Angry shouts of agreement rang out.
'There is another option.'
Seeing Tarquinius translating his words, the priest smiled and pointed eastwards with his dagger.
Everyone turned to the Etruscan.
'We can join the Parthian army and fight their enemies.'
'Wage war for them?' Felix was incredulous.
'Same job. Different masters,' said Brennus. After the horror of the executions, he had recovered his poise. 'Where?'
'The far borders of their empire.'
'To the east,' the big Gaul added calmly.
Tarquinius nodded.
Romulus was also unperturbed but the legionaries were terrified.
'Can we trust them?' Felix scowled as guards prodded Crassus' limp body with spears.
'Make your own choice.' Tarquinius raised his eyebrows. 'They have left us alive this long and shown us Crassus' death as an example.' He turned to face the men behind and shouted out their choices.
When Tarquinius had finished, the bearded priest called to him again.
'We must choose now!' cried the Etruscan. 'If you want crucifixion, raise your right hand!'
Not one hand went up.
'Do you want to die like Crassus?'
No reaction.
Tarquinius paused. Sweat was rolling down his face, but he was utterly controlled as he delivered the ultimatum.
Romulus frowned. The Etruscan was almost too calm.
'Join the Parthian army?'
Silence filled the air. Even the crucified officers' groans were inaudible. The crowd watched with bated breath.
Romulus raised his eyebrows at Brennus.
The Gaul raised his right hand. 'It is the only sensible choice,' he said. 'This way we stay alive.' And I will meet my destiny.
He lifted an arm in the air and Tarquinius did the same.
Around them a sea of hands rose as the other prisoners slowly accepted their fate. It was unlikely that their comrades in the stockades would argue with their decision.
The priest nodded with satisfaction.
Ten thousand legionaries would march east.
Chapter XXVIII: Manumission
Rome, autumn 53 BC
It had taken a while for Fabiola to decide on the best method of dealing with Pompeia. There had been time to think while she washed her bloody bedding and Vettius disposed of the snake 's body down the sewer. After that, acting normally and secure in the knowledge that Vettius was staying within earshot, Fabiola had calmly joined the group of women in the baths.
Pompeia's face had first turned grey with shock; then it had flushed with anger. But with so many others present, she could do nothing. There had been an uneasy silence as the other prostitutes watched the two enemies. Feigning complete ignorance, Fabiola filled the air with bright conversation about the forthcoming public holiday, which usually saw even more business than usual. Gradually the atmosphere relaxed.
As Fabiola suspected, Pompeia was not to be put off. This was exactly what she wanted. The redhead soon made her excuses, climbed out of the warm water and went to the madam. With Benignus eavesdropping, Fabiola quickly knew that Pompeia had managed to wheedle permission from Jovina to leave the brothel later. Apparently she wanted to consult a soothsayer about her best client. Of course she really wanted to know whether it was still possible to kill Fabiola, perhaps even buy more poison. The black-haired girl smiled grimly at that thought. It seemed that after three failed attempts at murder, the gods were indeed watching over her. She could only pray that they were doing the same for Romulus.
When the solution finally came to her, Fabiola creased her face in apparent pain. Complaining of a violent stomach ache, she left the bathing area and retired to her room. Several noisy visits to the toilet later, everyone within earshot knew that Fabiola was suffering from a bout of food poisoning. Shortly after that, her face touched with a dusting of white lead, Fabiola had begged one of the other women to inform Jovina that she might not be able to work that night.
The hours before sunset were generally quiet ones. Fabiola knelt alone before her altar to Jupiter, praying for it to remain so. She needed an opportunity to get out of the brothel without being seen. This was the most risky part of her endeavour. Her alibi would rest on the fact that everyone thought she was in her room, as sick as a dog.
The gods were smiling on Fabiola still.
Peace fell on the Lupanar as the prostitutes rested and slept in their cells. Not a single customer appeared that afternoon either and Jovina retired to her room for a rare nap. None of the bored women in the anteroom beside reception was paying attention as Pompeia left, accompanied by Vettius. A few moments later, Fabiola stole past, wearing a long cloak with the hood raised. Benignus remained by the entrance, nervously turning his club in his hands. Both doormen wanted to be part of Fabiola's plan, but one had to stay behind and Vettius had refused to do so. The proof of the redhead's treachery had enraged him so much that he insisted on being her chaperon when she left.
It was a simple matter for Fabiola to follow the pair from a distance.
Once the divination was over, Vettius knew where she would be waiting.
Still musing over the favourable prediction given her by the soothsayer, Pompeia barely had time to protest before she found herself in an alleyway, ten steps off the narrow street that led back towards the brothel. Twice her size, Vettius was well used to manhandling rich clients out of the brothel without hurting them.
Immediately the noise of oxen pulling carts and traders touting for business seemed further away. The poor amount of light that had been on offer fell to a dim twilight that made it hard to see. Broken pottery and rotten vegetables covered the rough ground, mixed with human waste, dirty straw and spent charcoal from the braziers that kept the miserable insulae warm. A mangy dog that was nosing about for food barked once and ran off, startled by the intrusion.
Thinking Vettius wanted his way with her, Pompeia turned coy. 'Never knew you were interested, big man.' She flashed a practised smile. 'Here 's not the place, though. Come to my room tomorrow morning after I've finished work. You'll not regret it.'
The doorman did not reply. With a blank face, he pushed the redhead deeper into the alley. Always useful in street fights, a sheathed gladius hung from a strap over his right shoulder.
'Can't wait? Typical man.' Without protesting further, Pompeia came to a halt and began to shrug off her robe. 'Come on, then. It's cleaner here.'
Something flew through the air to land at her feet.
Even in the poor light, it was recognisable as a snake 's head. Pompeia screamed and jumped back, her mouth open wide with shock.
The look on her former friend's face told Fabiola all she needed to know. She stepped out of the shadows, raising Vettius' dagger threateningly.
Pompeia's features turned ashen. This was no easy coupling to keep the doorman sweet. She backed away, her feet unsteady on rubbish and shards of terracotta. 'Please,' she begged. 'Don't hurt me.'
'Why not?' Fabiola barked. 'You've tried to do the same to me. Three times. And I've done nothing to you.'