flew everywhere. A number splattered off the doorframe by Fabiola's head. She wished they had been from Scaevola.
The remainder of his heavies crashed into her defenders' line an instant later. The confined space of the laneway magnified the clash of weapons and screams to that of thunder. Swords bit deep into flesh and men tussled with each other, punching, wrestling and even biting if the opportunity presented itself. Fabiola danced from foot to foot, unconsciously mimicking her men's movements. She had already drawn her gladius, and only Vettius' restraining arm was preventing her from joining the fray. 'You're not to go out there,' he muttered firmly. 'That's our job.' Fabiola obeyed, knowing he was right.
To her horror, things started to go badly almost at once. First to go was the defensive arc around the doorway. Although Fabiola's men had cut down five more of their enemies, they had lost three of their own. No one was left to fill the gaps, and in a heartbeat a pair of thugs had wriggled inside the half circle, throwing themselves straight at the doorway. If that could be taken, the battle was won. Locked in their own struggles for survival, Benignus and his comrades could do nothing about it.
Vettius politely shoved Fabiola to one side. Leading three men outside, he despatched the first ruffian with a sword thrust to the chest. Unfortunately the second managed to badly hurt one of the doorman's companions before his head was severed from behind by a gladiator. The respite was momentary. Benignus was nursing a flesh wound to his chest, and a secutor was down. Roaring for more blood, the thugs pushed in even harder, their weapons licking out hungrily like so many snakes' tongues. Fabiola could see that if she didn't call her men back in, they'd all be killed.
'Pull back,' she screamed. 'Get inside.'
Fabiola's fighters were only a few steps away, but two more were slain before they could gain the safety of the brothel. Standing just inside the entrance, she watched in horror as, pleading for their lives, they were hacked apart. Benignus was last inside, managing somehow to smash a thug's shoulder into smithereens with his club before the door slammed shut. Panting heavily, the doorman slid home the bolts. Quickly the others shoved forward the heavy items of furniture as fists and weapons hammered futile blows on the other side. Colourful insults filled the air as both sides recovered their strength after the brutal encounter. Although brief, it had been energy- sapping.
Fabiola was confident that their enemies' efforts would come to nothing. Unless of course they'd brought a battering ram. Busying herself by attending to the wounded, she tried not to think of that eventuality. To her relief, Benignus was not badly hurt. Once she'd cleaned the gash with some acetum, one of the gladiators used a needle and some linen thread to stitch him up. Several of the others also had minor injuries. Only one man was critically hurt, suffering a deep slash on his right thigh which had cut down to the bone. A major blood vessel had been severed which pulsed out bright red blood all over the mosaic floor. Fabiola could not believe he was still alive. There was already a huge pool of it around the semi-conscious man. It was only after a tourniquet of rope and pieces of wood had been tied round the top of his leg that the bleeding stopped. Whether he survived was another matter.
By the time everyone had been attended to, the torrent of abuse from outside had almost stopped. Fabiola began to feel uneasy. Surely Scaevola's rabble wouldn't give up this easily? Opening the door would be far too dangerous, so she hurried to one of the bedrooms which had a window on to the street. Like most large houses, the brothel's exterior was almost featureless. Just a few windows — high up and thankfully too small to admit a man — were present in the front wall. While this feature facilitated privacy and security, it was extremely difficult to see what was going on outside.
Standing on a stool, Fabiola peered through the green pane of glass. An expensive luxury, the small pane distorted the world beyond. All she could see was a group of men talking and pointing at the Lupanar. Worryingly, there were now far more of them, so reinforcements had arrived. A central, stocky figure appeared to be ordering the rest about. Fabiola's pulse shot up. Was it Scaevola? She couldn't be sure. Holding her breath, she watched for some time.
There was no mistaking the ladders' shape when they came into view. Fabiola's spirits plunged. This was an eventuality she hadn't thought of. The men carrying them were directed to move up to the brothel's wall, and she cursed bitterly. By lifting the tiles, the thugs would gain access to the roof space and then the whole interior of the Lupanar. With more than twenty men, they could attack in multiple places. She would have to divide her forces among the network of rooms, in the hope of containing their enemies' ingress. Yet Fabiola panicked as she counted the ladders.
There were five.
She jumped to the floor, shouting for Vettius and Benignus.
One option remained. They would have to pull back to the central courtyard, which could only be accessed by two doors. There at least they could give a good account of themselves before they died. Fabiola knew that her fate and that of the prostitutes would not be that easy, though. The thugs would not be able to resist the temptation of so much flesh, and Scaevola wanted to finish what he'd begun years before. Fabiola's flesh crawled at the memory and the anticipation of so much horror, but she did not allow her resolve to waver. One of the doormen could be detailed with the job of killing her and the women before they were captured.
Clutching her gladius, Fabiola ran to the reception.
All her dreams and hopes had come to this.
To nothing.
Chapter XXII: Gemellus
For a long time, there was no answer.
Bathed in an icy fury, Romulus pounded on the timbers again.
This time, he heard the sound of shuffling feet inside, and then silence.
'Gemellus! Open up!'
A long pause followed, but Romulus was sure now that the merchant was on the other side of the door. He leaned his shoulder against the flimsy planks, and they immediately started to give. 'Don't make me come in the hard way,' he warned. 'I'm going to count to three. One.'
'Who is it?' The voice was querulous, and unmistakably that of Gemellus. 'I've paid my rent this week.'
'Two,' said Romulus, sheathing his dagger on a whim.
'Very well.' A bolt was pulled back, and the portal creaked ajar. Blinking warily, Gemellus stood framed in the doorway. Grey-haired, he looked older and wearier than Romulus had ever seen him. His jowls now sagged from his stubble-covered jaw, and his gut was a great deal smaller. Never one for dressing up, the merchant wore a ragged tunic covered in food and wine stains. His sandals were worn out too. He looked like one of the homeless vagrants who lived around the tombs on the Via Appia, but had lost none of his arrogance. 'Who are you?' he demanded. 'Do I know you?'
Romulus ignored the question. He couldn't quite believe that this rank-smelling specimen was his former master. 'Porcius Gemellus?' he asked, just to make sure.
'Yes,' replied the merchant irritably. 'What do you want?'
Romulus bit back his instinctive retort. 'It's been hard to track you down. I thought you lived on the Aventine. In a big house.'
Gemellus scowled. 'I did, once.'
He had to rub some salt in the other's wounds. 'Lost it all, did you?'
Gemellus missed the sarcasm. 'The gods turned against me. Every business venture I tried went wrong. Especially the last one,' he moaned. 'Should have made me as rich as Croesus, but it beggared me instead.'
'The wild beasts,' said Romulus, beginning to show his hand. 'Shame they drowned, eh?'
Gemellus looked stunned. 'How could you know about that?' he cried.
'I worked for Hiero for a while,' Romulus confided. 'Good man, that bestiarius.'
The merchant relaxed a fraction, but then grew suspicious again. 'Hiero's not after any money, is he? Tell him I've got nothing left, nothing. The fucking moneylenders took it all. Even had to sell my villa in Pompeii.' His shoulders sagged.
