The Forgotten Legion

'Genius flows better after a night in the saddle!' Aufidius made an obscene gesture to gales of laughter.

'I want to be a quaestor next year, my friend. Such positions don't just fall into one 's lap.' As an assistant to the senior magistrates, the lean man would have the opportunity to learn much about the intricacies of the Republic's legal system, perhaps even to manage some of the public finances. It would be valuable political experience, preparing him for the rank above, the praetorship.

'Jupiter's balls, will you lighten up?' sneered Caelius, aware that without a powerful sponsor, he had no chance of election to such a post.

'The man has a point,' admitted Aufidius. 'Once in the magistracy, nights like this won't happen too often.'

'I'm aware of that.'

'Then stay out with us!'

'I would rather decide the path of the Republic. You can all screw the night away.'

'You're not the only one with an important job.'

'Forgive me,' he said quickly. 'I meant no insult.'

'Did you not?' Caelius gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles went white. 'Not a quaestor yet. You're still an equestrian, like us! Arrogant prick!'

The lean man's stare became icy and the pair locked eyes.

'Come now, Caelius,' Aufidius interjected. 'Sooner a whore soothes your brow, the better!'

The redhead forced a smile.

The other's eyes remained stony.

'It's Caelius' balls need soothing more than anything!'

Most laughed at the joke.

The equites continued drinking and talking, but the convivial air had been lost. Eventually conversation petered out altogether. In the tavern's din, it was noticeable only to those at the table.

'Who's for the Lupanar?' Aufidius drained his cup to a chorus of approval.

Following Caelius, the group weaved out on to the rutted surface of the street. Two prone bodies lay in the dirt a few steps from the door.

Caelius kicked the nearest in the belly. 'Won't forget us in a hurry.'

The lean man pursed his lips in disapproval.

They had not gone far when Caelius collided with a young girl hurrying through the semi-darkness. She was knocked to the ground and a basket of meat and vegetables went flying.

Recognising a slave by the light wrist chains, Caelius backhanded her across the face as she got up. 'Watch where you're going! Clumsy bitch!'

The girl fell back into the dried mud with a cry, her worn shift riding up slim, shapely legs.

'She meant no harm, Caelius,' said Aufidius, helping her up.

The young woman was about seventeen, very pretty, with dark hair and blue eyes. Uneasy in the presence of nobles, she bobbed her head in thanks.

'Sorry, Master,' she mumbled, turning to leave.

Caelius was having none of it. He had seen how attractive she was. Grabbing the front of the light woollen shift, he ripped it to the waist, revealing a pert pair of breasts. The girl cried out in terror and embarrassment, but Caelius' blood was up. He tore the dress completely off her shoulders.

She backed away and was instantly blocked by two of the others. Aware they could not help, the bodyguards moved discreetly into the shadows. There was no one else around to help a lone slave. From dusk to dawn, Rome's streets were the province of the lawless. Only the foolhardy ventured out without guards. Or a slave sent on an errand.

'Please, Master.' The girl's voice trembled. 'I meant no harm.'

Caelius grabbed her arm. 'This won't take long.'

There was a murmur of agreement. Only the lean man and Aufidius remained silent.

The girl moaned with fear.

'Let her go.'

'What did you say?' said Caelius incredulously.

'You heard me.'

'Rot in Hades!' Shaking with anger, Caelius took a step forward. 'She 's only a damn slave.'

The lean man plucked a long-bladed dagger from inside his toga. 'I am sick of you.' He held it nonchalantly by the tip. 'Do as I say.'

Caelius' eyes darted to the bodyguards.

Instantly the knife was poised to throw. 'I can put this through your heart before they come five paces.'

'Calm yourself, my friend,' said Aufidius, looking worried. 'No point anyone getting hurt.'

He smiled. 'That depends on Caelius.'

The rest watched the argument unfold. It had been brewing for months, and none of them wanted to oppose the powerful and ambitious noble.

Scowling furiously, Caelius released the girl.

The lean man beckoned her over. 'Enjoy the Lupanar,' he said, gesturing commandingly down the street.

'He disapproves of two lowlife citizens getting a beating, then stops an equestrian screwing a slave?' spat Caelius in an undertone. 'The prick is going soft. Or mad.'

'Neither.' Aufidius shook his head. 'He is far too shrewd.'

'What then?'

Aufidius ignored the question, clapping the redhead jovially on the back. 'It's time for more wine!'

Caelius let himself be led away and the others followed meekly, glad the argument had been settled without bloodshed.

It would not always be so.

'See you in the Senate tomorrow,' the lean man called after them.

He stood in silence, holding the slave until the group was some distance away. Two personal bodyguards waited in the shadows. The girl peered at him nervously, hoping to be released, but when the noble 's piercing gaze turned back, it was filled with lust. Tightening his grip, he dragged her towards an alleyway.

She whimpered with fear. It was obvious what was about to happen. Only the rapist had changed.

'Be quiet, or I'll hurt you.'

Glancing up from his latest pile of vomit, the burly equestrian saw the pair disappear. 'Probably planned it all, so he could have her to himself,' he muttered. 'That man will not stop at quaestor.'

'He'll be a consul before long,' complained Caelius. The redhead had not seen the girl's fate.

For centuries, Rome had been governed each year by two elected consuls, supported by military tribunes, judges and the Senate. It was a system that worked well if the participants complied with the law. Historically, the pair of officials, effective rulers of Rome, had changed every twelve months. This ancient statute had been passed to stop individuals from holding on to power. But since a civil war over enfranchisement thirty years before, Rome's democracy had been slipping into decline and the important positions had changed hands less than a dozen times in a generation. Ambitious nobles such as Marius, Cinna and Sulla had begun the trend, forcing a weakened Senate to let them retain the consulship long term. Now only a favoured few ever succeeded to the posts, which were jealously guarded by the richest and most powerful families in Italy. It took incredible drive to become a consul by sheer merit.

'The prick will make a mistake eventually,' snarled Caelius. 'Everyone does.' Still seething with anger, the redhead knew he was too drunk to outwit his enemy. Dragging his companion away, he staggered towards the Lupanar.

The lean man strode into the darkness, the girl held firmly by one arm. Waste and broken pottery discarded by the inhabitants of nearby houses littered the alley. Finding a suitable spot at last, he ripped her light shift off and shoved the slave to the ground. She fell awkwardly, exposing a triangle of dark hair at the base of her belly. Adjusting his toga, he swept open both legs with a foot and lowered himself to his knees. The girl cried out in terror. With a shove he entered her, sighing with pleasure.