Pius heard the crowd’s cheering rotating around the track as the chariots made their laps. He had counted twenty four laps already. By the hundredth lap, he would need to be out of the streets, and ready to meet the other thieves.
Children ran up to Pius’ donkey. Their clothes were tattered and drab, but they were excited by the rush of the games. They played near the Circus Maximus, behind the creaking, towering wooden rafters. Pius’s donkey had a heavy and lucrative load. All the betted coins for Green, the favored charioteer of Caesar and his followers, were tied on the donkey’s back in bulging satchels. The heist was clean and quiet so far. Nobody had a clue.
One of the street-children began petting the donkey and shouting to his little friends, laughing with his open mouth missing teeth. “Shoo!” whispered Pius, restraining himself not to make a scene. His disguise as a trader was seemingly innocent. He lifted his stick at the boy, and the little boy ran off in laughter.
The roar of the crowd was slowly rising now, at the sixty-first lap. Pius had reached the Venus Genetrix temple. Most of the city was empty, and the silence bothered him.
Nobody showed up.
The sounds of one hundred fifty thousand outraged people rang out and drowned the streets in chaotic noise. Something had gone wrong. He knew he had to begin running away on his own. He mounted a hill to plan a quick escape.
Suddenly the mob appeared on the street horizon, their avalanching sound coming before them. Pius, with his million dollar donkey, saw the rush of spectators out of the Circus Maximus. He didn’t anticipate the speed of the mob. Halfway down, he lost his footing, and grabbed anything near him. He pulled the satchels, and he knew it was over. The bags spilled and brilliant silver and gold poured out onto the hill top and slid down, making the hill a glittering beacon to the oncoming crowd.
Nothing could be done now, Pius thought. He stood still on the little hill, and the mob went wild collecting the shining Caesar-imprinted coins. Through the congested forum street, he could see a troop of guards squeezing past the Roman crowd, pushing their way through. The dark-helmeted guards ran towards Pius, glancing up at him and angrily shouting “Stop”.
Pius sat down and watched the crowd fight over his loot. How happy they seemed.
