'Don't touch her!' shouted a familiar voice. 'She's mine.'

In slow motion, they moved aside to reveal Scaevola, who looked delighted with himself. 'This time there'll be no escape,' he snarled. 'You're going to suffer for hours. By the end, you'll be begging me to kill you.'

Suddenly lightheaded, Fabiola felt her knees fold beneath her. She toppled sideways in a faint, landing on Benignus. The last thing she heard was the fugitivarius' voice. 'Carry her inside to a bed. Might as well fuck her in comfort.'

Then blackness took her. Romulus' journey back to the Lupanar felt longer than any march he'd ever had to make. Struggling with the pain radiating through his head and the press of the crowd, he kept his fuzzy mind focused on just one person. Fabiola. After ten long years of separation, he finally knew where his twin sister was, and she needed him. Urgently. The knowledge gave Romulus the energy he needed, although Tarquinius' axe was a useful crutch. Every time the urchin stopped, Romulus waved him on impatiently. Mithras, let me get there in time, he prayed, forcing one leg in front of the other. Please. He was even more grateful that he had spared Gemellus' life now. It was an example to the warrior god that he was an honourable man. Whether Mithras chose to help, of course, was another matter, which sent fresh waves of panic coursing through him. Breathe, Romulus thought. Breathe deeply. Remembering the method taught him by Cotta, his trainer, he slowly filled his chest with air, counting his heartbeat at the same time. One. Two. Three. Four. Hold for a moment. Start to exhale. One. Two. Three. Four. Over and over he repeated the process, using it to restrain the swelling panic in his breast.

Gradually they drew nearer, using tiny alleyways to dodge the thugs' blockades. At last they reached the street in which the Lupanar was situated. Five ladders were placed against the high wall, showing how the attackers had gained entry. Bodies were plainly visible all around the front door, which lay ajar, but there was no sign of anyone living. Romulus' heart sank. Tarquinius and the veterans weren't here yet. Ahead of him, the urchin broke into a run. By sheer force of will, Romulus forced himself into a shambling trot. He took a short breather when he reached the first bloody corpses, knowing that he would need every scrap of strength in his body once they got inside. The brief pause afforded him an opportunity to study the slain. It was hard to tell the difference between the two sides. Apart from a couple of gladiators, they looked like typical lowlifes.

'They're all dead,' piped the boy, already rifling for valuables.

'Good,' muttered Romulus, heading for the door. He sensed the urchin at his back. 'Stay outside,' he ordered. 'When my friend arrives, tell him to hurry.'

The voice behind him rose to a squeak. 'You're going in alone?'

'I have to,' Romulus replied, gripping the axe's broad shaft with both hands. 'My sister's in there.'

'They'll kill you.'

'Maybe,' answered Romulus grimly. 'I can't just stand outside like a fool, though.' Pushing the door inwards, he entered. The reception area was much like those he'd seen in brothels in other parts of the world: garishly decorated, with erotic paintings and statues everywhere. The heavy furniture that had been shoved against the door by the defenders was piled up to one side, and bloodstains covered the mosaic floor. Apart from the bodies of a small thug with a sword and an old woman, which lay entwined by a desk, the room was abandoned. Covered in hack wounds, the crone's hands still reached towards the dagger which protruded from the other's chest. Romulus' eyebrows rose. If everyone in the brothel fought like this, there was still hope.

His fanciful notion was quashed a moment later as he neared the passageway to the back. Instead of the clash of arms, he heard only men's shouts and laughs. Mixed with the ribaldry were the screams of women. Lots of them. Romulus had been a soldier for long enough to know what this meant. The fight was over, and the raping had begun. His knuckles whitened with anger on the axe handle.

Praying that the thugs would all be lost in pleasure, Romulus shuffled down the corridor, carefully checking each bedroom. Gaping holes in the ceilings of many showed where they had entered, but they were all empty. The noise seemed to be emanating from the central courtyard, leading Romulus to the conclusion that Fabiola and the defenders had retreated there. Faced with attackers dropping into every room, it made sense. It hadn't changed the outcome, though, he thought, worry eating his guts.

'Wake up, you bitch!'

He came alive at the angry shout, which had come from the next chamber along. A loud slap and a terrified wail followed in close succession. Ensuring that the passageway was clear, Romulus tiptoed closer, Tarquinius' axe at the ready. Peering around the doorframe, he made out the naked lower half of a woman lying on the bed. Her struggling arms were pinioned by a pair of laughing thugs while a stocky third figure was stripping off his clothes and armour.

'I've waited years for this,' he panted. 'So I'm really going to enjoy it.'

Romulus felt sick. Should he intervene, or proceed to the courtyard? Doubtless this scene was being played out all over the brothel. How could he find Fabiola among all the prostitutes, and save her without also leaving this wretch? Unsure what to do, he watched for a moment.

The woman on the bed was injured or half-conscious, because when her tormentor yanked her legs apart, there was barely any resistance. Just a low, terrified moan, which instantly brought back memories of his mother lying beneath Gemellus. Having just seen the merchant, it was too much to bear. Romulus was moving before he knew it. He went in fast and hard, maximising his chances against three uninjured men. With his back to the door, the stocky would-be rapist was oblivious to Romulus' desperate charge. The pair of thugs holding the woman's arms spotted him at once, though.

Their warning shouts came too late to stop Romulus bringing the battleaxe down on the rapist's right shoulder, cleanly taking off his arm. A great roar of pain left the man's throat and he staggered away, bright red blood spurting from the wound. Fortunately, he stumbled into one of the thugs, thus preventing him from going on the attack. The other man was so shocked that he was still reaching for his sword when the axe came humming down to split his skull in two halves. Cleft almost to the chin, his visage wore an expression of total astonishment. Bone and gore flew everywhere, and he dropped to the floor without a sound.

Dragging the blade free, Romulus spun around to face the last ruffian who had managed to extricate himself. With an evil expression, the man shuffled closer, sword at the ready. Romulus took a step towards him. Suddenly the pain in his head was overwhelming. A physical duel was more than his weary body could bear. Then he looked down at the naked figure on the bed and was stunned to recognise Fabiola. A searing fury such as Romulus had never felt before shot through him, sweeping away his exhaustion in a tidal wave of adrenalin. Bellowing an inarticulate scream, he leapt forward to the attack.

Covered in blood from his mutilated comrade, the third thug was already intimidated by the speed of the mad-eyed legionary's entrance. Now his anger unnerved him. Rather than fight, he sprinted for the door. His sandals slapped off the floor as he fled, shouting for his fellows. Romulus knew that any respite would be brief. The ruffian would be back with reinforcements very soon, and then both he and his sister would die. Unless, by some tiny chance, they could escape first. In the meantime, every precious moment had to be wrung from this most unexpected of reunions. Ignoring the moaning one-armed man lying in the corner, he ran to the side of the bed, dropping his axe alongside. Using the shreds of her dress, he gently covered his sister's nakedness as best he could. She flinched at his touch, breaking his heart. 'Fabiola,' he whispered. 'Fabiola.'