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

Fabiola nodded. Since the news of Crassus' defeat and capture, public violence had escalated sharply. Murder on the streets was even more commonplace now; rioting and the burning of public buildings were a daily occurrence. As rough and tumble politicians like Clodius Pulcher and Titus Milo entered the race for power, Rome's future seemed increasingly dark. With Caesar bogged down in Gaul, Pompey was staying neutral, waiting for the Senate to beg for his help.

'I want you somewhere safe,' said Brutus. 'Out of the city until things calm down. It seemed like a good time to buy your freedom.'

Fabiola's heart soared at the thought. 'May the gods bless you for ever,' she said and kissed him again.

Delighted by her response, Brutus immediately began talking about his new villa in Pompeii and the improvements that could be made to it. As she listened, Fabiola's guilt returned with a vengeance. Freed for just a few heartbeats, she was already forgetting about Romulus. Tears filled her eyes and she turned away.

Brutus stopped mid-sentence. 'Fabiola?'

'It's nothing. I . . .' she managed, her chin wobbling.

He stroked her face. 'You must tell me what's wrong. I can help.'

As always, Fabiola was touched by his concern. 'It's my twin brother,' she said sadly.

'You have a brother? A slave?' Brutus laughed. 'I'll set him free too!'

'You can't.'

The noble smiled gently. 'He couldn't cost more than you did.'

She began to ask and he put a finger to her lips.

'Jovina drives a hard bargain,' was all he would say. 'Tell me about your brother.'

'Romulus was a soldier in Crassus' army.'

Brutus looked confused.

Without revealing her sources, Fabiola explained what she had learned from Memor and Vettius about Romulus' escape from the ludus and his likely part in the invasion of Parthia.

Brutus had seen plenty of combat in Gaul and had intimate experience of the common soldier's terrible lot. Having heard the account of Carrhae, he knew it was highly unlikely that Romulus was alive. Racking his brains for what to say, Brutus patted her arm awkwardly.

Neither spoke for a moment.

Suddenly Brutus' face brightened. 'He could be one of the captives,' he said bluffly. 'Let things settle down for a few months and we'll see about sending an envoy to the east. Might be able to buy him back.'

While obviously bravado, it was deeply tempting to believe his reassuring words. Desperate for something to hold on to apart from revenge, Fabiola let herself do that. She thought of the ten thousand prisoners taken by the Parthians. No one knew what their fate would be. Except the gods. She closed her eyes, praying as she had never done before.

Jupiter, keep my brother safe from harm.

Once the initial euphoria at receiving her manumission had cleared, Fabiola had asked Brutus for another favour. He had been delighted to oblige, the price for a mere kitchen slave scarcely ruffling the surface of his coffers. Thanks to his campaigns in Gaul with Caesar, Brutus was richer than ever. Freeing Docilosa meant that Fabiola had an ally to take with her to her lover's villa. She would not be alone when Brutus had business in Rome. Fabiola had also asked Brutus to buy the two doormen, but Jovina had refused point blank. They were worth too much to her.

Fabiola's departure from the Lupanar was a memory she would cherish for the rest of her life. Jovina had fawned and sighed, sorry to see her best earner leave; the other women had laughed and cried by turn; surprisingly, Claudia had sulked, finally jealous of her friend's good fortune. Touching Fabiola's heart, it had been Benignus and Vettius who had been the most upset. 'Don't forget us,' Vettius had muttered, looking at the floor. She would not. Men as reliable as the two huge slaves were hard to find.

The day after her manumission, the lovers travelled to Ostia, Rome's port. Tied up by one of the jetties was the Ajax, Brutus' low-slung liburnian. Smaller than a trireme, with two banks of oars, the fast boat was his pride and joy. Keeping its jutting prow driving straight into the waves, Ajax' captain stayed close to shore to avoid being swept out to sea by the stormy weather. Encouraged by the constant pounding of the drum, the hundred slaves on the oars worked hard to carry Brutus and Fabiola down the coast. Their destination was Pompeii, in the popular bay of Neapolis. It was about six days' journey to the south.

Fabiola did not like travelling by ship. Protected from the rain and wind by a thick fabric canopy, sitting in luxury by a glowing brazier, she was uncomfortably reminded of life 's fragility by the water pounding off the hull. But Brutus was in his element and spent the voyage recounting his campaigns in Gaul.

Fabiola was intrigued by the full details of Caesar's battles. If only half of what Brutus told her was true, his general really was an amazing leader and tactician. Pompey would have his work cut out winning the race for power. By the sixth day, Brutus had still not spoken of the Venetians' rebellion three years previously, an uprising that had been put down thanks to his expertise and ability. When she gently reminded him of it, Brutus had the grace to blush. His modest, unassuming manner was one of the things Fabiola liked most.

'The Veneti had surrendered to us twelve months before,' he began. 'But during the long winter, the tribe 's druids persuaded their chieftains to seize a group of our officers who were out requisitioning supplies. The dogs thought they could get a huge ransom for them and retreated to their strongholds, which were built on islands in tidal estuaries. We couldn't approach them by land, except at low tide.'

Fabiola had never heard all the story before. She nodded encouragingly.

Once started, it did not take much to keep Brutus talking. 'When spring came, we built a fleet of triremes on the River Liger and sailed up the coast. Really caught the bastards by surprise!'

Fabiola braced herself for a moment as the Ajax hung on the crest of a wave before sweeping down into the trough. 'Is it much further?' she asked.

Brutus immediately called out to the captain, a gnarly old Greek in bare feet, who was alternating his time at the rudder with spells on the deck bellowing at the slaves. He listened carefully to the reply. 'Not long now, my love. We passed Misenum and the mouth of the bay a while ago.'

Fabiola smiled. 'Didn't the Venetians have proper seagoing vessels?'

'They did! Big, deep-bottomed craft with huge sails that were far superior to ours,' said Brutus, grinning triumphantly. 'But Mars blessed us with flat calm weather and we rowed in one afternoon, hemming them against the jetties and cliffs below the villages. Just to make sure, I had ordered dozens of scythes tied on long poles and the sailors were able to cut their rigging to pieces.'

His lover gasped admiringly.

'Our boarding parties swarmed over and we took the settlements in double-quick time. Freed the officers too.' Brutus sighed. 'Caesar wanted an example made of the Veneti, though. We executed all their leaders and sold the whole tribe into slavery.'

Fabiola adjusted the pearl-encrusted gold brooch which held up her hair and tried not to imagine the scene: the cries from injured and dying warriors on the ships; the sea red with blood and full of bobbing corpses. Thatched roofs on fire, women and children screaming as they were beaten and tied with ropes, new slaves to make Rome even richer. It was hard to justify anything that Caesar did in its name. There should be more to life than warfare and slavery.

Sensing her unease, Brutus took Fabiola's hand. 'War is brutal, my darling. But once Caesar is in power alone, he will have no need to conquer anywhere else. The Republic will be at peace once more.'