The Forgotten Legion

'They say you marched north.'

'We were heading for Gaul.' A wistful smile crossed his face. 'Spartacus wanted to leave Italy. Then Crixus won him over with talk of overthrowing the Republic and things started to go wrong.'

'Crassus drove you south again.' It was common knowledge that the rebels had been pushed down into the narrow heel of the Italian peninsula and a defensive wall built to hold them in.

'They didn't defeat us, though!' retorted the doorman. 'Until Brundisium.' It was there that Crassus had smashed the slave army.

'I thought all those captured were. ' Romulus paused. The prisoners' fate had been the talk of the city, dashing the hopes of the slave population.

'Crucified.' He nodded sadly, tears glinting in his eyes. 'Poor bastards. On the sides of the Via Appia. All the way from Capua to Rome. Six thousand of them. Just so Crassus could claim back the glory from Pompey Magnus.'

The public had discovered long afterwards that Pompey had only mopped up a few thousand slaves fleeing the main battle. But in a masterly stroke, he had immediately written to the Senate, claiming victory over the whole rebellion. His opportunism had worked and he had been granted a full triumph through Rome. Crassus, apoplectic with rage, had ordered a prisoner crucified along every mile of the Republic's main road in response — gory proof of his success. It was rumoured the vultures had filled the sky above the road for weeks.

As Romulus stared, he noticed a thick scar running down the side of the slave 's face on to his neck.

The doorman grimaced, rubbing at the red welt. 'Got that the night before the final battle. Some of us fled when Spartacus gave his blessing, see? But we should have stayed. Died like men.'

'Does Crassus know?'

'What do you think?' he snapped.

'But to end up here?'

There was a sad shrug. 'I went on the run for a year and then killed a citizen in a drunken brawl. Got captured again and sold to a gladiator school in Rome. Crassus bought me after seeing a fight there.'

'At least you're still alive.'

'I might as well be dead.' The doorman's broad shoulders slumped.

Conversation ceased abruptly as the major-domo reappeared. His lip curled knowingly. 'Has Pertinax been telling his stories? Don't believe a word!' He handed Romulus a rolled parchment. 'See what your master says when he receives this!'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Let the boy out.'

Pertinax hastened to obey and Romulus ducked out of the postern door, which promptly slammed shut behind him.

Mind racing, he walked back, the reply clutched tightly in one hand. Who would have thought he would see inside the domus of the richest noble in Rome? And meet one of Spartacus' original men? Despite the major-domo's scorn, there had been a ring of truth to Pertinax' words.

Romulus couldn't wait to tell Fabiola and Juba. But first he had to get inside Gemellus' gate without the thugs stopping him. He grinned — it was a challenge he would relish.

Near the last crossroads before home, Romulus heard the noise of loud chanting. The street was thronged with even more people than usual and potentially that meant trouble. Keen to get back, he ducked into a narrow alleyway off the main street and worked his way around the junction, the cries of the crowd filling his ears.

'Who wants a trip east?' a man cried.

'Pompey!' came the response.

Romulus paused to listen. It sounded as if Clodius was up to his usual tricks. The leader of the collegia had been on a mission to humiliate Pompey for some time.

'But who should go instead?'

A great roar answered the master rabble-rouser. 'Crassus!'

Romulus kept moving, remembering Gemellus' complaint that tolerating the mobs was just another sign of the Republic's decline.

In the event, distracting the two heavies did not prove at all difficult.

Romulus simply waited until a cart was rolling past Gemellus' house. Using it as cover, he crouched down and ran alongside, leaving the men opposite completely unaware until he was by the door. The boy darted forward and rapped hard with his fist; the pair saw him, cursed and lumbered forward, reaching for their swords. But Juba was waiting and instantly emerged into the sunlight, his blade ready.

Few men in their right minds would take on the Nubian.

They skidded to a halt, leaving Romulus to saunter inside with his friend. He did not linger: delivering Crassus' reply was far more urgent than anything else. Smiling his thanks at the big doorman, he went in search of Gemellus.

The sound of voices carried to him through the tablinum and instinctively Romulus tiptoed across its mosaic floor. From a statue near the open doors, he could hear every word spoken in the garden. The twins had discovered early on that eavesdropping on Gemellus was most informative.

It also taught them plenty about his murky business deals. Although much of what he overheard meant little to him, Romulus took every opportunity to learn more about the world outside the high walls.

The merchant was deep in conversation with his bookkeeper. Servilius was a thin Egyptian with protuberant eyes and receding hair and the only slave Gemellus trusted. Excellent with money, Servilius was despised by the other slaves, who could not understand his unswerving loyalty to his owner.

'Continue.' Gemellus sounded unusually good-humoured.

Servilius cleared his throat. 'My cousin in Alexandria mentioned a possible business venture in his last letter. A very profitable one.' He paused. 'But it would not be without risk, Master.'

'Nothing is these days,' growled the merchant. 'Tell me more.'

'Menes has dealt with a Phoenician bestiarius by the name of Hiero,' Servilius began, 'who proposes to lead an expedition into the deep south, near the headwaters of the Nile. There he will capture all manner of beasts for the arena.'

Romulus could sense Gemellus' interest and craned his head, desperate not to miss a word. The job of the bestiarii was very dangerous and appealed to him immensely.

'Lions, leopards and elephants,' announced the bookkeeper, warming to his task. 'Antelope and unearthly creatures with long necks and legs. The bestiarius even claims he can catch huge armoured monsters with lethal horns on their noses.'

'Is Menes tempted to invest?'

Servilius coughed awkwardly. 'He is providing two-thirds of the financial backing, Master.'

There was no reply for a moment.

'Each one would be worth its weight in gold,' exclaimed Gemellus. The trade in wild animals for gladiatorial contests was fast becoming one of the most lucrative in Rome.

'I thought you might be interested, Master.'

'How much capital is Hiero looking for?'

'For the last third share,' Servilius said, sucking in his breath, 'one hundred and twenty thousand sestertii.'

Romulus' mouth opened. It was more than he could even imagine.

'Fortuna's tits!' cursed Gemellus. 'Where will I get credit like that these days? I'm up to my neck in debt already.'

'Crassus, Master?'

Startled by the name and the nature of Gemellus' dilemma, Romulus jumped. He had had no idea that the merchant was in financial difficulties. It was then that he heard the sound of someone coming down the corridor, probably a kitchen slave with a cool drink for their master. He could not risk being caught, so he squared his shoulders and stepped into the garden, making as much noise as possible.

Gemellus' face darkened further when he saw who it was. Servilius immediately busied himself with his ledger, the giant tome that contained all the merchant's financial details.

'What took you so long?' Gemellus peered at the sundial. 'It's been two hours!'

Not daring to reply, Romulus held out the parchment.