Marus awoke early in his small room adjacent to the outdoor kitchen in Belisarius’ apartment. The air smelled of ash, of things burnt. His eyes watered and his throat was raspy. He ran a small cloth over his face, but the sensations only got worse.

The usual servants were not around. Marus called out and realized he was the only person in the house. Where was everyone? Although he had no specific duties while Belisarius was at home, he often assisted in the kitchen with meal preparation or a special dish for the general or his wife, Antonia. Today there was no fire in the cooking pit and no food brought fresh from market.

The usual sounds of the city were subdued. Marus stepped into the street to see two Imperial guards in their protective battle garb, carrying lances and walking along giving furtive glances to any passerbys. They recognized Belisarius’ private cook and nodded to him. Marus returned the nod. He quickened his step toward Sophia’s apartment.

Upon entering, he found Sophia busy at work putting beadwork on an elaborate cloak. She stopped what she was doing and ran into Marus’ arms.

“Oh, I am so glad you are here. I was so worried.”

“What has happened? The streets are empty of people. Only Imperial guards. I passed the marketplace and there are few vendors.”

“I fear the fires set last night have spread. Several senators who favor the Blues have had their houses burned. They flee to the palace or the countryside depending on their relationship with Justinian.”

“The house of Belisarius is empty. They must be at the palace.”

Marus held Sophia tenderly. “We are safe. I will protect you.”

“But who will protect you? I do not think anyone is really safe.”

“Belisarius will protect us both.”

“Ha! You trust too much, Marus. Belisarius is a Blue and under the command of Justinian. He has no thoughts for those of us who toil for a living. Have you broken your fast this morning?” Sophia retrieved yesterday’s bread and cheese and placed them on the table.

“Thank you. My stomach does rumble a bit.” Marus took out his herb-cutting knife and sliced off a portion of cheese. He broke off a handful of bread and momentarily searched the table for the small container.

Sophia laughed. “Ah, Marus, I regret that I am out of herbed olive oil for your bread. You will have to eat it with just the cheese. I do not have a staff of many to keep my table supplied.”

Marus hung his head in mock humbleness. “And that is my fault. Today I will go to the outskirts of town and gather fresh herbs for both your table and Belisarius’. Why do you not come with me?”

“That is pure temptation to spend time with you. But I must finish the beading on this cloak. It is for a senator’s wife. She pays well. And besides, the elite still have their festivities even while there are fires in the streets.”

“Well, if you will not accompany me, then I must request a few moments of your time.” Marus stood and stretched out his hand in Sophia’s direction. “You do not need expensive beadwork. You are the most beautiful woman in this city.”

Sophia smiled and put down her sewing. “Even in this simple tunic?” She stood and stepped toward Marus.

“A simple tunic allows your true beauty to shine.”

“What about without my simple tunic?” Sophia undid the clasp at her shoulder and let the tunic fall to the floor.

“Even better.”

>>>>><<<<< 

The tinkling of a bell caught Marus’ attention as he left Sophia’s apartment. He looked in the direction of the sound to see the local shouter round the corner and advance toward him. “Good praeco, what news have you?”

“The city still burns from the fires of yesterday. Justinian will hold chariot races two days hence.” The shouter spoke in a louder than normal voice so that anyone in the vicinity could hear. His brightly colored tunic and staff with a bell atop proclaimed his profession as one who spreads the official news to the populace. As befitting his stature as one trusted with information from the palace, he stood tall whenever questioned by someone of lower social stature. He rocked his staff back and forth ringing the bell and alerting anyone in the area that he was about.

Marus recognized him as one who frequented this neighborhood and sought more information. “What know you of the fate of the unhanged?”

The praeco stopped and assessed Marus, looking him up and down, his keen eye taking in each piece of attire that would attest to Marus’ status. “Ah, good citizen,” he shouted so that everyone would get the news, “The unhanged continue to cloister with the monks at St. Conon’s. Imperial guards watch the church so they have no means to leave. Blues and Greens watch the Imperial guards so they do not intrude on the sanctuary.”

Marus approached so that he was standing next to him and said, “But what of Justinian? Will he honor the will of God and set the two free?”

The praeco stopped ringing the bell and spoke in a normal voice. “That I do not know. God may have to speak further to convince Justinian.” He smiled at his own wit.

“Thank you, kind praeco,” Marus said. “I will attend the announced races and see Justinian for myself.”

 Just then the winds off the Bosporus gusted and sent a plume of smoke over the heads of Marus and the news shouter. They both looked in that directions and saw flames rising from the Hippodrome. “By the Gods, I must go and see what is happening,” said the news shouter as he hurried off in that direction.

>>>>><<<<< 

When Marus next saw the news shouter, his demeanor had changed. His air of superiority had evaporated and he looked quite happy when he encountered Marus on his way to Sophia’s apartment. His clothes were a bit disheveled and his voice did not carry the usual gusto in shouting the news. Marus listened as he came forward, ringing his bell and repeating. “Justinian has dismissed John of Cappadocia. Also Tribonian.”

“Good day to you, honored praeco,” Marus said as they drew near. “I see more fires have erupted. The Hagia Sophia church has burned to the ground. It is a great loss.”

“You speak the truth, Marus,” he replied. “The fires continue to burn. I fear there will be nothing left of the city.”

“Surely the dismissal of the notorious tax collector and the sly Tribonian, a questor who spends without restraint will quell the thirst of the rioters.”

“I do not know. I only shout what has happened, not the feelings of those who do the deeds.”

A scream arose from a nearby street. Then another. And another. The news shouter said under his breath, “Goths.”

“What? What about the Goths?”

“A part of Belisarius’ army. They have been sent into the streets to stop the rioters. I thought you would know.”

Marus started at the mention of Belisarius. Why would the army be involved in a domestic problem? Imperial guards and local police kept order. Marus sent a questioning look at the news shouter who returned a look of bewilderment.

“I am not privy to the workings of the army. I keep Belisarius fed well on the battlefield. My tasks are peaceful.”

“Then peace be with you. And it would be prudent to get out of the street with the Goths looking for rioters.” The news shouter hurried down the street and resumed his chant.

Marus made his way to Sophia’s apartment by circuitous route avoiding any Goths.

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