For a moment he did not speak, then finally managed to croak, “Very well, Centurion. You may pass.”
“Thank you,” I said, but I did not sheathe my sword or turn my back to either of them until we were a safe distance away.
The streets of the city were almost deserted, as those not affected had either left or had blockaded themselves in their homes to wait for the passing of the sickness. This was the same affliction that struck down so much of the army when we were camped in Brundisium before our invasion of Greece. I vividly remembered that some of the survivors were so weakened by the illness that they were unable to rejoin the army until we were in Sicily. Outside of some homes there were corpses, wrapped in whatever shroud the survivors could spare, waiting for collection. Those that could afford it paid for the proper funeral rites to be performed, so that on the south side of the city there were columns of black, greasy smoke that told the story of bodies being consigned to the flames. As we turned onto the street leading to my family’s apartment, my throat was as dry as if I was marching for a day across the desert without a drink, but even if I could have had a drink of water, I doubt I would have been able to keep it down. Arriving in front of the building, I tried not to stagger as I dismounted. The windows of the building were shuttered, which was not unusual at such a time, yet it disturbed me nonetheless. I was more scared than I had ever been in my life as I walked to the stairway then began to mount the steps, thinking of the last time I was here and watching Vibi tumble down them. Even now, in the last years of my life, more than 25 years later, I cannot speak of those next moments. I will turn to Diocles to give his account.
~ ~ ~ ~
In the relatively short time I had been with my master, I had never seen him in such a state as he was when we pulled up before the building where his family was living. He went to the steps, but stopped there for a moment before mounting them. He tried to open the door, but was unable to do so, the door obviously locked. He knocked, softly at first, then with more and more urgency. Still, the door never opened. He stood for a moment, and I did not know what to do for him. Suddenly he reared back, kicking against the door, which flew open with a loud crash. From where I was sitting, I heard a cry of alarm, and for a moment my heart leapt with joy before my brain recognized that the sound came not only from inside the house on the first floor, but that the voice was male. My master made no sign that he had heard, and stepped inside the door, his face set and white as he disappeared. It was a few moments before he emerged, his shoulders slumped as he descended the stairs and walked over to me.
“There’s nobody there, and the place is cleaned out.”
“Master, that must mean that they left like most of the others,” I said, but my words did not soothe him.
He shook his head, and I could barely him reply, “I don’t think so.”
He turned and walked to the door on the ground floor of the building, and began banging on it. I was sitting on my horse just a few feet away, close enough that I could hear the stirring of someone inside, but the door did not open. Banging harder, my master called out loudly enough to be heard several streets away, calling the owner of the building by name and identifying himself. Finally, the door cracked open, only by a matter of a couple of inches and I could barely make out a pinched white face peering up at my master. It was hard to tell whether it was a man or woman, and I only learned by the sound of the voice that it was a woman, the wife of the owner, I presumed.
“Salve, Centurion. You've come at a most unfortunate time, I'm sad to say. I'm sorry that I can't open the door, but my husband won't permit visitors.”
“That's fine, lady.” My master’s voice was calm and his tone pleasant, but I had been with him long enough to hear the strain underlying his words. “I'm here to find my wife and children. Do you know what happened to them?”
I do not know how many heartbeats of time it took her to answer, but if time has ever stood still, it was in that moment. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the doorway and the interior behind her, I could see her more clearly, and on her face, sadness was plainly written and not a little fear.
“I'm sorry, Centurion. Your family is dead. The plague claimed them all.”
At first, my master gave no reaction, just standing there looking down at her. I began to think that he had not heard her, though I did not see how that was possible. Then, without a word, his legs lost their strength and he collapsed to his knees, his head dropping to his chest. I leapt off my horse, taking a step towards him, then stopped, not sure what to do. The woman looked down at him, and I saw a withered, spotted hand reach out and touch his shoulder. Suddenly, it was as if a dam had burst. It began as a low moan, my master’s body beginning to shake as if he had the ague himself, then he began to sob. The woman opened the door and stepped out, and I heard a man’s voice angrily demanding that she come back inside and shut the door, but she ignored him. Kneeling next to my master, she wrapped her arms about his giant shoulders, and he leaned his head against her breast as his grief consumed him. I stood helplessly, then took a step towards them. She looked at me and shook her head, so I stopped as she murmured words to him as they both rocked gently back and forth. They stayed like this as the last light of the day faded away, and it was only when it became dark that he began to stir himself. He climbed to his feet, then helped the woman up, but even in the gloom, I could see how unsteady he was on his feet, so I stepped next to him in case he needed help.
He had said nothing since his question about his family, and when he did speak, his voice was hoarse and barely recognizable. “Where are they now?”
The woman looked apprehensive now, though I did not understand why, but she obviously knew something I did not, given the reaction she got when she told him, “They were taken away and buried.”
My master went rigid, his grief turning to anger as quickly as a bolt of lightning strikes. “Buried,” he hissed. “That is not proper! You should know that. How could you have let them be buried?”
She shrugged helplessly, the fear in her voice making it quaver. “Centurion, we didn't have any choice in the matter. The urban Praetor issued a decree that all non-citizens were to be buried as quickly as possible.”
“My children were citizens, damn you! They should have been given the proper rites! Now,” his voice broke, “they're doomed to wander the underworld for eternity and I'll never recognize them!”
His shoulders began to shake as a fresh spate of tears struck him at this thought.
“Centurion, it was your wife’s wish that they be buried with her,” the woman said gently. “As I understand it, that was the way of her people anyway, wasn't it? To be buried? Besides, your children were Roman citizens, that's true, but weren't they also of her tribe as well? And if they were, then they walk with her now, in their afterlife, don't they?”
As religious arguments go, it would not have taken me long to dismantle it, but under the circumstances, I was only too happy to see that this brought him some comfort.
After thinking about it, he nodded. “Do you know where they're buried?”
She shook her head and replied that she did not, adding, “And you don’t want to go to where they're taking the…..bodies, Centurion. I've heard that it's a very grim place and it wouldn't bring you any comfort. You should remember them alive.”