The Silver Eagle

Tread carefully, thought Fabiola. Although he had been deeply affected by her words after Pharsalus, Brutus still loved Caesar. ‘I’m worried about you.’ She was not lying. Hand-to-hand combat at night was very dangerous, and the Roman casualties had been heavy. Brutus was dear to her, but he was also her sponsor and protector. Without him, Fabiola would lose all the security in her life. Prostitution would beckon again. It might only be for one client, but the reality would be no different. Fabiola did not allow herself even to contemplate this option.

Brutus’ face softened. ‘Mars will protect me,’ he said. ‘He always does.’

‘And Mithras,’ replied Fabiola. She was gratified by his pleased nod.

‘Caesar plans to do more than just regain the harbour tonight. He’s sending me back to Rome so I can take counsel with Marcus Antonius, and assemble more reinforcements,’ Brutus revealed. A sudden scowl twisted his mouth. ‘He also ordered me to leave you here. Apparently you’ll distract me from my duties.’

Fabiola stared at him, aghast at that possibility. ‘What did you say?’

‘I stood up to him. Argued the point,’ answered Brutus stoutly. ‘Politely, of course.’

‘And?’

‘He wasn’t too happy,’ grinned Brutus. ‘But I’m one of his best officers, so he gave in eventually. Happy now?’

Surprised and delighted, Fabiola hugged him fiercely. She had had enough of this hot, foreign place.

And if Caesar survived, she would be waiting for him. In Rome.

By late afternoon, the caravan was encamped in a secure location by Lake Mareotis, which flowed right to the city walls. Donning their armour and weapons, the two friends readied themselves as best they could. They had made use of badly made shields and shoddy iron helmets while serving with Ahmed, but these had been left behind on the dhow.

‘I suppose we should be grateful,’ said Romulus, throwing a light woollen cloak over his shoulders. He felt naked at the prospect of meeting hostile troops without proper equipment. ‘No one will take a second look at us.’

‘Exactly. That’s the point,’ replied Tarquinius, who was wearing one as well. He pulled out a silver chain which always hung round his neck. On it was a small gold ring, which was finely decorated with a scarab beetle. For the first time that Romulus could remember, the haruspex put it on.

‘What’s that for?’

Tarquinius smiled. ‘It will bring us good luck.’

‘We need plenty of that,’ said Romulus, casting his eyes at the heavens. Now prepared to interpret what he saw, Romulus could read nothing, and his friend would answer no questions at all. Once again, he had to trust in the gods. It was a completely helpless feeling, but Romulus gritted his teeth and readied himself. There was no other way.

Calling down the blessings of his own deities, Hiero also provided them with a good description of the city layout. This would be invaluable. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ the old bestiarius counselled. ‘Find out what you can and come back here safely.’

‘We will,’ replied Tarquinius, his face impassive.

They all gripped forearms in the Roman manner.

It felt as if they would never see Hiero again, and Romulus could bear it no longer.

‘Have you ever had dealings with Roman merchants?’

The bestiarius looked surprised. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I’ve done business with them all. Noblemen, merchants, lanistae.’

‘Anyone called Gemellus?’

Hiero scratched his head. ‘My memory is not what it was.’

‘It’s important,’ said Romulus, leaning closer.

Curious, Hiero decided not to ask why. There was a fierce, intimidating look in the other’s eyes. He thought for a moment. ‘Gemellus. ’

Romulus waited.

‘I remember,’ the bestiarius said at last. ‘From the Aventine?’

A pulse hammered in Romulus’ throat. ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘Like me.’

Tarquinius frowned.

‘A friend of yours?’ demanded Hiero.

‘Not exactly,’ Romulus replied, keeping his tone neutral. ‘Merely an old acquaintance.’

The bestiarius did not react to the obvious lie. It was nothing to him. ‘Gemellus, yes. He invested a third share in a venture of mine nearly ten years ago.’

‘That’s about right,’ agreed Romulus, feeling a pang of deep sadness. Fabiola had been there too, eavesdropping on Gemellus while he planned his involvement.

‘The whole affair was cursed from start to finish.’ Hiero scowled at the memory. ‘Many animals seemed to know where the traps were, and those we did catch were poor specimens. I lost dozens of men to strange fevers and afflictions. Then the Nile flooded on the way back, so it took twice the normal time to reach Alexandria.’ He paused for effect.

Romulus nodded in apparent sympathy. Inside, though, he was fuming. Even a few wild beasts would make a man’s fortune. No doubt Gemellus was still enjoying the proceeds.

‘That’s not all,’ sighed the old man. ‘Often I sell the animals on the dock at Alexandria, but Gemellus wrote demanding that we take them to Italy.’

Tarquinius sucked in a breath, feeling rather stupid. How could he have not realised before? A winter afternoon in Rome, eight years earlier. Gemellus, a merchant from the Aventine, desperately wanting a prophecy. The bad omens that resulted from it. Ships with their holds full of wild beasts, crossing the sea.

Romulus was so caught up in the bestiarius’ tale that he did not notice. ‘That makes perfect sense. You’d get a far better price there.’

Hiero nodded. ‘For that reason, I foolishly agreed to his request. Thank the gods that I travelled on a lightly laden liburnian, not one of the cargo vessels.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There were freak storms on the voyage across,’ revealed the bestiarius gloomily. ‘Every last transport sank and all the animals drowned. I lost an absolute fortune.’

Tarquinius brought back every possible detail of the merchant whom he had met outside Jupiter’s temple on the Capitoline Hill. Ill-tempered, fat and depressed, Gemellus had been crushed by his revelations. The last of these had been the most powerful. One day there will be a knock on your door. At the time, there had been far more important things on the haruspex’ mind, and he had not really pondered the significance of what he had seen. An unknown stranger’s worries were of little concern to him. Now though, it made perfect sense. Gemellus had been Romulus’ owner.

Oblivious to Tarquinius, Romulus could barely conceal his exultation. ‘And Gemellus?’

Hiero shrugged. ‘The same. His investment of one hundred and twenty thousand sestertii is still lying on the bottom of the Mediterranean.’

‘Gemellus is ruined?’ Laughing aloud, Romulus clapped the bestiarius on the shoulder. ‘That’s the best news I’ve had in years!’

‘Why?’ Hiero looked confused. ‘What’s it to you?’

Guilt suffused Tarquinius that he had not made the connection before, and told Romulus. It was a failing of his to focus entirely on grand issues when smaller ones, like this, could make such a difference. Yet he rarely told his protege anything. I have become too secretive, he thought sadly. And I love him like a son. More remorse washed over Tarquinius. Deep down, the haruspex knew that his fear of revealing why he had fled Italy was the cause of his reticence. Wary of letting this information slip, he had deprived Romulus of a possible source of hope.

I have to tell him. Before it’s too late.

Hiero’s eyes narrowed. ‘Did Gemellus owe you money?’

‘Something like that,’ said Romulus evasively.

The old man waited to see if any more information would be forthcoming.

It was not, and the two friends prepared to leave.

The last piece of news had altered Romulus’ black mood for the better. Tarquinius was pleased by this.