Thinking about the past only made Marus melancholy. He had not seen his mother since the day Belisarius had requested he join his army. Not as a soldier, for Marus felt no compunction to fight, but as a cook to keep the belly of Belisarius and his officers well fed. Marus easily foraged the countryside as the army made its way back to Constantinople after pushing the Persians back and securing the city of Dara. An army runs on its stomach and Marus made sure the stomachs of all the officers, especially Belisarius was well run.

A mere four years ago Marus was living in the country, tending pigs and chickens, wearing the simplest homespun clothing and only wondering about the great cities like Constantinople. Now he was living the life of a citizen of the great city, his clothing of fine cloth, his quarters in the home of the greatest general in the world.

And he was in love. In love with the beautiful Sophia. He could not imagine a life without her. She brought joy and laughter. When she entered a room, the air was sweeter, perfumed by her very presence. He would marry her and raise a family. He would find employment in the home of a wealthy family. Her skills as a seamstress would provide additional income even after children were born. He was not rich, but could provide a modest lifestyle.

After tidying the kitchen he noticed that the sun was near the sixth hour. The time when Justinian had promised to again listen to the citizens and come to a solution concerning the unhanged. Sophia and Peter would be meeting him in the Hippodrome to witness the events and hear how the city was to be put right. Maybe this was an auspicious time to make changes. Belisarius could find another cook. A new beginning could rise out of the ashes of the city.

Silence prevailed in the streets as Marus left the house of Belisarius and started toward the Hippodrome. The smell of ash and smoke assaulted his nostrils and he coughed and cleared his throat. The sound echoed. Everyone must already be at the Hippodrome. He chided himself on his constant lateness and smiled when he thought of how Sophia would tease him, saying she always had to lead the way for him, by arriving first. Peter would probably be there already too. Marus would make an entrance and they could tell him if anything of significance happened before his arrival. There was a spring in his step as he thought about Sophia.

Then he heard it. A scream. Of fear. Then another. Marus stopped. His pulse quickened as he looked around. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He shook his head. He must be confused. The sound of metal on metal. Cries of pain. Battle sounds? Echoing through the streets? It cannot be. He quickened his pace. The sounds grew in volume. They were coming from the Hippodrome.

Marus ran the last paces to the entrance. The door was closed as it would be when there was nothing happening inside. But it was the sixth hour and everyone would be there. Marus could hear individual screams and the sounds of fear, of dying. Moaning. In pain. Pleas to stop. Asking for mercy. All mixed together in a cacophony of anguish. He pounded at the door. It had been bolted from the inside. Marus could hear people moving about, calling to one another. Shouts of “Run! Run!” echoed. Names were called and cut short. Voices silenced.

Marus ran to another entrance. Also shut tight. The screams grew louder, then slowly started dying down. He could hear movement. The clang of a sword against wood. Against flesh. The screams turned into groans, moans, sounds of pain and anguish. Movement. Slashes. Footsteps. Footsteps. Orders shouted.

“Someone moves there!”

“I found someone trying to hide!”

“Check the bodies. Make sure they are dead.”

And then a familiar voice. “Spare no one. We do the work of Justinian.” Belisarius.

No mistaking that voice. Marus heard it every day. He heard the voice speaking lovingly to Antonia. Also speaking to him. Asking him about his day. A caring, concerned voice. But also a voice of the battlefield, issuing orders. A voice of authority. This was no battlefield. No need for soldiers. This was a gathering place for citizens. A place of happiness. Entertainment. Chariot races. Circus. A place of happy memories with Sophia.

Sophia! Sophia cannot be inside. Not inside, where now the only sounds are of soldier’s boots. Clanging armor. Sounds of exertion stepping through carnage.

Footsteps approached the door from inside as if to open the door. Marus recoiled fearing the savagery would spill into the streets and he would be slaughtered if seen. He turned and quickly ran down a familiar street and was out of site before the door could be opened.

He ran to Sophia’s apartment. The beaded cloak lay on the work table, only a few more stitches needed for completion. “Sophia?” Marus cautiously called. No answer. “Sophia? Please answer. Please be here.” Silence enveloped the rooms.

“No. No. This cannot be. She must be nearby.” Marus frantically looked around as he willed his mind to think. Think. Where would she be? The horrible answer tried to form in his mind. The Hippodrome. He could not accept that. Maybe she went somewhere else first. She never did that. The Hippodrome. No. No.

“Peter! Peter, are you with Sophia?” Marus suddenly thought of his friend and felt ashamed that he had not thought of him sooner. Maybe Peter had detained Sophia, so that she did not go to the Hippodrome at the appointed time. Yes. That had to be it. They were both hiding somewhere, safe from the horrors he had just witnessed. But what exactly had he witnessed? No proof that his friend and his lover were inside. They could easily be somewhere else. Somewhere safe.

Movement in the street. Marus positioned himself to look out the window without being seen. Soldiers walked the street. In armor. Bloody armor. Swords and dagger in hand. Bloodied weapons. They headed in the direction of encampment. The place where Belisarius’ troops stayed while in Constantinople. They were silent. None of the usual after battle bravado. No talk of bravery in battle against a formidable foe. The slaughtered had no weapons. No way to fight back. The mood was somber. Orders were followed. The rioters were stopped. Marus watched as two soldiers looked at each other and shook their heads. There is no honor is massacre.

What to do? He could go in search of Sophia and Peter, but that would put him in possible danger in the streets. He did not know if more soldiers would be patrolling the streets and silencing anyone they met. He would have to wait. The soldiers were not coming to houses or apartments to seek out anyone. It would be best to stay in Sophia’s apartment until the streets were safe.

Marus looked around. The scent of Sophia surrounded him. He drank it in. Her voice echoed in his mind. Calling his name. Whispering words of love. Laughing. Playful. Sensuous. Entreating. He sat on the bed they shared and relived their last encounter. Holding her. Loving her. Pledging devotion to each other. His throat choked. His eyes burned. Tears. “No. She is not gone! She will return and I will love her forever.” He wiped the tears away. What was this cloth in his hand? Her bed gown. Fresh tears. He held the garment to his face and inhaled deeply. It is her. Her essence flowed within him.

“Marus, my love, I am with you.”

Did she just speak? Marus spun around expecting to see her standing in the room. He was not disappointed. “Sophia!” He rushed forward, but met only shadows. “No! Sophia, come back. Do not leave me.”

“I will never leave you, my love.”

“I do not understand.” Marus looked around. Everything blurred. The room went out of focus and started spinning. “Sophia?”

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