The Field of Swords. Conn IgguldenЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Servilia already loved the little city of Valentia. The streets were clean and busy with people. There was an air of affluence about the place that made her palms itch. Yet despite the signs of wealth, it had a fresh feel to it that her own ancient city had lost centuries before. This was a more innocent town. Even finding the right building had been easier than she’d expected. There were no officials needing a private payment before documents could be signed; it was simply a matter of finding the right place and paying gold to the current owner. It was refreshing after the bureaucracy of Rome and the soldiers Brutus had sent out with her were able to show her three possible locations as soon as she asked. The first two were close to the water and likely to attract more of the dockworkers than she wanted. The third was perfect.

      In a quiet street close to the market and away from the waterfront, it was a roomy building with an impressive façade of white lime and hardwood. Servilia was long familiar with the need to present a pleasant face to the world. No doubt there were grimy little houses hidden in the towns where widows and whores earned a little extra on their backs, but the sort of place she wanted would attract dignitaries and officers from the legion, and be correspondingly more expensive.

      With so many new houses being built by the Tenth, Servilia had sensed the owner could be pressured and the final price was a bargain, even with the furnishings to come. Some of those would have to be shipped from Rome, though a swift inspection of local seamstresses resulted in a string of smaller payments and deals.

      With the house in her possession, she paid for an outgoing merchant to take a list of her requirements back to Rome. At least four more women would be needed and Servilia took great care in choosing their characteristics. It was important to establish a reputation for quality.

      After three days, there was little to be done but give the house a name, though that gave Servilia more trouble than she expected. Though there were no clear proscriptions in law, Servilia knew instinctively that it should be something discreet and yet suggestive. Calling it ‘The House of Rams’ or suchlike would not do at all.

      In the end, Angelina surprised her with a suggestion. ‘The Golden Hand’ was sufficiently erotic without being crude and Servilia had wondered whether Angelina’s light colouring had prompted the idea. When she’d acquiesced, Angelina had leapt up and kissed her on both cheeks. The girl could be adorable when she had her own way, there was no doubt about it.

      On the third morning after entering the city, Servilia watched a delicately drawn sign lifted onto iron hooks and smiled as a few of the Tenth cheered the sight. They would spread the word that the house was open for business and she expected the first night to be a busy one. After that, the future was assured and she fully expected to be able to pass over control to someone else in a few months. It was tempting to think of a similar establishment in every city of Spain. The finest girls and the feel of Rome. The market was there and the money would pour into her coffers.

      Servilia turned to her son’s guards and smiled at them.

      ‘I hope you will be able to get passes for tonight?’ she said lightly.

      They looked at each other, aware that the dock watch had suddenly become a valuable counter in their purses.

      ‘Perhaps your son could intercede for us, madam,’ the officer replied.

      Servilia frowned at that. Though they had not discussed it openly, she suspected Brutus was more than a little uncomfortable with her business. For that matter, she wondered if Julius had been told about the new house and what he thought of the idea. He might not have heard of her plans away in the south at his mines, though she couldn’t see how he could object.

      Servilia ran a hand idly along the line of her throat as she thought of him. Today was the day he was due to return. He was probably eating in the barracks at that moment and if she set off without delay, she could be back at the fort before the day was wasted.

      ‘I will need permanent guards for the house,’ she said as the thought occurred to her. ‘If you wish, I will ask the general to post you here,’ she told the officer. ‘I am a Roman citizen after all.’

      The guards looked at each other in wild surmise. Wonderful as the idea seemed, the thought of Caesar hearing their names to guard a whorehouse was enough to cool any man’s ardour. Reluctantly, they shook their heads.

      ‘I think he would prefer local men as guards here,’ the officer said at last.

      Servilia took the reins of her horse from one of the Tenth and leapt into the saddle. The leggings she wore were a little loose on her, but a skirt or stola would hardly have been appropriate.

      ‘Mount up, lads. I’ll go and ask him and we’ll see,’ she said, wheeling her horse around and kicking it into a canter. The hooves rattled loudly on the street and the local women raised their eyebrows at this strange Roman lady who rode like a soldier.

      Julius was greeting an elderly Spaniard as Servilia rode up to the gates of the fort. During daylight hours the gates were left open and the guards passed them straight through into the yard with only a nod. Her escort from town led their mounts back to food and water, leaving her alone. Being Brutus’ mother was proving extremely useful, she realised.

      ‘I would like to have a word with you, General, if I may,’ she called, walking her horse over to the pair.

      Julius frowned in barely concealed anger.

      ‘This is Mayor Del Subió, Servilia. I’m afraid I have no time to