Toga-clad figures lay in the dirt, one with a large red stain on his chest. Slaves stood by uncertainly while the surviving nobles roared after their assailants.
The madam took in the scene at a glance. 'Take three of these fools,' she said crisply to Benignus. 'Go to the Forum and bring the lictor and his men. Tell him that Rufus Caelius has been murdered.'
The doorman nodded with relief at the command. This situation was beyond his ability to deal with. He reached up and pulled a torch from the wall. Beckoning to the others, Benignus went off at a trot.
Fabiola watched with wide eyes, listening to the irate conversation. Such an attack was unheard of at the brothel and she felt a surge of pleasure at the thought. The equestrians had been arrogant in the extreme, especially the dead red-haired one. He had been very rough with her, almost to the point where she had to call for help. Caelius was no loss as far as Fabiola was concerned.
She sensed movement behind her. Vettius stood in the doorway, weaving slightly.
'You all right?'
He nodded, a strange look in his eyes.
'Vettius?'
'Funny thing. The second one was your spitting image.'
Fabiola's stomach turned over. Romulus! Joy surged through her at the realisation that her twin was alive. She muttered a swift prayer of thanks to Jupiter. Aware that she must give nothing away, Fabiola instantly spun back to see what the madam was doing. Jovina had an uncanny ability to hear the quietest whisper. Thankfully she was out of earshot, busy trying to placate the nobles.
'Got sold to a gladiator school, didn't he?'
She nodded, emotion welling up at the vivid memory.
'Strong looking type too,' said the doorman, rubbing his nose and wincing. 'Tried to get me to join 'em.'
Pride mixed with grief. Her brother had survived more than a year in the arena. He would be a man by now, with many victories under his belt. People might know who Romulus was at last. She would be able to find out which ludus he was in. 'Not a word about this,' she hissed, eyes flashing. 'Or his friend.'
Vettius swallowed. 'Course not,' he said. 'But the others recognised the Gaul too.'
Distraught, Fabiola stared into the darkness. The killing of a noble by a gladiator was an outrage and no effort would be spared to find the man responsible. The lictores would soon extract the same information from every witness. Legal evidence from slaves was inadmissible unless obtained by torture and the eunuchs Nepos and Tancinus would bleat like lambs. That meant returning to their school would provide no safety for Romulus and his companion. And even if the pair escaped from the city, they would still be fugitives from justice. Whatever small chance there had been of finding her brother was completely gone.
Fabiola's spirits fell into the abyss.
They could hear shutters opening above as people woken by the racket looked out.
'What's going on?' a voice called.
Ignoring the shout, they sprinted round a corner, on to a street that Romulus finally recognised.
'Slow down,' the Gaul muttered, breathing heavily. 'Be no pursuit until reinforcements arrive.'
Romulus had been thinking hard. 'Nobody back there knows us,' he said, smiling.
'We are in deep shit.' Brennus seemed not to have heard. 'Nothing for it,' he muttered. 'We must flee. Right now.'
Romulus was confused. 'Leave?'
'Be crucified before sunset if we don't.' Brennus sounded unusually serious.
'Why?'
'The halfwit doorman recognised me! As a gladiator,' replied Brennus. 'How many Gauls my size are there in Rome?'
Romulus felt his life slipping completely out of control. 'I only used the hilt of my sword,' he said faintly. 'I'm sorry.'
'It is done.' There was sadness in Brennus' eyes, but his gaze did not waver. 'By dawn, there will be soldiers searching every school in the city. Find me and they have you. Our time in Rome is over.'
Romulus heard the truth in his friend's words but did not want to believe it. There would be no slave rebellion. No meeting with Julia.
There was silence before Brennus spoke again.
'Those patrician bastards will kill us both very slowly while listening to our screams of innocence. Seen it too many times before. I'm not waiting for that.' He turned and strode towards the ludus.
'Stop!' Romulus hissed. 'What are you going to do?'
'Say goodbye to Astoria and pick up some weapons.' Brennus' teeth flashed white in the semi-darkness. He was exhilarated at the prospect of his journey beginning once again. 'Then I'm heading for Brundisium. Nobody will know me there and I can enlist in Crassus' army. Coming, brother?'
Romulus hesitated, but for the briefest of moments. His one chance of survival was to stick with Brennus. He followed the Gaul through the early morning light to the Ludus Magnus, wondering if he would ever return. If he would ever see Julia again.
Chapter XVIII: Flight
Southern Italy, autumn 55 BC
Abandoning their life in Rome on the spot, the friends crept out of the city's gates at dawn. They first passed south along the Via Appia, between the large tombs where the wealthy were buried. Few of the area's population of cut-price whores and thieves were awake to see them go by. Aware that their appearance would draw attention, they cut into the fields as soon as it was full light. Two heavily armed men who were not legionaries would mean bandits or runaway slaves to most citizens and so the whole journey was made across country, usually in the early mornings or late afternoons. Romulus and Brennus wanted to meet no one and avoided farmhouses and towns at all costs.
A quick raid on the ludus' kitchen before leaving provided bread, cheese and vegetables to last several days. Brennus took his bow as well as other weapons, allowing him to hunt for deer and boar as they travelled. Both men carried leather water bags which they filled regularly from streams. The cold weather meant that sleeping rough each night was not easy, but huddling in blankets under rough shelters, the clear sky above them glittering with thousands of stars, was better than crucifixion.
Latifundia, massive estates owned by the rich, dotted Campania and Apulia, the regions south of Rome. Romulus was amazed by the fields and hillsides covered in wheat, vines, olive and fruit trees. At night the groves supplied them with apples, plums and pears, juicy food that the young man had rarely tasted before. In daylight, impotent rage filled Romulus as he spied the countless miserable slaves working the farms, their ankles manacled together. Supervisors stood over each group, their whips ready to use at the slightest opportunity.
Every estate was the same.
Romulus quickly realised that the whole country ran on slave labour. No wonder Rome was so wealthy, when tens of thousands of its subjects had to work for nothing. The two friends had endless debates as they marched, Romulus imagining that they had killed Memor and started a second slave rebellion instead of ruining it all by visiting Publius' tavern. He still had very mixed feelings about that night. Because they had gone out, he had met Julia. Although he knew it was only an infatuation, the thought of her still made his heart flutter. The feeling was mixed with guilt at what might have been. If they had refrained from going out, perhaps they would have been marching past those very latifundia by now, freeing the slaves instead of skulking past like animals.
Brennus had not grasped the extent of the Republic's captive population before either, and was similarly outraged. On their journey he observed workers of every race and creed under the sun. Rome's appetite for slaves was insatiable, fed purely by war, and the annihilation of the Allobroges was obviously far from unique. To end up on Italian latifundia, those he saw must have suffered as he had done. It was abhorrent to him, but Brennus felt powerless to change things. He was no Spartacus. A warrior, yes. Not a general. He had been feeling guilty about not escaping the ludus sooner, but that was ebbing now. Maybe their rebellion would have succeeded. But more probably it wouldn't have. And how could Ultan's words have made any sense if he was fighting battles up and down the peninsula?
A journey beyond where any Allobroge has gone. The phrase had become Brennus' mantra; everything else paled before it. It was only by seeing the druid's prophecy fulfilled that he could imagine justifying his decision to flee, rather than to defend, his village six years before.
The two friends covered nearly three hundred miles in less than twenty days.
There had been plenty of time to brood.
Seeing the slave population had increased both men's desire to discard all memories of their own captivity. Romulus' and Brennus' brands were permanent evidence of their status and discovery once they were in the army would mean instant crucifixion. After a quick discussion, they agreed that there could only be one solution. Having found a suitable grove in the hills above Brundisium, Brennus had lit a fire and sharpened his dagger until it could shave a man. Encouraging Romulus to bite down on a piece of wood, he had heated the blade over the flames before removing the hated letters 'LM' with a few deft cuts. Blood ran down Romulus' arm in little lines and dripped to the ground. His eyes bulging in pain, he watched as the Gaul closed the wound using lengths of gut from an unravelled spare bowstring.
Brennus grinned. 'Might not be pretty, but it'll do. Keep it hidden for a while, and if anyone sees, you can say it was from a sword cut.'
The crude sutures would leave a rough scar, nothing like the neat work of the Greek surgeons in Rome who were paid by wealthy ex-slaves to remove their brands. Romulus didn't care. Memor's proof of ownership was gone for ever. But when he pulled out his own knife a moment later and reached for the Gaul's leg, Brennus stopped him.