The Pompeiian Horse

1. ANIMOSITY

MARCH

The guards at the Sea Gate saluted Janus, recognizing his rank. He had been and still was Prime Centurion of the Lucky Flavian Fourth Legion of Dalmatia— sent to Pompeii on a leave of absence by his superiors. He needed a retreat or he would go mad.

Nebulus had a tired gait due to the long journey. Janus dismounted and gave his horse to a groom in a nearby stable to allow the poor animal some rest. He threw a coin to the young man and grunted, "Someone from the house of Pompo will come to fetch him."

Spring flowed in the air, and a festive atmosphere enveloped the crowded streets. Janus had never seen any other Roman city with so much red on its walls. He did not like red; it reminded him too much of all the indignities of war.

Two boys with straw in their hairs and yellow straps around their faces in the guise of bears fought with sticks against each other. "I'm Equus the Stallion, grr," yelled one. "No, no. I am the Stallion," riposted the other, thrashing the first with his stick.

Janus smirked and left the boys to their little battle.

"Half a copper for your piss, soldier," said a stout man in front of a laundry house. He had a wicked gleam in his eyes as if he wanted to look at Janus doing the deed more than needing the piss for the cleaning mix. "You have to go sometime anyway," he added, waggling his eyebrows.

Snorting, Janus shook his head; yet, Nature did knock at his back door a moment later. He found public latrines to relieve his bowels. The old man sitting next to him appeared to have been there for hours, even dozing off a little. Reading the wall, scratched with many inscriptions, Janus saw the name Equus again. "Equus is the olive oil in my ass." "Beloved by Apollo and adored by Venus, the Stallion rules." Of course, many other writings assaulted his vision (apparently the people of Pompeii took very long dumps), but the same name was repeated many a time and always with some kind of devotion.

Equus the Stallion.

Equus meant horse, so it was kind of redundant to also call him "the Stallion." Which in itself was an odd way to call a regular person; the man was probably a gladiator. Nevertheless, this individual sounded like a local celebrity by the way the kids in the mock fight wanted to be him.

Done with his body's business, Janus soon discovered Pompeii had never got around putting designations to its streets. He found himself in the need of asking for directions. There were plenty of places serving hot food and drinks in the open. He stopped at the one that looked the cleanest and asked, "Where is the house of Pompo, good man?"

The man looked up from his steaming pot and smiled at Janus, asking in return, "Stew?" He stirred his concoction with a metal ladle. It smelled good.

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry right now."

"Fish?" The chubby man grimaced then shrugged when Janus shook his head. "Your loss. My garum is to die for."

Once you had tried one fish sauce, they were all the same. Janus grimaced back. "I just need directions." Then he noticed a painting, more like a drawing, in the shrine behind the insisting vendor. A blond, bearded man dressed in a white short tunic held a sword and had laurel leaves crowning his long locks. Janus pointed with his chin. "Who's that in the shrine?" Because it did not look like any god Janus could recognize.

"The Stallion, of course," the owner said as if Janus was dumb for not knowing who was depicted in the almost amateur drawing. He then smiled (the way you do to patronize a slow person) with an open mouth showing a couple of missing teeth.