Tarquinius was pleased by the insight. 'And the Parthians will have hardly any foot soldiers.'
'So how do they fight?' asked Brennus in surprise.
'Mounted archers. They attack in rapid waves, firing arrows.' Tarquinius plucked an imaginary bowstring. 'Storms of them.'
'Two thousand horse will struggle to contain those,' said Brennus.
'Precisely. And that's before the cataphracts charge.'
The word was unknown to Romulus and Brennus.
'Cataphracts – fully armoured mounts and riders.'
Romulus felt uneasy. 'Surely Crassus knows this too?'
'He is relying on the king of Armenia,' Tarquinius said thoughtfully. 'Artavasdes has up to six thousand cavalry.'
'That's all right then, surely?'
'If Crassus doesn't throw away the opportunity.'
They waited for him to continue. A stiff breeze sprang up and Romulus shivered. The army had seemed invincible.
Seemed.
'What do you mean?' Brennus was also concerned.
'First we have to march across Asia Minor, into Syria and Judaea,' said the Etruscan lightly. 'The stars and sea currents show several possible outcomes.'
Brennus relaxed. During the voyage, he had come to trust Tarquinius implicitly, his predictions of bad weather and sightings of pirates proving correct virtually every time.
'If Crassus marches us into Armenia with Artavasdes,' Tarquinius continued, 'we could be feasting in Seleucia in eighteen months!'
But Romulus was sceptical of Tarquinius' words, which plainly covered all outcomes. He had yet to be convinced of the soothsayer's power. The young soldier had persuaded himself that Tarquinius must have overheard him and Brennus talking about the fight outside the brothel. And anticipating the odd storm and the presence of pirates in wild backwaters was hardly proof of mystical ability.
At the mention of Seleucia, Brennus shivered. No Allobroge could ever have travelled that far, he thought. Is that where my journey will end?
They ran on, passing a group of senior officers clustered round a stocky man outside one of the camps. None even glanced at the three soldiers passing by. Sunlight reflected brightly off the central figure 's gilded breastplate.
Crassus was planning the campaign ahead.
'Our fates are in his hands,' said Romulus.
'It has already been decided,' pronounced Tarquinius. 'Our destinies are not linked for ever. And Crassus' fate is his own.'
Romulus increased his pace. There 'd been enough talk of ill omens and bad luck. All he wanted to do was to push himself physically, to forget everything else for a while. His friends would give him guidance when needed. Despite Tarquinius' predictions about the army's shortcomings, it was hard to imagine how such a massive force could possibly fail.
Chapter XIX: Fabiola and Brutus
More than fourteen months pass . . .
The Lupanar, Rome, spring 53 BC
In the lifetime that had gone by since Gemellus had sold Fabiola, she had grown into an extraordinarily beautiful woman. Sleek black hair fell in a mane to a narrow waist. Piercing blue eyes mesmerised anyone who gazed into them for more than a few heartbeats. A slightly aquiline nose added character to stunning looks. Her full breasts and sinuous figure reminded men of the goddess Venus.
Fabiola had not been in the Lupanar for long before word had spread of her incredible ability to please. After Brutus' first visit, Jovina decided to drop prices for the new girl only a fraction and it was a gamble that paid off richly. Despite her huge expense, she was soon the most popular prostitute.
The old madam began to earn a fortune from Fabiola alone. Within six months, her shrewd purchase from Gemellus had paid for itself many times over. In a rare gesture, Jovina even let Fabiola start keeping a slightly larger percentage than the other women. But her owner was still sharp as a blade. Fabiola was never allowed outside without company, nor was there any mention of manumission.
Her customers ranged from rich merchants to politicians and military officers – every part of the ruling class. Under her spell, many came to see Fabiola at least once a week and she was showered with expensive perfume, dresses and jewellery. Gifts were always welcome, particularly money, which was carefully locked away in an iron trunk. Every month, Benignus or Vettius escorted her to the Forum. There Fabiola deposited the cash with Greek moneylenders, where it earned a small amount of interest. The only way she could see of leaving the Lupanar was to accumulate wealth, and to leave was still her ambition. Fabiola rarely made a withdrawal, unless it was needed to buy information about Romulus.
Since the fateful night when Fabiola had missed seeing her twin outside the brothel, she had left no stone unturned in her search for him. But there seemed to be no sign of Romulus at all. Fabiola's only hope was based on the fact that she was unable to find out much about the inhabitants of the gladiator schools. There were just four in the city and only one of the lanistae, the owners of the ludi, was a regular visitor to the Lupanar. She was now sure that Romulus was not and had never been in the Ludus Dacicus. Its short, balding lanista was so infatuated with Fabiola that he had told her about practically every fighter that had entered the gates of his school. And although she knew it was likely that her brother had long since fled Rome, she longed to discover something – anything – about what had happened to him.
Fabiola learned the art of patience. No matter how long it took, she would wait until the opportunity arrived to discover her brother's fate.
Her climb to such popularity had made her surprisingly few enemies among the prostitutes. From the first day, Fabiola had made a deliberate policy of being friendly to the others – passing on customers, buying gifts, helping the girls who got sick. Some resented the beauty's meteoric rise to success, but they kept quiet. Doormen, cooks – even the madam – approved of Fabiola. She also struck up a quiet friendship with Docilosa, finding her loyal and discreet.
When one woman had several regulars, they were kept carefully apart. Where possible, visiting times were planned, so none even suspected a rival's existence. It was one of Jovina's strictest rules. Jealousy over popular girls had spilled over into bloodshed before and such things were very bad for business.
Sensing its obvious advantage, Fabiola kept rigidly to this arrangement. More than one client had appeared jealous at the mere idea that she saw other men. If they were to be used to the utmost, maximising her position of power, customers needed to relax the instant they walked through the Lupanar's door. Fabiola was not just a prostitute now. Aided by her natural intelligence, she had grown up fast. Sexual pleasure was only part of the experience. She was an expert at massaging tight muscles, washing off daily grime, feeding tasty morsels and making light conversation. While in her company, a customer felt like the most important man in the world. What he didn't realise was just how much information the beautiful young woman was gleaning from every visit.
Fabiola kept aware of current trends. All knowledge was power and a possible escape from the life she secretly detested. Bringing rich and powerful men under her influence could only help this. Learning how senators, members of the magistracy and army bargained and dealt with each other was fascinating. As a slave in Gemellus' house, Fabiola had had no idea of what went on in the world and how Rome was ruled. Now, after countless hours spent in the company of those who controlled the Republic, she understood it intimately.
For more than five years, Pompey, Crassus and Caesar had enjoyed a stranglehold on the reins of power. Each took his turn as consul and the best governorships were carefully shared. Corrupt equestrians took the rest. A small number of politicians, among them the senators Cato and Domitius, remained loyal to the Republic's original ideal – that no one man should have supreme power. But as a tiny minority, they rarely succeeded in slowing the inexorable decline of the Senate 's influence.
The triumvirate cleverly kept the ignorant masses happy with frequent munera – gladiator games and horse racing. Distributions of grain to those in need were made free. This resulted in massive influxes of the rural poor to Rome, creating an ever greater demand. Imports of wheat from Egypt soared, prices plummeted, Italian farms suffered. More landless peasants arrived in the cities, requiring more food and entertainment.
Desperate for employment, many joined the military, eager to comply with whatever their leaders ordered. Instead of answering to the Senate, legions were now loyal to generals like Caesar and Pompey. Romans were increasingly prepared to fight each other. It was a far cry from the days of farmers who had served the Republic's army each summer. The people's democracy, which had endured for half a millennium, was stealthily being eroded. If Fabiola's clients were right, it was only a matter of time before one of the triumvirate made a bid for absolute control. The balance of power swung this way and that, as deals and alliances between the three rivals were made and broken again.
Nobody knew who would emerge triumphant.
Although she was not lucky enough to have snared one of the triumvirate, there were several potential candidates for Fabiola's ultimate aim: a client to buy her freedom. As the mistress of a rich noble, she would have a real chance to pursue Gemellus and find out who her father was. Fabiola had not yet selected the unknowing customer. It was something that required careful planning. The decision would be life-changing in more ways than one.
One of the most likely was Decimus Brutus. As Julius Caesar's popularity grew with each passing year, so did that of his close allies. Tales of the general's outstanding tactics and victories against overwhelming odds filled Rome's bathhouses, markets and brothels with gossip. There were even stories about Brutus' victories against tribes such as the Veneti.
Fabiola was ecstatic.
Sent home by Caesar to canvass and maintain support among the equestrians and senators, the taker of Fabiola's virginity had returned permanently from Gaul two years later. Having made regular visits to the Lupanar each time he was in Rome, the staff officer had become totally infatuated with her. Every need and desire of his was slaked and the pillow talk he provided in return was worth more than that of all her other clients put together. It gave Fabiola a window on the thoughts of a military genius, the likes of whom had not been seen in generations.
'What a leader,' Brutus gushed. 'Alexander himself would have been proud to meet Julius Caesar.'
'Such devotion!' Fabiola raked his arm with long fingernails. 'And he deserves it all?'
'Of course.' Brutus' eyes shone with pride. 'You should have seen him last winter in Gaul. One night he slept amongst his men on the frozen ground, wrapped only in his cloak. The next morning, he turned a battle with the Eburones on its head. Sixty thousand tribesmen against seven thousand legionaries! Defeat was imminent until Caesar took a place in the front line. Covered himself in enemy blood. He rallied the men and rolled those savages back.'
Consummate at her job, Fabiola gasped with apparent amazement. She did not care for war and the suffering it caused. Brutus was so excited he did even not notice.