The Ides of March
“VI Id. Mart., hora duodecima The Apennine Mountains, the Oak Tavern, 10 March, five p.m.THE MAN IN the grey cloak arrived out of breath, his horse exhausted and wild-eyed in fright at the lightning and thunder so loud the whole mountain seemed to shake. An angry wind whistled through the bare branches of the old oak trees, each new blast tearing away the last remaining leaves and carrying them off in a spin to the bottom of the dark valley. The high snowy peaks were barely visible against the b...lack sky.He found himself in front of the inn unexpectedly, after a bend in the road, and had to yank at the reins to avoid crashing into the doorway, which was already bolted against the approaching storm and the dark night. Another flash lit up the figure of the rearing horse and its rider for a moment, casting their shadow on the ground that was already drinking in the first heavy drops of rain. The odour of wet dust saturated the air, mixed with the metallic scent of the lightning bolts searing the face of the sky.The horseman jumped to the ground and pounded hard on the door, using the knocker and then the hilt of his sword.MoreLess
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