At the Pomegranate

At the Pomegranate

“Only four of you this time?” Bruttia said as she put down her cup and wiped muslum from her mouth. “Your boss is either getting soft or running out of men.”

The four gangers paused and looked at one another, frowning. Then they looked at the assembled mass of drunks, whores and ne’er-do-wells that constituted the Pomegranate’s clientele. Maybe now, thought Bruttia, as they stand in one of the Subura’s most infamous tavernas whilst surrounded by the worst scum and villainy Rome has to offer, they realise they’ve bitten off more than they chew.

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Zenobius, Part One, by Chris Bone

Zenobius, Part One, by Chris Bone

His enemies called him “Hamo,” meaning “The Hook”, and they feared him. He was a long way from his natural habitat, the dark blue seas of the Mare Internum. Pompey the Great had supposedly done away with all the pirates many years before, yet many Greek Islands and Cilician coves still hid the sleek vessels of the Brotherhood. Rome still needed its slaves and contraband, and someone, somewhere always wanted to make a profit. In fact, the reason he was here—his reputation as a successful sea captain and pirate being much appreciated and often in demand—was a lucrative business deal with an ambitious dominus.
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