The Forgotten Legion

left them to it. She padded down the corridor, robe flowing in the warm summer air that filled the house.

She found Benignus sitting in the kitchen while Germanilla fussed around, loading his plate with bread and vegetables.

The doorman's craggy face split into a grin when he saw her.

Fabiola pulled over a stool and sat down beside the huge slave. 'Busy last night?'

'Not too bad. Only threw out one customer.' Benignus took a mouthful of bread and chewed noisily. 'Silly bastard knocked the new girl Senovara about.'

'Is she all right?' Fabiola asked worriedly.

'Bruised and shaken, but she 'll be fine.'

'Who did it?'

'Nobody important. One of Caesar's soldiers wanting to blow all his spoils from Gaul.' Benignus grinned. 'He 's nursing a broken arm instead.'

'Glad to hear it.' Fabiola winked at Germanilla.

The serving girl reached under the wooden counter. Producing a large hunk of beef, she placed it on Benignus' plate.

'Is that for me?' The doorman's eyes were eager. 'From you?'

Fabiola nodded from under her long fringe. 'Keep looking after us girls.'

He beamed, revealing rotting stumps. 'Me and Vettius would kill anyone who tried to harm you.' Benignus patted the bone handle of his dagger.

Fabiola watched contentedly as the shaven-headed hulk wolfed down the meat. She had never needed to call for help as Senovara had the previous night. But if the occasion ever arose, she knew both would come running. Winning the doormen over had been simple. Instead of having sex with them, Fabiola had won their hearts by ensuring they always had good food, and that the best surgeon tended to any injuries they incurred.

The beautiful young woman slept only with men who could provide her with money, useful information or the possibility of freedom.

Chapter XIV: Rufus Caelius

Rome, late summer 55 BC

Tarquinius adjusted his position, moving his cloak slightly so it provided more of a cushion. He was sitting with his back against the wall of a house on a narrow street not far from the Forum. On either side of him were beggars and food vendors competing for business from the passers-by. The nearest, a middle-aged army veteran with one arm, was still wearing his russet-brown military tunic. He threw Tarquinius a curious glance, slightly resentful at having to move two feet closer to his neighbour. But the ten sestertii in his fist was more than he would earn in a day. Who cared why the blond stranger wanted to sit here? And he had promised the same every morning. The cripple caught Tarquinius returning his stare and quickly dropped his gaze, keen not to upset his new sponsor.

Diagonally opposite their position was a large, arched doorway with an erect stone penis protruding on either side from the wall above. The huge members were painted in bright colours to attract attention and it seemed to work. Many of the men walking past paused to stare through the open door. But few actually entered: instead they stood outside weighing their purses and looking wistful.

The one-armed legionary saw Tarquinius watching. 'Only the rich go in there.' He hawked and spat. 'That's one of the most expensive whorehouses in Rome. The Lupanar girls can drain a man dry!'

'Tried it?'

He laughed sourly. 'In my dreams.'

'Who owns it?'

'An old crone called Jovina,' came the reply. 'She 's worth a bloody fortune. And sharp as a blade. Always keeps her customers happy.'

The Etruscan nodded encouragingly.

Happy to have someone to listen, the veteran filled Tarquinius in on the comings and goings from the Lupanar. Soon the haruspex knew which prominent senators and nobles visited regularly, the methods used by the doormen to expel troublesome customers and the fact that few prostitutes ever set a foot outside the premises.

'What's your name, soldier?' said Tarquinius at last.

The cripple was both surprised and pleased. Few ever bothered to ask. 'Secundus,' he replied. 'Gaius Secundus. And yours?'

'Marcus Peregrinus.' Although Secundus seemed honest, there was no question of Tarquinius revealing his identity after the episode with Gallo months before.

'You served in the legions too?'

Tarquinius smiled. 'Not me! I am a trader.'

The explanation was good enough and a cordial silence fell.

Time passed and the two men began to share stories about their experiences — Secundus with the legions in Pontus and Greece, Tarquinius expanding on his visits to Asia Minor, North Africa and Spain. The noise of oxen pulling carts and the conversation of passers-by washed over them. Like all thoroughfares in Rome, the street was constantly busy.

At length, the Etruscan indicated Secundus' right arm. The shiny red stump had been evenly cut across and tiny scars were still visible from where stitches had been placed. It was a sign that it had been amputated by an expert. 'Where did you lose that?'

Secundus frowned, rubbing at the remnant of his arm. 'Tigranocerta.'

'You served with Lucullus?'

There was a proud nod.

'One of the Republic's greatest victories, I've heard.' The haruspex could still picture the scene on the ground before Tigranes' showpiece capital. Deep, intimidating pounding from the Armenian drums. Hot sun beating down on the massed ranks of legionaries. The sheer size of the king's host. It had been immense. Bucinae blaring orders from Lucullus' position, officers roaring at their men when they had heard and understood. The gradual advance towards the enemy, swords tight in their fists, sweat running down from under their helmets. Javelin volleys scything into the Armenian infantry. The panic spreading amongst them like wind through the trees. Tarquinius smiled. 'Even though you were vastly outnumbered,' he said.

'Twenty to one! Didn't take long for us to turn the savages, though,' exclaimed Secundus. 'It was nearly over when suddenly a big Armenian broke through the shield wall near me. Cut down four men in the blink of an eye.' The veteran's face creased with anger. 'I managed to hamstring the bastard, but he turned and hacked at me as he went down. Smashed the bone so badly the surgeon had to take the damn thing off.'

Tarquinius clicked his tongue in sympathy. 'That was the end of military service for you.'

'A man can't wield a gladius with his left hand.' Secundus sighed. 'And I only had three years left to serve.'

'The gods work in strange ways.'

'If they take any notice of us at all!'

'They do,' answered Tarquinius seriously.

'Seem to have forgotten me, then.' Secundus cynically indicated his clothes, which were little more than rags, and a worn blanket, his only shelter against the weather. 'Even though I still sacrifice to Mars.' The veteran glanced around to make sure no one could hear. 'And Mithras,' he whispered.

Tarquinius' ears pricked up. He was fascinated by the ancient and secretive warrior religion which had been brought to Rome by legionaries returning from the east. Only the initiated were allowed into the Mithraic underground temples, but he had heard many rumours when serving in Asia Minor. Bulls being sacrificed. The study of particular constellations. Ordeals of heat, pain and hunger as rites of passage between stages for devotees. Central tenets of truth, honour and courage. With luck, he might find out more from Secundus. 'Do not lose faith in the gods,' he said, scanning the narrow band of sky visible between the buildings around them. 'They have not