I have reached a milestone! The Cause was 92 pages, on a Word document. For Love of Rome has reached 100, and is far from done! To celebrate, here is the first page of my new creation.
" Rain pours from the slate gray sky in endless buckets, soaking my thin clothes in seconds. Shivering with cold and wretchedness, I stumble to my feet, slogging as best I can through the thick mud and snow. At least there’s no one around to see my tears. Pain burns in my arm and side, blood seeping between my frozen fingers. The icy drops that pelt my head and drip down the back of my neck were the last straw, breaking me. I fall again and don’t bother to try and rise. I might as well lay still and accept my fate. It’s clear by now that the gods of my people do not favor me. “Khüü.”
I make an effort to lift my head and look up at the man who spoke. I recognize his barbarian language, even if I don’t understand all of it. He called me boy that much I do know.
“Speak … you … Latin?” I gasp, hardly daring to believe my luck. He scowls, grunts something under his breath, and then bends his massive body toward me. He’s big, bigger than any man I’ve ever seen in my life, bigger even than my father, who is hardly small himself.
“You, boy. You want die?” he growls in my own tongue, his shaggy eyebrows bristling dangerously. I shake my head weakly, mustering the last of my strength in order to give him an answer.
“No sir. Please. I want to live.”
His frown breaks into a satisfied grin. Before I can react, his huge hands are around my middle, pulling me to my feet. I wobble unsteadily, nearly falling again, and the tears begin to flow anew. Seeing my distress, he picks me up as though I was a newborn, and not thirteen and nearly a man, and holds me close.
“Easy, boy. No cry. Easy boy. Safe now.”
I close my eyes, letting my head fall back against his arm. Vaguely, I can hear him shouting orders to someone else, and many answering calls. I don’t have the strength left to care. My rescuer lowers his voice, addressing me once more, but the words make no sense, and I can’t tell what language he’s choosing to use. Only one word stands out to me. He repeats it over and over, and in the haze of weariness, I understand that he’s given me a new name. A new name for a new life. Selig. I am Selig. I am lucky. I will live. "
" Rain pours from the slate gray sky in endless buckets, soaking my thin clothes in seconds. Shivering with cold and wretchedness, I stumble to my feet, slogging as best I can through the thick mud and snow. At least there’s no one around to see my tears. Pain burns in my arm and side, blood seeping between my frozen fingers. The icy drops that pelt my head and drip down the back of my neck were the last straw, breaking me. I fall again and don’t bother to try and rise. I might as well lay still and accept my fate. It’s clear by now that the gods of my people do not favor me. “Khüü.”
I make an effort to lift my head and look up at the man who spoke. I recognize his barbarian language, even if I don’t understand all of it. He called me boy that much I do know.
“Speak … you … Latin?” I gasp, hardly daring to believe my luck. He scowls, grunts something under his breath, and then bends his massive body toward me. He’s big, bigger than any man I’ve ever seen in my life, bigger even than my father, who is hardly small himself.
“You, boy. You want die?” he growls in my own tongue, his shaggy eyebrows bristling dangerously. I shake my head weakly, mustering the last of my strength in order to give him an answer.
“No sir. Please. I want to live.”
His frown breaks into a satisfied grin. Before I can react, his huge hands are around my middle, pulling me to my feet. I wobble unsteadily, nearly falling again, and the tears begin to flow anew. Seeing my distress, he picks me up as though I was a newborn, and not thirteen and nearly a man, and holds me close.
“Easy, boy. No cry. Easy boy. Safe now.”
I close my eyes, letting my head fall back against his arm. Vaguely, I can hear him shouting orders to someone else, and many answering calls. I don’t have the strength left to care. My rescuer lowers his voice, addressing me once more, but the words make no sense, and I can’t tell what language he’s choosing to use. Only one word stands out to me. He repeats it over and over, and in the haze of weariness, I understand that he’s given me a new name. A new name for a new life. Selig. I am Selig. I am lucky. I will live. "