Brutus snorted. 'Here? Now?'

She touched his arm lightly. 'Please, my love. Give me a few moments.'

Some of the anger left his face, and he sighed. 'Come this way.' Beckoning, he led her past the goggling tribune to the back of the crowd. There was some space leading up to the very edge of the Capitoline Hill, and for a moment they stood in silence, looking down over Rome.

'I've missed you so much,' Fabiola began. Brutus said nothing, but she knew him well enough to see that he shared the same sentiment. The tiny ember of hope in her heart flared up a little. 'Getting involved with Antonius was such a mistake. The man's a brute. He makes me…' A sob rose in her throat at the indignities Antonius regularly forced on her. Her distress wasn't acted, and Fabiola was heartened by Brutus' response.

'What does he do?' he demanded, grabbing his sword hilt.

'Pretty much anything and everything,' boomed a familiar voice. 'And she loves it!'

Blanching, Fabiola spun to find a sneering Antonius not five paces away. To her utter horror, he was accompanied by none other than Scaevola. Dark malice glittered in the fugitivarius' deep-set eyes. Terrified, she moved closer to Brutus.

'What did you say?' Brutus stared at Antonius with clear dislike.

'You heard,' replied Antonius icily. 'Most of the time, it's her who suggests the position. Or the other people.'

Scaevola chuckled.

Despite himself, Brutus looked scandalised. Orgies were not his style.

'Men, women, it doesn't really matter,' Antonius went on, relishing the effect his words were having on Brutus. 'I drew the line at the gladiators, though.'

'No,' Fabiola cried, looking at Brutus. 'He's lying.'

Antonius laughed. 'Lie about a whore like you? Why would I bother?'

Brutus scowled and Fabiola felt the situation slipping from her grasp.

A loud fanfare from the trumpeters announced Caesar's impending arrival, and Brutus' face changed. 'I have to go,' he muttered, turning on his heel.

Fabiola reached out to him. 'Will I see you later?' she pleaded.

His lip curled. 'After what's been said? I don't think so.' Without another word, he strode off.

A black tide of despair swamped Fabiola. If Scaevola had stabbed her there and then, she wouldn't have cared. Of course things were never that simple. The instant Brutus was lost to sight, Antonius moved in. She felt his hand caress her throat.

'Getting tired of me?' he demanded.

Fabiola looked from him to Scaevola, who was grinning delightedly. In spite of her fear, her temper flared. 'More than that,' she hissed. 'I hate you. Touch me again, and I'll…' Her words were lost in a cacophony of blaring trumpets.

'Shame you feel like that. It's been fun. All good things come to an end, though.' Antonius' eyes glinted, reminding Fabiola of a snake which was about to strike. 'I'd love to finish this, but Caesar will think it strange if his deputy isn't there to greet him.' He stepped away, giving Fabiola an unpleasant stare. 'Scaevola can wrap up things for me. Permanently.'

The fugitivarius pressed forward, his fingers curling around the hilt of his sword. 'Now?' he asked eagerly.

'Not here, you fool,' Antonius snapped. 'Half of Rome is watching. Later.'

Scaevola nodded sullenly and stepped back.

Fabiola took the opportunity to dart into the press of people a few steps away.

They let her go, which was even more frightening.

Chapter XX: The Search

'Sure you don't want to come with us?' asked Sabinus. He jingled his purse. 'We've got money to burn!'

The other legionaries cheered. On the last day of Caesar's celebrations, he had awarded every single one of his foot soldiers the staggering sum of five thousand denarii. Even the poor had benefited from the dictator's largesse, receiving wheat, olive oil and one hundred denarii each. The legionaries' bonus was more than they'd each earn in a lifetime's service with the legions, and royally repaid their dogged loyalty to him. Suddenly the frequent periods of hardship and death seemed worthwhile, and now, the next day, the men couldn't wait to blow some of their riches. The triumphs had ended the night before, and all legionaries were off duty for a week.

The honour guard had been granted the surprise of an early discharge from the army. This was, Caesar had said, thanks to their outstanding contributions to his cause. Consequently, they were even more eager than the rest of the soldiers to rejoice. Dressed in just their belted tunics and caligae, Romulus' comrades were in search of wine, women and song. He felt differently. After all the marching, the adulation and the excesses of the previous ten days, he wanted a break. While his early release meant that he had all the time in the world, it was time to look for Fabiola, and if he got the chance, Gemellus.

'Well?' demanded the optio from the Twenty-Eighth. 'Make up your mind.'

There was an impatient rumble of agreement from the rest. They had walked together from their camp on the Campus Martius as far as the first major crossroads inside the city walls. Straight ahead lay the Forum, while on each side were streets leading to the Capitoline and Viminal Hills. The smell of cooking sausages and garlic filled the afternoon air, and innkeepers shouted to encourage passers-by into their dingy, open-fronted establishments. Kohl-eyed prostitutes beckoned from the doorways that led to the cramped insulae above the shops. There was temptation everywhere for the newly enriched soldiers and they weren't going to wait long.

Romulus shook his head. 'There's some business I need to take care of.'

'Come on,' Sabinus urged. 'Can't it wait until tomorrow?'

'No.'

'Why so mysterious?' asked Sabinus, his brow wrinkling.

'I'll tell you another time,' replied Romulus tersely. Without realising it, he touched the sheathed pugio on his belt. If his military haircut and russet tunic weren't enough, it was a giveaway sign that he was a soldier.

Sharp-eyed, Sabinus noticed the movement. 'Want me to tag along?'

Romulus gave him a brief smile. 'No thanks.'

'You're your own master.' Sabinus stepped away. The group was already drifting off, and he would have difficulty finding them if he got separated. 'You know where to look if you need us. That big inn by the Forum Boarium.'

Romulus raised his hand in farewell, wondering where he should start his search for Fabiola. He'd put off thinking about it until now. Remembering her in Alexandria helped. She'd been well dressed, and her mere presence there hinted at a relationship with a senior army officer. Romulus had wondered at the time if it was Caesar, but discovered since that, unlike some of his officers, his general didn't take women on campaign. That left a host of other nobles, many of whom might not even live in Rome. Even if they did, how would he find Fabiola among them? Unless he wanted a flogging – or worse – he couldn't as an ordinary soldier go about asking personal questions regarding their mistresses. Romulus began to despair before he'd even started. Stop it, he thought. Think. He stood for a moment, letting the crowd push by. While Caesar's triumphs might have ended, the festivities had not, and the streets were even more packed than ever. The legionaries weren't the only ones in search of a good time. Unbidden, an image of the brothel outside which the fight had taken place came to mind. What had it been called? Romulus racked his brains. The Lupanar, that was it.

Disgust filled him at the idea that Fabiola might still be a prostitute. Tarquinius had said that she'd left the brothel, though, and he couldn't think of a better place to start. He pulled at the arm of a passing urchin. 'Where's the Lupanar?'

The filthy child gaped, then recovered his poise. 'No need to go that far, sir.' He pointed at the nearest doorway, where a half-naked girl of no more than sixteen stood, touching herself in an attempt to look seductive. 'My sister. She's clean. Only costs ten sestertii. If she doesn't take your fancy, there are others inside.'