CHAPTER FOUR
"Quintus Flavius, you look like the dead rat a cat just drug into his master's house. And drinking wine this early in the morning? Something serious must have taken place."
The jovial, somewhat loud words came from a small man with a thin chest and a very tanned complexion, a mass of curly salt and pepper hair atop his head. A large grin spread wide on his lips; the grin twisted the long streak of white scar tissue that decorated the right side of his face. With hands on his hips, he chuckled in amusement the moment the taller, more elegantly dressed centurion approached from across the busy intersection, plumed helm underneath his armpit. He reached for the simple wooden stool tucked underneath the table in front of the small wine shop.
"I am, Hesod. More than you think. B
