goes for Memor, thought Fabiola. ‘What happened next?’
‘Clodius got hit in the shoulder by a pilum and fell down. Some of his men carried him inside the tavern for shelter. The rest tried to hold off the attackers, but there were too many. The door was kicked in and Clodius got dragged outside, screaming and crying for mercy.’
Fabiola shuddered at the dramatic and gory image. ‘And you’re certain he’s dead?’
‘He didn’t have a chance, lady. They were like a pack of wild dogs.’ The youngster swallowed. ‘There was blood everywhere. Clodius’ men are carrying his body back to the city,’ continued the prisoner. ‘His wife doesn’t even know yet.’
‘When she finds out, the gates of Hades will open,’ said the shopkeeper grimly. ‘Fulvia won’t take this lying down.’
Fabiola’s interest was piqued. ‘You know her?’
‘Not exactly. But she’s a typical noblewoman,’ he replied. ‘Likes to get her opinion across, if you know what I mean.’
Fabiola raised an eyebrow.
The old man tittered.
Realising what he had said, the proprietor flushed. ‘Not meaning to insult noble ladies, of course.’
Fabiola graced him with a smile to show that she had taken no offence. ‘Release the boy,’ she ordered Tullius.
Reluctantly the Sicilian obeyed.
Unsure what would happen to him, the youth shuffled his feet.
Fabiola tossed him a denarius and his eyes lit up at the unexpected reward.
‘Thank you, lady!’ He bobbed his head and ran off, eager to spread the news.
‘We’d best return to the domus, Mistress,’ said Tullius, looking concerned. ‘This means trouble.’
Fabiola did not protest. The open-fronted shop was no place to linger at a time like this. Saying goodbye to the shopkeeper, they hurried on to the street. It was only a hundred paces to Brutus’ house and the protection of its thick walls and iron-studded gates. In the event, that short distance was too far.
Round the nearest corner swarmed a horde of thugs armed with clubs, swords and spears. Being herded in their midst were many frightened-looking men, women and children: ordinary citizens. Talking in loud, angry voices, the group’s leaders did not immediately see Fabiola and her guards.
‘Quick!’ hissed Tullius, gesturing frantically. ‘Back into the shop!’
Fabiola turned, but slipped on a sliver of wet wood lying in the mud. The resulting splash was enough to catch the attention of the fast-moving rabble. Within a heartbeat, it had reached them. Before the Sicilian had time to do more than help Fabiola up, they were surrounded. Fortunately, the heavies seemed relatively good-natured. Shouts of laughter rang out at her misfortune and rough, unshaven faces pressed in close, leering.
‘Come with us!’ cried a bearded man who appeared to be one of the mob’s leaders. His tone offered no option of refusal.
Tullius looked helplessly at his mistress. If he or his men touched their weapons, they would be killed out of hand.
Fabiola knew it too. Her heart pounding, she smoothed down her dress. ‘Where?’
The answer was instant. ‘To the Forum!’
She peered at the people who were being forced to accompany the gang members: their faces were twisted with fear. Law and order was completely breaking down, and there was no one to stand up for normal people like them. ‘Why?’ Fabiola asked stoutly.
‘To witness what those bastards did to Clodius!’ shouted the bearded thug. ‘His body will be displayed for all to see.’
A furious roar met his words and Fabiola’s heart sank. News of the murder had already reached the city. The young man had not been the first to return.
‘Respect must be paid to the dead.’ The gang leader raised his sword in the air. ‘Before we rid this city of that bastard Milo. And everyone who follows him!’
This time the mob’s response was an inarticulate roar. Primeval. Terrifying.
Fabiola could almost feel the Republic’s foundations shake beneath the rabble’s anger. Her own heart was thumping with fear, but it was pointless trying to resist.
The crowd moved off at speed, taking Fabiola and her men with it.
Chapter V: Discovery
Margiana, winter 53/52 BC
An entire cohort was sent out to the Mithraeum at dawn, but found only corpses. The surviving Scythians had disappeared on horseback, and their original purpose was presumed to be an attempt to assassinate Pacorus. Long-range patrols were mounted throughout the area, but found no evidence of enemy forces. Gradually the tension in the fort eased, although Vahram, now acting commander, insisted that the sentries were doubled day and night.
Nothing more was seen of the Scythians.
Weeks passed without any news of Tarquinius. There was no word of Pacorus either; complete secrecy reigned over the commander’s