to extract its offal.
Raised voices could be heard from a shop only an alcove or two away. Amphorae smashed on the ground, followed by raucous laughter.
Understanding dawned and Felix picked up the boy and thrust him inside the huge bloody carcass. “Don’t make a sound!” he cautioned.
Two men appeared at the shop’s doorway.
John kicked a stool savagely against a wall. “You ignorant fool! You’re stupider than a fish that’s been lying on the dock for days! We’re wasting our time! There’s no one in here!” he shouted at Felix.
The men outside were featureless shadows. Their heads moved in John’s direction. He was obviously not one they sought, not to mention ordering about a man immediately identifiable as an excubitor by his clothing.
The pair set to work to finish the search John had feigned beginning.
They looked under the chopping table, opened a chest and scattered its contents on the floor. Felix helped the searchers overturn a large vat filled with layers of salted meat.
Apparently satisfied, the two men turned to go. One paused suddenly. He looked up at the huge gutted pig hanging from its hook.
His companion let out a bark of laughter. “Forget taking that as well! You can’t hide it under your tunic!”
“That wasn’t what I was thinking.” The man raised his sword and took a step toward the carcass. His blade descended swiftly and in an instant a hefty slice of pig flesh was clutched in his fist.
“Dinner!” he announced, shoving it into his tunic. “And speaking of dinner, as a little thank you I’ll give the butcher’s customers some sauce for theirs…”
He urinated on the pig and then the pair left, laughing.
The dead swine swung wildly as the boy emerged, speckled in gore and scraps of offal. He was shaking. John removed his cloak, folded it, and draped it across the boy’s narrow shoulders.
Felix peered out. “They’re dragging bodies away now. We’ll be able to leave shortly. And where do you live, boy?”
Too busy wiping pig’s blood from his face, the would-be Blue didn’t answer.
“No point in setting you loose to get yourself killed now.” Felix smiled grimly. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you safely home.”
“I can get home by myself!” The boy darted forward.
Felix casually stuck out his foot, sending the lad sprawling.
“Let me go home!” the boy pleaded.
“Do you even have a proper home to go to? Maybe we should turn you over to the Prefect?” Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes and ran down his face, leaving meandering streaks on his dirty, blood-smeared cheeks.
“Anatolius,” he said. “That’s my name. But please don’t tell my father what I did!”
Felix snorted. “Afraid of the thrashing you deserve? And what will your mother say to see your curls sacrificed for such a stupid reason? They’ll realize what you’ve been up to as soon as they see your new hairstyle. Unless you propose to wear a wig for a while?”
Anatolius snuffled miserably, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
The trio made their way through the darkness.
The Prefect’s men had turned their attention elsewhere.
A small mound of bodies had been piled at the bottom of the street that ran into the Strategion. Theodotus’ guests, their ranks no doubt swelled by the curious, had been permitted to come closer and now stood not far off.
The unmistakable figure of Theodotus strode toward the pile of corpses. A rising murmur came from the onlookers as he kicked at the bodies. He raised his arms over his head and thundered to his audience or perhaps to the heavens.
“Let this be a lesson to the vermin who would terrorize our streets! They can expect no mercy!”
John took hold of Anatolius’ hand and tried to pull him away. The boy resisted. He stared back at the obelisk in the middle of the Strategion.
A man had been bound to its base. He was illuminated by a ring of lamps set on the ground around him.
Theodotus paced back and forth as he continued his
Raised voices could be heard from a shop only an alcove or two away. Amphorae smashed on the ground, followed by raucous laughter.
Understanding dawned and Felix picked up the boy and thrust him inside the huge bloody carcass. “Don’t make a sound!” he cautioned.
Two men appeared at the shop’s doorway.
John kicked a stool savagely against a wall. “You ignorant fool! You’re stupider than a fish that’s been lying on the dock for days! We’re wasting our time! There’s no one in here!” he shouted at Felix.
The men outside were featureless shadows. Their heads moved in John’s direction. He was obviously not one they sought, not to mention ordering about a man immediately identifiable as an excubitor by his clothing.
The pair set to work to finish the search John had feigned beginning.
They looked under the chopping table, opened a chest and scattered its contents on the floor. Felix helped the searchers overturn a large vat filled with layers of salted meat.
Apparently satisfied, the two men turned to go. One paused suddenly. He looked up at the huge gutted pig hanging from its hook.
His companion let out a bark of laughter. “Forget taking that as well! You can’t hide it under your tunic!”
“That wasn’t what I was thinking.” The man raised his sword and took a step toward the carcass. His blade descended swiftly and in an instant a hefty slice of pig flesh was clutched in his fist.
“Dinner!” he announced, shoving it into his tunic. “And speaking of dinner, as a little thank you I’ll give the butcher’s customers some sauce for theirs…”
He urinated on the pig and then the pair left, laughing.
The dead swine swung wildly as the boy emerged, speckled in gore and scraps of offal. He was shaking. John removed his cloak, folded it, and draped it across the boy’s narrow shoulders.
Felix peered out. “They’re dragging bodies away now. We’ll be able to leave shortly. And where do you live, boy?”
Too busy wiping pig’s blood from his face, the would-be Blue didn’t answer.
“No point in setting you loose to get yourself killed now.” Felix smiled grimly. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you safely home.”
“I can get home by myself!” The boy darted forward.
Felix casually stuck out his foot, sending the lad sprawling.
“Let me go home!” the boy pleaded.
“Do you even have a proper home to go to? Maybe we should turn you over to the Prefect?” Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes and ran down his face, leaving meandering streaks on his dirty, blood-smeared cheeks.
“Anatolius,” he said. “That’s my name. But please don’t tell my father what I did!”
Felix snorted. “Afraid of the thrashing you deserve? And what will your mother say to see your curls sacrificed for such a stupid reason? They’ll realize what you’ve been up to as soon as they see your new hairstyle. Unless you propose to wear a wig for a while?”
Anatolius snuffled miserably, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
The trio made their way through the darkness.
The Prefect’s men had turned their attention elsewhere.
A small mound of bodies had been piled at the bottom of the street that ran into the Strategion. Theodotus’ guests, their ranks no doubt swelled by the curious, had been permitted to come closer and now stood not far off.
The unmistakable figure of Theodotus strode toward the pile of corpses. A rising murmur came from the onlookers as he kicked at the bodies. He raised his arms over his head and thundered to his audience or perhaps to the heavens.
“Let this be a lesson to the vermin who would terrorize our streets! They can expect no mercy!”
John took hold of Anatolius’ hand and tried to pull him away. The boy resisted. He stared back at the obelisk in the middle of the Strategion.
A man had been bound to its base. He was illuminated by a ring of lamps set on the ground around him.
Theodotus paced back and forth as he continued his
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