legs!'
His men laughed dutifully.
So he's not allied to that lot, thought Tarquinius with relief.
'No one stops the lanista of the Ludus Magnus from going where he pleases,' Memor declared. 'Tonight, I want the best-looking whore in the Lupanar.'
With a respectful bow, the big slave indicated that Memor should enter.
'This visit is well overdue,' declared the lanista, swaggering inside. 'My balls are bursting.'
More forced laughter from his gladiators.
An afterthought struck Memor, and he looked around. 'Piss off back to the ludus,' he ordered. 'Come back tomorrow morning. I might have finished by then.'
With relieved looks, his fighters did as they were told.
On the other side of the street, excitement and dread filled Tarquinius. Romulus had fought for the Ludus Magnus, which made Memor his former owner. Had the lanista any idea who Fabiola was? Was that the real purpose of his visit? Of course not, he told himself. Memor will have forgotten Romulus long ago. He probably doesn't even know that Fabiola's running the place.
Still gripped by uncertainty, Tarquinius prayed. Guide me, great Mithras. Should I go inside? In the night sky above, the stars were almost completely obscured. The glimpses he was granted through momentary breaks in the clouds were far too short to ascertain anything. The presence of danger which had been so strong was gone. Tarquinius felt the gods were mocking him, and forced himself to relax. Yet he also felt compelled to stay where he was. Docilosa wasn't in the baths or the kitchen. Fabiola found her in the courtyard at the back of the brothel, washing bedclothes. Hardly a task to fulfil by torchlight; her servant was obviously avoiding her. They had time to exchange frosty looks before Catus, the main cook, distracted Fabiola with a query about the amount of food and drink that the extra doormen were going through. Leading her to the storerooms off the kitchen, he pointed in outrage at the empty shelves. 'I'm using over a modius of grain a day making bread, Mistress,' he whinged. 'Then there's the cheese and vegetables. And the wine! Even watered down, the dogs are finishing an amphora every few days.'
Catus' list of complaints was long, but Fabiola had been putting off talking to him about it for some time. The balding slave was a hard worker, so she stood and listened, deciding what was to be done about each and directing him accordingly. While this was happening, she was aware of Docilosa creeping past her into the corridor that led to the front of the brothel. Damn it, she's acting like a child, thought Fabiola. As I was earlier. That's not like her. I wonder if Sabina's planting ideas in her mind? It was hard to concentrate. Warming to his theme now, Catus was droning on about the price of vegetables in the Forum Olitorium compared to what local farmers charged if bought from directly. 'I tell you, it's a complete rip-off,' he moaned. 'The price in the Forum is three or even four times what the stuff costs wholesale.'
Fabiola could take no more. 'Fine,' she snapped. 'Find an honest farmer and offer him a contract to supply all our food.'
Catus quailed before her anger.
Fabiola gentled. He'd never been given this degree of responsibility before. 'The doormen will be here for the foreseeable future,' she explained. 'We have to feed them. Getting our supplies direct is an excellent idea, and one you're well capable of sorting out.'
His chin lifted. 'Thank you,' he muttered.
'Come to me when you've found the right man,' said Fabiola. 'I'll have the lawyers draw up the correct paperwork.' Leaving Catus grinning like a fool, she hurried off in search of Docilosa. It was good to sort out minor problems like this, but the sense of real urgency that had been tugging away at her would now not be denied.
Fabiola would always wonder how the situation might have unfolded if the cook had not accosted her when he did. As she entered the long corridor, she heard a woman screaming. The noise was not like the ecstatic cries that some of the prostitutes used to encourage their clients. No, thought Fabiola in alarm, it was the sound of someone who was absolutely terrified, and in fear of her life. She broke into a trot. 'Vettius! Benignus!'
Ahead of her, Fabiola could see Docilosa, only a few steps from the reception area. Nearer to the source of the screams. Her servant's head was turning from side to side, searching for the right room. Finding it, she moved to its door.
Fabiola cursed. It was the one commonly used by Vicana, the new British slave with red hair and fair complexion. To her horror, Docilosa's hand reached out to lift the iron latch. 'No,' screamed Fabiola. This was not what should happen. 'Wait for the doormen!'
Ignoring her, Docilosa pushed wide the door. 'Stop it,' she cried at once. 'Let her go.'
The volume of the screams grew deafening. Above them, Fabiola could hear a man cursing. 'Bitch,' he cried. 'Just do what I tell you.' There was a loud slap, and the woman's cries stopped abruptly.
Docilosa took a step inside. 'Leave the poor girl alone,' she muttered, her voice shaking. 'Don't hurt her.'
'Mind your own damn business, you ugly old cow,' snarled the man.
Docilosa entered the room completely. 'Stop it!'
There was a chilling laugh. 'Want a piece of this, do you?'
Terrified herself now, Fabiola sprinted towards the doorway. As she did, the doormen appeared round the corner from the reception.
Too late. They were all too late.
There was a choked cry, such as someone makes when they trip unexpectedly. It was followed by the sound of a body falling to the floor, and then the air filled with screams once more. 'Shut up, you little slut,' cried the man. 'Or you'll get the same.'
Fabiola slid to a halt in the doorway and her stomach turned over at the sight inside. 'No,' she whispered. 'Please, no.' Docilosa was lying quite still on the floor, her back to Fabiola. Blood was already pooling around her — damning evidence. Over her stood a naked man holding a reddened dagger, his grizzled features contorted in rage. Cowering on the other side of the bed was a sobbing Vicana, her tear-stained face white with fear.
At first, the man didn't even notice Fabiola. He seemed crazed, or drugged. 'That'll teach you,' he muttered, poking a foot at Docilosa. 'Interrupting my fun like that.'
A towering fury took hold of Fabiola. She knew this creature, had slept with him on many occasions in the past. It was Memor, the lanista of the Ludus Magnus, from whom she'd wheedled information about Romulus. 'You whoreson,' she hissed, her nostrils flaring. 'What have you done?'
Memor looked up, and his eyes cleared. 'By all the gods,' he said appraisingly. 'You're a real beauty. Why weren't you out there to be picked from? I'd have chosen you first anytime.'
Fabiola didn't answer. Although all her instincts screamed at her to run, she moved towards Docilosa. She couldn't stop herself, nor could she help her temper. 'A shame my brother didn't kill you when he had the chance, you piece of filth,' she cried.
His eyes narrowed. 'What are you talking about?'
'Romulus,' she threw at the lanista. 'The one who ran away. You told me about him.' Confusion twisted Memor's face, but then Fabiola saw the realisation hit. 'By Mercury,' he breathed. 'I've fucked you before.'
Fabiola hawked and spat in his face. 'I hated every moment.'
His lips peeled back with anger. 'You told me that Romulus was your cousin!'
'I lied. The same as when I told you that you were a stallion,' she sneered. 'Limp-pricked old goat.' Fabiola's heart lurched as the words left her mouth. She was only a few paces from Memor and his knife, and the doormen hadn't yet arrived. Should have kept my mouth shut, Fabiola thought.
She was right.
'You whore,' screamed the lanista, lunging forward with his blade.
Chapter XIV: Sabina
Panicking, Fabiola dodged backwards. Memor's dagger whistled past, coming within a fraction of gutting her. She glanced back at the door. It was too far for her to reach. Where were Benignus and Vettius?
'Prepare yourself for Hades, because that's where you're going,' muttered Memor, his eyes staring madly.
