“You will have your hour, but then we must move on. There are more to be freed today and our army needs the grain in the stores here.”

Antonidus smiled slowly at the thought of what he would do to the people who had called themselves his masters. He had only seen them at a distance as he worked, but his imagination had provided the sneers and slights he could not see. He ran his thumb across the edge of the blade.

“Take me there first. After I have had my satisfaction, I am yours.”

*                                                      *                                                      *

The warren of filthy streets seemed closed off from the life and light of Rome. The two men Cato had sent trod warily through the refuse and excrement, trying not to react to the scrabbling sounds of rats and larger predators in the dark alleyways. Somewhere a child screamed and then the sound was cut off as if stifled. The two men held their breaths waiting for it to start again, wincing in understanding after the silence went on too long. Life was cheap in that place.

They counted the number of turnings at each stage, occasionally whispering to each other whether a tiny gap between the tenements was part of the count. These were sometimes less than a foot wide and filled with a dark mass they didn’t dare to investigate. One of them had a dead dog half sunk in refuse that seemed to lean toward them as they passed, shuddering slightly as the buried part was eaten away by unseen mouths.

The two men were desperately uneasy by the time they reached the crossroads where Cato had told them to wait. It was nearly deserted, with only a few scurrying people moving past them without acknowledgment.

After a time, a shadow detached itself from the darkness under an overhang and moved silently toward them.

“Who do you seek here?” a voice whispered.

Both men swallowed in fear, their eyes straining to make out features in the gloom.

“Look away from me!” the voice snapped.

They turned as if pushed, staring down the rubbish-strewn lane. A sickening smell washed over them as the dark figure stepped close enough to touch.

“Our master told us to mention the name of Antonidus to whoever came,” one of them said, breathing through his mouth.

“He has been sold as a slave, far north. Who is your master now?” the voice returned.

One of the men suddenly remembered the smell from when his father had died, and he vomited, bending over and spilling his last meal into the unrecognizable slop that covered the lane. The other spoke haltingly, “No names, we were told. My master wishes to continue the association with you, but there must be no names.”

A warm scent of rot sighed over them.