There was a loud curse as a burly figure at the rear stumbled and fell against the wall of a house. He doubled over and was sick, narrowly missing his leather sandals.

'Come on!' A thin, clean-shaven man with an aquiline nose and short haircut barked with amusement. 'We have hours more drinking to do!'

A shutter banged open above. 'Do that somewhere else, you bastard!'

Wiping vomit from his lips, the big noble stared up into the darkness. 'I am an equestrian of the Republic. Puke where I want. Now piss off unless you want a good beating!'

Intimidated by the speaker's rank and his bodyguards, the householder quickly withdrew.

There were roars of laughter from the drunken men.

It was a foolish person who took on a group of the nobility. All citizens were supposedly equal, but Rome was really ruled by an elite of senators, equestrians or equites, and the richest landowners. Together the families that made up the aristocracy formed a clique that was virtually impossible to join, except with great wealth. A few individuals from this small class controlled the Republic's fate.

The burly man retched again. 'Bloody plebeians,' he said, placing a meaty hand on his companion's shoulder. 'Take it easy, old friend. My legs aren't working too well.'

'Plebs are good for little,' agreed his companion. 'Except manual labour and the army.'

Most of his companions smiled, but the stocky redhead at the front spoke impatiently. 'Get a move on! Still got to reach the Lupanar!'

The nobles perked up at the mention of Rome's most famous brothel.

Its specialities were known throughout Italy. Even the drunkest ones looked interested.

'Never happy unless you have a screw, eh Caelius?' the lean man replied, a slight edge to his voice.

'Best whorehouse in the city. You should try it some time.' Caelius rubbed his hands together in anticipation. 'Nowhere better for beautiful women after a skinful.'

'Just had a new delivery of slaves from Germania, apparently.' The big noble cleared his throat. 'But I need more wine first!'

'Then the whorehouse!' Caelius clapped him on the arm.

'If I can still get it up!'

'And me!' The oldest of the group, who was forty-five, laughed.

'Coming? Or does your wife need you at home?'

The lean man smiled without rancour. He 'd heard the taunt many times before. It stemmed partly from jealousy of his wife 's proud lineage and partly from his devotion to her. But no drunken comment could come close to upsetting him. The whole group knew the noble for his restraint and composure and he wasn't about to spoil that impression.

'If the women are really so good looking, I might be tempted. But they're more likely to be pox-ridden hags!'

The others laughed, eager to please their powerful friend. This was a politician who had survived the bloody purges by Sulla, the successor to the first co-dictators of Rome, Cinna and Marius. Despite many threats, he had refused to divorce his wife, the daughter of an enemy of Sulla's. After months of pleading by the lean man's family and its supporters, Sulla had reversed his death sentence. The dictator's prediction that Rome's nobility would eventually be overthrown by him had been forgotten, and the ambitious equestrian was now one of the most prominent young men in the public eye.

'Bugger one of the boys then,' Caelius snapped. 'Leave the women to us.'

The noble rubbed his aquiline nose. 'Thought they were all at your house.'

Caelius' fists clenched.

'Leave it, you two. We are all friends here,' said Aufidius, his normally jovial face serious. A stout figure, he was popular with everyone for his good nature.

Always the politician, the lean man shrugged. 'I have no wish to quarrel further.'

'What do you say, Caelius? Shall we leave this bad feeling behind?'

Biting his lip with fury, the redhead nodded. 'Very well.'

The tone was insincere, but it was enough for Aufidius, who turned to the group. 'Where 's the nearest hostelry?'

'Opposite side of the Forum. Behind the temple of Castor.' The burly equestrian weaved to the front. 'Follow me.'

A short time later they were all seated at a table in a stone-walled tavern, its air reeking of cheap wine and sweat. Rush torches guttered from brackets, blackening the walls and casting long, dancing shadows. The inn was typical, with one room on the ground floor and three- or four-storey tenement flats above. Loud conversation filled the air. On some tables games of dice were being played, at others men arm-wrestled for money.

Despite their retinue of bodyguards, most of the newcomers felt uneasy. This was a far cry from their usual watering holes. Unused to mixing with nobles, many customers were also casting wary glances in their direction.

'What are you staring at?' Caelius snarled.

The nearest drinkers quickly looked away.

With a malicious smile, Caelius jerked his head and the biggest slaves instantly moved to stand behind the curious citizens. When he nodded again, they hauled two outside while the remainder stood guard by the entrance. The men's friends sat helplessly as screams carried inside. Even the huge doorman kept his mouth shut.

'You'll win no friends like that, Caelius,' commented the lean man.

'Who needs scum as friends?'

'Beat plebs when necessary.' He glanced at the door. 'Otherwise let them be.'

'Always know best, don't you?'

'These people are not slaves.'

'Equestrians can do as they wish.'

'If you want them to support you for a position in the Senate, keep behaving like that.'

Caelius curled his lip, but had no reply.

'We equites are the most powerful people in the strongest state in the world. Those men knew that already, Caelius. Rule them through respect, not fear.'

There were nods of agreement but the redhead scowled.

'Is there nowhere better round here?' Aufidius lowered his voice slightly. 'This place is a shithole.'

Most turned to Caelius, the self-elected expert on brothels.

'I've had better horse piss and the clientele are low class too. But it's only a short walk to the Lupanar,' said Caelius, satisfied to be the centre of attention again. He drained his beaker. 'Let's have a few here. Then we can give some blonde whores a good seeing to!'

Everyone nodded, with the exception of the lean man.

'I'll be going home after this.'

'What? Fading on us?' The burly equestrian refilled his friend's cup and shoved it along the table, spilling wine.

'I have to prepare for a debate in the Senate tomorrow.'

'Genius flows better after a night in the saddle!' Aufidius made an obscene gesture to gales of laughter.

'I want to be a quaestor next year, my friend. Such positions don't just fall into one 's lap.' As an assistant to the senior magistrates, the lean man would have the opportunity to learn much about the intricacies of the Republic's legal system, perhaps even to manage some of the public finances. It would be valuable political experience, preparing him for the rank above, the praetorship.

'Jupiter's balls, will you lighten up?' sneered Caelius, aware that without a powerful sponsor, he had no chance of election to such a post.

'The man has a point,' admitted Aufidius. 'Once in the magistracy, nights like this won't happen too often.'

'I'm aware of that.'

'Then stay out with us!'

'I would rather decide the path of the Republic. You can all screw the night away.'

'You're not the only one with an important job.'

'Forgive me,' he said quickly. 'I meant no insult.'

'Did you not?' Caelius gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles went white. 'Not a quaestor yet. You're still an equestrian, like us! Arrogant prick!'

The lean man's stare became icy and the pair locked eyes.