Not necessarily done with the elite military units we’ve been discussing over the past month, I felt it time to take a break with something completely different. Many of you are aware I write military adventure and historical fiction novels, but for those who aren’t … well … I do. I’ve recently begun research for my next, what will be book two in what has somehow turned into a three-book series. With a view toward introducing my latest work—and my new favorite, if thoroughly despicable, main character, Fulvius—what follows is an excerpt from “Q.Fulvius: Debt of Dishonor.” I hope you enjoy it!

“Rome: 26 July, 216 BC

Fulvius remained still. Still as the dead. Deep shadows cast by a full Italian moon silhouetted the crumbling Temple of Ceres behind and above, concealing his presence to the few passersby this late at night—each of them oblivious to how narrowly they avoided becoming the latest victim of a growing crime spree. Fulvius was a hunter, and they were his prey.

Romans and a few foreigners passed singly and in groups, generally in some stage of drunkenness. Most stumbled either to or from the whorehouses for which this part of the city had long ago become famous. Fulvius watched them all come and go, controlling his breathing even as his pulse quickened with the thrill of the hunt.

Slaves, running midnight errands for their masters, rushed by singly as well, but those wretched creatures held nothing of interest for Fulvius. So he waited.

An eternity passed before fortune favored the thief and a single, out-of-place whistle from down the alley caught his attention. Fingers flexed around the handle of a small club and Fulvius’s eyes narrowed, probing the gaping darkness at the end of the passageway.

Moments later faltering footsteps and belabored exhalations preceded a well-dressed, if disheveled, middle-aged man. The tunic of the overweight, balding gentleman appeared purplish in color, and he wore a prominent chain around his neck. It shimmered in the moonlight bathing him at the top of the stairs. The target—and that was indeed what he was—staggered as he walked, likely the result of a hard night drinking uncut wine.

Fulvius maintained his surveillance, unseen, as another set of footsteps joined those of the fat man, and Marcus broke into the soft light behind him. In an instant the stagger of Fulvius’s partner became as pronounced as that of the target, and Marcus’s entire demeanor changed to match their prey. Marcus accosted the man in a loud manner, slurring his words to effect intoxication: “Hey, Claudius—wait up!”

Their target seemed not to have heard him and continued on toward where Fulvius crouched, coiled like a snake ready to strike. The man bounced gently off the wall to his left, unaware and unable to walk a straight line.

Marcus sped up and called out once more, “Claudius, c’mon, wait for me!”

This time the man turned toward the voice, inebriated surprise evident on his plump face as it flashed in the moonbeams. “Are … Are … Are you … uh … talking to me? … I’m … I’m not … er … C-Claudius.”

The rich man focused on Marcus as much as his alcohol-dimmed brain was capable. He never even noticed as Fulvius the thief exploded out of the darkness. In three quick strides Fulvius delivered a brutal blow to the back of the fat man’s head. Their victim dropped like a rock to the cobblestones below, Fulvius guiding the gelatinous body to the ground and, with an audible groan, forcing the stricken hippo onto his back.

By the time their victim’s bald head touched stone, Marcus had arrived, all signs of inebriation having evaporated into the warm night air. Together, and wasting no energy on words, the thieves began stripping the man of anything of value, starting with Marcus untying the wealthy man’s high-end, red-dyed sandals.

Pulling the decorative chain over their victim’s smooth pate, Fulvius held the bauble up in the light, and the distinctive twinkling caused his heart to skip a beat. Gold! Deep within the cowl of his cloak, he grinned. Fortuna smiles on me tonight!

/////

Hours later the fat man’s expensive tunic and footwear had been sold to a business associate in the alley behind a glass merchant’s posh residence. The pair of thieves now sat on opposite sides of a narrow table in the center of their favorite tavern. It was a local haunt frequented by off-duty prostitutes, actors, and other wretches engaged in the seedier lines of work nobody acknowledged but everyone knew kept the city of Rome running. Regardless of their familiarity with the establishment, Fulvius and Marcus were positioned to watch one another’s back. This was the way it’d been ever since the two orphans had first fought over a moldy crust of bread in a dank cellar at the otherwise innocent age of eight.

Now, some twenty years later, the two were scarred physically and emotionally by the constant struggle for life that embodied Rome’s shadowy underworld. Over the years, however, the pair had grown into a deadly team, more than a little responsible for the steady growth of violent crime across the Aventine, the city’s unofficial plebeian heart.

Marcus gulped his drink, appearing to savor the bitter taste of posca while Fulvius toyed with the pilfered bit of jewelry.

Wiping his chin with a dirty tunic sleeve, Marcus stared for a long time at his partner, enchanted by the lustrous treasure in his hands as usual. “You wanna keep it, don’t you?”

“Huh?” Fulvius responded, looking up.

Marcus smiled. “I asked if you wanted to keep the necklace … like the other treasures you’ve collected over the years.”

“You know me too well.” Fulvius grinned back at his partner, embarrassed. Setting the chain down on the crude wooden table, he imbibed from his own cup, excess posca running from the corner of his mouth. He belched loudly. “How much do you want for your share?”

Marcus thought it over for a while, the bustle of the crowded pub filling any awkward silence. “Depends,” he said with some hesitation, “what’s it worth?”

“More to me than to you, I wager,” Fulvius replied with a sarcastic smile. “Still, you want my share from the clothes to call it even?”

After paying for dinner and drinks, that share amounted to two silver didrachms, a tidy sum for the two thieves—this in addition to the three didrachms apiece they’d taken from the victim’s purse. Of course this total ignored the two Fulvius had pried from the fat man’s clenched fist and managed to hide from his partner.

“Sounds good!” Marcus exclaimed and the pair shared a predator’s smile.

Marcus drained and held aloft the ceramic cup to get the attention of the scantily clad serving girl across the cavernous basement room. She smiled and nodded, so he placed the vessel back on the table and regarded his comrade, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You ever gonna tell me where you hide your vast horde? I know it’s somewhere near the Temple of Bona Dea.”

Fulvius lifted the shiny bauble up to the flickering candlelight as the young woman refreshed his friend’s libation, noting his partner’s obvious fascination with the attractive server. He hesitated long enough for her to depart—successfully hiding his alarm at Marcus’s perceptive revelation—before returning the other’s gaze and asking, “Would you tell me?”

At this his friend broke into a full smile before throwing his head back and laughing. “Not likely … thief.”

Fulvius chuckled as well. “Exactly … thief!”

When the laughter subsided, Marcus raised his cup, soberly regarding his comrade. “The only friend I’ll ever need.”

Fulvius mimicked his gesture, echoing the sentiment: “My only friend.”

They both drank, draining the sour, vinegar-cut wine.

The posca exhausted, Marcus nodded toward the serving girl and then smiled at Fulvius, who grinned in return.

“Go,” Fulvius said, “enjoy your evening.”

Marcus winked and went straightaway to where the girl stood, whispering something in her ear that elicited a playful giggle. After a few moments of brief conversation, the two headed up the stairs together, Marcus offering Fulvius a final, rakish grin.

Fulvius shook his head in mock disapproval until the pair disappeared behind a door at the landing up above. He sighed, took one last look around, then departed the establishment, walking straight to the magistrate’s home. Once there, Fulvius betrayed his only friend for the price of a single red sandal.”

Thanks for your time and interest today. If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can find “Q.Fulvius: Debt of Dishonor” in its entirety on Amazon.com in both paperback and ebook versions. Hope you have a great day, and join me again next week as we resume our march through the halls of military greatness. Till then, try to get out and enjoy the warmer weather.

M. G. Haynes