where the road ended.
Anxiety began creeping over Fabiola as the morning dragged by. Was she making a big mistake? Her unease rose sharply when, with his characteristic flair, Antonius arrived in a British war chariot. As his lictores cleared a large space for him right at the foot of the temple's steps, he idly scanned the crowd. Her heart racing with fear, Fabiola turned away. She let long moments go by before daring to look at what Antonius was doing. She wasn't surprised to see him chatting to the legionaries on guard. Fabiola's dislike of Antonius intensified. He was a violent bully to her, but the Master of the Horse was a figure of adoration to almost the entire army. It was just another of the reasons why she was powerless before him.
Before she knew it, another hour had passed. There was still no sign of Brutus, and Fabiola's hopes of seeing him began to wane. Her attention faltered as Benignus began asking questions about various security matters to do with the Lupanar. When she next studied the group of military officers, Brutus was in their midst. Fabiola's heart fluttered at the sight of him. Pleasant-looking rather than handsome, Brutus cut a dash in full ceremonial dress. Amused by something one of the others said, he smiled and laughed, increasing Fabiola's sadness even more. Previously, that's how he'd acted towards her. Maybe Brutus wasn't just a means to an end, she thought. What had she done by carrying on with Antonius?
'Wait here,' she instructed Benignus. Leaving him protesting in her wake, Fabiola moved purposefully through the waiting throng. To her relief, Antonius was nowhere to be seen. Reaching the group of officers, she faltered. Then a dark-haired tribune with a brightly coloured sash around his waist turned to address the man beside him. Seeing Fabiola, his mouth opened. As a rich teenager, he'd been a frequent and enthusiastic client. Her manumission was the only reason that their trysts had stopped.
Fabiola cursed inwardly. This fool could ruin everything. Giving him a withering look, she brushed past to Brutus' side. He was deep in conversation with a comrade and didn't notice her immediately. Fabiola glanced back at the tribune to check he wasn't following her. Thankfully, he wasn't. Trembling, she reached out and tapped Brutus on the shoulder. He didn't respond, so she did it again, harder. 'Brutus.'
Recognising her voice, he turned, surprise and anger already twisting his features. 'What are you doing here?' He lowered his voice. 'Come to fawn over Antonius?'
'No,' she protested.
'Or Caesar?' he said suspiciously. 'He's been asking for you. Wondering where you were. Why would that be?'
'I don't know,' replied Fabiola desperately, the news chilling her to the bone. She wished that she'd told Brutus of her near rape at Caesar's hands three years before. If she mentioned it now of course, he wouldn't believe her. She had to just plough on. 'Can we talk?'
Brutus snorted. 'Here? Now?'
She touched his arm lightly. 'Please, my love. Give me a few moments.'
Some of the anger left his face, and he sighed. 'Come this way.' Beckoning, he led her past the goggling tribune to the back of the crowd. There was some space leading up to the very edge of the Capitoline Hill, and for a moment they stood in silence, looking down over Rome.
'I've missed you so much,' Fabiola began. Brutus said nothing, but she knew him well enough to see that he shared the same sentiment. The tiny ember of hope in her heart flared up a little. 'Getting involved with Antonius was such a mistake. The man's a brute. He makes me…' A sob rose in her throat at the indignities Antonius regularly forced on her. Her distress wasn't acted, and Fabiola was heartened by Brutus' response.
'What does he do?' he demanded, grabbing his sword hilt.
'Pretty much anything and everything,' boomed a familiar voice. 'And she loves it!'
Blanching, Fabiola spun to find a sneering Antonius not five paces away. To her utter horror, he was accompanied by none other than Scaevola. Dark malice glittered in the fugitivarius' deep-set eyes. Terrified, she moved closer to Brutus.
'What did you say?' Brutus stared at Antonius with clear dislike.
'You heard,' replied Antonius icily. 'Most of the time, it's her who suggests the position. Or the other people.'
Scaevola chuckled.
Despite himself, Brutus looked scandalised. Orgies were not his style.
'Men, women, it doesn't really matter,' Antonius went on, relishing the effect his words were having on Brutus. 'I drew the line at the gladiators, though.'
'No,' Fabiola cried, looking at Brutus. 'He's lying.'
Antonius laughed. 'Lie about a whore like you? Why would I bother?'
Brutus scowled and Fabiola felt the situation slipping from her grasp.
A loud fanfare from the trumpeters announced Caesar's impending arrival, and Brutus' face changed. 'I have to go,' he muttered, turning on his heel.
Fabiola reached out to him. 'Will I see you later?' she pleaded.
His lip curled. 'After what's been said? I don't think so.' Without another word, he strode off.
A black tide of despair swamped Fabiola. If Scaevola had stabbed her there and then, she wouldn't have cared. Of course things were never that simple. The instant Brutus was lost to sight, Antonius moved in. She felt his hand caress her throat.
'Getting tired of me?' he demanded.
Fabiola looked from him to Scaevola, who was grinning delightedly. In spite of her fear, her temper flared. 'More than that,' she hissed. 'I hate you. Touch me again, and I'll…' Her words were lost in a cacophony of blaring trumpets.
'Shame you feel like that. It's been fun. All good things come to an end, though.' Antonius' eyes glinted, reminding Fabiola of a snake which was about to strike. 'I'd love to finish this, but Caesar will think it strange if his deputy isn't there to greet him.' He stepped away, giving Fabiola an unpleasant stare. 'Scaevola can wrap up things for me. Permanently.'
The fugitivarius pressed forward, his fingers curling around the hilt of his sword. 'Now?' he asked eagerly.
'Not here, you fool,' Antonius snapped. 'Half of Rome is watching. Later.'
Scaevola nodded sullenly and stepped back.
Fabiola took the opportunity to dart into the press of people a few steps away.
They let her go, which was even more frightening.
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
