Spurius and Gaulia lay huddled
together beneath a tarp in the back of a wagon. They were headed out of Rome,
to be smuggled by ship to southern Gaul. Both Fulvia and Cicero had alerted the
guards that he would be leaving the city with a runaway slave, but at the
moment the guards, and most of Rome, were focused on something entirely
different.
Spurius
could hear their shouts even over the rumbling of the cart along cobblestone.
“People of Rome, we are once again free!” they chanted. So they had really done
it, Spurius thought sadly. Mark Antony must have arrived too late to stop the
assassination. The shouts of the Liberators grew faint as the cart wound it’s
way to the river, but the effect of their voices seemed to have spread. Spurius
risked a peek out from under the edge of the tarp and saw that the streets were
almost entirely deserted. The few people who were out were hurrying quickly
home or were whispering to one another with nervous looks on their faces.
He lowered
the tarp and turned to Gaulia, pulling her close to him. She buried her head in
his chest and began to sob softly; it seemed the emotion and violence of the
last twenty-four hours had finally caught up to her.
“Don’t
worry, we’re free from it now,” said Spurius soothingly. “We’re going to leave
this city and it’s problems behind us and start a new life together.”
He looked
out from under the tarp again and saw that the streets were now completely
empty. Even the beggars seemed to have hidden themselves out of site. This did
not bode well for the Liberators, who had expected to be welcomed by the
citizens of Rome as heroes. Spurius believed that great changes were about to
be effected in Rome, and none of them would come about peacefully.
Spurius
held Gaulia tight as they passed over the Tiber and out of Rome. He breathed a
sigh of relief that they were finally on their way to true freedom in the West.
