The Current

The insulae were hot with flames as I ran past them, rubble grinding into the soles of my bare feet. I choked on the smoke, watering eyes blinding my sight–though it didn’t matter because I hadn’t picked a path of escape yet. The only sacred and peaceful place of the entire empire had been seized–and by our very own leader. Sulla had left the capital in flames.

“Marcus!” I shouted, voice made raspy by the smoke inside my throat.

“Avi?!” A voice called back.

I gasped, rushing to the direction of the voice. Through the thickening smoke I could see the shape of a boy with sandals like mine, ones that my mother made for him. Marcus was huddled by a market stall that had not yet been tasted by the fire. 

“Marcus!” I rasped through the smoke. “We have to go. Get up! We have to go!”

He looked up at me, eyes rimmed with red, filth smeared over his cheek. His brown skin lit by the flames, he gazed at me with a resigned expression. Panicked, I reached for his shoulder to heave him to his feet, but he cried out. I saw his splintered shin the moment I released him, bleeding over the stones of the street. 

“Who has hurt you?” I asked.

“A man with a cavalry horse. It kicked my leg,” he breathed. “I cannot look. Is it bad?”

I grimaced, staring at his split leg. There was too much blood to tell what was bone and what was flesh. 

“We must get out of the capital,” I said instead. “My uncle has a home in Corsica and my mother is trying to purchase passage–”

“What about my parents?” Marcus said.

I paused for a moment. “You may reunite with them later. Corsica is safer.”

He nodded and stood with his healthy leg, hopping alongside me as I began to navigate us through the wailing and the flames. The once beautiful city was reduced to a landscape that I imagined was similar to what one would find in Hell. We staggered with as much haste as we were able until we reached the side of the Pomerium which met the sea. Many were gathered there, bodies pressed against bodies as we each tried to find our boats, parents, or children. 

“None shall pass!” cried a soldier. “By order of Sulla, all inhabitants of his city shall stay!”

There was a whimpering from the crowd as they began to move again. I felt the ache and anger of injustice rise in my chest, before unfortunately, it hit my throat. 

“Sulla is an idiot!” I shouted. Marcus, with many in the crowd, gasped and looked at me. I suddenly felt my heart beat harder with fear. 

I breathed in. “Sulla is an idiot. He invades his own nation’s capital? Hurts his own citizens? He’s only cared about his own success and told us so from the beginning! When the Senate voted him out he should have gone quietly and justly–but he has no regard for the sacred process of the vote!”

“How dare you speak out against your leader,” the soldier snapped at me. “Who are you, boy, to criticise the man who leads you?”

“I am a citizen of Rome,” I called calmly. “One of many in the best nation in the world. I hate to see my wonderful country be disgraced by one of its own leaders!”

There was a cheering in the crowd at that, which surprised me. My peers must have agreed.  

“Furthermore!” a man shouted. “He is endorsed by Crassus, who has no political knowledge, and who has been paying people large sums to vote in his favor! This is not a republic; this is no better than the tyranny of Tarquin!”

The crowd shouted again, but louder. The Roman people were revolting. Marcus looked up at me with an expression of wonder and shock. 

Then there was a sudden commotion in the back of the crowd. People rolled like water to part as a man stormed through the center, golden-haired and clad in bright armor. Bile rose in my mouth at once as I realized I was laying eyes on Sulla himself. 

“General!” the soldier exclaimed. “This boy has treated your name like filth!”

Sulla stepped toward me. Jaw slack, I stared at him and shivered. In an instant he struck Marcus on the cheek, and while my friend was stunned he drove a cruel kick into Marcus’ injured shin, which caused him to shriek like an animal. He collapsed to the ground and I bent to help him, only to be stuck with something myself. I coughed as the object hit my ribs, burning straight through to the bone. With dazed eyes and slow movements, I found Sulla had struck me with his spear and I was releasing what appeared to be a congius of blood from my side. 

Lips trembling and unable to close, I stared up at his cruel face. He was finished with me already, focused on the man who had spoken out after me. In a quick push he ended the man’s life with the same spear to the heart.

“Avi,” Marcus whispered beside me, clinging to my red tunic.

I could hardly listen. In that moment my chest spat up something fiery and hot–longing. I longed for my country as it was before this day, knowing that if Sulla could get away with this, there was no telling what he could get away with if he gained control of the Senate again. I understood immediately that the sanctity of our democratic-republic had now been violated so cruelly and carelessly, just as Sulla had violated me with his spear. The longing in me became clearer and clearer as I realized I was starving for something I’d thought I already had. 

I longed for a republic. 

I rolled over to Marcus, my aching ribs burning me, and pressed my forehead against his, listening to the quick current of the water.

A/N

Sulla was a real Roman general who was cast out by the Roman people and returned with six legions to siege his very own capital. Sound familiar?