The Forgotten Legion

he?'

'Might be fifteen years ago, but it still rankles,' said Mancinus indignantly. 'Crassus crushed the greatest threat to Rome in over a hundred years and all they granted him was some shitty parade on foot!'

'Yet Pompey Magnus managed to procure the full thing,' commented the last speaker. 'Just for cleaning up the crumbs.'

There was a loud chuckle from Gabinius. 'And Crassus has done nothing but complain since. He needs to get off his backside and win another war if he wants to keep up with Pompey and Caesar.'

'What do you mean?' spluttered the merchant.

'Come on! Pompey's list of victories is second to none,' said Gabinius. 'Marian rebels in Africa. The Cilician pirates. Then the armies of Mithridates in Pontus. That's why the Senate granted him ten days of public thanksgiving. Crassus might be the richest noble in Rome, but he hasn't had a military success in a generation.'

Mancinus did not reply.

'Pompey's victories in Asia Minor were thanks to Lucullus anyway,' interjected the third man. 'And the public forget quickly. That's why Caesar is more popular now.'

Fabiola finally recognised the voice of Memor, a new customer of Pompeia's. It amused her how those who visited the brothel could always be placed in one of three camps. The parcelling off of the best political positions in Rome by the triumvirate had divided the public more than ever. Men had come to blows in the pool more than once during heated arguments. Pompey, one of the current consuls, was still enormously popular thanks to his military credentials and generous treatment of the veterans of his legions. Crassus, his co-consul, had been spending vast sums in his efforts to compete with the others. An extremely adept politician, he was not as good at drumming up public support as the others. Caesar, on the other hand, was drawing attention to himself by his recent conquests, all achieved in the name of Rome.

'Julius Caesar is the one to watch,' Memor boasted again. 'Gaul has been vanquished, providing huge resources. That got him fifteen days of public holidays. And the general hasn't earned his money by burning citizens' houses to the ground!'

Gabinius laughed.

'Nobody has ever proved those fires were started deliberately,' blustered Mancinus.

'Anyone who did would end up with a cut throat!' sniped Memor. Crassus' close links with the unsavoury Clodius were well known.

There was another titter from Gabinius.

Fabiola pressed her ear closer to the hole, anxious to learn about Memor. Pompeia had recently revealed that he was lanista of the Ludus Magnus. The increase in gladiator fights' popularity had apparently made him very wealthy. While Fabiola had no idea which school her brother had been dragged off to, getting to know Memor would be a start.

For more than a year she had heard nothing about Romulus. Clients only ever talked about the most famous fighters. Fabiola's heart ached at the thought of the only family she had left. An anonymous attempt by Brutus to buy her mother the previous year had been unsuccessful. Gemellus had been true to his word and sold Velvinna at the slave market. Brutus' men had visited many salt mines and bribed every overseer they encountered, but all their efforts had proved fruitless. Frail, heartbroken, Velvinna had disappeared, never to return. It made finding Romulus all the more urgent.

'Caesar's a good general, I'll give you that,' said Gabinius. Water slapped off tiles as he shifted position.

'He has conquered all of Gaul and Belgica. Britannia is next,' the lanista responded. 'While Pompey and Crassus do nothing but talk!'

'Not for much longer,' Mancinus added quickly.

Pompey's supporter was also in full flow. 'Caesar's chasing victories to pay off huge debts. Millions of sestertii, I heard.'

'He owes much of it to Crassus,' gloated Mancinus. 'Besides, Caesar is never in Rome. The people need to see nobles to follow them.'

Gabinius was not going to give in easily. 'Have you not seen Pompey's new building complex on the Campus Martius? Heard him speak at his ceremonies there?'

Memor snorted. Built to impress the people, Pompey's massive construction had taken years, and cost a fortune, to complete. Typically, the fickle public had not received their gift particularly well. 'That place is so over the top,' he said confidently. 'It's more about showmanship. When he was aedile and in charge of public entertainment, Caesar sponsored a contest with three hundred pairs of gladiators in silver armour. The crowd went wild!' said Memor triumphantly. 'And I should know — it's my line of work.'

There was a sudden silence and Memor sensed he would get no further. An invisible social barrier had appeared in the room.

The lanista was unperturbed. 'Time for some games of my own. That redheaded whore is incredible with her mouth.'

The others laughed and Fabiola heard the lanista climbing out of the bath and bidding farewell. She decided to arrange an introduction to him, even though he was fast becoming one of Pompeia's regulars. With some persuasion, her friend might step aside so she could win Memor's affections.

It might be a way of finding Romulus.

If he was still alive.

Fabiola's heart raced with excitement at the thought of seeing her brother again. The conversation seemed to have petered out, but she had learned it was always worth waiting a little longer.

'More wine!'

As the bathing attendant hurried off, Fabiola was sure there was whispering below. Frustratingly, she was unable to hear what was being said. Snippets like 'bastard lanista' and 'that big Gaul' wafted up, but she could not make any sense of them. The muttering went on until the slave returned.

'That's me done. I have work to do.'

'Have another cup.'

'Some of us have to work for a living! All right for you equestrians with huge latifundia,' Mancinus slurred. 'Merchandise doesn't sell itself.'

'But we hardly see each other these days,' wheedled Gabinius. 'One more.'

The merchant settled back into the warm water, keen for more alcohol in spite of his words. The pair made some small talk, then Fabiola heard Gabinius probing for information. Mancinus seemed to know plenty about Crassus, and the noble was keen to find out. It was so obvious to Fabiola what was going on.

In the previous year, she had learned how to gain information from customers without them even realising; it was amazing what men would reveal while being driven half mad with desire. Pompeia's advice had proved very useful, and by now had made Fabiola one of the most sought after women in the Lupanar.

'Is Crassus going to move his army now he's the governor of Syria?'

'Common knowledge!' Mancinus slurped some wine and lowered his voice. 'While Pompey sits around, he has plans to conquer Jerusalem.'

'Really?'

'And he won't stop there.'

Fabiola heard Gabinius lean over and pour Mancinus another drink.

'Seleucia,' announced the merchant. 'He has his sights set on Seleucia.'

Gabinius sucked in a breath. 'Invade Parthia?'

'Its wealth is said to be incalculable. All that trade from the east.'

'But Rome is at peace with the Parthians.'

'So were thousands of the Gauls whom Caesar massacred! Didn't stop him, did it?'

'Are you sure?'

'They say the Parthian temples are dripping with gold. I'd join Crassus myself if I were younger!'

'He's at least ten years older than you,' needled Gabinius.

'Not all are born to be soldiers,' Mancinus huffed.

'I meant no insult.' Gabinius realised he had gone too far. 'Have another drop.'

Fabiola snorted silently at the crude approach. The offended merchant refused to be drawn again, and she