by Mira Zamin
* * *
“Where are you going?”
Pyp’s head whipped back. Olympia was dozing, and Claudius’ eyes were shut with exhaustion. It was his sister’s strange new friend who spoke to him. “Just upstairs to see how Caly is,” he lied. He tried to muster as innocent and childlike an expression as he could.
“Be careful,” Hadrian said.
Pyp nodded and stepped lightly up the stairs. They were leaving Portus Tarrus tonight, were one horse short, and Koisis had told him his best friend worked in the stables. It had not been difficult for Pyp to work out what he had to do.
He skulked through the shadows, pretending he was Odysseus returning to Ithaca in disguise to fight Penelope’s suitors. What he would give for a long flowing beard and bedraggled cloak. But no one paid any heed to the small, dark-haired boy who could have been any urchin in his rough clothes. He smelled the sweetness of hay, rankness of manure, and he knew the stable was close. He came closer and could see the horses flicking their tails in their sleep. He tapped softly on the stable door and hid around a corner.
Rubbing his eyes and yawning, a boy with straw sticking out of his black curls came to see who was knocking. Pyp rushed out and tackled him into a pile of hay. “Maro!” It felt so good and happy to see his friend again. He had almost thought that he too would become a person like Caly, like his father, who dwelled on his memory. But no! Just like Caly, here was Maro, real and in the flesh, warm to touch and with a distinctly unbathed smell to him.
Maro blinked at him blankly. “Pyp! It can’t be! I heard you escaped! Where have you been?” He embraced his friend tightly.
“How are you?”
Maro shrugged. “Well enough.” He dragged Pyp further into the shadow. “Be careful though! They have men that come watch me sometimes, to make sure I’m not getting up to any mischief.” He smiled in his eyes crackled with some of that same mischief Pyp remembered so well. “I’ve been quiet as a mouse lately, and they’ve been watching me less. Luckily! What are you doing here?”
“We’re leaving Portus Tarrus today for Rome. You’re coming with us—but before then, we need to steal a horse.”
Maro rubbed his hands together and grinned wickedly. “Gods, I’ve missed you Pyp.”