'He wants to escape this damn heat!' remarked Sulinus, a thickset slave.
There was a general murmur of agreement. It was fearsomely hot. The uncut wheat shimmered and swayed, baking in the sun.
Tarquinius remained silent, letting the drone of cicadas fill the air.
'So?' Dexter rubbed absentmindedly at an old scar.
'So what?' Alarmed at the foreman's sudden interest, Tarquinius feigned surprise.
'Does that crazy soothsayer eat meat every day?'
'Only if he finds a dead lamb or kid.' Tarquinius' mouth watered. He had eaten freshly roasted meat with Olenus countless times. 'Not otherwise. The master wouldn't allow it.'
'The master!' Dexter scoffed. 'Caelius hasn't a bloody clue how many sheep and goats are up there. He 's often said that eight lambs for every ten ewes per year is enough.'
'That's a poor return,' added Maurus spitefully.
'Olenus is the only one who will herd on the peak.' Sulinus made the sign against evil. 'Too many spirits and wild beasts around those cities of the dead.'
Fear filled the men's eyes.
Streets of tombs in the graveyards near the ruins of Falerii were a powerful reminder of the area's history and few on the latifundium dared go near them, even in daylight. The whole mountain had a name for freak storms, packs of wolves and harsh weather, a place where the Etruscan gods still lingered.
'That's why Caelius leaves him be.' Tarquinius wanted to change the focus of conversation, the nightmare fresh in his mind. 'This section is nearly finished.' He pointed at the field. 'We could have it stacked by sunset.'
Dexter was surprised. Normally it took threats to get the men moving after a break. He sank another beaker of water. 'Back to work, boys. Don't make me use this,' he growled, tapping the whip on his belt.
The workers trudged across short stubble towards the remaining wheat, some casting resentful glances at Tarquinius. But none dared to resist the overseer's iron will. Or his whip. Dexter had been hired to keep everyone in line and he did so with brutal force.
Fulvia waited until the others had walked some distance before she handed over the cloth bundle with a sly smile.
'My thanks, Mother.' He planted a kiss on her brow.
'The gods bless you,' Fulvia said proudly.
'Dexter?' The moment his mother had turned the cart, Tarquinius hurried after the burly vilicus. 'Some tasty goat's cheese for you.'
'Show it here!' Dexter reached out with eager hands. He tasted a piece and smiled. 'My compliments to Fulvia. Where did she get this?'
'She has her ways.' Everyone knew kitchen workers were able to obtain foods that others could only dream of. 'I was hoping . . .'
'To finish early today?' Dexter guffawed. 'That'd take more than a lump of cheese. Caelius would have my balls if he caught you skiving again.'
'It's not that.' Tarquinius was risking a beating by speaking out of turn, but the look he had seen on Dexter's face was worrying him. 'I was hoping you might tell me if the master was planning anything. For Olenus.'
Dexter's eyes narrowed.
The haruspex had long existed on the periphery of estate life, tolerated only because of his skills with animals and his isolated lifestyle. Like most Romans, Caelius strongly disapproved of anyone practising ancient Etruscan rituals and Dexter was no different.
Tarquinius sensed the foreman knew something.
Neither spoke for several moments.
'Get me some meat and I'll consider it,' Dexter replied. 'Now get back to work.'
Tarquinius did as he was told. As soon as the wheat was harvested, he would offer to hunt some wolves. Knowing that predators had been decimating flocks on the lower slopes this summer, Caelius might just let him off before the olives and grapes were taken in.
And once up the mountain, he could easily kill a lamb for Dexter. It was a gamble whether the overseer would keep his side of the bargain, but he had no other way of discovering what Caelius might have planned. After years of Olenus' tutoring, Tarquinius' senses were extremely sharp. His dream had been followed by Dexter's interrogation and he felt sure something was about to happen to the haruspex.
'Put some energy into it!' Dexter cracked his whip. 'You're the one who wanted to get back to work early.'
Tarquinius took hold of a bundle of wheat in his left hand, holding it steady for the scythe. In one smooth movement, he stooped and cut the ripe stalks close to the ground, placed them behind him, turned back and grabbed another bunch. On either side, the men were performing the same rhythmic movement, moving steadily forward into the crop. It was a task Etruscans had been doing here at harvest time for hundreds of years and the knowledge calmed Tarquinius as he worked, imagining his ancestors before the Roman invaders had come.
Chapter II: Velvinna
Rome, 70 BC
Not far from the Forum, seven young nobles picked their way along a dusty side street. Expensive white togas were stained with wine, the result of a prolonged drinking bout. Half the taverns across the seven hills had been visited that day. The men talked in loud, arrogant tones, uncaring who might hear. Slaves armed with cudgels and knives paced behind, torches in hand.
There was a loud curse as a burly figure at the rear stumbled and fell against the wall of a house. He doubled over and was sick, narrowly missing his leather sandals.
'Come on!' A thin, clean-shaven man with an aquiline nose and short haircut barked with amusement. 'We have hours more drinking to do!'
A shutter banged open above. 'Do that somewhere else, you bastard!'
Wiping vomit from his lips, the big noble stared up into the darkness. 'I am an equestrian of the Republic. Puke where I want. Now piss off unless you want a good beating!'
Intimidated by the speaker's rank and his bodyguards, the householder quickly withdrew.
There were roars of laughter from the drunken men.
It was a foolish person who took on a group of the nobility. All citizens were supposedly equal, but Rome was really ruled by an elite of senators, equestrians or equites, and the richest landowners. Together the families that made up the aristocracy formed a clique that was virtually impossible to join, except with great wealth. A few individuals from this small class controlled the Republic's fate.
The burly man retched again. 'Bloody plebeians,' he said, placing a meaty hand on his companion's shoulder. 'Take it easy, old friend. My legs aren't working too well.'
'Plebs are good for little,' agreed his companion. 'Except manual labour and the army.'
Most of his companions smiled, but the stocky redhead at the front spoke impatiently. 'Get a move on! Still got to reach the Lupanar!'
The nobles perked up at the mention of Rome's most famous brothel.
Its specialities were known throughout Italy. Even the drunkest ones looked interested.
'Never happy unless you have a screw, eh Caelius?' the lean man replied, a slight edge to his voice.
'Best whorehouse in the city. You should try it some time.' Caelius rubbed his hands together in anticipation. 'Nowhere better for beautiful women after a skinful.'