Opportunity

Opportunity
Marcus

I walk down the street toward my parents’ house with my dog Felix at my side, just as the sun rises over Pompeii. People are waking, and a rooster crows somewhere nearby. I haven’t seen my parents in a few days because of work, and I promised I’d join them for breakfast this morning. The house comes into view, its shutters open, servants already moving about in the garden.

As we reach the door, Felix must already smell the breakfast cooking inside—he stops with his nose in the air, sniffing. I push the door open, step inside, and am immediately met by the smell of fried eggs and freshly baked bread. 

When I walk into the dining room, my parents are already seated at the table. “Marcus, come join us,” my mother calls.

“Sit. We were just about to start,” my father adds.

I walk over and take my seat at the table. “Where is Lucius?” I ask. 

My mother shakes her head as Lydia sets her breakfast plate in front of her. “Your brother came home late last night again. He’s still asleep.” She glances at the servant. “Thank you, Lydia.”

The girl nods and serves Father and me breakfast. We both thank her, and she bows and leaves the room. 

“How late did Lucius get home?” I ask. 

“Past midnight,” my father says, frowning. “He keeps coming home at all hours. We believe he’s gambling again. We’re worried about him.”

My mother’s face drops. “Last week, he came home with a black eye. We can’t have this continuing.”

I rub my hand down the back of my neck, feeling a flash of concern. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll make him understand.”

“You must, Marcus,” my father says. “He gives the wrong men a reason to rough him up, and he doesn’t see the danger he’s bringing the whole family. You’re his older brother. He listens to you.”

“I will,” I say. “I’ll make him listen.”

My mother softens slightly. “Thank you, Marcus. Just… warn him carefully. He won’t listen if you lecture. But make him see the consequences.”

I smile at her. “Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll handle it.”

After we’ve spoken about Lucius, the conversation shifts to lighter topics. We chat about the garden, the olives and grapes this year, and the upcoming festival. I comment on the plans for the city’s preparations, and my parents nod, asking questions about what’s already arranged and what still needs attention. The morning passes quickly, the conversation flowing naturally while we finish our meal and prepare to move on with the day.

We are almost finished with breakfast when my mother smiles and says, “Thank you for coming, Marcus. We know how busy you are.”

“Yes, my son,” Father adds. “We certainly do love it when you stop by and share a meal with us.”

“Of course,” I reply. “After the festival, I’ll have more time to spend with you and Lucius.” 

I feed the last piece of my egg to Felix under the table. He swallows it down eagerly with a little yelp of gratitude. “I need to head to the temple,” I say. “Work won’t wait.”

My father nods. “Go, but remember your promise. Lucius needs you.”

“Yes, Father.” I stand and head for the door. Felix follows me, and we step out into the sunlight. The day stretches before me, bright, and full of opportunity. 

My dog and I walk through the city, passing the forum on our way to the temple. When we arrive, I stop at the bottom of the steps. “Stay here,” I tell him, and he sits, watching me without moving. I climb the steps, where Quintus is already waiting at the top.

“Good morning, Marcus,” he says when I reach him. “Ready to see the priest?”

“Yes. We need to finalize the sequence of events for the festival—offerings, dances, priestly duties. Everything must be precise.”

Quintus nods. “The attendants and musicians are all ready. The priest just needs to confirm the order.”

We step inside the temple together. The priest of Venus, Spurius Atilius, stands near the altar. He inclines his head in greeting as we approach. “Marcus, Quintus. Good morning. Is everything prepared for the festival?”

“All set,” I say. “But I want to review the opening rites. The offerings, the sacrifices, the order of events.”

Atilius nods. “Understood. Which do you wish to begin with?”

“The offerings first. I want the priestesses in position and the attendants ready before any procession starts.”

“When they arrive,” Quintus says, “we’ll place them under your direction.”

Atilius steps closer to the altar, motioning to the ceremonial spaces. “Follow me, Marcus. We’ll go through it step by step.”

I move with him, checking positions. Quintus writes notes, walking beside me, and we go through the order of every ritual, every prayer, and every song.

Satisfied, I’m ready to move on with the rest of my workday. “Everything seems in order.” 

Spurius Atilius nods. “Excellent. The festival will proceed smoothly under your guidance, Marcus.”

“Thank you, Spurius. We’ll be ready.”

Quintus and I walk toward the temple doors, and as we step back outside, the sunlight hits my face. I blink a few times and look around for Felix, hoping he’d stayed where I told him to wait. That’s when I see her—the beautiful woman from the market. Her hair is nearly white, falling down her back in soft curls, and her eyes shine blue as the sky. She’s crouched down, petting Felix, surrounded by three friends.

“Training your dog to catch you a wife. Very clever, Marcus.” Quintus chuckles, and I elbow him in the ribs. 

We walk toward them, and one of the women looks up. “Is this your dog?”

I step closer. “Yes, his name is Felix. I hope he was behaving himself.” 

Another woman smiles. “Of course. He’s a perfect gentleman and adorable.”

“Thank you,” I reply, kneeling to ruffle Felix’s ears.

The first woman gestures toward the temple. “Is the priest of Venus in there? Our friend”–she motions to the stunning blonde woman who is even more elegant and alluring up close– “needs to speak with him.”

“Yes,” I say. “He’s in the temple. You can go right in.”

“Thank you.” She looks at me then, the striking woman who was just petting my dog, and my breath catches in my throat.

I almost talk myself into asking her name, but before I can get the words out, the four women have disappeared into the temple.

Morning stretches into afternoon. Quintus and I are still working, seeing to the last of the festival preparations, checking what’s been hung, what still needs doing, what might fall apart if left alone. Felix trails after us the whole while with his nose to the ground, as if he has some duty of his own to inspect every corner. 

The sun climbs high, and the heat settles in, so we return to Quintus’s house for the midday meal. Cornelia has outdone herself again, the table laid with more than we could reasonably consume, and we eat well. Little Gaius and Julia play in the backyard with Felix, and the dog bounds after them as though he understands he is part of their game.

When at last we rise from the table, the sun is starting its downward trajectory across the sky. What remains of the day passes quickly, work keeping us busy until the light begins to fade from the streets. By evening, the noise of the market softens, and Quintus and I exchange a few final words before turning off in different directions, each of us making for home as dusk settles over the city.

The forum is quiet now, the last merchants gone, their stalls shuttered and bare. I walk the familiar route home, Felix at my side. The city seems to fall asleep at this hour. Doors are closing, lamps are being lit in the windows, and voices are lower and less enthusiastic in the streets.

Felix stiffens beside me, stops in his tracks, and the hair on the back of his neck stands up. He bares his teeth, and a low growl escapes his throat. I glance around, scanning the shadows and empty streets, but I see nothing out of the ordinary. “Relax, Felix,” I murmur, placing my hand on his head.

I keep walking, but something seems… off. I can’t tell what it is exactly, but there’s an uneasy prickle on the back of my neck that tells me there’s something just not right. 

I pass a side street, the corner dim and littered with scraps of wood and broken pottery. Then I hear a grunt, a loud groan, and the scrape of sandals against stone. 

Felix snarls. “Stay close,” I whisper, my hand brushing his fur. We move toward the sound cautiously, the alley narrowing with each step. It sounds like someone’s in trouble, and I catch movement—a definite struggle.

Two men have someone pressed against the wall, one twisting his tunic, the other striking him. A third stands just behind them, his arms crossed, watching. I clench my fists, a sudden rush of anger and protective instinct I can’t suppress running through me, and then I recognize him—Lucius.

I move up behind them before they even notice, slamming my hands into the shoulders of the two men holding Lucius, twisting and shoving until one crashes into the wall, and the other trips over his own feet. Felix darts at their legs, snapping at their ankles, forcing them to stagger backward.

The third man spins around, ready to strike, but seeing Felix circling and my fists raised, he hesitates. I push the first two toward the alley mouth, driving them away from Lucius.

The tallest one leers at me. “And who’s this? Your older brother?”

I step closer, planting myself between Lucius and them. “Yes, I am. Back off. Now!”

The man glances at Felix, whose teeth gleam in the fading light. For a moment, I see uncertainty cross their faces. “He owes us,” one of them says, trying to sound confident.

“I don’t care what he owes. You touch him again, you’ll deal with me,” I promise. Felix lunges just enough to show the parts of him that make him more wolf than dog, and the men stumble back, fear creeping into their faces.

“Fine, fine,” the leader says. He wipes his hands on his pants, scowling. “But this isn’t over. Next time, your big brother won’t be here, Lucius, and we’ll take what’s ours.”

“Keep your hands off him, or you’ll regret it,” I spit. 

The three men retreat into the shadows, their footsteps fading. I catch Lucius before he collapses, holding him up as his knees buckle. Blood drips from his mouth and nose, his eyes nearly swollen shut, and I can feel how fragile his body is—each shallow breath coming with a sharp hitch that suggests his ribs might be broken. He sways violently, almost passing out, his legs trembling uncontrollably.

“You’re badly injured.” I growl, gripping him tighter.

“I… I’m fine,” he gasps, his voice barely audible, but his body says everything he can’t.

I support Lucius under his arms as we make our way through the streets, each step slow and careful. He leans heavily against me, barely able to stay on his feet, his bloodied face and bruised eyes telling me how close he came to being killed. 

Felix follows us protectively, and as we approach our parents’ house, one of the servants in the garden catches sight of us. His eyes are filled with concern when he realizes how injured Lucius is, and together, we guide my brother through the doorway. 

Undoubtedly drawn by the noise of our arrival, my mother and father appear in the atrium. Their faces drain of color at the sight of Lucius. Mother looks at his bloodied face. Her voice shakes as she exclaims, “Lucius! By Jupiter, what have they done to you?”

I can’t answer that right now, so we carry Lucius into his room and carefully lay him down on his bed, propping him up with pillows.

My father kneels beside him, checking his limbs and ribs carefully. “Can you breathe? Where else are you hurt?” 

Lucius lies there, nearly losing consciousness, blackened eyes barely open, blood trickling from his nose and mouth, each breath shallow and labored. He does not respond.

The servant fetches water and clean cloths, handing them to Mother. She weeps softly as she tries to staunch the bleeding. “He’s hurt badly,” she whispers, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“He’ll be all right.” My voice is firm as I try to comfort both my brother and our parents. “He’ll heal. We’ll get him through this.”

Felix lays on the floor next to Lucius’s bed, watching over him in case more trouble arises.

I step back, letting my parents tend to my brother, and for a moment, my thoughts drift. I think of driving those men off, of keeping Lucius safe, and all the festival preparations that demand my attention. I have so much to do, so much to keep track of. It’s all quite stressful.

And then my mind wanders to that beautiful blonde woman at the temple. Who is she, and what business did she have with the priest? Overwhelmed by the day’s events, and consumed by concern for my brother, my parents, and even the city itself, I slump into a bedside chair, unable to make my mind slow down.

Finally, I summon the energy to ask. “Is there anything I can do to help, Mother?” 

After dabbing the last of the blood from Lucius’s face, she looks at me. “You can bury the men who did this.”