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For weeks Fabiola sat in the Lupanar, brooding. Even Brutus, who was working from dawn till dusk on official matters, had noticed her ill humour. 'Buying the damn fleapit was a bad idea from the start,' he cried during one of their now regular arguments. Alarmed by the volatility of Brutus' reaction, she had turned on a charm offensive to allay his concerns. It had worked – for the moment. Now Fabiola was careful to be at home before he was, ready to pay him the attention he was used to. She could not afford to upset Brutus too much, especially now that Marcus Antonius had become a regular lover.
That impulsive move had made her life far more complicated, and dangerous. By this stage, however, Fabiola could not help herself. It had all begun with a simple plan: that in the Master of the Horse she would have a safety net in case Brutus ever abandoned her, or that Antonius would prove to be another possible ally against Caesar. Of course it was all an exercise in self-deception. Antonius was known throughout Rome for philandering with senators' wives, so he wasn't about to lose his heart to Fabiola, or to favour her above all others. He was also Caesar's most ardent supporter, threatening bloody murder to anyone he thought harboured the smallest disloyal thought about the Republic's dictator. If he learned of Fabiola's plans for Caesar, she might as well write her own death warrant. The best thing she could have done was to end the affair after the first occasion.
Fabiola had known all this within a few days of encountering Antonius, and yet here she was, still meeting him whenever he demanded it. Guilt about her infidelity to Brutus ravaged her, but it wasn't enough to stop her. The fact that Brutus did not deserve it wasn't adequate either. Fabiola hated her weakness, but did nothing about it. Deep down, she knew why. The reason she was involved with Antonius was that she was enthralled by his animal magnetism, his brooding presence, and his confident ma
Fabiola dreaded Brutus' reaction if he discovered her illicit relationship. He didn't like the Master of the Horse at the best of times and, when aroused, his temper was ferocious. So Fabiola took the most elaborate precautions when meeting Antonius. Smuggling herself out of the brothel with only Vettius or Benignus as protection, she would meet him in discreet i
Although Antonius did not talk much about official business during their trysts, inevitably he let the occasional snippet fall. Fabiola pounced on these gems like a magpie and now knew of more than half a dozen men who were suspected of plotting against Caesar. Many, like Marcus Brutus and Cassius Longinus, were former Republicans who had been pardoned by Caesar after Pharsalus. Their names filled Fabiola's mind day and night, frustrating her hugely. How could she meet them in private and win them over? By virtue of her sex and former status, Fabiola did not socialise with the nobility that much. Of course Brutus took her to plays, and to feasts, but these were hardly the places for her to foment high treason. What she needed was for those who hated Caesar to walk through the brothel's door. She scowled. There was little chance of that happening with Scaevola's blockade in place. It was endlessly frustrating – a vicious circle which had gone on for months. To break it, she would have to broach the subject of the fugitivarius with Antonius.
Sudden shouts from the street made Fabiola's face brighten. Rather than Scaevola or his thugs, it was the sound of excited, drunk citizens. Drawn by the prospect of Caesar's games, thousands of people were already flooding the capital's streets. To celebrate his recent victory over Pharnaces in Asia Minor, several weeks of entertainment had been laid on, begi
What about Romulus? she thought guiltily. How could I forget him? Her resolute refusal to believe that her twin was dead had carried her through for years, culminating miraculously with a sight of him in Alexandria. Yet there had been no news of Romulus since. With a civil war in full flow, Caesar's legions were constantly on the move, and it was proving hard to get any meaningful information from them. The quartermasters and senior officers whom Fabiola's messengers had contacted were less than cooperative. Busy obtaining supplies and equipment, recruiting new men to replace their losses, and preparing for Caesar's new campaigns, they had more on their plates than finding one ordinary soldier among thousands. It was not as if Romulus was an unusual name, one centurion had apparently scoffed.
Stuck in Rome, Fabiola had resigned herself to not seeing her brother again until the war was over and Caesar's troops returned home. If he survived, of course. There was no guarantee that he would. A fresh wave of guilt washed over her. To Fabiola's shame, resentment followed in its wake. Wasn't she doing all she could? She still prayed daily for Romulus. Couriers armed with information had been dispatched to every legion in the army. She couldn't help it if they found nothing. Was it so wrong for her to have some pleasure in the meantime? After all, she wasn't a Vestal Virgin.
'Mistress?'
The sound of Docilosa's voice cut through Fabiola's reverie. 'You know not to call me that,' she said for the thousandth time.
'Sorry,' Docilosa replied. 'Old habits.' Wearing a hooded cloak, she looked ready to go out.
'Off to see Sabina?' Fabiola enquired.
There was a shy grin. 'Is that all right?'
'Of course,' Fabiola replied warmly. 'Whenever you like.' Docilosa's joy over her reunion with Sabina warmed her heart. Pangs of sadness always gripped her at the same time, though. What might it have been like to see her own mother once more after so many years? She would never know. 'Be careful. Keep your eyes peeled for Scaevola.'
Docilosa lifted her hood. 'Don't worry. Vettius won't let me out until the street's clear.' Like all the brothel's residents, she had grown used to blending into the crowd at once.
Fabiola nodded, her guilt about Romulus and desire to see Antonius returning with a vengeance. She was unaware of her grim expression.
Docilosa didn't move from her position. 'What's wrong?' she asked. 'You've not been yourself in recent days.'
Fabiola forced an unconvincing smile. What was sparking Docilosa's sudden interest? 'It's nothing,' she muttered.