Gaius told Marcellus about his new lass, Pompeii’s niece, though Marcellus suggested the feelings might run just one way. Gaius wasn’t too bothered. She was cute, but something else about her tugged at him. He wanted to see her again.

  Marcellus spit another glob of chewed cannabis cake and cursed under his breath. “Don’t know why I let you convince me to eat these. Dries out my insides.”

  Gaius smiled, and looked up at the moon which had risen some but not to indicate it was midnight. He felt as if he couldn’t wait any longer, and that may have been the hash in his veins, but he climbed to his feet and bounced anxiously on the balls of his feet. “We should go, I’m sure they’re all asleep. Nobles drink themselves to oblivion around this time right? Maybe some opium if we’re lucky.”

  “How the fuck should I know,” Marcellus snapped.

  Gaius tested the rope again, and they played a quick game of swap to decide who would go first.

  “Lucky me,” Gaius chuckled. He wanted to be first. He didn’t know why they played a children’s hand sign game to decide but it felt like the right thing to do.

  Gaius slipped a few feet off the ground and Marcellus giggled behind him. It took them a good half hour to clear the height. When they finally reached the top, they were covered in sweat and breathing heavily. To Gaius’ annoyance, Marcellus wasn’t as tired. He still wiped his brow and dabbed his neck, but his breathing was steady and he did the bulk of the work bringing the rope up and fixing it for their descent over the other side. “You see it from here?” he asked while he worked.

  Gaius finally noticed their view. The fireflies he’d felt out of the corner of his eye were in fact torches and lights flickering across a sprawling maze of streets and rooftops. Smoke spiralled up from chimneys into the sky, and they still weren’t tall enough to compete with the massive Temple of Baal that dominated the southern skyline. The Temple practically glowed, emitting its own light over the city as it contained hundreds, if not thousands, of braziers and torches hanging between its smooth, marble columns.

  “You see it?” Marcellus asked, and Gaius realized he was asking about their target compound. Gaius waved in a vague direction within the Latin quarter, which had their rooftops covered in clay tiles that would most certainly break if stepped on. “It’s hugging the wall so we’ll jump directly into the backyard,” Gaius said.

  “Never realized how big the Temple really is,” Marcellus remarked. Gaius let him enjoy the view for a moment as well. He also needed the extra time to prepare his aching arms for another trek.

  “So many people,” Marcellus continued, now looking over the mess of rooftops and spires that extended to and beyond the city walls. “Palmyra has grown in wealth since we were little, hasn’t it?”

  “Everyone except for us,” Gaius said. He watched a few torches bob down the colonnade, easily the widest and most prominent road visible at this height. It had its own columns on either side of the cobbled path that towered over the surrounding buildings. “One day very soon,” Gaius continued, “everyone will know me. They’ll be chanting my name and drawing my graffiti in popinas.”

  “Is that so?” Marcellus said with a chuckle. “Let’s hope for the good kind.”

  “Glory or infamy, what does it matter?” Gaius said. “I’ll be rich either way.”

  Marcellus was quiet, and they slowly began their crawl across the wall, which once had a carved path for sentries to walk on but disused and years of rain and sandstorms had covered it in a slimy muck that was tricky to traverse. It was easier to crawl than walk.

  They eventually crossed a pigsty that was a pre-marker for their target, which was the next house over, the one with fig trees and a collection of lowsheds that lined the yard walls. The structures provided the perfect landing spot for them, but the noise their feet made on the metal roof was loud enough to stir the swine piled up in the neighbor's yard. A few of the pigs on the top slid down the side of the sleeping pyramid and instinctively began running their snout through the mud searching for food. Gaius and Marcellus shared a worried look before helping each other the rest of the way down.

  “Are they Licinius?” Marcellus whispered in Gaius’ ear. Gens Licinia were a prominent Latin family of craftsmen that dominated the city council, Cato and Cataline being a part of it, and this family more than likely had their own guards near the entrance of their compound.

  “Just a toolmaker,” Gaius replied, trying to downplay the threat. “You have the paper?”

  Marcellus tapped his chest-pocket. Ibn Mana had given them specific directions for the jewelry chest location. It was in the daughter’s room, the door of which was marked by a prayer to Rumina. The servant had shared the words with the Madani but Gaius couldn’t read. Luckily, Marcellus had been tutored in reading and writing when he was young, not at the level of a scholar, but enough to handle the day to day practicalities of a smithy.

  Gaius closed in on the backdoor–a heavy, iron-studded cedar plank–but it refused to budge when he pulled the latch. “Fuck,” Gaius hissed. The servant had dropped their load on this. “Coward.”

  “Pull, pull,” Marcellus shouldered his way past him and with a strong grip of two hands heaved the door up and toward him as quietly as he could. Gaius noticed the worn marks in the dirt and realised the door just wasn’t the right fit, or had expanded in the summer heat. He anxiously watched both corners of the building as Marcellus cleared enough space for both of them to slide in.

  They entered the dark hallway inside, and Gaius felt the walls with his hand, trying to picture the map of the house that Ibn Mana had shown them in his mind. He tapped Marcellus on the shoulder, “to the left.”

  A break in the wall turned out to be a staircase, leading to the bedrooms above from where Gaius could faintly hear snoring. As they crawled their way up the steps like crocodiles, a low-burning oil lamp thankfully helped them clear the last step and illuminated the long line of bedrooms.

  Marcellus was quick, flicking up the small paper in his hands to check the paper again for the markings, then–with Gaius holding onto his shoulder–they inspected each and every door down the hall.

  There was no going back from this moment. Even if someone woke, Gaius would grab the closest valuable and run out the backdoor. They were risking their life here. Marcellus might get a trial as a freeman, but Gaius would be put down like a dog that had outgrown its usefulness.

  This one, Marcellus said by tapping one of the doors. Gaius let him open it. They entered the room and were greeted by heavy snoring. Thank the gods, Gaius thought.

  They identified the box. It had leather straps and silver buckles that glinted in the moonlight from the open window–their exit.

  Heavy heartbeats accompanied Gaius’ every step. It’s done, he thought giddily. They had done it. In less than a few minutes, they would be scaling the wall with a fortune on their backs. Of course, Ibn Mana will take his cut, and also the damned servant, but after that it was a clean split between the two of them that could easily get them hundreds of denarii!

  Gaius spared a glance at the sleeping child, a young woman in her teens splayed out in a mess of rich linen and silk. He wondered if he could take the silk sheet too without her waking up. If her snoring didn’t wake her, surely a little shuffle of sheets would be fine?

  He played with the idea for a moment, then his instincts told him something was wrong. He glanced back at Marcellus' hulking figure stooped over the chest, his shoulders moving up and down as if he was struggling to pick it up.

  “What is it?” Gaius whispered in his friend’s ear.

  “It’s stuck.”

  Gaius ran his hands along the edges of the box, it was smooth, shined well and smelled of good polish. His fingers struck something else, a protruding block and…nails.

  “It’s nailed down,” Giaus said, his voice barely a whisper now. Marcellus mustn’t have heard for he kept trying to shift the box with a careful balance of strength and care. It was no use, though. As quickly as Gaius’ excitement had flared, it vanished, leaving behind a gaping hole in his stomach that slowly filled with dread.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Nails,” Marcellus finally said as his fingers brushed the reinforcement. “They nailed the fucking thing down.”

  Gaius felt like slouching against the wall and burying his face in his hands. But they just stared at the box helplessly, a fixed gaze trying to will something into another reality, accompanied by the girl’s snores and the sound of crickets drifting in from the window. “We should go,” Marcellus finally said.

  “No,” Gaius replied. “I’m not leaving without something.”

  Marcellus made an exasperated sound but was smart enough not to start an argument in this situation. He grabbed Gaius by the elbow but Gaius pried it away and made for the bed.

  The girl shifted, her hand rubbing her face momentarily, and then it just sat there on her forehead. Her snoring resumed.

  Gaius eyed the silk sheets. They were entwined well and good around her legs. It would be difficult but…Gaius glanced at the side table. Specifically, at the coiled silver necklace with many colored stones. It looked valuable. It will do, he decided.

  He snatched the necklace away, and also the handful of silver coins across the table, and tossed the valuables inside his shirt, where they fell and settled above his belt. He felt the cold metal against his belly, and the sharp feeling helped sustain the little hope and energy he had left.

  He nodded to Marcellus, who already had a leg over the window sill, and together they carefully climbed out without making too much noise. Like cats prowling the rooftops, they made their way across the thin ledge and hopped onto the roof. Almost there, he thought, and mapped their route silently as he squinted in the dark. Instead of crossing the yard like before, they could hop over the low-sheds to reach the wall.

  Gaius led the way. The clay tiles were a little slippery and seemed loose at certain points, so much so that–

  CRUNCH–

  Gaius gasped as his foot crushed a tile, slipped, then shattered tile after tile under his falling weight until he fell off the roof. Marcellus' hand whipped out and snatched Gaius by his collar, and Gaius clamped down on his friend’s grip just as he slammed against the brick wall.

  Gaius fought the urge to groan on impact, allowing himself a silent grunt. He looked down, and the first thing he noticed was not the ground–it didn’t seem that long of a fall in fact–but it was his loosened shirt that made him panic. “No, no, no,” he muttered.

  The necklace had slipped out from under his tunic and dangled dangerously from his hip.

  Marcellus grunted, trying to pull him up but Gaius pleaded, “Wait, stop, don’t move.”

  “I can’t… hold on,” Marcellus said through gritted teeth. He was flat on his stomach, his body threatening to topple over as well. Gaius reached down slowly, and tried to hook the necklace, but just as his finger found the chain, the jewelry slipped out completely and fell into the muddy ground below. To his horror, it was in the pigsty, and one of the animals crawled over to the fallen necklace, its snout nudging the stringy something, and like a noodle from his muddy porridge, slurped it right up.

  “Let me go!” Gaius snarled.

  “What?” Marcellus said.

  “I said,” Gaius repeated as he pried Marcellus' grip, “let…me…GO!”

  His friend let him drop, and Gaius splashed into the pigsty in a mess of mud and dung and whatever other refuse that swirled in there. The pig screeched in surprise, and its panic only grew as Gaius pounced on the creature. Marcellus must have jumped down as well, since he joined the fray quickly afterwards, and together they subdued and dragged the animal as far away from the compounds as possible. Gaius prayed the inhabitants disregarded the screaming pigs as just a nightly scrap.

  “What the fuck are we doing?” Marcellus said, his face covered in mud and hair properly slicked back with it.

  “It ate it,” Gaius huffed, and tightened his grip around the pig’s neck. He’d quit squirming though, but Marcellus kept its body secure nonetheless.

  “Ate what?”

  “The necklace!”

  Marcellus stared down at their captured prey, and then back to Gaius with a lost expression. “What do we do?” he asked.

  “We have to cut it out,” Gaius said desperately.

  “I’m not butchering a pig in someone’s yard in the middle of the night,” Marcellus hissed.

  “What do you suggest, then?”

  “We can leave,” Marcellus offered, “nobody’s awake and our rope is still there–

  Gaius grabbed Marcellus by the collar and pulled him close. “I am not going back with nothing. It’s just not happening, Marcellus. I’m sorry.”

  Marcellus stared back at him for a moment. Gaius couldn’t read his expression fully in the dark, but his friend eventually sighed and said, “Fine, but we’re not killing this pig. I think it’s pregnant.”

  “Then we’re stealing this bitch, aren’t we?” Gaius said.

  Marcellus nodded. “We are,” he said.

  “We can’t climb the wall with this sow,” Gaius said.

  “I’ll get the rope, and we’ll tie it to your back,” Marcellus began, but then paused

  “And then?”

  “Then,” Marcellus said, and his eyes darted around desperately until he spotted the path to the front of the compound. “We walk out of here.”

  “What?”

  “Trust me,” Marcellus said. “Just… hold on, alright? I’ll be back.”

  ***

  Marcellus was right about the pig being a pregnant sow. It’d become docile very quickly, and Gaius eased some pressure on its body, but still kept his legs wrapped around the belly just in case while he stretched and used his tunic inside out to wipe himself clean. He bunched up the cloth and threw it in a dark corner.

  The blacksmith returned shortly with the hemp rope coiled around his neck. The hook was missing and Gaius figured he’d needed to cut it off. Marcellus was good with knots so Gaius let him work, and assisted only where needed as he formed a quick harness that went around the animal’s body, and formed loops that would work as shoulder straps.

  “We’re walking out the front gate with it, aren’t we?” Gaius asked. Marcellus had finished with the animal and was now gesturing for Gaius to lift it onto his back. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m just a local taking his pig to the doctor, and you’re my slave, understand?” Marcellus said.

  Gaius felt a bad taste in his mouth, but his pride in Marcellus finally taking the lead and being motivated for something overrode that bitterness. “As you say, Master.”

  As soon as the pig was strapped tight over Gaius’ back, Marcellus broke away, toward a path to the front of the compound they were in. Getting over the fence was difficult, and the sow grunted, threatening to start another panicked fit, but Gaius’ steady gait thereafter calmed it down.

  “No guards,” Gaius remarked as they surveyed the entrance to the street. He bit his lip, though, realizing he shouldn’t be talking so casually with Marcellus anymore.

  The blacksmith gestured towards two torches some paces down the road, where the gated Latin neighborhood opened up to the rest of the city.

  “Keep your head down, I’ll do the talking,” Marcellus said.

  It wasn’t difficult for Gaius to keep his eyes locked on his ripped, muddy sandals as he bent forward under the weight of the hog. His only guide was the scrape of Marcellus' own feet ahead of him. Some minutes later, he finally heard Marcellus call out.

  “You two sleeping?” Marcellus said with a chuckle.

  “We’re awake,” said a defensive voice. Another asked Marcellus’ name.

  “Titus Licinius,” Marcellus said without missing a beat. He also had a distinct, high society tone layered on top. Which was basically just Latin with a Greek accent. Gaius bit back a smile, already thinking of ways to tease him about it if they survived the night.

  “Who? Haven’t seen you around,” said the guardsman. He sounded young. Gaius kept his head lowered, acting the part of a docile manservant waiting for his betters to finish talking.

  “I’m staying here with my uncle, Claudius Licinius?” Marcellus continued. He was surely taking a risk throwing all these names around. “Anyways, his sow is sick, needs better help than this idiot can provide.”

  Gaius figured Marcellus had gestured to him, so he acted the part and lowered his head further in shame and shifted his weight nervously. “There’s a curfew,” the guardsman replied, but then said, “just make it quick.”

  “Of course,” Marcellus said casually, then beckoned Gaius, “come on then, Salvo.”

  Salvo? Gaius thought, really?

  “Wait,” one of the guardsmen said just as they cleared the post and were headed down the hill to Temple road. “Claudius Licinius… what is his daughter’s name?”

  This was a test. Either that or the young man really wanted to know her name. If she existed, Gaius thought. He held his breath for Marcellus' answer, acting the part still but also ready to make a run for it if required.

  “Um… Claudia?” Marcellus replied.

  Gaius dared a peek towards the guardsman, who was a chubby youth holding a torch in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other. He traded a look with his partner and then nodded, satisfied. “Off you go, then.”

  Gaius couldn’t believe it, but he wasn’t about to break character now, so with the lethargic feet of the ill-famed ‘lazy’ slave of the house, he huffed under his burden and turned around as if the guard had just taken away his last hope of a quiet night. Marcellus bid the youngsters farewell and fell into step, this time staying close to Gaius to share his relief.

  At first they walked, up until they hit Temple road, which was cobbled and had lamps lit in both directions, then they jogged until they arrived at the Forum, where they stuck to the shadows, but eventually they found a lonely path that entwined its way up north to the slums where they broke into a run to the closest pigsty where they could hide their prize. The hog screeched as it bounced up and down on Gaius’ shoulder–protesting both his heavy steps and the couple’s hollering as they laughed their ass off.