Furies Read Online Free PDF

for a cup of wine? It’s not bad actually,” he told Aculeo. “A bit ordinary but …”
    “Show me the money first,” the capo snapped.
    Gellius glanced towards Aculeo, then looked away, not wanting to speak the obvious. “Some bread and meat as well,” Aculeo said reluctantly, flashing the capo some brass. They took a table in the corner facing the door and a serving girl delivered plates of gritty-looking bread, a shallow bowl of opson, some pickled radishes and a platter heaped with chunks of charred, gristly pork (at least he hoped it was pork) plucked from the brazier. The harsh wine burned Aculeo’s throat and made the backs of his eyes ache. The surface was swimming with little stems. He wisely put his cup down. Gellius ate hungrily, eyes closed, savouring each bite as though it were broiled peacock.
    “Where’s Trogus?” Aculeo asked.
    “Staying here with me of course. He’s gone out with Bitucus somewhere I imagine.”
    Aculeo squirmed a little in discomfort. “Bitucus was caught up in things as well?”
    “Of course,” Gellius scoffed. “Them and dozens more. Are you actually surprised?”
    “I know it well enough.”
    “You’re not a very popular man down here you know. Ah, here they come now.”
    A pair of men approached the table. Trogus was squat, thick through the body with short, powerful arms and a dense, knotted brow that almost touched the crest of bristling black hair. Bitucus was his physical opposite, tall and slender, watery blue eyes in his long, moony face, his fair hair greying at the temples, long and unkempt now. Both men were badly in need of a shave, a bath and a haircut.
    “What the fuck’s he doing here?” Trogus growled as he stared at Aculeo, his fists clenching at his sides, his face twisted in sheer loathing.
    “Ah, Trogus, look who I met at the Hippodrome,” Gellius said brightly. “Aculeo broke my nose.”
    “He what?” Trogus demanded, shoulders tensed like a big dog ready to attack. He started to cough rather violently then, his face turning reddish purple, eyes bulging from his face with every cough.
    “It was a simple misunderstanding,” Aculeo said after the man had finally caught his breath. “I brought him back here afterwards.” Gellius shrugged unhelpfully, saying nothing in his defence. “Please, join us.” Bitucus eyed the food and drink hungrily, licking his lips.
    “Yes, join us,” Gellius said, slapping the tabletop. “We’re still Roman after all, are we not?”
    Trogus stood back in disbelief. “I’d sooner starve to death than sit with the likes of this thieving bastard!” Aculeo saw the man’s fine tunic had a poorly mended tear near the hip. His sandals were cheap and badly worn, and he had an infected-looking ulcer on his left shin.
    “I think I should go,” Aculeo said, rising from his chair.
    “But we just got here,” Trogus said, shoving him roughly back. “We never even had a chance to talk about what you did with our money!”
    “I did nothing. I never actually touched it. And now I’m as broke as you. Whatever happened, I’m as much a victim of it as …”
    “You’re a fucking liar!” Trogus cried, then started coughing again.
    “Trogus, please,” Gellius said soothingly.
    Trogus knocked his partner’s hand angrily away. “I can scarcely believe I was duped by the likes of you,” he said, his voice shaking, tears welling in his dark brown eyes. “We lost everything, him and I. Everything! We’ve been reduced … to this!” he cried, sweeping his hand about in disgust. A few patrons at the neighbouring tables looked up, shrugged and returned to their own conversations.
    “Trogus, look at me,” Aculeo said. “Do I truly look like I’m living well?”
    The other man moved in close, his breath hot and foul. “You’re still breathing aren’t you? That’s more than you deserve.”
    Bitucus suddenly sat down and scooped some food onto an empty plate. Trogus looked at him in disbelief. “What do you