Janus

The doors to the Temple of Janus were shut, which meant the Empire was at peace. In times of war, the doors stayed open, so that the people could seek comfort from one of their favourite Gods. The God of doors, gateways, beginnings, endings, childbirth, the past and the future.

Starsky was not seeking comfort. He was seeking understanding. It was the last day of Decemberis. Tomorrow was the first day of Januarius. The beginning of a new year.

Two years ago, at this time, he met Hutch, and his life changed forever. A year ago, their son was born, and Hutch died. Starsky followed him to Valhalla, and bought Hutch's life, with one of his own eyes. Would their life always be one of turmoil, he wondered?

He had always wanted a simple life. A life he understood. A pretty wife, and several well behaved children. A boyfriend on the side -- with the approval of his wife, of course. A career with the City Guard, perhaps. A house in a quiet neighbourhood.

Instead, he got Hutch. Hutch, who was both husband and wife, sometimes on the same night. A son, whose eyes had the depth of the Norwegian sea, in the dead of winter, just before a storm. The friendship of the Royal Family, and the Directorship of the Roman Guardians. A villa just above the Subura. Dozens of slaves.

Hutch.

Starsky looked up at the statue of the God. It showed Janus' two faces. One old, one young. One male, one female. The God carried two keys. One gold, one silver.

A slight sound alerted him to the fact he was not alone. Someone had entered the Temple, clearly seeking comfort. He threw himself before the altar, and gave way to a storm of tears.

'O Father Janus, with the offering of this cake, I pray thee be propitious to me, my child, my household and my family. This prayer I made to thee, so many thousands of times, and yet my child has died. Give me thy comfort, I pray.'

The words were formal, and old-fashioned. Now, Starsky saw that the man was dressed in very old-fashioned clothing, as well. A rumpled, stained tunic and toga, with the antique folds of the last century. He walked up to the man, and touched his shoulder.

His hand went right through. Starsky jumped back, shivering with terror. He had touched a ghost. Or not touched a ghost, he thought. That was the most fearful part.

The ghost turned, and looked up at Starsky. 'Are you here to pray?' the ghost asked.

Starsky stared for a moment, trying to command his lips to move. A ghost. A lemur. A visitation from the Land of the Dead, perhaps. Or a spirit who had never made the journey to the Land of the Dead. What could have kept such a spirit trapped in the world of the living?

'I am here to pray,' Starsky managed to speak at last. 'I am here, because it is the beginning of a new year. I want to understand what has happened before, and what may happen in the future. Janus is the two-faced God. He looks forward and backward.'

I am babbling, thought Starsky. But what should I say? What does the lemur really want to know?

'Most people only look one way or the other,' said the lemur. 'My child died,' he added.

'I heard you tell the God,' said Starsky. 'I'm sorry to listen in.'

'Don't be sorry,' said the lemur. 'Most people don't listen. I didn't listen. It is why my child died.'

'What do you mean?' asked Starsky.

'I mean I didn't listen, and so my child died. Why is that so hard to understand?'

The lemur was becoming agitated, which was not a good sign. Angry ghosts were not to be trifled with. 'I heard you,' said Starsky. 'I understand.'

'Most people can hear, but they don't listen. Nor do they understand. Try to do all three.'

'I will,' said Starsky.

The lemur faded, slowly, into the shadows. Starsky was left alone, with the statue of the God.

*** The End ***

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