Determined not to let dread rule her any longer, Fabiola followed him. It was mid-morning after all, the safest time of the day, when ordinary people got their business done. Women and slaves shopped for food among the bakers, butchers and vegetable merchants. Wine-sellers boasted and lied about the quality of their produce, offering a taste to anyone who would listen. Blacksmiths toiled over their anvils while neighbouring carpenters and potters exchanged idle banter over a cup of acetum. The stink from the nearby tanneries and fullers' workshops laced the air. Money-changers sat at low tables, glaring at the cripples who were greedily eyeing their neat piles of coins. Snot-nosed urchins ran through the crowds, chasing each other and stealing what they could. Nothing looked different to any other day in Rome.
Except for the plentiful numbers of Antonius' legionaries, of course, thought Fabiola. The old law denying entry to the city to soldiers had been set aside by Caesar himself. With the threat of rioting constant, there were more of them about than ever. The knowledge gave her strength. In addition to Sextus' presence, they would ensure nothing happened to her. Fabiola stuck out her chin. The Lupanar wasn't far. 'Come on,' she declared.
Sextus grinned, used to her determination.
A short while later, they had reached a street that Fabiola knew better than any in Rome. Close to the Forum, it was home to the Lupanar. Again her feet slowed, but this time her fear was under better control. Today, she was no terrified thirteen-year-old dragged here to be sold. Soon Fabiola's nervousness had been replaced by excitement. She began to outstrip Sextus.
'Mistress!'
She ignored his cry. The crowds finally parted a few steps from the entrance and Fabiola's mouth fell open. Nothing had changed. A brightly painted, erect stone penis still jutted forth on either side of the arched doorway, graphic evidence of the business's nature. Outside stood a shaven-headed hulk, clutching a metal-studded club. 'Vettius,' she said, her voice cracking with emotion.
The huge man did not react.
Throwing back the hood of her cloak, Fabiola moved closer. 'Vettius.' The doorman's brow wrinkled at being called by name and he glanced around.
'Don't you recognise me?' she asked. 'Have I changed that much?'
'Fabiola?' he stuttered. 'Is it you?'
With tears of happiness filling her eyes, she nodded. Here was one of the most loyal friends she had ever had. When Brutus had bought Fabiola's freedom, she had been desperate for him to free the two doormen also. Wily to the last, however, Jovina had refused all offers. The pair were simply too valuable to her business. Leaving them behind had torn a deep wound in Fabiola's heart.
Vettius rushed to give her a hug, but stopped short.
Sextus had shot in front of Fabiola. Dwarfed by the other, he nonetheless drew his sword. 'Stay back,' he snarled.
In a heartbeat, Vettius' face went from surprised to angry, but before he could respond Fabiola had laid a hand on Sextus' arm. 'He's a friend,' she explained, ignoring her bodyguard's confused expression. With a scowl, Sextus stood aside, allowing Fabiola and Vettius to gaze at each other. 'It's been too long,' she said warmly.
Conscious of his low status, the lantern-jawed doorman did not try to hug her again, instead making an awkward bow. 'Jupiter, it's good to see you, Fabiola,' he said, half choking. 'The gods must have answered my prayers.'
Fabiola picked out the concern in his voice at once. Sudden terror filled her. 'Is Benignus all right?'
'Of course!' A lop-sided smile split Vettius' unshaven face. 'The big fool is inside. Snoring his head off, no doubt. He was on the late shift last night.'
'Thank Mithras,' she breathed. 'What is it then?'
He looked around uneasily.
Jovina, thought Fabiola, remembering her own caution when she lived here. Nothing wrong with the old witch's hearing yet then.
Vettius stooped low to her ear. 'Morale has been terrible for months,' he whispered. 'We've lost most of our customers too.'
Fabiola was shocked. In her time, the Lupanar had been busy every day. 'Why?'
The doorman had no time to answer.
'Vettius!'
Fabiola felt an instant wave of nausea. For nearly four years, that shrewish voice had called her out to be inspected by prospective customers.
'Vettius!' This time Jovina sounded irritated. 'Get in here.'
With an apologetic grimace at Fabiola, the doorman obeyed.
She and Sextus were one step behind him.
The mosaic-floored reception area within was just as garish as Fabiola remembered it. Its walls were covered from top to bottom in richly coloured paintings of forests, rivers and mountains. Fat little cupids, satyrs and various deities were dotted throughout, peeking coyly at the viewer. The most prominent of the gods was Priapus, with his massive erect penis. One wall was covered with images of sexual positions; each was numbered so that clients could easily ask for their favourite. In the centre of the floor was a large painted statue of a naked girl entwined with a swan. The whole room had a faintly dishevelled air, as if it needed a good clean, and Vettius' words began to make some sense.
To one side stood a little sparrow of a woman in a low-cut stola. Fabiola's heart skipped a beat at her first sight of Jovina in five years. At first glance it seemed as if not much had changed. Plenty of the madam's sagging flesh was still on view; beady eyes flashed from a lined face covered in lead, ochre and antimony. Her lips were painted a gaudy red. Jewellery glittered around her neck, wrists and fingers — gold, silver and precious stones. Jovina was famed for her discretion, and these gifts from her rich clients proved it. 'Go and wake that fool Benignus,' she snapped at Vettius. 'I need him to go out for me.'
'Mistress,' Vettius muttered. He moved towards the passage which led to the back of the building.
Fabiola, who had been hidden behind him, was revealed. 'Jovina.'
For once, the crone was unable to conceal her amazement. A wrinkled hand rose to her gash of a mouth, and fell away. 'Fabiola…?'
Sextus' eyebrows rose in shock. Here was startling evidence of his mistress's previous life.
'I've come back,' Fabiola said simply.
'Welcome, welcome,' Jovina gushed, her public persona taking over again. 'Can I offer you a drink? Some food? A girl?' She cackled at her own joke, setting off a paroxysm of coughing.
'How kind. Some wine, thank you.' Fabiola smiled. Inwardly, she was shocked at Jovina's haggard appearance. The madam had already been old when Fabiola arrived in the Lupanar. Today she looked positively ancient, and ill. There had never been much to her, but now Jovina's bones jutted everywhere from under her wrinkled skin, turning her into a walking skeleton. Fabiola almost expected to see Orcus, the god of the underworld, waiting in the corner.
The madam scuttled to her desk, which was positioned by the corridor. A red and black clay jug sat there with four fine blue glasses, along with small dishes containing olives and bread. This was refreshment for those clients Jovina deemed suitable.
Returning with two filled goblets, Jovina stumbled and nearly fell. A brittle smile spread across her face. 'Excuse my clumsiness,' she muttered.
The crone is really sick, thought Fabiola.
'Here we are,' purred Jovina. 'Just like old times.'
'Not quite,' she replied archly. 'I'm a citizen now.'
'And the lover of no less a man than Decimus Brutus,' said Jovina, probing. 'He paid a lot of money for you.'
'Thank the gods,' Fabiola answered. 'I show him my appreciation of it every day.'
'That's wonderful,' said the madam, beaming falsely. 'A happy ending!'
Making polite small talk, they both sipped their wine. Each studied the other, Jovina wondering what her former slave's purpose was, and Fabiola trying to assess the situation in the brothel. Neither gained a single crumb of information. Inevitably perhaps, their conversation turned to the civil war and Caesar's accession to power. Whatever her opinion, Jovina was careful to shower praise on Brutus' general. 'Rumour has it that he is trapped in Alexandria,' she said at last. 'That cannot be true, surely?'