Fic: Fever
Written for round 1 of the Eagle Fanmedia Challenge 2013.
Title: Fever
Author: Lemondilemma
Rating: G
Pairing: Marcus/Esca
Length: 2922 words
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, I'm just playing with them
Author's Notes: This is probably horribly historically inaccurate regarding the use of flowers as medicine due to lack of time for research and assorted technological difficulties. Inspired by the picture of the wild flowers.
Marcus stared out across the small meadow that sloped down towards the bubbling stream and tried to will himself to concentrate on his work. The wild flowers and tall grasses bobbed and danced in the breeze and he felt yet another wave of disappointment wash over him that the meadow had to be dug up but they couldn’t live on flowers and grass. Esca had argued that they needed to start growing vegetables and fruits if they were going to have anything other than eggs from the chickens to eat. Or was Marcus happy to slaughter what little livestock they had? Perhaps he wouldn’t mind roasting one of the horses on a spit? Marcus had been annoyed at Esca’s dramatics but he had eventually, reluctantly agreed. They had only just started on their little farm and what money they had wouldn’t last forever so they needed to grow their own ready source of food. Still, the meadow was so beautiful……..but Esca had won that particular argument and the flowers were doomed.
Marcus shook his head and scolded himself. Here he was, a soldier of Rome, the celebrated retriever of the lost eagle standard, and he was becoming melancholy over the loss of a meadow of flowers. He let his eyes roam over the mixture of brightly-coloured plants once more and further down the slope Esca caught his eye, diligently working away, digging and only occasionally stopping to wipe the sweat from his brow. The sun was strong today and Marcus was only too pleased to feel the heat, his weary bones eagerly soaking up the rare sunshine but he was in danger of shirking his duties in favour of basking and daydreaming. He returned to his digging, hopeful that by the end of the day’s work he’d be able to win the bet he’d made with Esca that morning, to see who had cleared the largest area. By the time he looked up again to take a moment’s rest however, Esca had vanished. Marcus frowned and craned his neck but there was no sign of his friend. Surely Esca would not have stopped work and gone back to the tiny house without him?
A sudden gust of wind caused the wildflowers to bend and Marcus caught a glimpse of something lying amidst the stalks. A large rock? An abandoned sack? He screwed up his eyes and squinted through the sunlight and it was then that he realised what was lying crumpled on the ground amongst the flowers.
“Esca!” Marcus called, hearing the frantic tone to his own voice as he dropped his scythe and hurried down the slope, a hundred fearful and unpleasant things vying in his head with a hundred other more rational explanations. “Esca!”
There was no answer and as Marcus drew nearer he could clearly see that it was indeed Esca lying on the ground, as still as the dead. Marcus dropped to his knees beside the motionless form, his hands hovering in mid-air as he tried to think of what to do.
“Esca?” he whispered again, hoping beyond hope that Esca was playing a trick on him but there was no movement.
Cautiously, Marcus rolled Esca over onto his back. His relief at finding that his friend was still breathing was short-lived when he saw the deathly pallor of Esca’s face. Without further hesitation Marcus scooped him up in his arms and started to carry him back towards the ramshackle farmhouse they called home. He kicked open the front door, ignoring the sharp stab of pain as his leg protested, and laid Esca on the nearest of the two beds.
Esca moaned quietly, his lips parting but no words came forth, beads of sweat standing out across his frighteningly pale skin, coloured only by two furious flashes of feverish red now staining his cheeks. Marcus fetched a pitcher of cool water and a cloth and sat on the edge of the bed to bathe Esca’s face. He could feel the heat of the fever rising through Esca’s tunic and Marcus carefully removed the garment, gently wiping the cool cloth along the other man’s arms and across his thin, bony chest.
How had he never noticed before how thin Esca had become? True, he had continually warned Esca not to work from dawn til dusk and beyond, knowing that his friend was trying to spare him some of the hardest work on their fledgling farm but Esca had simply pouted and ignored him.
“I am no longer your slave to give orders to,” Esca had grumbled, his face set in the familiar stubborn scowl that Marcus knew so well.
“Not even when I am trying to make you work less?” Marcus had asked.
“If we’re not to starve then the crops must be sown and we cannot yet afford our own ox and plough,” had come the obstinate reply. “We have to work as hard as we can and most of it must fall on me. You cannot overtax your leg, else I shall have to do everything myself.”
Marcus had sighed irritably, knowing that nothing he said would turn Esca from his mission. “Very well,” he had said, “but then the lion’s share of what food we have must be yours.”
But Marcus had never seemed to go hungry, well-fed at every meal. When he questioned Esca, the other man would shrug his shoulders and say that he had simply underestimated how long their supplies would last.
As he looked down at Esca now however Marcus saw how his bones were too visible beneath his skin; he remembered the times he had heard Esca coughing and had turned a blind eye to it, not wishing to seem as if he was fussing.
“You are a fool, Marcus Flavius Aquila,” he scolded himself, “and the Gods always punish fools.”
The fever raged on throughout the remainder of the day and Esca lay stricken. It was a full day’s ride to Uncle Aquila’s villa and Marcus wrestled with the idea of setting off to seek assistance from Stephanos and his stinking potions but no, he couldn’t leave. What if, while he was absent, Esca worsened or even slipped away, called onwards by his ancestors in the next world? No, Marcus must stay.
He sat by Esca’s side, trying to cool his fevered skin, frequently wetting his lips with water and holding him when a vicious bout of coughing would seize him. He prayed to the Gods not to take Esca from him, images of a long-forgotten childhood friend who had died from a sudden fever coming to him unbidden and tormenting him as the day gave way to the long, dark hours of the night. Still Marcus maintained his vigil at Esca’s side, fighting against the pull of sleep but in the end exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep, waking with a start when Esca began thrashing around on the bed, his breaths harsh and ragged, moans and delirious ramblings spilling from his lips.
Angry at himself for falling asleep and failing yet again to look after his friend properly, Marcus fetched a fresh pitcher and began to bathe Esca’s overheated skin with the cool water until he settled a little. In the dim, flickering light of the lamp Esca looked even more gaunt, the shadows cast by his too-prominent bones seeming to taunt Marcus for his negligence.
“This is all my fault,” he whispered sadly into the darkness, gently running his fingers through Esca’s sweat-soaked hair. “I should have taken better care of something so precious.”
And Esca was so very precious to him. Marcus had always tried to pretend that it was simply a strong feeling of friendship that he felt for Esca but as he watched his friend now, still so helpless and sick as the first stirrings of a new day began to chase away the darkness, he accepted that it was something more. Much more.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
The kindly wife of a neighbouring farmer came by the following day to deliver some fresh milk, a task that she performed whenever her livestock had produced more milk than she could use. As usual, Marcus offered her some coins in payment. As usual, she declined.
“Where is your freedman today?” she asked. “Sent him off on an errand, have you?”
“He is unwell,” Marcus replied, unable to keep the worry from his voice.
The woman’s smiling face suddenly became serious.
“I shall offer up a prayer for his recovery,” she said. “Nothing too serious, I hope.”
“A fever. He has been working too hard and not eating enough.” Marcus shook his head. “I did not realise. I should have been firmer with him.”
“Perhaps you would allow me to see him?”
It seemed an odd request but Marcus was too tired and worried to give it much thought. All he could think of was Esca, his Esca whom he loved so much. He stood aside to allow the woman over the threshold and accompanied her to Esca’s side. She reached down and placed her hand on Esca’s forehead, murmuring to him in a strange language and Marcus looked at her quizzically. He had always taken her for a Roman but perhaps she was a native Briton after all.
“The fever is strong,” she said. “He is weakening and requires medicine.”
“I shall send for a healer,” Marcus said, silently admonishing himself for not having done so earlier, too reluctant to leave Esca to send for help. The woman shook her head however and fixed him with a bright smile.
“No need for that, neighbour,” she said. “I know some of the ways of healing and you have enough medicines growing in your meadow to help. We must start right away however. The fever must be controlled, else it could easily consume him.”
“In the meadow?” Marcus asked, perplexed. Of course he had known of the use of plants for medicines when he had served with the army but he had never paid much attention, leaving that particular skill to the healers themselves.
“Oh yes. The leaves and flowers from many of the plants can be infused to make medicines or ground down into powders that will help restore your freedman.”
Soon, the neighbour’s wife was bustling around, boiling leaves on the hearth and showing Marcus which plants could be used for which remedies. She left him with a variety of instructions which he paid close attention to; borage and marigold to reduce the fever, wormwood to aid Esca’s appetite when he recovered, camomile to soothe him, all gathered from the meadow.
“I am more grateful to you than you can ever know,” Marcus told her as she prepared to take her leave.
“It is nothing,” she said, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “We neighbours must help each other in times of need and it is easy to see how devoted you are to your freedman.”
“Is it?”
She laughed. “Every time I come here with the milk, you are full of tales of him. And you gaze upon him with the same look in your eyes that I sometimes see in my own beloved husband’s eyes as he looks upon me.”
Marcus felt his cheeks heat but the woman simply smiled at him again and bade him farewell. He was still too stunned to reply and she was no sooner out of sight than he realised he had not even asked her name but he was sure that, when he asked the Gods to bestow favour upon her, they would know who he meant.
Without further delay, he fetched a cup with one of the infusions and supported Esca’s head while he held the cup to Esca’s lips, slowly feeding the liquid to him in tiny increments as he had been instructed. Marcus no longer felt so fearful and he periodically allowed himself to leave Esca’s bedside throughout the day to eat and carry out a few tasks on the farm, returning regularly to patiently administer the medicine. The fever still coloured Esca’s cheeks but he was more easily settled now, no longer delirious and seized by fewer coughing fits
Darkness fell but Marcus felt no desire to sleep. He sat beside Esca for hours more and told him the same stories that his mother had told him when he had been sick once in childhood. He told him other tales too - no, not tales. He told Esca truths he had kept locked away in his heart; of the way he had felt that first day he saw Esca in the arena, of the pride he felt when Esca had proved such a faithful friend on their adventures north of the wall, of the way that his fear over Esca’s illness had shown him how pride had turned to love.
Finally Marcus could keep awake no longer and he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Esca’s forehead. He gazed at Esca’s face for a moment, remembering how the neighbour woman had spoken of the look she had seen in his eyes and before he could stop himself he was leaning forward again but this time, it was Esca’s lips he kissed.
“May the Gods return you to me, my friend,” he murmured, managing a rueful smile. “The Gods, or our neighbour’s wife.”
“I feel better for you having kissed me,” came the faint and unexpected reply.
Marcus was horrified. “I…I’m sorry,” he spluttered. “I had no idea that you were awake.” It was one thing to have admitted to himself his love for Esca but another completely to have Esca know or even suspect!
“Would you have kissed me had you known?” Esca asked.
“Of course not!”
Marcus was sure it must be the shadows thrown by the lamp that made him think he saw a faint smile on Esca’s face, his eyelids managing to crack open a little.
“Then it is all for the best.”
“You’re not angry with me?”
“Angry?” The effort of talking took all the energy Esca had and he closed his eyes again with a sigh. “Why should I be angry with you?”
Marcus frowned, wondering whether the fever had addled Esca’s mind. Surely he must be delirious once more to be so unconcerned that Marcus had kissed him. A hale and hearty Esca would have punched him on the nose, patron or not, and Marcus would have whole-heartedly deserved it. “It is of no concern,” he said. “Go back to sleep. I will not be far away if you need me.”
He started to move away from the bed but Esca reached out to try and catch his arm, only managing to brush his fingers against Marcus’ wrist. Marcus stopped at the touch.
“May I ask something of you?”
“Anything, Esca.”
“Was I dreaming when I heard you say that you loved me?”
So Esca had heard everything. There was no hope of delirium for Marcus to hide behind now and although the Roman in him cried out that it was unacceptable, something softened within his heart and Marcus found he could not lie.
“No, you were not dreaming,” he said. “I would be lost without you.”
“And the kiss? Promise me that was not a dream.”
Marcus laughed, his natural reserve overwhelmed by the joy of hearing Esca’s voice, no matter how weak and hoarse. “I would gladly bestow a hundred kisses upon you this very night, if I thought it would restore you to your usual self.”
“I cannot promise it will restore me but it would surely help.” Esca once more tried to open his eyes and gave Marcus a weak smile. “I have no wish to leave you for the next world just yet.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“We shall not be digging up the wildflower meadow after all,” Marcus said. “I will hear no arguments on the matter!” he continued as Esca tried to sit up in his bed and commence arguing. “Many of the wildflowers can be used as medicines.”
“I know that!” Esca replied. “My people often used them but we cannot live on them, you and I!”
“You could easily have died without them!” Marcus raised his voice but then thought better of starting an argument while Esca was still so weak. “Perhaps they can be used to help others,” he added, softly. “Our neighbour’s wife fancies herself a healer and she can use many of the plants in the meadow for her potions.”
“But…”
“There is work to be done,” Marcus cut Esca off, handing him a cup. “You must rest and drink this, you are still far from well. I will be back once I have seen to the animals.”
He reached out and cupped the side of Esca’s face then leaned in to kiss his forehead but Esca tipped his head upwards and caught Marcus’ lips instead.
“Will you still kiss me when I am well?” he asked.
Marcus smiled, the smile of a man content with his world. “I shall,” he said, “on every opportunity that presents itself.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The meadow of wildflowers looked much as it did that day when Marcus had feared Esca would be taken from him but he looked upon it with fresh eyes now; no longer simple wildflowers but medicines provided by the Gods. They would have to plant their crops elsewhere, no matter Esca’s protestations. The meadow would be staying and Marcus smiled to himself at the thought that, if Esca continued to argue, well he could always be persuaded with kisses.
Title: Fever
Author: Lemondilemma
Rating: G
Pairing: Marcus/Esca
Length: 2922 words
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, I'm just playing with them
Author's Notes: This is probably horribly historically inaccurate regarding the use of flowers as medicine due to lack of time for research and assorted technological difficulties. Inspired by the picture of the wild flowers.
Marcus stared out across the small meadow that sloped down towards the bubbling stream and tried to will himself to concentrate on his work. The wild flowers and tall grasses bobbed and danced in the breeze and he felt yet another wave of disappointment wash over him that the meadow had to be dug up but they couldn’t live on flowers and grass. Esca had argued that they needed to start growing vegetables and fruits if they were going to have anything other than eggs from the chickens to eat. Or was Marcus happy to slaughter what little livestock they had? Perhaps he wouldn’t mind roasting one of the horses on a spit? Marcus had been annoyed at Esca’s dramatics but he had eventually, reluctantly agreed. They had only just started on their little farm and what money they had wouldn’t last forever so they needed to grow their own ready source of food. Still, the meadow was so beautiful……..but Esca had won that particular argument and the flowers were doomed.
Marcus shook his head and scolded himself. Here he was, a soldier of Rome, the celebrated retriever of the lost eagle standard, and he was becoming melancholy over the loss of a meadow of flowers. He let his eyes roam over the mixture of brightly-coloured plants once more and further down the slope Esca caught his eye, diligently working away, digging and only occasionally stopping to wipe the sweat from his brow. The sun was strong today and Marcus was only too pleased to feel the heat, his weary bones eagerly soaking up the rare sunshine but he was in danger of shirking his duties in favour of basking and daydreaming. He returned to his digging, hopeful that by the end of the day’s work he’d be able to win the bet he’d made with Esca that morning, to see who had cleared the largest area. By the time he looked up again to take a moment’s rest however, Esca had vanished. Marcus frowned and craned his neck but there was no sign of his friend. Surely Esca would not have stopped work and gone back to the tiny house without him?
A sudden gust of wind caused the wildflowers to bend and Marcus caught a glimpse of something lying amidst the stalks. A large rock? An abandoned sack? He screwed up his eyes and squinted through the sunlight and it was then that he realised what was lying crumpled on the ground amongst the flowers.
“Esca!” Marcus called, hearing the frantic tone to his own voice as he dropped his scythe and hurried down the slope, a hundred fearful and unpleasant things vying in his head with a hundred other more rational explanations. “Esca!”
There was no answer and as Marcus drew nearer he could clearly see that it was indeed Esca lying on the ground, as still as the dead. Marcus dropped to his knees beside the motionless form, his hands hovering in mid-air as he tried to think of what to do.
“Esca?” he whispered again, hoping beyond hope that Esca was playing a trick on him but there was no movement.
Cautiously, Marcus rolled Esca over onto his back. His relief at finding that his friend was still breathing was short-lived when he saw the deathly pallor of Esca’s face. Without further hesitation Marcus scooped him up in his arms and started to carry him back towards the ramshackle farmhouse they called home. He kicked open the front door, ignoring the sharp stab of pain as his leg protested, and laid Esca on the nearest of the two beds.
Esca moaned quietly, his lips parting but no words came forth, beads of sweat standing out across his frighteningly pale skin, coloured only by two furious flashes of feverish red now staining his cheeks. Marcus fetched a pitcher of cool water and a cloth and sat on the edge of the bed to bathe Esca’s face. He could feel the heat of the fever rising through Esca’s tunic and Marcus carefully removed the garment, gently wiping the cool cloth along the other man’s arms and across his thin, bony chest.
How had he never noticed before how thin Esca had become? True, he had continually warned Esca not to work from dawn til dusk and beyond, knowing that his friend was trying to spare him some of the hardest work on their fledgling farm but Esca had simply pouted and ignored him.
“I am no longer your slave to give orders to,” Esca had grumbled, his face set in the familiar stubborn scowl that Marcus knew so well.
“Not even when I am trying to make you work less?” Marcus had asked.
“If we’re not to starve then the crops must be sown and we cannot yet afford our own ox and plough,” had come the obstinate reply. “We have to work as hard as we can and most of it must fall on me. You cannot overtax your leg, else I shall have to do everything myself.”
Marcus had sighed irritably, knowing that nothing he said would turn Esca from his mission. “Very well,” he had said, “but then the lion’s share of what food we have must be yours.”
But Marcus had never seemed to go hungry, well-fed at every meal. When he questioned Esca, the other man would shrug his shoulders and say that he had simply underestimated how long their supplies would last.
As he looked down at Esca now however Marcus saw how his bones were too visible beneath his skin; he remembered the times he had heard Esca coughing and had turned a blind eye to it, not wishing to seem as if he was fussing.
“You are a fool, Marcus Flavius Aquila,” he scolded himself, “and the Gods always punish fools.”
The fever raged on throughout the remainder of the day and Esca lay stricken. It was a full day’s ride to Uncle Aquila’s villa and Marcus wrestled with the idea of setting off to seek assistance from Stephanos and his stinking potions but no, he couldn’t leave. What if, while he was absent, Esca worsened or even slipped away, called onwards by his ancestors in the next world? No, Marcus must stay.
He sat by Esca’s side, trying to cool his fevered skin, frequently wetting his lips with water and holding him when a vicious bout of coughing would seize him. He prayed to the Gods not to take Esca from him, images of a long-forgotten childhood friend who had died from a sudden fever coming to him unbidden and tormenting him as the day gave way to the long, dark hours of the night. Still Marcus maintained his vigil at Esca’s side, fighting against the pull of sleep but in the end exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep, waking with a start when Esca began thrashing around on the bed, his breaths harsh and ragged, moans and delirious ramblings spilling from his lips.
Angry at himself for falling asleep and failing yet again to look after his friend properly, Marcus fetched a fresh pitcher and began to bathe Esca’s overheated skin with the cool water until he settled a little. In the dim, flickering light of the lamp Esca looked even more gaunt, the shadows cast by his too-prominent bones seeming to taunt Marcus for his negligence.
“This is all my fault,” he whispered sadly into the darkness, gently running his fingers through Esca’s sweat-soaked hair. “I should have taken better care of something so precious.”
And Esca was so very precious to him. Marcus had always tried to pretend that it was simply a strong feeling of friendship that he felt for Esca but as he watched his friend now, still so helpless and sick as the first stirrings of a new day began to chase away the darkness, he accepted that it was something more. Much more.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
The kindly wife of a neighbouring farmer came by the following day to deliver some fresh milk, a task that she performed whenever her livestock had produced more milk than she could use. As usual, Marcus offered her some coins in payment. As usual, she declined.
“Where is your freedman today?” she asked. “Sent him off on an errand, have you?”
“He is unwell,” Marcus replied, unable to keep the worry from his voice.
The woman’s smiling face suddenly became serious.
“I shall offer up a prayer for his recovery,” she said. “Nothing too serious, I hope.”
“A fever. He has been working too hard and not eating enough.” Marcus shook his head. “I did not realise. I should have been firmer with him.”
“Perhaps you would allow me to see him?”
It seemed an odd request but Marcus was too tired and worried to give it much thought. All he could think of was Esca, his Esca whom he loved so much. He stood aside to allow the woman over the threshold and accompanied her to Esca’s side. She reached down and placed her hand on Esca’s forehead, murmuring to him in a strange language and Marcus looked at her quizzically. He had always taken her for a Roman but perhaps she was a native Briton after all.
“The fever is strong,” she said. “He is weakening and requires medicine.”
“I shall send for a healer,” Marcus said, silently admonishing himself for not having done so earlier, too reluctant to leave Esca to send for help. The woman shook her head however and fixed him with a bright smile.
“No need for that, neighbour,” she said. “I know some of the ways of healing and you have enough medicines growing in your meadow to help. We must start right away however. The fever must be controlled, else it could easily consume him.”
“In the meadow?” Marcus asked, perplexed. Of course he had known of the use of plants for medicines when he had served with the army but he had never paid much attention, leaving that particular skill to the healers themselves.
“Oh yes. The leaves and flowers from many of the plants can be infused to make medicines or ground down into powders that will help restore your freedman.”
Soon, the neighbour’s wife was bustling around, boiling leaves on the hearth and showing Marcus which plants could be used for which remedies. She left him with a variety of instructions which he paid close attention to; borage and marigold to reduce the fever, wormwood to aid Esca’s appetite when he recovered, camomile to soothe him, all gathered from the meadow.
“I am more grateful to you than you can ever know,” Marcus told her as she prepared to take her leave.
“It is nothing,” she said, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “We neighbours must help each other in times of need and it is easy to see how devoted you are to your freedman.”
“Is it?”
She laughed. “Every time I come here with the milk, you are full of tales of him. And you gaze upon him with the same look in your eyes that I sometimes see in my own beloved husband’s eyes as he looks upon me.”
Marcus felt his cheeks heat but the woman simply smiled at him again and bade him farewell. He was still too stunned to reply and she was no sooner out of sight than he realised he had not even asked her name but he was sure that, when he asked the Gods to bestow favour upon her, they would know who he meant.
Without further delay, he fetched a cup with one of the infusions and supported Esca’s head while he held the cup to Esca’s lips, slowly feeding the liquid to him in tiny increments as he had been instructed. Marcus no longer felt so fearful and he periodically allowed himself to leave Esca’s bedside throughout the day to eat and carry out a few tasks on the farm, returning regularly to patiently administer the medicine. The fever still coloured Esca’s cheeks but he was more easily settled now, no longer delirious and seized by fewer coughing fits
Darkness fell but Marcus felt no desire to sleep. He sat beside Esca for hours more and told him the same stories that his mother had told him when he had been sick once in childhood. He told him other tales too - no, not tales. He told Esca truths he had kept locked away in his heart; of the way he had felt that first day he saw Esca in the arena, of the pride he felt when Esca had proved such a faithful friend on their adventures north of the wall, of the way that his fear over Esca’s illness had shown him how pride had turned to love.
Finally Marcus could keep awake no longer and he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Esca’s forehead. He gazed at Esca’s face for a moment, remembering how the neighbour woman had spoken of the look she had seen in his eyes and before he could stop himself he was leaning forward again but this time, it was Esca’s lips he kissed.
“May the Gods return you to me, my friend,” he murmured, managing a rueful smile. “The Gods, or our neighbour’s wife.”
“I feel better for you having kissed me,” came the faint and unexpected reply.
Marcus was horrified. “I…I’m sorry,” he spluttered. “I had no idea that you were awake.” It was one thing to have admitted to himself his love for Esca but another completely to have Esca know or even suspect!
“Would you have kissed me had you known?” Esca asked.
“Of course not!”
Marcus was sure it must be the shadows thrown by the lamp that made him think he saw a faint smile on Esca’s face, his eyelids managing to crack open a little.
“Then it is all for the best.”
“You’re not angry with me?”
“Angry?” The effort of talking took all the energy Esca had and he closed his eyes again with a sigh. “Why should I be angry with you?”
Marcus frowned, wondering whether the fever had addled Esca’s mind. Surely he must be delirious once more to be so unconcerned that Marcus had kissed him. A hale and hearty Esca would have punched him on the nose, patron or not, and Marcus would have whole-heartedly deserved it. “It is of no concern,” he said. “Go back to sleep. I will not be far away if you need me.”
He started to move away from the bed but Esca reached out to try and catch his arm, only managing to brush his fingers against Marcus’ wrist. Marcus stopped at the touch.
“May I ask something of you?”
“Anything, Esca.”
“Was I dreaming when I heard you say that you loved me?”
So Esca had heard everything. There was no hope of delirium for Marcus to hide behind now and although the Roman in him cried out that it was unacceptable, something softened within his heart and Marcus found he could not lie.
“No, you were not dreaming,” he said. “I would be lost without you.”
“And the kiss? Promise me that was not a dream.”
Marcus laughed, his natural reserve overwhelmed by the joy of hearing Esca’s voice, no matter how weak and hoarse. “I would gladly bestow a hundred kisses upon you this very night, if I thought it would restore you to your usual self.”
“I cannot promise it will restore me but it would surely help.” Esca once more tried to open his eyes and gave Marcus a weak smile. “I have no wish to leave you for the next world just yet.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“We shall not be digging up the wildflower meadow after all,” Marcus said. “I will hear no arguments on the matter!” he continued as Esca tried to sit up in his bed and commence arguing. “Many of the wildflowers can be used as medicines.”
“I know that!” Esca replied. “My people often used them but we cannot live on them, you and I!”
“You could easily have died without them!” Marcus raised his voice but then thought better of starting an argument while Esca was still so weak. “Perhaps they can be used to help others,” he added, softly. “Our neighbour’s wife fancies herself a healer and she can use many of the plants in the meadow for her potions.”
“But…”
“There is work to be done,” Marcus cut Esca off, handing him a cup. “You must rest and drink this, you are still far from well. I will be back once I have seen to the animals.”
He reached out and cupped the side of Esca’s face then leaned in to kiss his forehead but Esca tipped his head upwards and caught Marcus’ lips instead.
“Will you still kiss me when I am well?” he asked.
Marcus smiled, the smile of a man content with his world. “I shall,” he said, “on every opportunity that presents itself.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The meadow of wildflowers looked much as it did that day when Marcus had feared Esca would be taken from him but he looked upon it with fresh eyes now; no longer simple wildflowers but medicines provided by the Gods. They would have to plant their crops elsewhere, no matter Esca’s protestations. The meadow would be staying and Marcus smiled to himself at the thought that, if Esca continued to argue, well he could always be persuaded with kisses.