Scene Two: Marcus

Marcus heard Rufus before he looked up.

That wasn’t unusual. Rufus believed silence was something that happened to other people.

Marcus kept turning the quern. The grain hissed beneath the stone.

The side door scraped open, and Rufus started talking. Marcus didn’t catch the first few words. He rarely did.

His left hand left the quern and slid the cooling board another foot down the bench, away from the edge and away from Rufus. Then his hand returned to the quern.

Only then did he look up.

Lucius had just come through the front door.

“…I’m telling you,” Rufus was saying, “I smelled him before he reached the street.”

Lucius sighed. “You always say that.”

“Because I’m always right.”

Marcus hid a smile.

Rufus drifted toward the bread. He never seemed to decide to go there. By the time anyone noticed, he had arrived.

His hand reached for the place where the nearest loaf should have been and found an empty bench.

Rufus looked at the bread.

Then at Marcus.

“I would never steal from a friend.”

“I know.”

“It’s practically the only rule I’ve got.”

“It’s a good one.”

Marcus nodded toward the doorway.

“There’s a heel by the door.”

Rufus brightened. “I knew you liked me.”

Marcus almost laughed.

Rufus liked bread more than he liked being offended.