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Seized as a child on the North African coast, Corbulo had lived his life since on the latifundium .
    Having a youthful woman as his owner seemed to trouble the old vilicus little. Brutus had made it perfectly clear that in his absence, Fabiola was the mistress of the household. Corbulo was delighted just to have someone to tell him what to do to stop the estate falling into rack and ruin, as it had been for years.
    ‘What are you doing?’
    ‘Supervising this lot, Mistress,’ said Corbulo, indicating the nearby slaves. ‘Always plenty of routine jobs to keep them busy.’
    Fabiola was intrigued by daily life on the latifundium . She could not imagine her former master feeling the same way. ‘Did Gemellus have any real interest in this place?’
    ‘When he first bought it, yes,’ Corbulo answered. ‘Used to come down here every few months.’
    Fabiola concealed her surprise.
    ‘He brought in the new olive trees from Greece and had the fish pools constructed,’ the vilicus revealed. ‘Even picked which hillsides to grow the vines on.’
    Fabiola disliked the thought of her former master having a creative side. He had only ever shown brutality at the house in Rome where she and Romulus had grown up. ‘What happened then?’ she asked.
    There was a shrug. ‘His businesses started to do badly. It started with goods from Egypt. I can still remember hearing the news.’ Corbulo’s lined face grew anguished. ‘Twelve ships sank on the way here from Egypt. Can you believe that, Mistress?’
    Fabiola sighed expressively, showing her apparent empathy. In reality she was trying to understand how a man such as Corbulo could care if his master’s fortunes took a turn for the worse. She had been delighted when Brutus revealed the circumstances that had led to Gemellus’ sale of the latifundium . Yet it was inevitable for slaves to identify with their owners in some way, she supposed. Fabiola could recall how proud Romulus had been about safely bringing back a note from Crassus’ to Gemellus’ house, dodging the moneylenders’ men who were always lounging opposite the front door. Yet her twin had hated Gemellus as much as she did. Even those with no freedom had some pride in their lives. So she should not judge Corbulo on that alone. Although he had worked for Gemellus for over twenty years, the vilicus had thus far proved loyal, reliable and hardworking.
    Almost on cue, Corbulo barked at a male slave who was sharpening a scythe with slow, indifferent strokes. ‘Put a proper edge on that, fool!’ He tapped the whip hanging from his belt. ‘Or you’ll feel this across your back.’
    Hastily the slave bent over the curved iron blade, running an oilstone back and forth along its entire length.
    Fabiola smiled approvingly. While not a brutal man, Corbulo wasn’t scared of using force either. It was a good sign that the threat was enough. ‘I thought his fortune was huge,’ she said, probing for more information.
    ‘It was.’ Corbulo sighed. ‘But the gods turned their faces away. Soon, everything the master did turned to dust. He began to borrow money, with no means of repaying it.’
    She could remember the heavies waiting outside Gemellus’ domus day and night and the rumours in the kitchen where the slaves gathered to gossip. ‘Brutus mentioned a venture with animals for the arena being the final straw.’
    Corbulo nodded reluctantly. ‘Yes, Mistress. It should have made Gemellus a king’s ransom. He had a third share in a expedition to capture wild beasts in southern Egypt.’ bestiarius ’
    Fabiola felt a pang of nostalgia: her brother had often pretended to be a bestiarius . Grief quickly dissolved her happiness. Instead, Romulus had become a gladiator. Yet no emotion showed on her face. The Lupanar had endowed her with the ability to conceal her feelings from everyone, even Brutus.
    Suddenly an old memory surfaced. Not long before they were sold, she and Romulus had overheard Gemellus and his bookkeeper