Atretes was unaccustomed to real fear, but knew it now as the furor in the marketplace grew. In another moment there would be a riot, with him at the center. He plowed through half a dozen clawing bodies, knowing he had to get away. Now.
“Atretes!” A woman screamed, flinging herself upon him. As he shook her off, her nails scraped his neck. Someone else yanked out a hank of his hair. The mantle was torn from his shoulders. People were screaming.
Breaking free, he ran, knocking people aside as they got in his way. Amoratae shouted and followed him like a pack of wild dogs. Ducking into the narrow avenue of shops, he knocked over another table. Fruit and vegetables spilled across the walkway. He upended another counter of copperware, scattering more obstacles in the mob’s path. There were cries behind him as several went down. Leaping over a small cart, he turned sharply and ran down an alleyway between two insulae. When he saw it was a dead end, he came nearer to panic than he had in his life. He had once seen a pack of wild dogs chase down a man in the arena. When the dogs caught him, they’d torn him apart. These amoratae, in their frenzied passion, might well do the same to him if they caught him.
Turning frantically, Atretes sought escape. When he saw a door, he ran to it. It was locked. Ramming it with his shoulder, he broke it open and ran up a darkened passageway of steps. One floor, then two. Stopping on a landing, he waited. Catching his breath, he listened.
Muted sounds of voices came from outside on the street. “He must have gone in one of the insulae.”
“Look over there!”
“No, wait! This door’s been broken in.”
Hurried footsteps headed up the stairs. “He’s in here.”
Atretes ran along the corridor as quietly as he could. Even with tenement doors closed, the place reeked of humanity. A door opened behind him and someone peered out just as he ducked up a narrow, dank passageway. He reached the third floor and then the fourth. Still shouting, his pursuers were awakening everyone in the building. When he reached the roof, he was in the open with no place to hide.
Voices came up the stairs.
Seeing only one way to escape, he took it. Running full-out, Atretes took a flying leap across the yawning distance to another building. He hit hard and rolled. Coming to his feet, he scrambled across to another doorway, dove into it, and hid in the shadows of another stairwell just as a dozen people spilled out onto the rooftop from which he had just leapt.
Atretes drew back sharply, heaving for air, heart pounding.
The voices receded as one by one, they ran down the stairs again, searching for him in the dim environs of the insula. Atretes sank back against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to regain his breath.
How was he going to cross the city, find a widow with his son, and get the child and himself out of the city without losing both their lives in the process?
Cursing the idolmakers for making him a graven image to these idol-hungry people, he closed down his mind to anything else but getting out of the city in one piece. That accomplished, he would find another way to get his son.
He waited for an hour before venturing down the stairs and hallways into the insula. Every sound made him flinch. When he reached the street, he kept close to the walls, using the veil of dark shadows for protection. He got lost. Using up precious hours of darkness, he found his way like a rat in the maze of alleys and narrow streets.
He reached the city gates just as the sun was coming up.
2
Lagos heard the door slam and knew his master had returned. He’d only just returned a few hours ago himself, having spent the afternoon, evening, and better part of the night searching slave markets for a German wet nurse. He’d finally found one and was certain Atretes would be pleased with her. She was robust and ruddy and had hair the same color as his.
He came into the entry hall feeling somewhat confident and saw Atretes’ blackened eye and even blacker temper. Deep, bloody scratches still oozed on his neck, staining his ripped tunic with blood. The German looked ready to kill someone. Anyone.
“Did you find a wet nurse?”
Heart thundering, Lagos thanked the gods he had. “Yes, my lord,” he said quickly, perspiration beading on his forehead. “She’s in residence.” He was certain if he had failed, his life would have been forfeit. “Would you like to see her, my lord?”
“No!” Atretes strode into the inner courtyard. Bending, he put his whole head under the water in the fountain. Lagos wondered if the man meant to drown himself. After a long moment, Atretes straightened and shook his head, flinging water in all directions like a dog. Lagos had never before witnessed such uncivilized behavior from a master.