A Voice in the Wind (75 page)

“I’ll never forget her,” he said hoarsely and grasped Julia’s wrists tightly, looking at her as though she were something foul and hateful. “But I will forget
you
.”

“Marcus,” she said, frightened by the look in his eyes. “You’re hurting me!”

“I’ll forget I ever had a sister,” he went on, pushing her away from him. “May the gods curse you for what you’ve done!”

She stood staring at him, her face white, her eyes wide with shock. “How can you say such cruel things to me? I did it for you! J
did it for you
!”

He turned from her as though she hadn’t spoken, as though she didn’t exist. “You want her, Calabah?” he asked, his voice low, filled with loathing.

“I’ve always wanted her,” Calabah said, eyes glowing with black fire.

“You can have her.” And Marcus turned his back on Julia, pushing his way past Primus, who was just returning with the wine bags. “Get out of my way!”

“No!” Julia cried out. “Stop him! Marcus, come back!”

Calabah caught hold of her hand, her grip strong and unrelenting. “It’s too late, Julia. You’ve made your choices.”

“Let go of me,” Julia cried, weeping hysterically. “
Marcus
!” She struggled to go after her brother. “Let go!”

“He’s gone,” Calabah said, satisfaction in her voice.

Julia looked back at Hadassah on the bloodstained sand. A great emptiness opened within her as she looked at the still form. Gone, too, was the salt that had kept her from complete corruption.

“Marcus!” Julia screamed. “
Marcus
!”

Desperate to get out, to get away, Marcus shoved past screaming spectators. The sound of the mob swelled around him in wanton passion, drunk on human blood and suffering, craving more, frenzied. Fighting his way through them, Marcus reached the top of the steps and fled down the other side. He ran through the gates out into the open, tears blinding him. He didn’t know where he was going, he didn’t care. He ran to get away from the sound, the smell, the sight that was branded into his mind. He ran to get away from the image of Hadassah crumpled on the sand, the beasts fighting over her body as though it was just another piece of meat.

His lungs burned as he ran harder. He ran until his strength gave out, then stumbled aimlessly along a marble street lined with marble idols that couldn’t help him. The city was almost empty; most of the citizenry was at the arena enjoying the games. Legionnaires stood at each corner, preventing looting. They stared at him as he passed.

Leaning heavily against a wall, Marcus looked up at the writing brazenly announcing the games. Staring at it, Marcus remembered the countless times he had sat in the stadium, watching innocent blood be spilled and thinking nothing of it. He remembered the times he had laughed as people fled for their lives, or shouted profanity when a blood match took too long. He remembered sitting, bored, as prisoners were fed to beasts or nailed to crosses.

And as he remembered, he saw his part in Hadassah’s death.

Marcus heard the familiar rumble in the distance… unsated humanity. He covered his ears, and a sound came up from deep inside him, a cry of pain and despair, a cry of remorse and guilt. It tore from him and rose, echoing down the empty street.

He fell to his knees. Hunching over, he covered his head and wept.

EPILOGUE

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“But the eyes of the Lord are watching over those who fear him, who rely upon his steady love.

He will keep them from death…”