They stirred the soil with their hooves and heavy shoes, kicked it into clouds, cut the men who didn't run and let the earth drink it's fill of their blood. The village is quiet when they enter; everyone is cowering behind locked doors, and those with nowhere to go look away and silently pray.
His men take their fill of the food, the water, the women-and he watches a group of street urchins slip past. Not worth the trouble, not in this weather. One of them lingers, just for a second, hair glinting even in shadow – he cannot see the eyes beneath long wavy bangs, but he imagines that there is hatred.
Rome considers the size of the town, and decides that his men will have finished all the bread and wine and women by late afternoon, after which they'd either sleep or burn the place down. He'd bet on the latter-good wine always got them excited. At sundown, the sky looks like its on fire, and the village burns silently. Everyone stopped screaming ages ago; though it was still pretty hot.
Rome spots wavy golden hair on charred stone, and turns the body over with his foot. He doesn't know if it's a boy or girl, he's sure that it's the same one from the afternoon, he'll never know what was really in their eyes because it is now just empty, bright blue.
There is no one left alive to rush at him with a knife, so for once he has time to wonder if he is sad.
He lags behind as they leave; he turns back at the last minute, and he's the only one who sees. He gets off his horse, and slowly walks back. The child slowly turns and stares, silhouetted by flames and a dark velvet sky, hair red-gold from the flames, face carefully blank. There is a thread of blood running from its temple, cheeks smeared with ash.
"Should have guessed." And he sort of did. Rome stops at a respectful distance, stance casual, and crushes the memory of a shadow of sadness. Hands loose by his sides, smile relaxed, fingers curling around the tiny blade in his palm. "So. I'm Rome. But you already know."
The child watches his face searchingly. "Yes," it says simply, "I know."
Rome feels his mouth quirk up a little. He turns and walks back toward his men, and hears bare feet on gravel following him. Even without looking, he can feel those blue eyes burning into his back.
