There was a loud curse as a burly figure at the rear stumbled and fell against the wall of a house. He doubled over and was sick, narrowly missing his leather sandals.
'Come on!' A thin, clean-shaven man with an aquiline nose and short haircut barked with amusement. 'We have hours more drinking to do!'
A shutter banged open above. 'Do that somewhere else, you bastard!'
Wiping vomit from his lips, the big noble stared up into the darkness. 'I am an equestrian of the Republic. Puke where I want. Now piss off unless you want a good beating!'
Intimidated by the speaker's rank and his bodyguards, the householder quickly withdrew.
There were roars of laughter from the drunken men.
It was a foolish person who took on a group of the nobility. All citizens were supposedly equal, but Rome was really ruled by an elite of senators, equestrians or
The burly man retched again. 'Bloody plebeians,' he said, placing a meaty hand on his companion's shoulder. 'Take it easy, old friend. My legs aren't working too well.'
'Plebs are good for little,' agreed his companion. 'Except manual labour and the army.'
Most of his companions smiled, but the stocky redhead at the front spoke impatiently. 'Get a move on! Still got to reach the Lupanar!'
The nobles perked up at the mention of Rome's most famous brothel.
Its specialities were known throughout Italy. Even the drunkest ones looked interested.
'Never happy unless you have a screw, eh Caelius?' the lean man replied, a slight edge to his voice.
'Best whorehouse in the city. You should try it some time.' Caelius rubbed his hands together in anticipation. 'Nowhere better for beautiful women after a skinful.'
'Just had a new delivery of slaves from Germania, apparently.' The big noble cleared his throat. 'But I need more wine first!'
'Then the whorehouse!' Caelius clapped him on the arm.
'If I can still get it up!'
'And me!' The oldest of the group, who was forty-five, laughed.
'Coming? Or does your wife need you at home?'
The lean man smiled without rancour. He 'd heard the taunt many times before. It stemmed partly from jealousy of his wife 's proud lineage and partly from his devotion to her. But no drunken comment could come close to upsetting him. The whole group knew the noble for his restraint and composure and he wasn't about to spoil that impression.
'If the women are really so good looking, I might be tempted. But they're more likely to be pox-ridden hags!'
The others laughed, eager to please their powerful friend. This was a politician who had survived the bloody purges by Sulla, the successor to the first co-dictators of Rome, Cinna and Marius. Despite many threats, he had refused to divorce his wife, the daughter of an enemy of Sulla's. After months of pleading by the lean man's family and its supporters, Sulla had reversed his death sentence. The dictator's prediction that Rome's nobility would eventually be overthrown by him had been forgotten, and the ambitious equestrian was now one of the most prominent young men in the public eye.
'Bugger one of the boys then,' Caelius snapped. 'Leave the women to us.'
The noble rubbed his aquiline nose. 'Thought they were all at your house.'
Caelius' fists clenched.
'Leave it, you two. We are all friends here,' said Aufidius, his normally jovial face serious. A stout figure, he was popular with everyone for his good nature.
Always the politician, the lean man shrugged. 'I have no wish to quarrel further.'
'What do you say, Caelius? Shall we leave this bad feeling behind?'
Biting his lip with fury, the redhead nodded. 'Very well.'
The tone was insincere, but it was enough for Aufidius, who turned to the group. 'Where 's the nearest hostelry?'
'Opposite side of the Forum. Behind the temple of Castor.' The burly equestrian weaved to the front. 'Follow me.'
A short time later they were all seated at a table in a stone-walled tavern, its air reeking of cheap wine and sweat. Rush torches guttered from brackets, blackening the walls and casting long, dancing shadows. The inn was typical, with one room on the ground floor and three- or four-storey tenement flats above. Loud conversation filled the air. On some tables games of dice were being played, at others men arm-wrestled for money.
Despite their retinue of bodyguards, most of the newcomers felt uneasy. This was a far cry from their usual watering holes. Unused to mixing with nobles, many customers were also casting wary glances in their direction.
'What are you staring at?' Caelius snarled.
The nearest drinkers quickly looked away.
With a malicious smile, Caelius jerked his head and the biggest slaves instantly moved to stand behind the curious citizens. When he nodded again, they hauled two outside while the remainder stood guard by the entrance. The men's friends sat helplessly as screams carried inside. Even the huge doorman kept his mouth shut.
'You'll win no friends like that, Caelius,' commented the lean man.
'Who needs scum as friends?'
'Beat plebs when necessary.' He glanced at the door. 'Otherwise let them be.'
'Always know best, don't you?'
'These people are not slaves.'
'Equestrians can do as they wish.'
'If you want them to support you for a position in the Senate, keep behaving like that.'
Caelius curled his lip, but had no reply.
'We
There were nods of agreement but the redhead scowled.
'Is there nowhere better round here?' Aufidius lowered his voice slightly. 'This place is a shithole.'
Most turned to Caelius, the self-elected expert on brothels.
'I've had better horse piss and the clientele are low class too. But it's only a short walk to the Lupanar,' said Caelius, satisfied to be the centre of attention again. He drained his beaker. 'Let's have a few here. Then we can give some blonde whores a good seeing to!'
Everyone nodded, with the exception of the lean man.
'I'll be going home after this.'
'What? Fading on us?' The burly equestrian refilled his friend's cup and shoved it along the table, spilling wine.
'I have to prepare for a debate in the Senate tomorrow.'
'Genius flows better after a night in the saddle!' Aufidius made an obscene gesture to gales of laughter.
'I want to be a quaestor next year, my friend. Such positions don't just fall into one 's lap.' As an assistant to the senior magistrates, the lean man would have the opportunity to learn much about the intricacies of the Republic's legal system, perhaps even to manage some of the public finances. It would be valuable political experience, preparing him for the rank above, the praetorship.
'Jupiter's balls, will you lighten up?' sneered Caelius, aware that without a powerful sponsor, he had no chance of election to such a post.
'The man has a point,' admitted Aufidius. 'Once in the magistracy, nights like this won't happen too often.'
'I'm aware of that.'
'Then stay out with us!'
'I would rather decide the path of the Republic. You can all screw the night away.'
'You're not the only one with an important job.'
'Forgive me,' he said quickly. 'I meant no insult.'
'Did you not?' Caelius gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles went white. 'Not a quaestor yet. You're still an equestrian, like us! Arrogant prick!'
The lean man's stare became icy and the pair locked eyes.
'Come now, Caelius,' Aufidius interjected. 'Sooner a whore soothes your brow, the better!'
The redhead forced a smile.
The other's eyes remained stony.
'It's Caelius' balls need soothing more than anything!'
Most laughed at the joke.
The
'The prick will make a mistake eventually,' snarled Caelius. 'Everyone does.' Still seething with anger, the redhead knew he was too drunk to outwit his enemy. Dragging his companion away, he staggered towards the Lupanar.
The lean man strode into the darkness, the girl held firmly by one arm. Waste and broken pottery discarded by the inhabitants of nearby houses littered the alley. Finding a suitable spot at last, he ripped her light shift off and shoved the slave to the ground. She fell awkwardly, exposing a triangle of dark hair at the base of her belly. Adjusting his toga, he swept open both legs with a foot and lowered himself to his knees. The girl cried out in terror. With a shove he entered her, sighing with pleasure.
The lean man thrust in and out eagerly. His wife had not been well for some time and his physical needs had been neglected. Caught up with furthering an ambitious political career, he had gone for months without sex.
The girl's eyes were wide with fear.
'Look at me again and I'll cut your throat!'
Hastily she obeyed, jamming a hand in her mouth to keep silent. Tears rolled silently from between closed lids. This was the lot of a slave.
With a loud moan, he climaxed, pushing deep inside.
She did not open her eyes as he got up, rearranging his toga.
The lean man stared down with a satisfied smile. Even with a swollen, tearstained face, the girl was a real beauty. Lust sated, he could return home. He had to finish the speech on public spending for the next day. If it was well received, his chances of election as quaestor would be greatly enhanced. Having served in the priesthood of Jupiter and as a military staff officer, he was determined to proceed along the noble 's career path – the
He was sure his father would have been proud to see how far an only son had risen. Though patrician, the family had not been wealthy. His father had worked hard in the Senate for many years to achieve the rank of praetor, just below that of consul, shortly before he died.
Initially the young man's own career had been helped by the family's connections, which opened many doors that would have remained shut otherwise. Long years of listening to his father's conversations with political allies, watching debates in the Forum and attending society banquets had also paid off. He had become a consummate politician and a suitable marriage had cemented his social position. The union of an aunt to a powerful consul had brought him into the public eye, but when his uncle had died during a period of civil war, his progress had faltered somewhat. Sulla's bloody reign had been dangerous for anyone with different ideas. The first general ever to march soldiers into Rome, Sulla had executed virtually everyone who got in his way. It had earned him the nickname of 'the butcher'.