.

'He's right. For once. They would slow us down too much,' said Longinus harshly. 'We have no choice.'

They did not argue further and the grizzled legate barked an order at the nearest soldiers.

Moments later, trumpets sounded the ominous notes that no legionary ever liked to hear. The injured stirred frantically, knowing what was about to happen. Five of Bassius' mercenaries could no longer walk and had been placed at the rear. As the retreat died away, the senior centurion moved to stand by the wounded.

'You have fought bravely today, boys.' Bassius flashed a rare smile. 'Not many options left, though. We have to leave right now and none of you can march. So you can take your chances here,' he paused, 'or choose a swift death.'

The words hung in the hot air.

Unwilling to meet their comrades' eyes, the rest of the men looked at the ground. It was a brutal decision, but the Parthians would be less merciful.

'I'm not ready for Hades yet, sir,' said one, a dark-skinned Egyptian. A bloody bandage was wrapped roughly around his left thigh. 'I'll take a few with me.'