They huddled together, waiting for the battle to end.
It did not take long. Surprised and outnumbered, the surviving thugs did not put up much resistance. Although used to fighting together, they usually only faced terrified, half-starved slaves: easy to intimidate and even easier to overcome. Several threw down their weapons and pleaded for mercy. It got them nothing more than a swifter death. Veteran of a score of skirmishes, Scaevola realised that the game was up. Spinning on his heel, he shoved one of his own men out of the way with an impatient cry. He bounded backwards, towards the Forum. Despite the rioting, he had more chance of escaping with his life there than here with his followers.
His eyes met Fabiola’s.
Time stopped.
Full of bitter rage, the squat fugitivarius mouthed a curse at her. She did the same. Stung by her defiance, he lunged forward, gladius in hand. And was met by Sextus, swinging his axe.
Scaevola skidded to a halt. ‘Curse you to Hades,’ he spat before sprinting off up the street.
Overcome by terror and nervous exhaustion, Fabiola sank down into the mud. Sextus moved to stand protectively over her, his one eye bright with battle rage. As the last thugs fell, the veterans closed in on them and Sextus turned this way and that, waving his axe at any who came within range.
Fabiola closed her eyes. Their rescuers might prove to be nothing more than another group of would-be rapists. But they did not move any closer. Heavy scuta clattered on to the ground when they were done. Without speaking, the men took a brief rest, chests heaving, sword arms reddened. Killing was tiring work.
When nothing happened, Fabiola got to her feet, the rags of her dress clutched around her. Unshaven faces regarded her admiringly. Silently. And not one man moved. She did not know how to react. Neither did Sextus.
Finally one of the veterans surrounding them gave a shrill whistle. To Fabiola’s utter surprise, Secundus emerged from the alleyway. A parting appeared in the circle, allowing him to approach. ‘Lady,’ he said, inclining his head.
Fabiola tried to be bold. ‘You have my thanks,’ she said, rewarding him with a beaming smile.
‘What happened?’
‘We were escaping the rioting,’ Fabiola explained. ‘And they ambushed us. They were going to. He nearly. ’ The words dried in her throat.
‘You’re safe now,’ muttered Secundus, patting her arm.
She nodded jerkily, her emotions still in turmoil. Although Secundus seemed sympathetic, not every veteran’s face was friendly.
Secundus regarded the nearest corpse with contempt. ‘To think that we fought for fuckers like this, eh?’
It was a valid point. Since time immemorial, Roman soldiers had fought and died for their countrymen’s sake. Meanwhile, other men robbed, raped and killed citizens on the streets of Rome.
‘This ambush was planned,’ Fabiola revealed. She filled Secundus in, blaming the attack by Scaevola and his crew on the fact that she and Brutus were supporters of Caesar. She made no mention of the young fugitive who had been the reason they met. Few would understand why anyone would want to intervene on behalf of a slave.
‘Well, the scumbag’s gone now,’ said Secundus reassuringly when she had finished. ‘He won’t be back in a hurry. Most of his men are dead.’
Feeling calmer, Fabiola gazed down the alleyway. Like the Forum, it was now littered with bodies. A few thugs were still alive, but not for long. Secundus’ men moved expertly among them, slitting throats and checking for money pouches. It was not pleasant to witness, but they deserved no better, she thought.
Wary of the violence in the Forum, Secundus began calling the veterans back. ‘This is no place to linger, lady,’ he said, ushering her towards the alleyway. Like a faithful hound, Sextus followed.
‘Do you often intervene like this?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘From time to time.’
Fabiola was surprised. ‘But why?’
Secundus laughed. ‘It’s hard to give up army life after ten years or more, lady. About fifty or sixty of us keep in touch; we like to keep the area fairly peaceable. Can’t stop what’s going on in the Forum, but this, we can. It’s easy for us, being trained soldiers and all. And it pleases Mithras.’
Fabiola was confused by the reference. ‘Your god?’
He regarded her steadily. ‘Indeed, lady. The soldiers’ god.’
She and Sextus owed their lives not just to Jupiter, but to an unknown deity. Fabiola was intrigued. ‘I would like to offer my thanks,’ she said.
‘At the Mithraeum, lady?’ he asked. ‘Unfortunately not.’
Unused to being refused, Fabiola bridled. ‘Why?’
‘You’re a woman. Only men may enter our temple.’
‘I see.’
Secundus coughed awkwardly. ‘It’s not safe round here, though.’ The noise of fighting could still be heard from the Forum. ‘It would be permissible for you to wait in the anterooms. Tomorrow, when it is safer, we can escort you back to your domus.’
‘My slave comes too.’ She indicated Sextus.
‘Of course,’ he said sympathetically. ‘Our medical orderly can treat his wound.’
Some of the veterans looked less than happy at Secundus’ offer of shelter and treatment.
‘Why are you helping me?’ Fabiola asked.
There was another shy grin. ‘You gave me an aureus, remember?’
The best money I ever spent, thought Fabiola. ‘Strange that our paths should cross again so soon,’ she said.
‘The gods work in such ways, lady,’ Secundus replied.
‘They do,’ she agreed passionately.
Leaving the dead sprawled uncaring in the mud, Secundus led them off through a series of narrow yet empty thoroughfares. His companions split up, some walking protectively in front, some behind. Despite their reservations about Fabiola and her slave, all kept their swords drawn and eyes peeled for more trouble. But there was no one else about. All of Clodius’ and Milo’s men had descended on the Forum and the noise of the rioting alone was enough to make any ordinary citizens remaining indoors stay where they were. Doors were shut and shop windows barred. Street fountains splashed noisily, unattended. There were no plebeian women collecting water in clay vessels or washing their clothes. The public toilets were empty of gossiping neighbours and urchins selling vinegar-soaked sponges on sticks. Rickety wooden stalls that would typically be displaying bread, pottery, ironmongery and simple foodstuffs stood forlorn and bare. Even the begging lepers and the familiar scavenging mongrels were nowhere to be seen. An occasional scared face peered from half-open shuttered windows above, but these slammed shut if any of the party looked up. It was an eerie feeling to move through the city unimpeded by traffic or throngs of people. Rome was normally a hive of human activity from dawn till dusk.
Not today.
After they had been climbing for a little while, the sounds of violence gradually began to diminish.
‘This is the Palatine,’ Fabiola exclaimed in surprise.
Secundus threw her a crooked smile. ‘Expected us to be based on the Aventine or Caelian Hills, did you?’
Fabiola flushed at his accurate guess. Most of the Palatine’s residents were wealthy, unlike the ragged, unshaven figures surrounding her.
‘Soldiers are the true spirit of Rome,’ he said proudly. There was a growl of agreement from the others. ‘We belong here, at its ancient heart.’
Fabiola bent her head in respect. After all, legionaries were the men who fought and died for the Republic. Although she had little love for it, she could respect these veterans’ bravery and the sacrifices they had made in its name. One only had to see the stump of Secundus’ sword arm and the multitude of old scars on all the ex-soldiers to realise that. Flesh had been hacked off, blood lost and comrades slain, while the rich who dwelled around here had given little, if anything, for their state.