The Demons of Rome

I - The Beggar Boy

A small boy sat on the edge of the road with his hand out. He tried to make eye contact with as many people as possible with his big blue eyes; hoping one might just throw him a coin. He sat through the trading day, with nothing to show for it. Hard times had fallen on the city, the wars in Gaul were not going well and the Carthaginians were growing restless again; hundreds of young men had been levied into the legions of late and the city was stripped out, old men and children were all that were left to tend the fields that fed the city, physically and economically. Winter was coming soon and the sky had turned grey and cold with chill winds blowing in from the north.

The market was busy though, as women and children bustled for the cheapest and best items. Servants ran errands, darting through the throng of legs and baskets. Merchants competed in shouting matches, trying to attract customers to their wares and the occasional guard sauntered along. There was even the occasional legionary about but they were few and far between these days.

The boy's legs were getting stiff from the cold, cobbled streets. He stretched them out and rubbed his calves but that only gave small relief. No-one was paying him much attention so he clambered awkwardly to his feet so he could walk it off. He thought about the old quarter where the noble's shopped, he loved the sweet fragrances of the perfume shops and he imagined himself wearing the togas on display in the tailors, but instead decided to have a look through the food markets; sometimes there were scraps tossed onto the street. It felt good to walk among the people, the energy filled him up like a hot meal, not that he really knew what that felt like.

The stalls filled the entire square, offering all sorts of wondrous foods: pies, bread, pastries, buns, all smelling freshly cooked. One in particular smelled especially good and he headed straight for it. The man behind the stall had his back turned and the boy looked shiftily about but decided against pocketing something, too many watching eyes. The man turned around and saw him.

"You again! Get away from my stall! You scare away the decent folk who want to BUY food, you little rat. Go. Shoo. Be gone."

The boy pulled a hurt face and turned away, arms folded across his chest.

When the boy didn't seem to move fast enough for his liking the man picked up a stone from the street and threw it at the boy's back, shouting at him like one might a dog. He stumbled under the blow, his weak legs almost giving way from under him. He looked back at the man and glared. The defiance didn't last long; as the man reached for another stone he turned tail and ran. The man gave a satisfied humph and went back to selling at the top of his voice.

The boy rounded a corner and came onto the edge of the noble corner. He would not be allowed to beg there, he knew, but occasionally a noble did stray from their section and this was as good a street as any. The boy sat down and rubbed his back where the stone had hit him. He hated that baker more than any of the other street vendors, they all treated him with disdain but that one was the worst. The boy sighed and shook his head. He settled down again to beg.

The God's must have been watching his misfortune with pity because it wasn't long before a man in a toga came walking down the street from the direction of the Old Quarter. He was tall and lean with neatly cut, white hair. He was followed by a lengthy entourage, flanked on either side by giants of men carrying hefty war axes slung across their backs. They must have been twins because they were identical in every way, even down to a scar that ran from their left eyes to almost touching their lips.

The man walked with authority and grace, he would occasionally say something and those closest to him would theatrically display the appropriate emotion for his narrative. When he saw the boy he stopped and gestured, the men behind him nodded gravely and exchanged a few words. The boy looked back at them with curiosity as the man pulled out a coin purse and wondered over to him, signalling for his guards to stay, which caused them to take on identical, concerned expressions. The man knelt in front of the boy and held out a silver coin. The boy let his mouth drop at the generosity; the coin could feed him for a week.