The lovers on the bridge

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Their steps The lovers on the bridge on the stairs, then they were all spilling out into the street and marching quickly towards the forum. He could smell the hot blood, the reek of offal and faeces, the sickening taint of death in the air. The altar was a rough, The lovers on the bridge thing, a stone with a painted dedication, but money would be deducted from the funeral funds of both cohorts to pay for a stonecutter to make a proper inscription. Some were screaming for mercy, but their voices were lost in the vast noise of the baying crowd that surrounded them. Hands fluttered, making warding signs against evil, and lips spat. Two smaller trapdoors opened in the arena floor, and to another blare of trumpets the platforms rose from the darkness below. Castus relished the prospect. Their steps thundered on the stairs, then they were all spilling out into the street and marching quickly towards the forum. Castus took a breath, then stuck out his hand. No doubt our enemies of tomorrow have done some terrible deed, to deserve the vengeance of empire?