When Romulus' eyes opened, the first thing he saw was Astoria's voluptuous figure, bent over the brazier. A rich, aromatic smell reached his nostrils and he stirred restlessly under his blankets.

'I'm hungry.' He managed to sit up on one elbow. 'What time is it?'

'Past noon . . . the following day. You've slept for almost a day and a half,' Astoria replied. 'How do you feel?'

'I'm alive.' Romulus moved a hand down to his right thigh, finding a heavy bandage. He grimaced. 'My leg aches.'

'It was a deep wound. The Greek gave you mandrake to kill the pain.' Astoria came over to the makeshift bed, a bowl in her hands. 'Time for some more.'

He sipped a little, instantly screwing up his face. 'Tastes awful.'

'It will hurt less afterwards. Drink.'

Romulus drained the bitter liquid obediently. He was too weak to do anything else.

'Now lie back and rest.'

'How bad was it?'

'Lentulus missed the artery by a whisker. The gods were looking after you.' She smiled. 'Dionysus cauterised the bleeding and stitched the muscle.'

'When can I start training again?'

Astoria rolled her eyes.

Romulus tried to speak again, but his tongue already felt thick and useless. The mandrake was starting to take effect.

'In about ten days.' Brennus came stamping into the room, torso covered in sweat. 'Light exercise only!'

Romulus felt his eyelids grow heavy. A few moments later he was asleep.

'Can't leave him in the hospital, that's certain,' said Brennus. 'Figulus or one of the others would cut his throat.'

'Good. You need a friend to watch your back.'

The Gaul sighed. It had been years since he trusted anyone. But Romulus reminded him strongly of Brac. Grief welled up at the memory, which was still raw.

'You haven't got eyes in the back of your head,' she scolded. 'Neither can you kill ten men at once.'

Brennus' face darkened as he pictured the village in flames. Brac's death. Capture. I killed more than ten legionaries that day. Wasn't enough. 'Be good to have someone reliable around,' he mused.

'You said before that Romulus is a good fighter.'

Brennus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'And it wasn't universally popular to kill the murmillones.'

'Figulus and Gallus have been talking to many of the others.' The Nubian looked uneasy. 'They're probably planning to kill you, my love.'

'Nobody in the ludus would dare touch me.' Trying to conceal his worries, Brennus patted her arm.

'No one alone – but working together?' she replied. 'You could be in danger!'

'I know,' the Gaul finally admitted. 'And Romulus seems like a good man. Let's take care of him till he can walk, anyway.'

Relieved, Astoria kissed him.

'Then we'll see if Romulus wants to fight with Brennus.'

The pair were as good as their word. Over the next ten days, Romulus was looked after better than he had been since he was a small child. By the third day, the young fighter was able to swing both legs out of the bed and stand unaided. Two days after that, he was taking short walks outside using a crutch that Brennus had fashioned. The Gaul stood by, encouraging him.

'Don't seem too happy.' Romulus indicated Figulus and Gallus, gazing sourly from the other side of the yard.

Brennus spat in their direction. 'So?'

Romulus did not answer straight away.

The two fighters were fearsome enemies. Figulus was an ox of a man, a veteran Thracian with more than ten single combat victories under his broad leather belt. Gallus was short and stocky with a bad limp, but his skill with net and trident was well known in the ludus.

'Have to kill both of them too,' Romulus said with as much bravado as he could muster.

'Fighting talk, my young friend! But you aren't a match for either.' Brennus grinned. 'Yet. Two or three years, maybe.'

'That's a long time if they want to kill me now.'

'It is.' The Gaul paused, thinking. 'So I propose we become allies. Look out for each other.'

'Me look after you?' Romulus' mouth opened and closed. 'But I'm only fourteen.'

'With two kills to your name. And one was in fair combat.' Brennus' eyes were bright. 'You show great promise, lad. You'll be an excellent fighter one day.'

'I'd be honoured.'

'Among my people, such friendship is not made lightly.' A flicker of emotion passed across the Gaul's face. 'Needs be, we fight to the death for each other. Makes us brothers until one or both is dead.' His jaw clenched.

'Are you prepared for that?'

Romulus paused, aware the gesture meant a lot to Brennus. It did to him as well. Previously Juba had been the only man he had trusted. Taking a deep breath, he nodded.

Brennus held out a muscled arm and the two clasped firmly. Romulus met the other's steady gaze and the Gaul smiled in satisfaction.

'The first lesson will be how to kill quickly. Lentulus nearly got you at the end.'

'I was so excited at winning.'

'Exactly. You didn't stay focused.' Brennus punched him on the chest. 'Always keep in mind what an enemy might do next.'

Romulus glanced over at Figulus and Gallus. Judging by their scowls, they were none too pleased at the clear gesture of friendship.

'We need to watch those two constantly for a start.'

'We 'll have to kill them sooner or later,' said Brennus, shrugging. 'Forget the pricks for now. A good soak is what we need!'

The Gaul saw Romulus' questioning look. 'Memor gave in, let me start using the baths again,' he said with a grin. 'Hot water will loosen up that leg. Then the unctor can get to work softening the scar tissue.'

Romulus limped across the yard, his arm on Brennus' shoulder. For the first time since losing Juba and his family, the young fighter felt he had a friend he could trust.

With his life.

It was a good feeling.

Chapter X: Brutus

The Lupanar Brothel, Rome, 56 BC

Fabiola trembled as she heard Jovina's summons.

Two days had passed in the Lupanar without a customer agreeing to the high price for her virginity. Several old men had lustfully eyed the stunning girl and one had even begun pawing at her breasts until Jovina intervened. To Fabiola's relief, none had been able to come up with the money required.

It was late on the third morning and Fabiola had been waiting nervously in a small anteroom beside reception. She had been there throughout the previous two days too. The walls were covered in pornography. At least half the sexual positions looked physically impossible. Pompeia had taught her the basic techniques of most, but Fabiola's stomach constricted at the thought of actually performing them. She had only ever kissed one of the merchant's other young slaves before.

Stay focused. Become the best. Remember Gemellus. Remember Romulus.

More than half a dozen brightly adorned prostitutes sat on benches lining the room. A powerful smell of perfume filled the air. The women giggled and laughed among themselves – it was just another working day – while Fabiola sat alone in one corner. Although no one had been unkind, Fabiola missed Pompeia keenly. The redhead was engaged with a well-paying regular, a middle-aged senator who liked dressing up in her underclothes.

When clients arrived and let the madam know their preferences, Jovina called out the names of suitable girls. The chosen prostitutes would walk out to be appraised and then selected by whoever took their fancy.

Fabiola was the only virgin in the Lupanar. Her wait had been a lonely one. But she had managed to remain calm, planning her future.

'Get out here!'

'Be quick,' hissed the Nubian. 'Don't put off the customer or Jovina will get angry.'

'Coming!'

'Good luck! Remember what Pompeia has taught you.'