What point is there in living? I am nothing. No one. A prostitute, she thought bitterly. A slave with no living family, apart from the bastard who fathered us. And while the prospect of revenge on the noble who had raped her mother still appealed, she knew it was a hopeless quest. All Fabiola had to go on was a statue of Caesar that she had seen once in Maximus' house. Using the embers of her desire for revenge, she continued working numbly, haunted constantly by thoughts of Romulus. Of how Gemellus had dragged him away to the ludus. How close they had come to meeting the night of the brawl outside the Lupanar. How she might have found him more quickly if she had taken on Memor as a client sooner. Guilt ravaged Fabiola from dawn till dusk.

When a new girl from Judaea arrived in the brothel, it had seemed a good opportunity to find out about where Romulus had died. A way to start letting the sadness go. But the tales of the eastern deserts were terrifying: the boiling heat, the lack of water, the natives with lethal bows. Fabiola's imagination was flooded with vivid images, each more gruesome than the last. She began to sleep badly and suffer from nightmares. Soon she was taking mandrake just to get some rest at night.

Late one morning Fabiola was still lying in bed, avoiding the world. Two miserable months had passed in this fashion. Despite being offered a better one by Jovina, she had retained the original tiny room given her on the very first day in the brothel. It was comforting to her. Fabiola's favourite clothes hung from iron hooks on the walls; bottles of makeup and perfume sat on a low table alongside. A shrine now took up one corner; on it sat a statue of Jupiter, surrounded by dozens of votive candles. Over the years, Fabiola had spent countless hours on her knees before it, praying for her family. She had also been generous with her donations at the huge temple on the Capitoline Hill.

All her efforts had been in vain.

Romulus and her mother were gone.

As far as Fabiola was aware, there were no regular clients coming to see her until that evening. It was a small consolation as she had slept little, thanks to a graphic nightmare about Romulus being disembowelled by a slashing Parthian sword. She still couldn't banish the image from her mind.

'Romulus.' Her head slumped and Fabiola let a tear form in her eye. Another followed, and another. Then the dam burst. Grief overcame her and she began to sob, deep surges of anguish erupting from the depths of her soul. She hadn't cried since her first day in the brothel. Now she couldn't stop.

She cried for her mother. For Romulus. For her own lost innocence. Even for Juba, who had always been friendly to her.

The gentle knock startled her.

'Fabiola?' The voice was Docilosa's.

She gulped, wiping her eyes with the edge of the blanket. 'What is it?'

'Brutus is here. He wants to see you.'

Her lover wasn't due to visit for two days. How could she bear to appear happy? 'Now?'

Docilosa opened the door and peered in. She took one look and entered, closing it quietly behind her.

Over the previous four years, the older woman had proved herself reliable on many occasions, running errands, buying items outside the ludus and feeding Fabiola snippets about Jovina. Fabiola had come to trust Docilosa more than any of the prostitutes. Caught up in the race for popularity, none could be completely relied upon. Not after Pompeia.

'What's wrong?' Docilosa sat down on the bed, taking Fabiola's hand in hers.

She sobbed even harder.

'Tell me.' Docilosa's voice was kind but firm.

It all poured out. Every last detail, from Velvinna's rape to Gemellus' nightly visits. Romulus training with Juba and his sale to the ludus. Her own arrival in the Lupanar.

Docilosa listened without saying a word. When Fabiola had finished, she leaned forward and softly kissed her on the forehead. The gesture meant more to the young woman than anything had in her entire life.

'My poor child. You have been through so much.' Docilosa sighed, her eyes dark with sorrow. 'Life can be very hard. But it goes on.'

'What's the point?' asked Fabiola dully.

Docilosa took her by the arm. 'That handsome noble out there is the point! Brutus would do anything for you.' She smoothed Fabiola's lustrous hair. 'He would, you know.'

Fabiola knew Docilosa's words were true. Brutus was indeed a kind, decent man and she was genuinely fond of him. To jeopardise in any way her best chance of a life outside the Lupanar would be very foolish.

'Dry those eyes and get dressed,' said Docilosa. 'You mustn't keep him waiting.'

Feeling more composed, Fabiola nodded and did as she was told. Being able to open her heart to a sympathetic ear had lifted some of the weight from her shoulders. Docilosa helped her choose a low-cut silk robe and apply some ochre and perfume. Thanks to her good complexion, Fabiola had not yet resorted to using lead.

'Thank you,' she said warmly.

Docilosa nodded. 'You remind me of what my own daughter might have been like.'

Fabiola felt a pang of guilt. She had never asked. 'What happened to her?'

'Sabina was taken from me when she was six,' replied Docilosa in a flat tone. 'Sold to one of the temples as an acolyte.'

'Have you seen her since?'

Docilosa shook her head. Tears formed in her eyes.

Fabiola reached out and hugged her. 'Bless you,' she whispered.

With a little smile, Docilosa regained control of herself. 'Go on,' she said brightly. 'He 's in the usual place.'

Fabiola disappeared up the corridor.

Her lover was waiting in the bedroom where they had first slept together. It was the only one that Brutus would use and Jovina was happy to allow this privilege. Customers as rich or as frequent as the staff officer were uncommon.

'What a surprise!' Fabiola swept in, making sure her cleavage was on full view.

A powerful smell of incense filled the air and only two oil lamps had been lit. Rose petals covered the bedspread. Docilosa had done well to prepare the chamber at such short notice.

Brutus stood up, surprising her. Normally they tumbled straight on to the bed. He seemed unusually serious.

'Is everything all right?' she asked, slightly worried. 'Shouldn't have taken me so long to get ready, but I wasn't expecting you today.'

He smiled as she kissed him. 'It's not that.'

'What then?' Fabiola said, sweeping her lashes down, hoping he would not notice her reddened eyes.

'I've been talking to Jovina.'

He had her attention now. Generally Brutus' conversations with the old crone tended to last no longer than it took him to pay her. He did not like the madam either.

'About what?'

He could contain himself no longer. Brutus took his right hand from behind his back.

Fabiola stared at the rolled parchment he was holding for a moment. Then the blood drained from her cheeks. 'Is that . . .?'

He nodded. 'Your manumissio.'

Fabiola's heart pounded as she took it. Of all the things she had expected today, the document naming her as a free woman was not one of them. Her spirits rose from the dark pit at the thought of leaving behind the Lupanar for ever. With all its tawdry luxury and grandeur, it was still just a brothel full of expensive whores. Perhaps Docilosa had known something, she thought. Life does carry on.

Taking a deep breath, Fabiola looked up. 'Why now?'

Brutus was embarrassed. 'It should have been long ago,' he muttered. 'But I've been so busy. You know how it is: the situation between Caesar and Pompey changes every damn day.'

Laying a hand on his arm, Fabiola smiled radiantly. It was a smile she knew he loved. 'What changed, my love?'

'Things are deteriorating in the city faster than ever.' He frowned. 'Clodius slipped Caesar's leash long ago and Milo has never really called anyone master. Their gangs control the city almost completely now. Elections are being postponed because officials who preside over them are at risk of their lives. Rome is becoming too dangerous.'