The sun had set by the time the two left the tavern. They embraced warmly and each went in a different direction. Several mugs of wine dulled Marus’ senses. He was thinking of Sophia and the pleasure of seeing her again in his dreams in a few moments.

Candles burned behind curtains giving a faint glow around buildings. Stars blanketed the sky and shed enough light to cast faint shadows. Marus knew the way to his quarters without thinking. His thoughts were on Sophia.

He did not hear the footfalls rush from a darkened doorway. Nor did he feel the blade, artfully slipped into his back and twisted ever so slightly.

He fell to the ground a pool of blood forming around his torso. He gazed up at the field of stars and two street urchins rummaged through his tunic, finding first his money pouch which contained only a few coins.

He grabbed one by the throat, but the second stabbed him again in his side. More blood escaped and his grip loosened. The second found another pouch, on a string around Marus’ neck and tore it away. Marus screamed soundlessly and attempted to grab back the pouch containing Sophia’s bracelet,

The urchin laughed. “Old man, you should not be out in the street at night. Everybody knows you will be robbed.”

The two ran away laughing, pouches in hand.

Marus tried to move but could not. The pool of blood encompassed his torso, staining his tunic and back. The blood started to congeal.

A few people in nearby apartments peered out and came to help. They stared down at sightless eyes staring back.

A woman appeared at his side. “Let me help you.”

“Sophia?”

She laughed. “Come, Marus.” She held out her hand.

He reached up and took her hand. Suddenly, he was on his feet walking by her side. They glided toward the city gate taking them out into the countryside. All pain was gone.

“Your bracelet. They took your bracelet.”

“It does not matter.”

>>>>><<<<< 

The next morning Marus’ body was recognized and taken to the home of Belisarius. Other servants in the house found Peter and told him the news. A messenger was sent to Belisarius in the field that he no longer had a private cook.

Peter arranged for a burial and mourned his friend.

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