the haruspex to display such emotion and, sobbing like a boy, Romulus wept for what it meant. Tarquinius was grieving for their friend too. At last his tears dried, and he looked up.
Their eyes met. For long moments they stared at each other.
There was an openness in Tarquinius’ face that Romulus had never seen before. He was relieved to see no evil there.
Remarkably, it was Tarquinius who looked away first. ‘I did know that Brennus would meet his fate in India,’ he said in a low voice. ‘It was written in the stars on the very first night we met.’
‘Why didn’t you tell him?’
‘He did not want to know then, if at all,’ answered the haruspex, regarding him steadily. ‘You knew that too.’
Romulus flushed.
‘Advising you both to retreat with Longinus would have been interfering with your destiny,’ Tarquinius went on. ‘Would you have wanted me to do that?’
Romulus shook his head. Few things angered the gods more than trying to change the course of one’s life path.
‘And I was not the first to predict Brennus’ future. His druid had told him,’ said Tarquinius. ‘Believing that prophecy was what helped him survive for so long in the ludus. As well as Astoria and you, of course.’
The memory of Romulus’ first real meeting with the big Gaul was still vivid. After killing a murmillo who was holding Brennus’ lover Astoria hostage, Romulus had incurred the wrath of Memor, the brutal lanista. Facing a daunting single combat the next morning as punishment, and with nowhere to sleep, Romulus had begun to despair. Brennus was the only fighter to offer him refuge. Unsurprisingly, their friendship had grown from there.
‘Apart from wanting the best for you, Brennus wished for just one thing.’
Romulus knew what Tarquinius would say next.
‘It was to regain his honour while saving his friends.’
‘As he had been prevented from doing before,’ Romulus finished. ‘With his wife and baby.’
‘And his uncle and cousin.’
A surge of faith filled him. ‘So the gods granted his final wish.’
‘That is what I believe.’
Both men sat for a while, honouring Brennus’ memory.
Below them, a fish jumped high in the air, catching a fly. There was a loud splash as it re-entered the water.
Romulus wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant smell which arose. Bizarrely, it reminded him of his former owner. The cruel merchant had bathed little. Abruptly he decided to test Tarquinius’ honesty. ‘What about Gemellus?’
The haruspex looked surprised. ‘His recent business ventures have not gone well. More than that I do not know.’
Satisfied and pleased with this simple response, Romulus ventured another question. ‘Are my mother and Fabiola still alive?’
This was his most deeply held hope, the burning ember of which he guarded like the font of life itself. For fear of the haruspex’ possible answer, Romulus had never dared mention it before.
Tarquinius’ expression changed, becoming sombre.
Romulus steeled himself.
‘Fabiola is,’ Tarquinius said at length. ‘I am certain of it.’
Joy filled him, and he grinned. ‘And my mother?’
The haruspex shook his head once.
Romulus’ initial elation ebbed away, to be replaced by sadness. His mother’s death was not a complete surprise to him, however. While not particularly old at the time of his sale to the ludus, Velvinna had been small and slight of build. And her children’s sale would have finally broken her spirit. The incredibly harsh environment of the salt mines, into which Gemellus had promised to sell her, killed even the strongest of men within a few months. To expect that she would survive more than four years in such a living hell was unrealistic. Romulus had kept her alive in his imagination because it helped him with his own situation. Closing his eyes, he asked that the gods look after his mother in paradise.
‘Where is Fabiola now?’ Romulus nearly choked on his next words. ‘Still in the brothel?’
‘No.’
‘Where, then?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Tarquinius. ‘If I see more, you’ll be the first to know.’
Romulus sighed, wondering why, in his vision, Fabiola had been at the Forum. He would have to wait for the answer.
Overhead, the harsh keening of the gulls reminded them of their proximity to the sea: their possible route home. Romulus’ heart sang with previously unthinkable ideas.
The timbers beneath them creaked as heavy footsteps approached their position.
The haruspex’ eyes narrowed, and Romulus’ fingers crept towards the handle of his gladius. In this exotic port, they had no friends – only potential enemies. The gravelly voice that butted in was a rude reminder of this fact.
Romulus did not understand the words, but the angry tone