The Road to Rome (30 page)

He watched as she walked straight up to the front door. The four guards there looked quite taken aback by her sudden appearance. Scared too. The young woman said nothing, which disconcerted them further. ‘Yes?’ one ventured at last.

‘I wish to visit my mother,’ said the priestess.

Tarquinius pricked his ears. To his knowledge, there were only two women in the brothel old enough to have a child in her mid-twenties. Jovina, and the servant he’d seen previously.

The guard coughed uneasily. ‘Who would that be then?’

‘Docilosa,’ came the reply. ‘Fabiola’s servant.’

‘It’s very late for a visit,’ he said, glancing at his companions for confirmation.

She wasn’t to be put off. ‘It’s urgent. She may be in danger.’

‘Docilosa?’ The guard unsuccessfully tried to hide his smirk.

‘The god has sent me.’

The priestess’s words wiped the smile off his face. Silently he opened the door.

Tarquinius’ stomach knotted with worry as he watched her hurry within. Something was going on, but his senses were not picking it up. Fabiola could be in mortal danger for all he knew. What chance had he of gaining entry, though? Clenching his teeth with frustration, the haruspex cast his eyes to the strip of night sky framed by the buildings above. After a few moments, he relaxed a fraction. Blood
had
been shed inside, but it wasn’t Fabiola’s.

‘What’s that?’ Fabiola craned her neck and listened.

There was a loud, insistent voice arguing with Jovina. It belonged to a woman.

‘One of the prostitutes?’ queried the doorman.

‘No. None would dare disagree with her.’

‘True,’ Benignus replied. ‘Who then?’

Fabiola moved to the door, which was ajar. ‘No, you can’t go back there,’ she heard Jovina say. ‘Come back!’ A chill of premonition struck her, and she stepped outside.

Sabina was coming down the corridor. Seeing Fabiola’s appearance, her hand rose to her mouth in shock. ‘Sweet Jupiter, what’s happened?’ she asked. ‘Where’s Mother?’

Fabiola didn’t know what to say. This nightmare was going on and on.

‘I knew something was wrong!’ Sabina ran the last few steps. ‘Whose blood is it?’

Fabiola couldn’t answer.

‘One of your . . . girls?’

She shook her head in denial.

Sabina’s head turned, and she peered in through the open door. For a moment, the young priestess didn’t take in what she was seeing. Finally, though, it sank in. ‘Mother? Mother?’ she screamed in disbelief. She darted in to kneel by Docilosa. Sobs racked her thin frame.

Following, Fabiola laid a hand on her shoulder.

Sabina jerked away as if a snake had bitten her. ‘You did this!’

‘No,’ Fabiola protested. ‘It was him.’ She indicated Memor’s body.

Sabina jumped to her feet. ‘You’re lying!’

‘Why would I harm your mother?’ Fabiola cried, aghast. ‘I loved her.’

From nowhere, a knife appeared in Sabina’s right hand. ‘How did such a lowlife get his hands on her then? Mother was a freewoman! She had no right being in a filthy place like this.’ Her eyes glittered with malice.

‘After Brutus bought her freedom, Docilosa chose to stay with me, and to come here,’ Fabiola explained, desperate that Sabina should believe her. ‘She just happened to be passing this room when Vicana cried out for help. Her bad luck.’

With a terrible scream of pain, Sabina launched herself at Fabiola. ‘Why did I stop the
fugitivarius
?’ she hissed. ‘Better to have let him kill you too.’

Sabina was quickly stopped by Benignus, who grabbed her arms from behind. Fabiola stepped forward to snatch the blade, letting it clatter to the floor. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘Heartless bitch,’ spat Sabina. ‘It should be you lying there, not my mother.’

‘Perhaps,’ agreed Fabiola sombrely. ‘But it isn’t. My time is not today.’

‘Maybe not,’ snarled the other. ‘Your life will not be long, though.’

Fabiola was struck dumb. Sabina sounded like an oracle.

‘I curse you to deep unhappiness,’ the priestess snarled.

Fabiola’s jaw hardened. She could take that. She deserved that.

‘Brutus will not stay by you either.’ Sabina laughed at Fabiola’s surprise. ‘Nor will the other you open your legs for so easily.’

Docilosa must have told her about Antonius, thought Fabiola, reeling from shock. How else could she know?

‘As for your brother—’ Sabina began.

‘No,’ shouted Fabiola in panic. ‘Shut her up,’ she ordered Vettius.

At once the doorman placed a meaty hand across Sabina’s mouth. She did not try to prevent him, but her eyes still glinted with venom.

Fabiola bent to pick up Sabina’s dagger.

The priestess’s eyes opened wide.

‘I’m not going to kill you, even though that’s what you would have done to me,’ snapped Fabiola. She didn’t want to anger Orcus again. ‘I’ll even send a messenger to the temple so that you know where Docilosa’s grave is.’

Sabina’s eyes filled with tears.

‘Never come back here. On pain of death,’ Fabiola commanded. Then, to Benignus, ‘Throw her out.’

He obediently manhandled the priestess out of the room. She didn’t fight him.

Still shaken, Fabiola headed straight for the baths. All she wanted to do now was wash off Docilosa’s blood, which had formed a thick crust on her skin. She tried to put Sabina’s words from her mind, but it was impossible. They hung before her mind’s eye, haunting her as she undressed. Not only was poor Docilosa dead, but her own destiny had been revealed – and it was unpleasant. Fabiola cleaned herself mechanically, going through the motions while her mind spun ever faster. By reasoning things through, she eventually managed to calm herself. Who knew if Sabina’s prophecy was accurate? Even if it was, the priestess had said nothing about Fabiola failing to kill Caesar. Which meant that her plan
could
still come to pass. So be it, Fabiola thought, stiffening her resolve. I can succeed. The possibility of always being unhappy and losing Brutus were as nothing compared to achieving her heart’s desire. Dying young didn’t matter either. Only one thing did.

What would Sabina have said about Romulus if she’d been allowed?

Half of Fabiola wished she’d just let the priestess say her piece and have done.

The other half couldn’t bear to think of it.

Fabiola occupied herself by going to the kitchen. One of the tables had been draped with a sheet so that Docilosa’s blood-soaked corpse wouldn’t
lie on bare wood. With Vicana’s help, Fabiola arranged it with the feet pointing towards the front door. Sending all the domestic slaves away apart from Vicana, she stripped Docilosa naked and began to wash the blood from her body. She used the opportunity to grill the British girl about what had gone on: it helped to take her mind off what she was doing.

‘He was angry even when deciding which of us he’d have,’ revealed Vicana. ‘Said he liked my fair skin. Yet he still seemed preoccupied.’

‘Go on,’ Fabiola murmured, rinsing her sponge clean.

‘Once the
lanista
was undressed, I offered him a massage. He didn’t want that.’ Vicana sighed. ‘So I began stroking his prick to get him hard. Nothing happened.’

Fabiola shrugged. It was common for customers to suffer from stage fright, especially if they’d been drinking.

‘I took him in my mouth, but it was no good,’ Vicana revealed. ‘He seemed completely uninterested. Started muttering to himself.’

That engaged Fabiola’s interest. Any crumb of information was worth knowing. Memor had owned Romulus for several years. ‘Did you hear what he said? Think carefully.’

‘I didn’t understand,’ said Vicana. ‘Something about Caesar and the fortune that an Ethiopian bull would cost to replace. How it wasn’t his fault that it was dead.’

Had the horned beast died before it could appear in the arena? It wasn’t impossible. Fabiola had heard of many wild creatures that died of fright in the cages below the amphitheatre. Why would Memor have cared, though? He had been a
lanista
, not a
bestiarius
, she thought, puzzled. It made no sense.

‘I asked him if he was all right.’ Vicana touched her bottom lip, which was swollen and bloody. ‘He shouted that it was my fault and backhanded me across the face.’

‘And you cried out.’

‘I couldn’t help myself,’ sobbed Vicana. ‘Then suddenly he produced a knife. He wanted to cut me while I pleasured him. That’s when I really started screaming.’

Twisted old bastard, thought Fabiola, feeling glad that Memor had never acted in that manner with her. Noticing Vicana’s distress, she patted her on the shoulder. ‘He’s gone now, and you’re unharmed.’

Vicana nodded bravely.

‘Go on,’ said Fabiola. ‘Try to get some sleep. I’ll finish preparing Docilosa myself.’

The red-headed girl did not protest.

When she was alone, Fabiola sat thinking for some time. What had made Memor so angry? Was it really the death of the Ethiopian bull? She could come up with no reasonable explanation. She would have to ask Brutus later. Now, though, she had to make sure that Docilosa looked her best for her journey to the other side.

It was one of the saddest things Fabiola had ever had to do; it brought up old, painful memories. She did not shy away from the task, however. The tears that welled up in her eyes had been too long held back.

Tenderly Fabiola anointed her servant’s body with oil, weeping as she imagined doing the same for her mother. Like so much in a slave’s life, that had been denied to her. Velvinna’s corpse would have been discarded like so much waste, tossed down a disused mine shaft or left out for the vultures. The thought made Fabiola want to hunt down Gemellus in whatever dark hole he currently resided and kill him – slowly. She made a resolution to have the doormen search him out whenever the opportunity arose. Finding him would be difficult, of course. The bankrupt merchant had been forced to sell his house in the Aventine, which meant that he could be anywhere. I must stay focused, thought Fabiola. Caesar is my main quarry now.

Docilosa’s body was still warm. Once the stab wounds had been covered by her best dress, she could have been just sleeping. It was a fanciful pretence, but Fabiola wallowed in it for as long as she could. The proper rituals could not be delayed, however, and eventually she closed Docilosa’s eyes and placed a
sestertius
in her mouth. Without this coin, Docilosa would have nothing to pay Charon, the ferryman.

Her funeral would take place the following night. No eight days of lying in state for Docilosa, the lowly ex-slave, thought Fabiola. There was no point. Who would come to pay their respects, apart from her and Sabina? Yet she was determined that her servant’s passage to the other side would be conducted in the proper manner. Professional mourners and musicians would be hired, and a decent tomb purchased. It was the least Fabiola could do for the humble woman who had become her only
family. The anger she’d felt towards Docilosa earlier was gone now. In its place was a throbbing grief which physically hurt every fibre of her being.

There was a knock on the door. ‘Fabiola?’

She could see by the low level of oil in the nearest lamp that hours must have passed. Business should be done for the night. Would she get no peace? ‘Come.’

Vettius shuffled in, looking nervous.

Fabiola tensed. ‘What is it?’

‘Antonius is here.’

She felt incredibly weary. ‘What time is it?’

‘The water clock makes it sometime during the
Gallicinium
watch.’

‘Gods, the man is insatiable,’ muttered Fabiola. Sex was the very last thing on her mind right now.

‘Jovina offered him his choice of girl, but he refused. Says he has to see you. To spend the night.’

Claws of terror ripped at Fabiola again. Jovina was still at the reception! She would interpret Antonius’ behaviour in only one way.

Vettius saw her mood. ‘Will I send him away? He’s definitely the worse for wear.’

She was touched by his loyalty. ‘Antonius is the Master of the Horse, Vettius. Drunk or not, he can come in here if he wants to.’

‘Of course, Mistress,’ he muttered. ‘Which room should I take him to?’

‘My office,’ Fabiola replied, pulling herself together. At least there was no bed there. She could make a pretence of talking to him about business. Jovina might buy it before she ordered her to retire. ‘Bring some wine, and then stay outside the door in case I need you.’

He did not enquire further.

A fresh pang of grief struck Fabiola. Laying his hands on Antonius would earn the huge slave a flogging, or even worse, yet both he and Benignus would do it if she asked. Fabiola almost wished that the doormen would argue with her sometimes. Their unquestioning devotion provided her with no feedback on her choices of action, whereas Docilosa had never been shy of making her opinions known. Even if Fabiola chose to disregard her servant’s advice, as she had done up till now with Antonius, she had done so with an understanding of the other side of the argument.

Now, though, she was on her own again.

The walk up the corridor felt like several miles. Fabiola paused by the door where Vicana had been entertaining Memor. Benignus was inside, scrubbing the floor clean of blood and tissue. Beside him, the
lanista
’s body was nothing more than a lumpen shape under a blanket. Sensing her presence, Benignus looked up. ‘Can we get rid of him yet?’

Fabiola hesitated. She wanted no one to see Memor’s corpse being carried out, but who knew how long Antonius would stay? He was stubborn, and persistent. It might be all night, as he’d demanded. If dawn arrived and he was still here, they’d have to keep the body hidden until the next evening. That made up her mind. ‘Antonius has called in. Wait around to see what happens. If more than half an hour goes by and you’ve heard nothing, he’ll be with me for a while. It should be safe enough then.’

Benignus nodded.

Flicking her hands through her hair, Fabiola made for the reception. After all that had gone on, she didn’t look her best. Right now, however, she didn’t care. The sooner she could get rid of Antonius, the better. Then she could get to bed. Even alone, Fabiola doubted that she would get any sleep, but lying down would still be preferable to the charade she was about to perform.