just erected in honor of Mars. You won’t find better workmanship anywhere.”
Atretes stepped closer and picked one up. He hadn’t imagined it. It was him! He glared at the offensive idol. “Mars?” he said in an accusing growl, wanting to crush the marble into dust.
“You must be new to the city. Are you making a pilgrimage to our goddess?” The vendor produced a small statue festooned with breasts and wearing a headdress punctuated with symbols, one of which was the rune of the god Tiwaz, whom Atretes had once worshiped.
“There he is! Over there by the idolmaker’s shop.”
Atretes glanced around sharply and saw a dozen young men pushing their way through the crowd toward him. “I told you it was Atretes!”
“Atretes! Where?”
People on the left and right of him turned to stare. The idolmaker stood, mouth agape, staring at him. “It is you. By the gods!”
Sweeping his arm across the table, Atretes grasped the edge and upended the table. Shoving several people aside, he tried to run. A man grasped his tunic. Uttering an enraged shout, Atretes hit him in the face. As the man went down, he took three others with him.
Excitement erupted up and down the street. “Atretes! Atretes is here!”
More hands fell upon him; voices cried his name out feverishly.
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