Kyle pursed his lips. “Maybe not... but it’s your call, you know.”
They ate silently when the food arrived, listening to the surrounding conversations.
Clavius had enough of the local language to understand and he leant to Kyle. “There’s a city apparently a few days’ walk from here. We could find some work and gain enough money to get a cart and a mule to get home faster... I honestly don’t think I can walk all the way, not if the weather turns...”
He was tired, all his energy fueled into healing his wound, that scar still painful, throbbing sometimes. Kyle nodded, his mind racing.
They went to bed then, sleeping in the same bed, but Clavius made sure he was nowhere near Kyle, and the slave looked at the ceiling, his thoughts on Marius...How are you doing, love? We’re coming home, you know... Forgive me...
Marius was sitting in his room, utterly drunk. This had become a habit at nights when he was finally alone with his ghosts and shadows in that too empty room. Drinking himself to oblivion, the vile wine making him nasty, even more than usual.
His thirst for revenge burnt in him, burning him alive, his soul a dark pit of grief. There was nobody to soothe that ache, to love the hatred out of him, to tame his restless, wounded spirit. That monster lurking in the depths of his soul, the spawn of a loveless childhood and a harsh father, had finally been set free, and it bathed in his sorrow, sucking up his suffering like a leech, making his blue eyes shine with cruelty.
The small mule cart proceeded towards north, undisturbed, the jovial peasant woman leading it, or her son, that stunning boy with his green eyes and curly dark hair.
The town, finally, after days of walking under the falling rain. This was Roman territory already, but they didn’t dare disclose Clavius’ identity as he had no papers on him, and soldiers and officers were quick to kill, and slow to trust.
They entered by the city gates and Clavius stopped on a small forum, sitting on a bench, utterly exhausted with a splitting headache. “So.. let’s think... we need to get back there soon before the weather turns too bad. So, we need jobs...”
Kyle looked at him. “What are your skills?”
Clavius grinned. “I can fight.”
“Very useful...”
“Hey, don’t mock me... ok, I admit, I know nothing but hacking and slashing... so...”
Kyle’s eyes were already drifting towards a side street branching out. Colorful clothes hung between the narrow walls, drifting bodies in and out of the doors.
He smiled, looking back at Clavius. “We could earn money faster... good money. See, I also have skills...”
Clavius blanched. “No way!”
Kyle put a hand on his arm. “Listen, see that street? That’s a whore street. You rent a small two-story flat and then you make your whore work whilst you live upstairs... good money and fast.” He winked.
Clavius pulled his arm out, outraged. “I won’t pimp you out!”
Kyle sighed, his eyes large. “You won’t have a choice... I need you to make this work...”
“You’re insane!”
He shrugged, his eyes clouding with sadness. “I wish this wasn’t the only option... but considering our set of skills...”
Clavius fumed. “You could cook or clean.”
“Yes... but we need money fast, right? Those jobs are done by slaves, so we would struggle to find a demand for it... and even if we did, it’s not paid well...”
Clavius sighed, his eyes drifting to that street. “Fuck my life...”
Kyle rose. “Mine too.... let’s go.”
They walked to the street, straight to a red door, and Clavius knocked.
They waited until a tall eunuch opened up, his lips tainted red, a long red and gold robe wrought around his frame. “Yes?”
Clavius cleared his throat. “I would like to rent one of your flats.”
The eunuch’s eyes drifted to Kyle, eyeing him up. “Pretty... a bit too old, but you’ll have costumers who prefer that. Come in.”
