Dexter grunted irritably. 'You a friend of his?'

'No,' the haruspex replied. 'I grew up in the area.'

The vilicus stared at him, frowning.

Tarquinius waited, interested to see if Dexter would recognise him.

'I can't place you,' he admitted. 'You're about the same age as me though.'

'Younger,' the haruspex corrected. His greying hair and scars always made people think he was older than he was. 'Tarquinius is my name.'

Finally a look of recognition crossed Dexter's face. 'Mars above,' he breathed. 'I never thought to see you again. Owe me some fresh meat, don't you?'

Tarquinius had to smile at that. 'You have a good memory.'

'Some things are still working,' the vilicus answered with a scowl. He eyed the slaves for a moment, checking their work was satisfactory. 'Why did you run and leave the old man after I warned you?'

Tarquinius sighed. 'He wouldn't have it any other way.'

Dexter looked unsurprised. 'I didn't have you down as a coward.' His expression turned crafty. 'What did you do with his valuables?'

Tarquinius had prepared himself for this exact question and kept his face blank. As Caelius' strongman, the vilicus had often been party to his plans. The whole point of selling Olenus out had been to steal the sword of Tarquin, the last Etruscan king of Rome, and the bronze liver, a model for soothsayers to learn their art. 'Was Crassus unhappy?' he asked by way of answer. 'Turns out he could have done with their help.'

'Damn your eyes,' Dexter snarled. 'What happened to them?'

'They were already missing when I got up there,' Tarquinius said regretfully. 'Olenus wouldn't tell me where.'

They stared at each other without speaking.

It was the vilicus who looked away first, perturbed by the dark, bottomless pits that were Tarquinius' eyes. 'It's of no matter now,' he muttered uneasily. 'Both Caelius and Crassus are long gone.'

'They are,' the haruspex replied. 'To whatever place they deserve.'

They exchanged another long look.

Dexter broke the silence. 'What brings you back?'

'I'd like to visit my parents' graves. The major-domo told me to ask you where they were.'

Dexter gave an awkward cough. 'Workers only get a wooden marker. This long after, there's usually nothing left.'

'Nonetheless, I thought you might remember where they were buried,' said Tarquinius, his voice turning silky.

'Perhaps.'

Tarquinius stood aside, leaving the track back to the villa and the graveyard beyond open.

Unsettled, Dexter barked an order at the slaves and then led the way up the hill. Reaching the rough quadrangle that served as the burial ground for slaves and indentured workers, Tarquinius was pleasantly surprised when the vilicus led him straight to a spot which looked up towards Falerii. It wouldn't have been a deliberate choice on the part of those charged with digging the graves, but it pleased him all the same.

'Here.' Dexter pointed with the toe of one of his worn out caligae. 'They were buried in the same hole.'

It would have been done to save space, but Tarquinius was still gratified by what felt like a small gesture on the part of the gods. Looking down at the unmarked sod, he remembered his mother and father as they had been in his youth on the family farm. Smiling, vital and proud. It was how they would want to live on in his memory. Sadness filled him as he thought of the manner of their parting, and that he had never seen them living again. Closing his eyes, he let their images fill his mind for long moments.

Dexter shifted from foot to foot, unhappy but no longer sure what to say.

Doubtless he would feel the same grief when he climbed up to the cave and visited Olenus' burial place, thought Tarquinius. What had it all been for? he wondered wearily. After all his wanderings, he was still the last haruspex. He'd discovered little about the Etruscans. Some of the knowledge Olenus had drummed into him had been passed on to Romulus, but if the gods didn't clear the way for them to meet again and be reconciled, it would all have been for nothing.

No, not for nothing, Tarquinius thought, dragging together the shreds of his belief. Tinia and Mithras know best, and their will is divine. It is not for me to question them, and they have not forgotten me. I am needed in Rome. Why else would I have been drawn back to the Lupanar? Fabiola appears to be safe, but the unspecified danger and the storm over the city must signify something. With luck, I will be granted a sign at the cave.

Keeping this to the front of his mind, the haruspex looked up the mountain slope. If he hurried, there was time to visit it and return safely before dark. Then, after dinner with Caecilius, he could creep out to check that the sword and liver were still undisturbed in the olive grove where he'd buried them.

It was as if Dexter had read his mind. 'You know damn well where the artefacts are,' he suddenly growled.

Tarquinius' fingers caressed the hilt of his gladius. 'Even if I did, who would you tell?'

They eyed each other in silence. Dexter had been the scourge of every slave on the estate for decades, and had beaten men to death on many occasions. The last time he'd seen Tarquinius, he would easily have done the same. Now, there was an air of deadly confidence about the long-haired Etruscan. It was more than that, though, thought the vilicus. There was something in the other's eyes which put the fear of Hades into him. It was as if Tarquinius was looking into his soul, and passing judgement on it.

Suddenly Dexter felt old and beaten. 'Nobody at all,' he whispered.

With a brief smile of satisfaction, the haruspex brushed past.

It was time to honour Olenus and, for the thousandth time, to ask for guidance.

'Romulus!'

He turned his head, searching for Sabinus' voice. Incredibly, his comrade was on the back of a horse beyond the nearest Numidians. How Sabinus had got there, Romulus had no idea, but he'd never been more pleased. Slashing at another rider, he managed to barge around one mount and then another. Sabinus' last spear took down a further warrior, creating terror in the enemy ranks. There were so many angry Numidians trying to get at Romulus that all was chaos, but within four or five heartbeats, he was by Sabinus' side. Spurred on by pure adrenalin, he took the legionary's outstretched arm and leapt up behind him.

Urging the horse on with his knees, Sabinus directed it around the side of the milling Numidians. They headed straight for the Twenty-Eighth. Most of the enemy cavalrymen had yet to realise what had gone on. However, four of Petreius' party gave chase, and Romulus' hopes, which had soared, fell again. A horse carrying two could never outrun those with single riders. The dun-coloured beast labouring beneath them was worthy enough, but it wasn't Pegasus. Sabinus cursed and drummed his heels against its ribs – to no avail.

The chasing Numidians drew closer and closer, shouting insults as they came. A spear flew lazily through the air, landing just behind them. It was followed by another, which shot past to impale itself in the sand ten steps in front. Romulus glanced back, and his mouth opened in horror as a third javelin scudded in, striking their mount in the rump. Its head went up in shock, and its gait altered, slowing almost to a walk.

Sabinus knew instantly what had happened. Throwing his right leg over, he dismounted. 'Come on!' he shouted.

Romulus didn't need any prompting. Half climbing, half falling, he got down. The horse stumbled off, the javelin still protruding from its hip. Romulus had no time to pity it. The Numidians were closing in fast, throwing spears at the ready. Perhaps fifty paces separated them.