'Of course not,' she protested. 'I wouldn't do that.'
His response was instant. 'Once a whore, always a whore.'
Fabiola flushed and hung her head. Inside, she cursed her reckless behaviour with Antonius. All her plans for the future were about to be washed away. Without Brutus' backing, she was a complete nobody. If he wanted, he could easily wrest the ownership of the Lupanar from her, and reclaim what was left of his money.
Brutus read her fear and scorn filled his eyes. 'You can keep the damn brothel. The cash too. I don't want it.'
Fabiola gave him a grateful look. 'I'll gather my things. Leave at dawn,' she said.
'Fine. Do not return. I don't ever want to see you again.' Climbing unsteadily to his feet, Brutus lurched from the room. He didn't look back.
In the depths of despair, Fabiola sank down on to the bed.
What had she done? Thankfully the information given Tarquinius about Caecilius, the owner of the latifundium, was correct. Posing as a merchant who'd grown up in the area, he was welcomed into the villa's warm kitchen by the friendly major-domo, also a veteran. Over a plate of food and a cup of acetum, the haruspex was able to confirm that his father and mother were both dead — Sergius before Caecilius had even bought the place, and Fulvia two years later.
'Relations of yours?' asked the major-domo.
Tarquinius made an indifferent gesture. 'An aunt and uncle.'
Draining his beaker, the other wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 'Fulvia wasn't up to much by the end. Poor old creature. Some would throw such a person out on their ear, but Caecilius isn't like that. 'She's worked here for long enough,' he said. 'It's not as if she eats much either.''
'He has my thanks,' said Tarquinius, genuinely touched. 'I would like to pay my respects.'
'He should be back by this evening,' said the major-domo. 'You can tell him over dinner.'
'Excellent,' Tarquinius smiled. 'Does anyone know where my relations are buried?' he asked casually. 'It would be good to visit their graves.'
The major-domo thought for a moment. 'The vilicus would be the best one to ask,' he said. 'He's been here the best part of thirty years.'
Tarquinius hid his surprise.
'Dexter's his name,' said the other. 'Another ex-soldier. Half the man he was, according to most, but still able to keep the slaves in line. You'll find him in the yard or the fields around the house.'
Murmuring his thanks, the haruspex went in search of Dexter: the man who'd warned him about Caelius' plans for Olenus. He found the vilicus hobbling up and down the edge of a large field, shouting orders at the slaves who were picking weeds from the hand-high winter wheat. He was still an imposing figure. The injuries that he'd picked up in the legions were slowing him down, but his back was straight and his eyes were bright.
Tarquinius could tell that he was being sized up from the instant he had come into view. He didn't care. His only crime in vanishing had been to break the terms of his indentured labour. Scarcely something to be concerned about half a lifetime later. 'Greetings,' he said. 'The major-domo said I'd find you out here.'
Dexter grunted irritably. 'You a friend of his?'
'No,' the haruspex replied. 'I grew up in the area.'
The vilicus stared at him, frowning.
Tarquinius waited, interested to see if Dexter would recognise him.
'I can't place you,' he admitted. 'You're about the same age as me though.'
'Younger,' the haruspex corrected. His greying hair and scars always made people think he was older than he was. 'Tarquinius is my name.'
Finally a look of recognition crossed Dexter's face. 'Mars above,' he breathed. 'I never thought to see you again. Owe me some fresh meat, don't you?'
Tarquinius had to smile at that. 'You have a good memory.'
'Some things are still working,' the vilicus answered with a scowl. He eyed the slaves for a moment, checking their work was satisfactory. 'Why did you run and leave the old man after I warned you?'
Tarquinius sighed. 'He wouldn't have it any other way.'
Dexter looked unsurprised. 'I didn't have you down as a coward.' His expression turned crafty. 'What did you do with his valuables?'
Tarquinius had prepared himself for this exact question and kept his face blank. As Caelius' strongman, the vilicus had often been party to his plans. The whole point of selling Olenus out had been to steal the sword of Tarquin, the last Etruscan king of Rome, and the bronze liver, a model for soothsayers to learn their art. 'Was Crassus unhappy?' he asked by way of answer. 'Turns out he could have done with their help.'
'Damn your eyes,' Dexter snarled. 'What happened to them?'
'They were already missing when I got up there,' Tarquinius said regretfully. 'Olenus wouldn't tell me where.'
They stared at each other without speaking.
It was the vilicus who looked away first, perturbed by the dark, bottomless pits that were Tarquinius' eyes. 'It's of no matter now,' he muttered uneasily. 'Both Caelius and Crassus are long gone.'
'They are,' the haruspex replied. 'To whatever place they deserve.'
They exchanged another long look.
Dexter broke the silence. 'What brings you back?'
'I'd like to visit my parents' graves. The major-domo told me to ask you where they were.'
Dexter gave an awkward cough. 'Workers only get a wooden marker. This long after, there's usually nothing left.'
'Nonetheless, I thought you might remember where they were buried,' said Tarquinius, his voice turning silky.
'Perhaps.'
Tarquinius stood aside, leaving the track back to the villa and the graveyard beyond open.
Unsettled, Dexter barked an order at the slaves and then led the way up the hill. Reaching the rough quadrangle that served as the burial ground for slaves and indentured workers, Tarquinius was pleasantly surprised when the vilicus led him straight to a spot which looked up towards Falerii. It wouldn't have been a deliberate choice on the part of those charged with digging the graves, but it pleased him all the same.
'Here.' Dexter pointed with the toe of one of his worn out caligae. 'They were buried in the same hole.'
It would have been done to save space, but Tarquinius was still gratified by what felt like a small gesture on the part of the gods. Looking down at the unmarked sod, he remembered his mother and father as they had been in his youth on the family farm. Smiling, vital and proud. It was how they would want to live on in his memory. Sadness filled him as he thought of the manner of their parting, and that he had never seen them living again. Closing his eyes, he let their images fill his mind for long moments.
Dexter shifted from foot to foot, unhappy but no longer sure what to say.
Doubtless he would feel the same grief when he climbed up to the cave and visited Olenus' burial place, thought Tarquinius. What had it all been for? he wondered wearily. After all his wanderings, he was still the last haruspex. He'd discovered little about the Etruscans. Some of the knowledge Olenus had drummed into him had been passed on to Romulus, but if the gods didn't clear the way for them to meet again and be reconciled, it would all have been for nothing.
No, not for nothing, Tarquinius thought, dragging together the shreds of his belief. Tinia and Mithras know best, and their will is divine. It is not for me to question them, and they have not forgotten me. I am needed in Rome. Why else would I have been drawn back to the Lupanar? Fabiola appears to be safe, but the unspecified danger and the storm over the city must signify something. With luck, I will be granted a sign at the cave.
Keeping this to the front of his mind, the haruspex looked up the mountain slope. If he hurried, there was time to visit it and return safely before dark. Then, after dinner with Caecilius, he could creep out to check that the sword and liver were still undisturbed in the olive grove where he'd buried them.
It was as if Dexter had read his mind. 'You know damn well where the artefacts are,' he suddenly growled.
Tarquinius' fingers caressed the hilt of his gladius. 'Even if I did, who would you tell?'
They eyed each other in silence. Dexter had been the scourge of every slave on the estate for decades, and
