strong smell of incense also carried through the doorway. A deep red glow in the oven's opening revealed the source of the intense heat. To one side of it lay a pile of fuel, and on the other sat a small altar decorated with a statue of Orcus.
'You may make your offering here,' said the young priestess. 'Without interruption.'
Fabiola's grip on the lead squares grew so tight that she felt them begin to bend at the edges. She stopped, worried that any damage might affect her requests of the god. Nothing must go wrong. Her very life depended on it. Nodding firmly, Fabiola walked in, tailed by Sextus.
The priestess also entered, shutting the door. Moving to the altar, she bent her head in prayer. Unsure what to do next, Fabiola did the same. Compared to the cool of the corridor and the rain-soaked streets, this room was like a caldarium, the hottest place in a bathing complex. Thanks to the incense which was burning, the atmosphere was heavy and intense. Despite her soaked clothing, Fabiola felt sweat break out all over her body. She was used to the fuggy warmth of a full Mithraeum, but this was different. Some temples had fires to throw small offerings on, but not this roaring furnace, which reminded Fabiola of what Hades might be like. Fresh fear gripped her, yet she forced herself to stay calm. Orcus was no ordinary god. Gifts to him were cast in their entirety into the flames, there to be consumed. Hence the need for the oven.
Orcus, Fabiola thought, raising her eyes to the statue. Implacable, it stared right back. Mighty god of the underworld, hear me, she entreated. Once again, my life is in danger from Scaevola. He is an evil man and a murderer who will stop at nothing. I have no real means of stopping him without your help. Rid me of this whoreson, and I'll be in your debt for ever. I will erect an altar to you, and there a goat will be sacrificed once a year for the rest of my days. As an extra incentive, Fabiola leaned forward and placed a stack of silver coins before the figurine. A sharp intake of breath from the priestess proved that the amount was impressive.
There was a loud crackling sound and flames belched up inside the furnace. Startled, Fabiola craned her head to see. Neither Sextus nor the priestess had done anything, but the fire was now roaring as if a smith was working a pair of bellows on it. She looked around, expecting to spot a demon hard at work, but all she could see were the four crimson walls, pressing in on her like a tomb. Long yellow-orange flames licked at the oven's opening, making it seem like the glowing maw of a ravening mythical beast. Terror overcame Fabiola at last and she froze.
'This is a propitious moment,' intoned the priestess. 'Make your offering.'
Her voice nearly made Fabiola jump out of her skin. She looked round at the grey-robed girl and nodded, jerkily. Did she seem vaguely familiar? There was no time to ponder. With the priestess urging her forwards, Fabiola opened her hand. There, on her palm, the three lead squares lay, inert and innocuous-looking. Like the hatred in her heart, though, they were far from that.
'Throw them in as deep as you can,' ordered the priestess.
Stepping as close as she could bear, Fabiola drew back her arm and flung the pieces of metal into the fire. They were lost to sight in the blink of an eye. She sighed. It was almost done, but what remained was critically important. Fabiola had no wish to bring down divine retribution upon herself for this act. As other Romans did, she made her offering on specified conditions. She was so wound up about this that she began whispering out loud instead of praying silently. 'Keep me safe from harm, great Orcus,' she muttered, staring into the bright blaze. 'And those who are important to me. Romulus. Brutus. Sextus. Benignus and Vettius. Docilosa.'
There was a sharp intake of breath from behind her, and Fabiola realised that her request had not been internal after all. She glanced around at the priestess, whose face had gone white and pinched-looking.
'Who is Docilosa?'
'My servant,' replied Fabiola, startled. 'Why?'
Visibly disappointed, the priestess answered with another question. 'Not a slave?'
'She used to be,' admitted Fabiola, avoiding any mention of her own origins. She felt a little discomfited now. 'But she has been a freedwoman for nearly six years now.'
Hope filled the other's face. 'What age is she?'
A tremor of suspicion tickled Fabiola's memory. 'I don't know, exactly. Probably about forty.'
The priestess's composure cracked now, leaving the grief of a young girl in its place. 'Who was her owner?'
'Jovina,' said Fabiola. 'The owner of the Lupanar.'
'Orcus be praised,' gasped the priestess. 'Mother is still alive!'
It was Fabiola's turn to be shocked. 'Sabina?'
The priestess stiffened. 'You know my name?'
'Docilosa has mentioned you many times,' explained Fabiola, smiling. 'She has grieved every day since your parting, and searched for you in countless temples. She never gave up hope of seeing you again.'
There was a flicker of a smile. 'Where is she?'
'In my house,' said Fabiola. 'It's not far.'
Sabina's expression softened for a heartbeat, and then grew hard once more. 'Why are you her mistress? Is Jovina dead?'
Fabiola bit back her instinctive retort to the interrogation. Under normal circumstances, she would not tolerate this level of rudeness from anybody. This was not a typical situation, though, and Docilosa was very dear to her. Moreover, Sextus already knew of her past. 'Jovina is still alive, although only the gods know for how much longer. She used to own us both.'
'You weren't a domestic slave like my mother, I take it,' Sabina snorted.
Fabiola's nostrils flared at her presumption. An ordinary household slave was worth far less than a good- looking virgin, so Gemellus had sold her as a whore. It wasn't as if she'd had any choice in the matter. 'No,' she said quietly. 'I wasn't.'
Sabina's top lip curled with disdain.
'If you'd been more of a looker, that might have been your fate,' said Fabiola, riled by her arrogance. 'Thank the gods it was not.'
A retort sprang to Sabina's lips, but she bit it back. 'Who bought you, then?'
Fabiola took a deep breath. 'My lover saw fit to buy my manumission and, because I asked him, that of your mother also.'
At this, Sabina grew a fraction less surly. 'Why would you do such a thing?'
'Because Docilosa has been a good friend to me,' Fabiola replied. 'She'll want to come and see you at once. Is that permitted?'
'Visitors are not encouraged, but there are ways around it,' Sabina said craftily. 'We can use a room like this to meet. The best time is mid-morning, when the temple is busy. None of the priests will notice then.'
'Good,' Fabiola declared briskly, concealing her dislike. 'I'll tell her.' She turned to go.
Sabina wasn't finished. 'You must have an urgent need to visit in such weather,' she said, probing.
'My business for being here is my own,' Fabiola retorted. 'It's nothing to do with you.'
'You forget yourself,' snapped Sabina. 'I am a senior priestess here and, as such, privy to the god's thoughts and wishes.'
Furious, Fabiola nonetheless forced her expression to become humble. To have achieved such a position from slavery while so young, Sabina must be a woman of immense ability. In addition, by angering one of Orcus' important disciples, she herself risked losing any chance of her request being granted. 'Forgive me,' she muttered from between clenched teeth. 'It's nothing much. Just some trouble from a business rival.'
'You work in the Lupanar still?'
'No,' replied Fabiola quickly. She grimaced at her instinctive denial. 'Yes. I bought the place from Jovina yesterday.'
Sabina's eyes narrowed. 'I see. Why?'
Fabiola did not like this unhealthy interest in her affairs. What was behind it? Placed on the back foot by her fear of Orcus and Sabina's confidence, though, she had no easy answer. There was no harm in telling some of the truth, she supposed. 'My lover is in Caesar's army, and I've been on campaign with him for over two years,' she replied. 'I've had enough. I want to stay here in Rome, and running the Lupanar is something that comes naturally to me.'
'It would,' said Sabina haughtily.
Fabiola wanted to claw her eyes out, but she dared do nothing. They exchanged a frosty glance. Sabina could see her anger, she thought, and was revelling in it. Unless Docilosa could bring some influence to bear, here was a
