'Walk right behind me. Do not look at anyone,' he ordered. 'Tarquinius, you take the rear.' Raising his sword menacingly, Romulus walked down the steps. The others followed.
Members of the crowd soon saw them. Angry shouts rose at once. 'Is it true?' shouted a bearded man in a workman's tunic. 'Has Caesar been murdered?'
'He has,' Romulus replied, still descending.
An inarticulate sound of anger rose from the gathered citizens, and Romulus sensed Fabiola flinch. 'Keep moving,' he hissed.
'Who did it?' shouted the workman.
'A group of senators,' answered Romulus. 'You'll have seen them running off with their clothes covered in blood.'
'I saw some,' yelled a voice.
'So did I!' howled another.
The workman's face twisted with fury. 'Which way did they go?'
'Down there,' came the answering cry.
In an instant, the rabble's attention had switched from Romulus and his companions to a side street which led off towards Pompey's exotic gardens and then the city. 'After them,' bellowed the workman. Responding to his shout, the mass of citizens moved off at speed, with a sea of fists and weapons waving above it.
'Gods help whoever they catch,' said Tarquinius.
Fabiola shuddered, remembering the mob that had swept her away after Clodius Pulcher's murder.
Romulus ignored her obvious distress. Now was not the time to settle their differences either. 'We'll head that way,' he said, pointing at the arena. 'Then we can enter the city by a different gate.'
They had only covered a short distance before a small group of figures emerged from a door in the wall of the amphitheatre. Squinting to make them out, Romulus stiffened. The men were gladiators. Instinctively he increased his pace to get away.
It was pointless. Seeing them, the party broke into a sprint, angling to cut them off from the street towards the city. 'Stop,' Romulus ordered. He and Tarquinius moved protectively in front of Fabiola and Mattius, and they waited. Soon they could make out four fighters: two murmillones and a pair of Thracians. All were helmeted and carrying swords and shields. Who the hell are they? Romulus wondered, wishing he had more than just a gladius. Behind the fighters trotted a man in a fine white toga. It was Decimus Brutus. Romulus shot a glance at Fabiola. She seemed delighted, which pleased him. Fighting four fully armed gladiators was not what he wanted to think about right now.
'I thought it was you, my love,' Brutus cried as he drew near. 'Thanks be to Jupiter you're safe. Where did you go?'
She looked surprised. 'Inside, to make sure Caesar was dead.'
Brutus winced. 'I've come with these fighters of mine to carry his body away. Treat it with the dignity it deserves.'
Romulus' blood began to boil. 'It's a bit late for that,' he growled. 'Might have been better if you'd stood by his side instead of keeping Antonius outside.'
'How dare you?' Brutus snapped. 'It's not that simple.'
Romulus was so angry that he forgot the difference in their status. 'Really? Perhaps you'd care to explain how it's possible to swear service to someone and then plan their murder.'
Brutus' lips pinched with fury. 'I answer you only because Fabiola is your sister. He'd become a tyrant who treated the Republic with contempt.'
'Caesar ended decades of strife and civil war,' Romulus retorted, contemptuous that the noble had succumbed to Fabiola's charms when he had had the strength not to. 'He was the best future for this country and you know it. Not forgetting that you were his sworn follower.'
'Romulus,' Fabiola said, stepping forward. 'Please.'
Uncaring, Romulus let all of his fury out. Subconsciously, he knew he was transferring some of his anger at Fabiola – and himself – but he didn't care. 'Call yourself a soldier? Fucking coward, more like.'
'Scum,' Brutus shouted. 'You're nothing but a freed slave!'
'Scum, eh?' screamed Romulus. 'At least I stood up for Caesar, while you didn't even have the balls to stick a knife in him.'
Apoplectic now, Brutus stabbed a finger towards Romulus. 'Kill that whoreson! And his friend.'
With malevolent grins, his gladiators shuffled forward. They didn't care who the young soldier and his companion were.
'He's my brother!' Fabiola cried.
'I don't care who he is,' Brutus replied, the veins on his neck bulging. 'No lowlife speaks to a nobleman in that way and lives to tell the tale.'
'Get out of the way, Fabiola,' said Romulus urgently. 'No.' Fabiola raised her hands in supplication towards Brutus. 'Please calm down, my love. The tyrant is dead. That's what matters. There's no need for further bloodshed.'
'Listen to you,' Romulus snarled, his rage boiling over at his sister now. 'The "tyrant", was he? What did you care about that? All you wanted was revenge on the man who raped our mother.'
Brutus' face went white. 'That was your motive?'
Fabiola lifted her shoulders proudly. 'It was. That's why I picked you rather than any of the other fools who visited the Lupanar.'
Brutus looked stunned. 'I chose you first.'
'Maybe so,' Fabiola replied. 'After that, though, it was all my making. You were my path to Caesar, and I did absolutely everything to make sure that you preferred me above all others.'
Brutus raised a hand, trying to push away the words. 'No,' he muttered. 'You're lying.'
'Why would I do that?' Fabiola spat. Spittle flecked her lips. 'Revenge is the only thing that kept me sane while I whored myself with you and a thousand others. I was right all along about the bastard too.'
Her distress pierced Romulus to the core.
Brutus reeled away, overcome by Fabiola's confession.
Things started to happen very fast.
The gladiators made a rush for Romulus and Tarquinius. Four against two, and better armed, they had an excellent chance of ending the fight before it had even begun. Drawn forward by her outburst, Fabiola was standing between the two sets of adversaries. Romulus darted in desperately, trying to shove her out of harm's way. He succeeded, but in doing so left himself open to attack. Tarquinius swept in alongside, wielding his axe in a blur of motion which slowed three of the fighters down. The last, however, saw a golden opportunity and struck Romulus in the chest with his metal shield boss. Delivered with the force of a running man, it knocked him in a heap to the ground. Winded, Romulus could do nothing more than look up dully at the murmillo.
With a satisfied growl, the gladiator swept back his right arm to deliver the death blow.
'NO!' Fabiola screamed, throwing herself into the blade's path.
To the end of his days, Romulus would remember the sight of his sister's body arcing through the air above him, and in slow motion, the sword tip come shoving through the side of her ribcage. Warm spatters of blood covered his face, and then Fabiola landed on him, a warm, immobile heap. For a moment, Romulus couldn't comprehend what had happened. Then the terrible truth hit him. He wrapped his arms around Fabiola, and an inchoate bellow of pain left his lips. It went on and on, until his throat was raw. Lost in a sea of grief, he was vaguely aware that the murmillo hadn't finished him off, and that people were shouting.
'Romulus.' Tarquinius' voice was very gentle. 'Let her go. Sit up.'
Like a sleepwalker, Romulus obeyed, feeling Fabiola being rolled off him. Pulling himself upright, he saw that his tunic was totally saturated in his sister's blood. She lay across his knees now, as beautiful as ever, but her mouth hung open slackly, and her piercing blue eyes had already gone dull. She was dead. 'Why?' Romulus whispered. 'Why did you do it?'