Monstrorum Misericordia

World of Darkness -- Pax Romana - Galchobhar

The Equestrian

As night fell over the city of Rome on this, the second day of September
the citizenry of Rome mourned the death of its greatest leader Augustus.
The imperator had died only a fortnight before and his body had been
carried from the southern municipality of Nuvlana all the way to Rome. Along
the way the body of Augustus was displayed to a grieving mass of citizens
some hundred thousand of which had escorted the departed Augustus back to the
capital for a state viewing and a public cremation. While the public mourned
their hero's death with wine in the streets, the Senate squared off against
the heir apparent Tiberius, and the equestrian families began selling their
allegiances to whichever side would advance their position the most.
The death of the man who had restored stability to Rome after its last civil war
might well be the cause of another savage struggle for power among Rome's elite at
a time when Rome was especially vulnerable to enemies both foreign and domestic.

With these issues in mind Junius Secundus Cato made his way down the dark and
filthy alley that lay in the nameless warren of streets between the old
Temple of Luna and the Temple of Diana in the lower Aventine. Regularly
he glanced over his shoulder in concern over the possibility of being
followed. A concern that had only grown since he had slipped out of his villa
in the Piscina Publica the low-lying district east of the Aventine Hill and
begun the long walk west along the Via Nova. That street was the lesser of two
roads in Piscina Publica and was less often used after the fall of night.

Secundus had chosen the Via Nova for that very reason hoping to avoid prying eyes
as he made his way towards the Porta Ardeatina a secondary postern or lesser gate
that primarily served cart traffic during the day and which was often closed by night.
The other larger gate, the Porta Appia, was highly fortified and heavily staffed by the
fourth cohort of Vigiles and Secundus had no desire to be stopped at the greater gate that
serviced the heavy traffic of the Via Appia which paralleled the Via Nova, but whose width
and wealth of business made it the most popular road for both wagons and pedestrians headed
into the heart of Rome. Secundus being of the rank of equestrian, a landed cavalryman, would be recognized
by any of the seasoned watchman and recognition was what the aging Eques (horse lord) most wanted to avoid
this particular evening.

To aid in avoiding notice Secundus had dressed in the clothes of one of his man-servants and
and had left behind both his armor and bodyguards. At just over fifty years old Secundus was
still fit for combat if not quite so spry. The gullies along either side of the sloping road
that led up to the Porta Ardeatina were heavy with brush and a well known place for highwaymen
to waylay the unwary or unprepared. Strangely, the old warrior had seen no sign of bandits and
had passed through the postern at the cost of only a modest bribe. Still he had felt an uneasy
sense of being followed since passing through the Servian Walls and had taken special effort to
throw off any pursuit rather than lead a tail to this evening's meeting.

Secundus' backward glance revealed the narrow entrance to the secluded alley that separated the
backside of a butchers shop and cheese sellers on one side and a wine shop and brothel along the
opposing wall. The alleyway was no wider than a man's outstretched arms, fifty paces deep and it
formed a narrow canyon on both sides two stories high which only revealed a narrow strip of night
sky if one cared to look up.

The aging soldier had only glanced upwards once to verify the absence of watchers, there had been none,
rather he chose to concentrate on his footing instead as the floor of the passageway was slick with
refuse. A narrow channel had been dug in the hard-packed earth of the lane which served to bleed away
a steady rush of unidentifiable fluids to the sewer entrance in the crowded street beyond. A powerful
melange wafted from the little ditch rank from a recently emptied chamber-pot, and strong with the
stench of sour wine and curdled milk. Such squalid alleys were commonplace in Rome and occasioned no
surprise for Secundus, rather what triggered his mild curiosity was the absence of both rats who were
Rome's most abundant pest and the mangy cats who primarily fed upon them. But being of single-minded
purpose the old man dismissed such minutia as irrelevant to his mission this evening and made his
way to the end of the lane where he knew the rear door to the brothel lay.

There a bloody glow from a ruby-tinted lampshade above revealed the outline of a iron-bound door in a
shallow recess of the brick wall of the brothel appropriately named the Fortified Fornix. Opposite the
ironclad door was another doorway that led into the butcher-shop and between the two doors lay a large
pile of offal. Before the mound of fleshy remains sat a large black dog. So utterly still was the beast
and so dark was it's coat that Secundus' eyes passed over it once without registering it before he did a
double-take. Immediately the horse-lord realized the dog was not a run-of-the-mill mongrel so common to
the streets of Rome, rather it was a noble looking beast, if sinister in coloration and demeanor.

Secundus was not sure what it was about the creature that left him uneasy. It was of course large, as
large as a man if it were to stand on it's hind legs, but here it sat at ease upon its haunches with
front legs splayed and it's tail curled about itself. Perhaps thought the old warrior, it was the ruby
glow reflected so brightly from the dog's eyes that had chilled his blood and left him hypnotized with
an uncharacteristic fascination. Being a rational man and something of a stoic philosopher, Secundus like
his namesake Cato knew that the stories of hell-hounds and chthonian deities were the superstitions of
the ignorant and had no place in the mind of a rational Roman. As the ebony beast had offered no
hostility towards him the old Eques turned his back on the creature and rapped upon the brothel door
five times twice and then four more times. The numbers and combination signified the number fourteen,
the number of Secundus' old legion and one that still harbored Tiberian loyalists from the time of the
Pannonian War.

As the reverberations of Secundus' staccato strikes upon the armored door faded, the portal opened
revealing a massive masculine form caparisoned in dirty leather armor and punctuated by a pair of cold
dark eyes, a crown of filthy unkempt hair and a set of teeth like a broken comb. Secundus had barely
offered the hand-sign of the goat and the password Capricorn when he was engulfed in a burly hug that
stank of old sweat and stale wine. Secundus pushed the door guard away laughing and clasped forearms
with the man.

Tullius was a Lombard who had also served in the Fourteenth Legion Gemina during the Pannonian War
five years ago. Both men had nearly died during that fateful campaign and bonds forged in the heat
of battle often superseded social station and in Tullius case, hygiene. Secundus was rudely pulled
into a darkened hall and the door firmly shut and bolted behind him. The older man looked Tullius
over as they conversed in hushed whispers. The Lombard had lost none of his prodigious strength, but
had most certainly lost more teeth, still his old friend was better off than many of the companions
they had each lost during the war, but he had obviously failed to rise further in the world and ranked
as only a brothel-house door guard. This saddened Secundus, but had nothing to do with tonight's meeting.

From deeper in the brothel came the sounds of music, laughter and general merrymaking. The party at
the Fortified Fornix was in full swing and the patrons were clearly unwilling to show Augustus his due
by drinking and fornicating with some degree of respect for the honor of a fallen patriarch of Rome. This
of kind lascivious behavior left Secundus disgusted with disapproval for it lacked self-discipline and
seriousness for the dignity of the occasion. Tullius must have recognized Secundus' sour expression for
he jabbed the old cavalryman in the ribs and showed what was left of his teeth as he pointed deeper into the
den of iniquity.

With humor turned all hard professionalism Tullius spoke in the harsh and guttural Latin of the Lombards:

"The Mother of the house waits for us my old friend. There is no more time for chit chat."

And with that pronouncement Tullius led Secundus down the darkened hall towards a flight of wooden stairs
guarded by a muscular young Sirian whom the Eques had met, but whose name escaped him. A quizzical
look towards Tullius triggered a response.

"Gabr. Also of the Fourteenth Gemina, good man, but after your time."

Secundus merely nodded. At their approach the young man saluted with fist-to-heart as Tullius gave him instructions
to guard the backdoor and called one of the two men guarding the atrium where the girls and the customers socialized.

Secundus noted aloud: "Your discipline is not as lax as such a setting would imply Legionnaire."

Tullius simply showed more missing teeth and led the way upstairs. The second floor consisted of a balconied walkway which
surrounded the atrium and all along its rectangular length stood doorways whose interiors were screened from outside view by
simple cloth hangings or beaded curtains. True doors would be a security risk in case a guest became rough with one of the
whores and would impede the guards in ending any funny business.

As the two former soldiers walked towards the far end of the balcony, Secundus noted that before each occupied room stood
a water-boy, the term wasn't very flattering, but it did describe the services rendered even as it diminished their importance.
Such men, and all the water-boys were men, stood guard while patrons satisfied their baser urges with the whores and then
provided a bucket of both warm and cold water with which to wash after their carnal exertions and a towel for drying. Absently
the old horseman noted that nearly every door had a water-boy which merely meant business was booming and that they were a rough
looking lot, but as the neighborhood was poor it followed those employed here would also be likewise.

Just then Secundus returned his full attention to what Tullius had been saying that Iovita, the house-madame or mother as
such women were often called in Rome, had asked for the aid of the old Egregius ("distinguished gentleman") personally, saying only that it was of the utmost
importance to the security of Rome.

Tullius had led them to the last doorway on the second floor and Secundus
noticed that it actually did have a wooden door and that it was guarded by a
large blond warrior who held a Germanic long-sword blade unsheathed and pointed
earthward. Tullius introduced the Dominus Cato to the guard who only spoke broken Latin,
but who looked fully capable of killing anyone who approached uninvited or unannounced.
At a word from the Lombard, the Germanic guard stepped back and opened the door
for them. As Secundus stepped through the open door he had no idea precisely what
he had been summoned here to do, but that the summons came from such an important
woman suggested a matter worthy of his attention.

The Beast

The black dog remained sitting in the filthy alley next to the pile of offal as if
it were his master's throne. The beast unconsciously cocked his head and pricked up
his ears as he strained to hear what was happening within the nearby whorehouse.

The merrymaking had taken on a sentimental tone as the drunken songs being sung
within bore more than a touch of nostalgia for comrades lost upon distant battlefields,
and the din of men's voices raised for past triumphs and the hope of better days
stirred the animal to rise from its resting place and pad with utmost silence to the
fortified door.

The alleyway was empty of all but the beast, absent even were the pests of the night,
and if there had been anyone else present they would have seen the canine adumbration
cast upon the wall of the butcher's shop grow momentarily indistinct as it grew taller
and more slender coming to resemble the shadow of a man.

A young man, dark of hair and eye, too tall to be Roman and too fair by far. He was
dressed all in shades of black, a sumptuous velvet tunic covered his pale flesh girded
at the waist by a finely molded leather belt with matching sandals and a hooded cloak
of good quality soft wool. The ensemble was completed by a dagger and scabbard beaded
with jet.

The pale youth rapped upon the iron-shod door five times, then five more, and a final
set of four distinct raps which fell away into silence. This time when the door opened
it revealed the athletic form of a richly tanned man apparently only a few years older
than the pale youth but clearly of foreign birth.

The Guardian

Gabr had made his way downstairs listening all the while to the drunken elegies of the
soldiers and whores who filled the inner court. The guests this evening were obviously
all men formerly of the legions, they struck Gabr as a dour lot, but their coin was just
as welcome at the Fortified Fornix.

Upon reaching the ground floor Gabr turned away from the sorrowful descant and the lights
of the courtyard for the relative dimness of the outer hall that connected the kitchens
with the whore's quarters. Directly between the two areas of the house lay the postern or
back door in the rear wall of the house of assignation.

There he relieved another of the guards to seek the latrines and took up the night's vigil
with only a barrel to sit upon, a bowl of tallow for illumination and a cup of Posca (a
dilution of wine vinegar and water generally drunk by the poor of Rome) for his thirst.

Gabr was tired. He had been awakened at midday to prepare for tonight's meeting and as he sat
his mind drifted momentarily into the past. Gabr, a nickname, or Gever ben Ari was a Hellenized Jew from Siria whose
family specialized in the spice trade. At an early age Gabr had come to the realization that he
would likely spend the rest of his life as a spice trader in the third largest city in the empire
- Antioch or he would have to break with family tradition.

Gabr chose the latter when he signed up with a legionary recruiter at the age of fifteen.
Six years and two wars later, Gabr considered himself a Roman and a soldier before he
thought of himself as a Jew or Syrian. And tonight he found himself caught up in some sort
of conspiracy or so he reasoned, but for whom and for what? These were things he felt certain
concerned his prospects for the future.

But his musings were interrupted by a rhythmic knocking at the postern door.

Immediately Gabr stood, as he did so, he also loosened the Roman short-sword at his waist
and moved to open the door. The ruby-tinted lantern light barely cut the darkness of the
fetid alley that ran behind the brothel. He barely registered the humid stinks wafting in
for what was revealed in the lamp's bloody glow. A young man of seeming of Circassian
origins dark of hair and pale of skin, athletic and well dressed if in the somberest color.

Gabr stood as if stricken, his mouth gone dry, unable to move or speak for the beauty of the
Circassian youth whose deep dark eyes seemed pull at him. He wasn't aware of the passage of
time or that he should be doing something as his eyes wandered from the perfect face to flesh
pale and elegant like moonlight on marble. It was a cold beauty and eerie for the stillness
of the figure, but it triggered a fire in Gabr's loins which was only quickened by the longing
he saw in the stranger's eyes.

The Circassian spoke shattering the moment and left Gabr aware that the pale youth was just a
a hands-breath from him, far too close were violence to erupt, and yet he wanted the young man
close.

The Circassian's voice was a low whisper: "May I come in...?"

Gabr felt heat rising to his cheeks at his slow response and obvious stare.

"Of course...please do enter...and a thousand welcomes to the Fortified Fornix."

As the Circassian stepped across the threshold Gabr felt a sudden sense of apprehension.

The Circassian's low whisper suddenly took on a strangely threatening tone:
"You have my sincerest thanks...Gabr. Of all those who reside now in this establishment your reward will be the greatest."

Suddenly Gabr didn't like the way the youth spoke and he clenched the hilt of his short sword
hard enough to hear his knuckles crack. Something was wrong. Gabr now noticed that the postern
door was closed. He couldn't recall if he had closed it or if it had been the stranger who had
done so or even when that might have happened. As fear started to steal over Gabr pressing him
towards fight or flight the young Circassian smiled and looked him directly in the eyes and
suddenly Gabr wanted to hear what the beautiful Circassian had to say.

"Gabr I am here looking for someone, but I am not entirely sure why he would come to this place."

Gabr could barely contain himself waiting for the looming question that he now longed to answer.

"Is there something special happening tonight in the Fortified Fornix?"

Gabr felt the sweat break out all over his body as he struggled to answer quickly enough.

"There is a secret meeting taking place up on the second floor in the Mother's rooms between the old leadership of the Fourteenth Legion Gemina and several Tiberian loyalists!"

With the words finally uttered Gabr felt a kind of release not unlike that of ejaculation. The
Circassian merely leered in a knowing way as if they two had just participated in some perverse
and unspeakable pleasure that bound them together in dark camaraderie.

The Circassian continued the questioning with in a low coquettish drone: "And do tell what is the occasion of this covert meeting?"

Immediately Gabr felt that buildup of need to tell the pale youth everything he knew about the
meeting. So much so that muscles throughout his body trembled from the exertion of his need to
confess which was frustrated by his inability to come up with anything like an answer. In turn
the Circassian suddenly looked exasperated.

As if speaking more to himself than to Gabr the beautiful boy asked a further question.

"You don't know why they are having the secret meeting tonight do you?"

Gabr felt an explosive release of tension that would have left him on the floor if the Circassian
hadn't been holding him up bodily.

"No!"

His answer or something else elicited a chortle of amusement from the dark clad Circassian.