The Pompeiian Horse

PROLOGUE - THE YEAR OF THE FOUR EMPERORS

Hidden behind the bushes, Janus Vettius Crispus saw the yellow hare protecting something; he wasn't sure what. The march of his legion to the Rhine border had been hard, and he was ready to eat something fresh. He had come away from camp to take care of some bodily functions, hearing the furry creature as he finished.

Janus was ready to throw his dagger and get that much-needed fresh meat when a large brown eagle swept into the small clearing and caught the hare.

Fuck.

But before the eagle soared too high, it let the hare fall. The chunky yellow thing landed sideways, sprang (cocking its head left and right and sniffing the air) and then scurried away.

There goes my nice stew.

Well, in the end, Janus would have gotten about three spoonfuls after sharing it with his fellow legionnaires. Still, as he headed back to camp, he felt he had just witnessed more than the Circle of Life. Why would an eagle drop a perfectly good meal? Something in his gut told him this was not mere Nature but some kind of omen. Alas, he did not know which god to ask for wisdom. The calls of his brothers in arms quickly made him forget about the incident.

Two days later, while laying waste to a village which had been assisting the legions supporting Vespasian, Janus entered a hut, bloodied and in carnage frenzy. He found a youngling (not truly a boy but surely a man by the standards of Rome and his own people) folded over the body of a dead woman, pounding it and screaming out. His distress gave Janus pause.

The young man lifted his head, saw Janus, and pointed an accusatory finger. "Murderers!"

"You speak our language?" It was a really odd thing to say to someone screaming at you. Janus could not think of a good reason for such a silly question amid the sounds of fire and death outside the hut.

Nevertheless, the question also stopped the Barbarian. He cocked his head sideways, a fleeting look of surprise on his face. That motion brought the image of the yellow hare back to Janus. Then, the blond answered. "Yes. I was the interpreter between my people and the legionnaires who were here before you."

"How old are you?"

They were in the middle of a fucking battle, and yet Janus asked the kind of questions you would ask at a friendly gathering. He must have gone crazy before he entered the hut.

"I am fifteen winters old." Blond eyebrows knitted together. "Why are you asking me these questions if you're going to kill me?" Eyes that had been full of rage and hatred were now wide with confusion and another thing Janus could not quite name.

And it suddenly hit Janus with the force of one of those cudgels these Barbarians loved so much; he was the eagle and this boy the yellow hare. He could not kill him— orders be damned. The will of the gods was above the will of his centurion. "What? No! I'm not going to kill you, but others might. Run! Run for your life and don't look back!" He waved his bloodied sword and shield. "Go!"

"No! I won't leave my mother!"

"She's dead! Don't you think she would want you to live and be able to avenge her later? There he went again, saying something completely stupid, considering this boy's revenge would be against Janus's people.

Shaking his head in disbelief, the blond gaped at Janus. Five heartbeats later, he seemed to come to a resolution and nodded. He drew a long dagger from the folds of his mother's dress and stood up.

For a moment that seemed frozen in time, Janus and the blond locked eyes, their weapons raised. The stupidity of his actions slapped Janus across the face. It looked like the boy was about to pounce but then turned to escape through a window. With one leg on the sill, he swiveled round to face Janus. "Thank you. May my gods protect you." He disappeared with a quick jump.

Janus took many lives that day, but the onlythings haunting him that night (and many others after that) were the gray,stormy eyes of the young Barbarian interpreter.

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