The Road To Rome

Chapter XX: The Search

'Sure you don't want to come with us?' asked Sabinus. He jingled his purse. 'We've got money to burn!'

The other legionaries cheered. On the last day of Caesar's celebrations, he had awarded every single one of his foot soldiers the staggering sum of five thousand denarii. Even the poor had benefited from the dictator's largesse, receiving wheat, olive oil and one hundred denarii each. The legionaries' bonus was more than they'd each earn in a lifetime's service with the legions, and royally repaid their dogged loyalty to him. Suddenly the frequent periods of hardship and death seemed worthwhile, and now, the next day, the men couldn't wait to blow some of their riches. The triumphs had ended the night before, and all legionaries were off duty for a week.

The honour guard had been granted the surprise of an early discharge from the army. This was, Caesar had said, thanks to their outstanding contributions to his cause. Consequently, they were even more eager than the rest of the soldiers to rejoice. Dressed in just their belted tunics and caligae, Romulus' comrades were in search of wine, women and song. He felt differently. After all the marching, the adulation and the excesses of the previous ten days, he wanted a break. While his early release meant that he had all the time in the world, it was time to look for Fabiola, and if he got the chance, Gemellus.

'Well?' demanded the optio from the Twenty-Eighth. 'Make up your mind.'

There was an impatient rumble of agreement from the rest. They had walked together from their camp on the Campus Martius as far as the first major crossroads inside the city walls. Straight ahead lay the Forum, while on each side were streets leading to the Capitoline and Viminal Hills. The smell of cooking sausages and garlic filled the afternoon air, and innkeepers shouted to encourage passers-by into their dingy, open-fronted establishments. Kohl-eyed prostitutes beckoned from the doorways that led to the cramped insulae above the shops. There was temptation everywhere for the newly enriched soldiers and they weren't going to wait long.

Romulus shook his head. 'There's some business I need to take care of.'

'Come on,' Sabinus urged. 'Can't it wait until tomorrow?'

'No.'

'Why so mysterious?' asked Sabinus, his brow wrinkling.

'I'll tell you another time,' replied Romulus tersely. Without realising it, he touched the sheathed pugio on his belt. If his military haircut and russet tunic weren't enough, it was a giveaway sign that he was a soldier.

Sharp-eyed, Sabinus noticed the movement. 'Want me to tag along?'

Romulus gave him a brief smile. 'No thanks.'

'You're your own master.' Sabinus stepped away. The group was already drifting off, and he would have difficulty finding them if he got separated. 'You know where to look if you need us. That big inn by the Forum Boarium.'

Romulus raised his hand in farewell, wondering where he should start his search for Fabiola. He'd put off thinking about it until now. Remembering her in Alexandria helped. She'd been well dressed, and her mere presence there hinted at a relationship with a senior army officer. Romulus had wondered at the time if it was Caesar, but discovered since that, unlike some of his officers, his general didn't take women on campaign. That left a host of other nobles, many of whom might not even live in Rome. Even if they did, how would he find Fabiola among them? Unless he wanted a flogging — or worse — he couldn't as an ordinary soldier go about asking personal questions regarding their mistresses. Romulus began to despair before he'd even started. Stop it, he thought. Think. He stood for a moment, letting the crowd push by. While Caesar's triumphs might have ended, the festivities had not, and the streets were even more packed than ever. The legionaries weren't the only ones in search of a good time. Unbidden, an image of the brothel outside which the fight had taken place came to mind. What had it been called? Romulus racked his brains. The Lupanar, that was it.

Disgust filled him at the idea that Fabiola might still be a prostitute. Tarquinius had said that she'd left the brothel, though, and he couldn't think of a better place to start. He pulled at the arm of a passing urchin. 'Where's the Lupanar?'

The filthy child gaped, then recovered his poise. 'No need to go that far, sir.' He pointed at the nearest doorway, where a half-naked girl of no more than sixteen stood, touching herself in an attempt to look seductive. 'My sister. She's clean. Only costs ten sestertii. If she doesn't take your fancy, there are others inside.'

Romulus glanced over. In the shadows behind the child-woman lurked an old man in a grubby robe. Seeing Romulus stare, he whispered in her ear. She slipped down the top of her robe and lasciviously caressed her tiny breasts. Romulus felt sick. At least the women he'd had in the previous few days had been willing. 'I want the Lupanar,' he said, striding off.

Promising every kind of pleasure, the dark-haired boy kept pace with Romulus, doing his best while his master watched.

As soon as the old man was out of sight, Romulus produced a sestertius. 'Well?' he asked.

The other's thin face lit up. The silver coin was far more than the paltry amount he'd get for guiding customers towards the nearby doorway. 'It's up that lane,' he offered eagerly. 'Take the second right and then the first left.'

Romulus flipped him the sestertius and walked off, ignoring the urchin's promises of more information. Shrugging, the boy pocketed his reward and returned to his post. His directions were accurate, though, and it didn't take Romulus long to reach a narrow street dominated by an arched doorway with a painted, erect penis on either side. Outside stood a number of doormen, their swords and clubs in plain view. The sight stopped Romulus in his tracks. Old memories surged back. His flight from the inn with Brennus. The Gaul offering to pay for a prostitute for him. Their collision at the brothel's entrance with a drunk, red-haired noble whose arrogant attitude had sparked the fight. Deciding to make a run for it. Hearing the shouts of 'Murder' behind them as they ran. Gods, thought Romulus, how my life has changed since that night. For the better. A feeling of calm acceptance, which he'd never allowed to emerge before, settled over him. He was back in Rome, a free man. His anger at Tarquinius faded away; his old guilt about Brennus suddenly felt weaker too. The Gaul had walked the path of his destiny willingly, and it was not for Romulus to stand in the way of that.

Romulus took a step towards the Lupanar. Fabiola probably wasn't working there any longer, but someone would know where she'd gone. He'd soon track her down. How might his sister have changed? Romulus wondered excitedly. What would be her reaction to him? Deep in thought and with his reactions slowed by ten days of drinking, he didn't really take in the large party of unshaven heavies strolling along just in front of him.

The doormen in front of the Lupanar did, however. 'Look lively, boys,' shouted one, an enormous shaven-headed man with gold bands around his wrists. 'Trouble!'

Romulus heard the familiar sound of gladii leaving their scabbards. Startled, he looked up. Armed with axes and clubs as well as swords, the thugs were charging headlong at the brothel's entrance. Rather than stand back or retreat, the guards drew their own weapons and spread out in a defensive arc around the doorway. His heart pounding, Romulus turned and fled back down the alleyway. Who knew what was going on, but this was not his quarrel. Besides, he had only a pugio to defend himself. When he judged it safe, he stopped and looked back. Thanks to the permanent semi-darkness which existed in all narrow streets, he could see only a roiling mass of figures moving backward and forwards. From the blood-curdling yells and screams, men were being seriously injured or killed.

'Should have fucked my sister,' said a piping voice behind him. 'You'd be finished by now, and looking for your friends.'

Romulus turned to find the skinny urchin who'd given him directions nonchalantly eating an apple. His smug expression spoke volumes. 'Did you know there was trouble here?' Romulus demanded, taking a step forward. 'Why didn't you tell me? Hades below, I could have been killed.'

'I did try,' answered the boy, looking scared. 'You weren't interested.'

Romulus remembered the offers of more information and relaxed. He wasn't going to pick a fight with a scrawny child who owed him nothing. 'True enough,' he said gruffly, eyeing the brawl again. 'So what's going on there?' Silence. Looking down, Romulus saw an outstretched hand.

'Nothing free in this city, sir,' said the urchin with a cheeky grin.

Romulus tossed him another sestertius.

The response was instant. 'It's some kind of feud between the Lupanar and another brothel. Quite a few men have been killed. Although it's been going on for months, things have been quiet recently. Until today, that is.'

'What's it about?'

The boy shrugged. 'Not sure. Want to try my sister now?'

'No,' Romulus snapped, frustrated that his search had ended before it had even begun. Where else could he go? Nothing came to mind, and he decided to rejoin Sabinus and the others. He could always return to the Lupanar in the morning. 'I need a drink,' he muttered.

'The best inn in Rome is very close,' volunteered the urchin. 'Want me to take you there?'

Romulus smiled. He liked the boy's spirit. Clad in rags, and no doubt half-starved, he was still obviously resourceful. 'No. But I'd say you can take me a shorter way to the Forum Boarium than retracing my steps, eh?'

'Of course! Two sestertii.'

Romulus chuckled. 'Quite the businessman, aren't you? Don't push your luck, though. I've already paid you five times more than I needed to.'

This produced a serious nod. 'One sestertius it is,' said the urchin, proffering a grubby paw.

'When we get there,' Romulus warned.

Laughing, they shook hands. At once the boy darted off, leading Romulus through a confusion of alleys which joined the Capitoline Hill to the Palatine. During the recent celebrations, Romulus had had no time to explore the city, and of course the triumphs had taken place on the largest thoroughfares. It made his journey now all the more poignant. These were the type of streets on which he'd grown up. No more than ten paces wide, their unpaved surfaces covered in rubbish and waste, and with three-and four-storey buildings on both sides blocking out all light apart from a narrow band of sky high above. Open-fronted shops sold everything from bread to vegetables to wine, their goods sprawling out on to the street. There were potters, smiths, carpenters, barbers and every other profession under the sun. Inns, brothels and money-changers' premises were situated side by side, each one with its attendant begging leper or limbless cripple. Rows of shuttered windows overhead belonged to the cramped insulae, or flats, in which most citizens lived.

While he wasn't familiar with their exact location, Romulus could remember running errands for Gemellus through similar quarters. The memory of his former owner brought a stab of anger. Where could he be? Romulus scowled. Was there any point going to the house where he'd grown up? Probably not, but at least it would be a place to start. Right now, though, the thought of meeting Sabinus and his comrades was far more appealing.

It was then that Romulus walked past a nondescript opening between two cenaculae, or apartment blocks. Something made him go back to take a second look. About fifty paces in, and surrounded by derelict houses, was a temple he'd never seen before.

Sensing his customer stop, the urchin came scurrying back, his bare feet silent on the dirt. 'Nearly there, mister.' He tugged at Romulus' arm. 'It's not that way.'

'Which deity is that dedicated to?'

The boy shivered. 'Orcus.'

The god of the underworld. Romulus smiled thinly. Where better to make an offering that might help him find Gemellus? It had to be worth a quick visit. He was half a dozen strides into the alleyway before his guide could react.

'Sir! What about the inn?'

'I won't be long,' Romulus replied over his shoulder. 'Wait outside for me.'

Grim-faced, the urchin obeyed. While the stained stone altar in front of the shrine might terrify him, he wasn't going to miss out on the promised sestertius.

Romulus walked up the steps to the main entrance, past the usual seedy-looking soothsayers, vendors of food and trinkets and men selling little squares of lead sheet. Stopping by one of these last, he bought a piece of the heavy grey metal. Romulus leaned against a pillar and used his knife tip to scratch on it a curse upon Gemellus. Plenty of other worshippers were doing the same, or paying hovering scribes to do so on their behalf. Once more, Romulus was glad he could write. This matter was deeply private to him and he had no wish to share it with anyone. He looked again at his words. 'Gemellus: one day, I will kill you, very slowly.' It was what he'd silently mouthed as the merchant had left him in the ludus. Satisfied, Romulus folded the square and headed inside.

A robed acolyte guided him to the main chamber, a long narrow affair filled with devotees. There were separate rooms available for more private visits, but Romulus had no need of them. After so long away from Rome, the chance of being recognised was slim to none. He took his place in the queue which was wending its way towards the large fireplace at the back of the room. Upon reaching it, each supplicant bowed their heads, said a prayer and tossed their offering into the flames. High on the wall above, overlooking all, was a circular depiction of the god similar to the one on the portico outside. Romulus glanced at Orcus' dark-eyed, bearded face, whose hair consisted of a mass of snakes. He shuddered. The image was intended to strike fear into his heart, and it worked.

He continued to shuffle forward to the fire, however. The desire for revenge burned stronger than his dread, just as it did in the hearts of the other people present. Romulus studied the faces he could see, wondering what suffering or wrongdoing had brought them here. There was a good cross-section of society in the large chamber. He could see shopkeepers, plain citizens, slaves and soldiers like himself, even an occasional nobleman or — woman. Romulus smiled, feeling his self-belief grow. No one was unique: they all had a grudge to settle. Reaching the front of the queue, he was stopped by a short, wide-faced priestess with long brown hair tied up behind her head. Like all her companions, she was dressed in a simple grey robe. She was quite plain, but Romulus was struck by her deep green eyes. He watched as she raked the fire using a long iron poker, pushing the heaped metal squares deeper into the blaze.

'You may approach,' she said at last.

Romulus bowed and tossed in his piece of lead, along with several denarii. I have few desires in life, he thought. Orcus, grant me this one.

A curt nod from the priestess told him that his audience with the god was over. Romulus obediently moved on, walking behind those who had offered before him. He sighed, wondering if his request would bear fruit. It felt even more of an impossible quest than his search for Fabiola. What chance had he of finding a bankrupt merchant in such a large city? There was always divination, he supposed. After Tarquinius' lessons, he'd attempted it a number of times, but the shock of being accurate had put Romulus off since. Facing death on a daily basis meant that life was better lived in uncertainty. That way, he wouldn't spend his time worrying about things that were essentially beyond his ability to influence. Not yet, he thought. Let's see what Orcus offers first.

The urchin was still waiting outside the temple. He looked enquiringly at Romulus, who gave away nothing. 'The Forum Boarium,' he ordered.

'Follow me, sir.' Eager to leave the shrine behind, the lad was off like a bolt from a ballista.

Owing to the number of devotees clogging the alleyway, their pace slowed as they neared the junction to the street they'd been on previously. Putting Gemellus from his mind, Romulus was already thinking of the inn where he'd meet Sabinus and the others. He was thirsty for a cup of wine. Perhaps there'd be women there too.

A little way ahead, someone stumbled and fell against the person in front. A loud curse was the instant response. Despite a profuse apology, the hapless individual was subjected to a tirade of abuse which only died down when those who were waiting to exit the alley began to complain. Romulus frowned as the outburst died away and the crowd began to move again. He could not see the speaker, but the voice was familiar. Like a lightning strike from on high, recognition hit. Although he hadn't heard it since his first day in the ludus, Romulus recognised Gemellus' sarcastic tone.

Full of awe, and a little terror, he looked back at Orcus' temple. What devilry was at work for this to happen so fast? There was no time to ponder it, just to act. He elbowed the protesting urchin out of the way and muscled his way forward, desperate to catch the merchant. Romulus' efforts earned him a chorus of protests, but no one had the courage to stand up to the vengeance in his eyes. Panting with anger, Romulus reached the street a few moments later. His head turned this way and that, searching, but the crowds here were even denser than in the alley. Gemellus had vanished.

'Damn the whoreson to Hades!' Romulus yelled. 'He won't escape for ever.'

His outburst elicited barely a glance from the passers-by. Rome was full of drunk soldiers shouting insults and causing trouble. Prudence was always the best option in such cases.

Worming his skinny frame alongside, the urchin glanced reproachfully at Romulus. 'Trying to get away without paying me?'

'What?' Romulus snapped. 'No, of course not. I just heard the voice of someone I'd dearly love to meet. I followed him, but he's disappeared into the crowd.' Then he smiled. 'Want to earn ten sestertii?'

It was an enormous sum for a half-starved street child. 'Tell me what to do,' he clamoured.

Romulus made a stirrup of his hands. 'Climb up,' he ordered. 'Look for a short, fat man with a red face. He sweats a lot.'

Quickly the urchin obeyed, placing his calloused feet on Romulus' shoulders and balancing by resting one hand against the wall of the nearest building. Raising his other hand to his eyes, he peered up and down the street with quiet intensity.

Romulus could hardly bear the tension. 'Well?' he demanded.

'I can't see him,' came the disappointed answer.

Romulus bit his lower lip until it bled. Curse Gemellus for evermore, he thought. I'll never get a chance like that again. Gods don't hand out such opportunities twice.

The other's next words nearly stopped Romulus' heart. 'Wait,' he said. Then his voice grew shrill. 'That way! Sixty paces that way!'

With an urgency he'd never felt before, Romulus helped the boy down.

'Follow me,' he cried, heading left.

Romulus charged after him like a raging bull.

Half running, half walking, they pushed and shoved their way into the mass of people moving along the street. Progress was slow, but the urchin was so thin and nimble that he fitted into spaces that Romulus never could. Climbing over amphorae of wine laid on beds of straw or piles of ironmongery, he thumbed his nose at the indignant shopkeepers and soon drew far ahead. His piping voice carried back, however, giving Romulus extra impetus. 'Hurry! I can see him!'

Sick with nerves, Romulus ploughed on. By the time he'd reached a crossroads, he had closed the gap with the urchin to perhaps twenty paces.

'Left!' came the boy's shout.

Romulus obeyed, using a small gap in the crowd to gain another six steps. He loosened his pugio in its sheath, wondering what part of Gemellus he'd cut off first. An ear? His greasy nose? He grimaced. Maybe he should castrate the bastard first.

A thin hand reached out to stop him.

Startled, Romulus took in the urchin by his side. 'What is it?'

'He's gone in there.'

Romulus' gaze followed the boy's pointing arm down a narrow lane strewn with rubbish and broken pottery. A few paces in, a huge dung heap steamed gently. His nose wrinkled with disgust. 'You're sure?'

He nodded. 'Yes, sir. A short fat man with a red face, like you said. He looks very poor.'

He'd have to be, thought Romulus, eyeing the alley with some satisfaction. Any insulae down there would be rat-infested, stinking hell-holes. 'Come on,' he said, leading the way.

Eager for his money, the urchin followed.

Keen not to tread in the stinking ooze from the dung heap, Romulus moved slowly at first. By the time he'd passed it, his eyes were acclimatised to the near darkness. The uneven ground was still treacherous underfoot, but all his attention was on the shambling male figure not twenty paces ahead of him. Certainly it was the right height and girth to be Gemellus, Romulus thought. Then the man stubbed a toe off a shard of pottery and cursed loudly. Romulus froze, feeling a childish tremor of fear. It was Gemellus. Few things could make him react like this, but the scars left on his soul by the merchant during his childhood were deep. That was then, this is now, Romulus told himself. He drew his dagger, causing the urchin to gasp. 'Quiet!' Romulus hissed.

In the same instant, the man ahead disappeared through a narrow doorway. There was a quiet click as it shut behind him. With his heart in his mouth, Romulus walked the last few steps. A succession of images flashed before his eyes, and he let them come. Gemellus forcing himself on his mother. Gemellus beating Fabiola. Beating him. Ranting to his bookkeeper about his ailing finances. The merchant's gloating face as he had dragged Romulus away from his screaming mother and twin sister, and in the ludus, where he had boasted about how he'd sell them to the salt mines and a brothel respectively. Romulus bared his teeth with rage. Only the last memory gave him any pleasure: Hiero the bestiarius telling him how Gemellus had been ruined.

Romulus lifted his pugio to eye level, noting that his hand was trembling. Calm yourself, he thought. My prayers are about to be answered. Vengeance will be mine. At once the shaking stopped, and he readied himself to end it, once and for all.

Using the dagger's hilt, he hammered on the door. 'Open up!'