'It doesn't have to be like that! Men would follow you and Sextus to fight the Romans,' Romulus urged. 'Spartacus had an army of eighty thousand men at the end, all former slaves. It could work.'
The Gaul's eyes glinted. 'With Memor on the warpath, our life is only going to get harder,' he agreed. 'But this needs plenty of thought. We 'll speak to Sextus, see how the land lies. Decide who else to involve.'
'Soon,' warned Romulus.
'I know,' Brennus said heavily, draining his beaker. 'So let's enjoy tonight.'
Pleased, Romulus nodded. He saw there was little point pressing his friend further. Brennus had taken his words on board.
The big gladiator glanced casually around the room.
'Expecting trouble?'
'Call it previous experience.' The Gaul cracked his knuckles. 'Something kicks off in here at least once a night.'
'No fighting, remember?'
'I know. We can just watch.'
Romulus copied Brennus, turning his back on the bar.
It wasn't long before they heard raised voices, as the result of a nearby petteia game went against someone 's wishes. The carved wooden board flew into the air, scattering black and white stones everywhere. Conversation in the room ceased. Six legionaries, their faces flushed with drink, began pushing and shoving at each other across a table. Insults were traded and a couple of punches thrown before Macro swiftly intervened.
The doorman's approach was simple. He picked up two of the soldiers and cracked their heads together. Dropping the limp bodies like sacks of grain, Macro turned to face the men's companions, who rapidly sat down before suffering the same fate. Disturbance over, any customers watching took an immediate interest in the bottom of their wooden beakers. Macro waved a fist at the group and lumbered back to the door.
Gradually the noise level increased.
Romulus giggled, amused at how the quarrel had been settled and its effect on other drinkers. After three cups, the smooth red Falernian was beginning to taste like nectar. Reaching for the amphora again, he was shocked when Brennus' hand closed over his wrist.
'That's enough.'
'Why?' he asked truculently.
'You're drunk. And we're supposed to be avoiding trouble.'
'I can hold my drink.' Romulus was vaguely aware he was slurring.
'Really?' The Gaul's tone was stern. 'Where did you get the experience?'
There was no reply to the rebuke and Romulus fell into a sulky silence.
Gladiators were only allowed small quantities of wine with their food; served in the Roman tradition, it was heavily watered down. Brennus was used to quaffing the powerful beverage neat, but it was going straight to Romulus' head.
They stood without speaking for some time. Brennus drank more wine, keeping an eye out for trouble. Romulus took surreptitious peeps at Julia. To his embarrassment, the voluptuous slave caught him on several occasions.
Eventually she approached.
Romulus stared at her dumbly, lacking the courage to break the ice.
'What age are you?' Julia's manner was direct.
'Seventeen.' From the corner of his eye he saw Brennus glance over, but thankfully the Gaul did not give away the truth. 'Nearly.'
'So young for a gladiator. Only a year older than me.' Julia sighed. 'How did you end up in the Ludus Magnus?'
'Got sold after my master heard about me training with a sword.' A wave of guilt washed over Romulus, and he clenched his jaw. 'That wasn't so bad. I always wanted to learn how to fight. But the bastard said he would sell Fabiola as well. To a whorehouse.' He spat the last words.
'Fabiola?'
'My twin sister.'
'All that for using a weapon?' Julia clicked her tongue with sympathy. 'Must have been more to it.'
Suddenly Romulus remembered Gemellus' tantrums in the days leading up to his sale, the response when he had read Crassus' reply. Could Julia have a point? Perhaps it wasn't all his fault. The guilt eased slightly and he smiled.
'What about you?'
'Me?' Julia seemed surprised he should ask. 'Born a slave. Sold at twelve for my looks.' She shrugged. 'Should be grateful I wasn't sold to a brothel like your sister.'
'I'm very glad,' Romulus blurted.
'How sweet.' Julia smiled. 'Most men who come in here are only interested in one thing.'
Romulus swallowed hard, trying to stifle the lustful thoughts filling his mind.
'Where is she now?' Julia asked.
'Don't know. Haven't seen her or Mother since.'
'I've heard nothing about my family either.' Julia's face grew sad. 'Perhaps one day Publius will grant me manumission and I can find them.'
'Doesn't sound as if that's likely.'
'No,' she admitted. 'Publius is not a generous man. I need more money than I could ever save. Customers as generous as Brennus are rare.'
'I would buy your freedom,' he said on impulse. 'We get well paid in the ludus. Brennus makes a fortune!'
'Why do that?'
Romulus ignored the question. 'You shouldn't be a slave!'
'Neither should the thousands in the houses and workshops of Rome.'
'I like you,' risked Romulus.
'Thank you.' Julia reached out to touch his cheek. 'But save to buy your own freedom.'