The Forgotten Legion

seemed that after three failed attempts at murder, the gods were indeed watching over her. She could only pray that they were doing the same for Romulus.

When the solution finally came to her, Fabiola creased her face in apparent pain. Complaining of a violent stomach ache, she left the bathing area and retired to her room. Several noisy visits to the toilet later, everyone within earshot knew that Fabiola was suffering from a bout of food poisoning. Shortly after that, her face touched with a dusting of white lead, Fabiola had begged one of the other women to inform Jovina that she might not be able to work that night.

The hours before sunset were generally quiet ones. Fabiola knelt alone before her altar to Jupiter, praying for it to remain so. She needed an opportunity to get out of the brothel without being seen. This was the most risky part of her endeavour. Her alibi would rest on the fact that everyone thought she was in her room, as sick as a dog.

The gods were smiling on Fabiola still.

Peace fell on the Lupanar as the prostitutes rested and slept in their cells. Not a single customer appeared that afternoon either and Jovina retired to her room for a rare nap. None of the bored women in the anteroom beside reception was paying attention as Pompeia left, accompanied by Vettius. A few moments later, Fabiola stole past, wearing a long cloak with the hood raised. Benignus remained by the entrance, nervously turning his club in his hands. Both doormen wanted to be part of Fabiola's plan, but one had to stay behind and Vettius had refused to do so. The proof of the redhead's treachery had enraged him so much that he insisted on being her chaperon when she left.

It was a simple matter for Fabiola to follow the pair from a distance.

Once the divination was over, Vettius knew where she would be waiting.

Still musing over the favourable prediction given her by the soothsayer, Pompeia barely had time to protest before she found herself in an alleyway, ten steps off the narrow street that led back towards the brothel. Twice her size, Vettius was well used to manhandling rich clients out of the brothel without hurting them.

Immediately the noise of oxen pulling carts and traders touting for business seemed further away. The poor amount of light that had been on offer fell to a dim twilight that made it hard to see. Broken pottery and rotten vegetables covered the rough ground, mixed with human waste, dirty straw and spent charcoal from the braziers that kept the miserable insulae warm. A mangy dog that was nosing about for food barked once and ran off, startled by the intrusion.

Thinking Vettius wanted his way with her, Pompeia turned coy. 'Never knew you were interested, big man.' She flashed a practised smile. 'Here 's not the place, though. Come to my room tomorrow morning after I've finished work. You'll not regret it.'

The doorman did not reply. With a blank face, he pushed the redhead deeper into the alley. Always useful in street fights, a sheathed gladius hung from a strap over his right shoulder.

'Can't wait? Typical man.' Without protesting further, Pompeia came to a halt and began to shrug off her robe. 'Come on, then. It's cleaner here.'

Something flew through the air to land at her feet.

Even in the poor light, it was recognisable as a snake 's head. Pompeia screamed and jumped back, her mouth open wide with shock.

The look on her former friend's face told Fabiola all she needed to know. She stepped out of the shadows, raising Vettius' dagger threateningly.

Pompeia's features turned ashen. This was no easy coupling to keep the doorman sweet. She backed away, her feet unsteady on rubbish and shards of terracotta. 'Please,' she begged. 'Don't hurt me.'

'Why not?' Fabiola barked. 'You've tried to do the same to me. Three times. And I've done nothing to you.'

Fat tears of self-pity formed in the corners of Pompeia's eyes. 'You take all the best customers,' she whimpered.

'There are plenty to go around,' Fabiola hissed. 'And I'm only doing it for my brother.'

'He's long dead,' replied Pompeia viciously. 'The augur swore it.' Despite the magnitude of the situation, vitriol still filled her.

Knowing the remark could well be true, rage overwhelmed Fabiola. Without even thinking, her dagger whipped up and pricked the redhead's throat. It was very gratifying to see terror in Pompeia's eyes. Yet Fabiola was still loath to kill her. She breathed deeply, calming herself. There had to be another way.

Pompeia sensed a chance. 'Kill me and you'll be executed,' she spat. 'You know what Jovina's like.'

She did not realise it, but the comment was her death sentence.

The account of a prostitute who had tried to murder the old madam years before was well known. First she had been tortured with hot irons, and then blinded. Finally, the unfortunate woman had been crucified on the Campus Martius while everyone in the Lupanar had been forced to watch. The story kept all the slaves in line. Almost all.

Fabiola knew now that there was no other way. Pompeia was so twisted with malice that she could never be trusted. The whole plan would have to be followed. Looking down at the mangled snake 's head, she hardened her heart. There would have been no mercy for her.

'Fool,' Fabiola announced quietly. 'Jovina thinks I am in bed with an upset stomach.'

Pompeia's mouth opened and closed.

'And Vettius did his best to fight off the collegia thugs, but there 's only so much one man can do against eight others.'

Panic-stricken, the redhead's eyes turned to the doorman.

Drawing the gladius, Vettius shrugged eloquently, drawing its edge along his left forearm. Blood welled from the long cut and he smiled at the pain. 'The madam will need evidence that I was attacked,' he said mildly. 'I'll walk into a couple of pillars on the way back just to make sure.'

Realising that her fate was sealed, Pompeia screamed. It was a futile gesture. There was no chance that anyone would come to her aid. Few citizens were brave enough to intervene in street disputes, let alone venture into tiny alleys. She moved uncertainly a few steps forward, and then back.

There was no escape.

Vettius was blocking one end of the alleyway; Fabiola stood at the other. Both had set, determined stares.

The redhead opened her mouth to cry out again. It was the last thing she did.

Darting in, Fabiola slashed Pompeia's throat wide open with her dagger. She stepped back quickly as blood poured from the gaping wound. With a startled expression distorting her pale features, Pompeia slumped silently to the dirt and rolled to lie face down between Fabiola and the huge doorman. Red liquid pooled around her.

'My brother is alive.' Clinging to that hope, Fabiola spat on the corpse. This is how Romulus must have felt in the arena, she thought. Kill or be killed. It was as simple as that.

Vettius was filled with awe. He had always known that Fabiola was clever and beautiful, but here was graphic evidence of her ruthlessness. She was not just a helpless woman who needed his protection. Here was someone to follow: someone to lead him. He was brought back to reality by Fabiola's voice.

'Let me bind that before you lose too much blood.' Producing a piece of cloth, Fabiola wound it tightly around Vettius' arm.

He smiled his thanks as she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. There was an unspoken bond between them now.

'Wait here for a while. I need time to get back without being noticed.'

Vettius nodded.

'Make plenty of noise when you get inside,' ordered Fabiola. 'I'll be able to get up from my sickbed, hear you tell Jovina what happened to poor Pompeia.'

'Yes, Mistress.'

It was only later that Fabiola remembered how the doorman had addressed her.

He was her follower now, rather than Jovina's.

There had been little that Jovina could say when Vettius staggered into the brothel, covered in blood. His story had been most compelling and, wary of more trouble, the madam immediately banned all the prostitutes from leaving until further notice.