Fic: The Dead Can Live (part 5 of 14)
Esca heard the sound of footsteps behind him as he set the furs down on the floor of the barn where he had already strewn a thick layer of hay.
“A Brigantes,” he said quietly, knowing it was Marcus behind him. “A warrior, painted as I am.”
“I know, Esca. I know. What do you wish to do?”
He spun around to face Marcus, affronted that the man would even have to ask.
“I will see him!” he spat out. “I will not stand by and do nothing while one of my people toils under the yoke of Rome so close by. I will see him and he will take strength from the knowledge that if we two are still alive then others may be also and all is not lost.”
Marcus nodded his head, his expression serious as if he understood Esca’s reasoning but was about to tell him all the ways in which Rome would not allow Esca to intervene.
“This Brigantes,” he said. “He is another man’s slave. You cannot simply confront someone, especially a man like Placidus, and demand to view his property.”
“View his property?” Anger welled up inside Esca but he could not be sure whether it was because of the words themselves or the fact that they came from Marcus’ lips. “This is a man we speak of, Marcus! A living, breathing man, or have you become so consumed by your sudden desire to marry and bring more Romans into this world that you have lost sight of the decent man you used to be? A man who was not so blinkered that he cared only for his own future.”
Marcus clenched his jaw at the outburst and glanced down at his feet but Esca could see how his words had stung. Unbidden and unwanted, the old feelings of protectiveness he had towards his friend leapt to the fore and it took a great effort for him not to say something else to take the sting out of his words.
“That is how Placidus will see it,” Marcus said softly, his eyes still downcast. “Whoever he is, this tribesman of yours belongs to a Roman tribune and you cannot simply ride into Calleva demanding to see him!”
“Then perhaps you can do so, on my behalf.” Ever since old Aquila had mentioned the existence of a Brigantes in Calleva, Esca’s mind had been filled with ideas regarding what he should do and how to go about it but he had not considered involving Marcus, not until now. Marcus looked up at him and they stared at each other in silence for a moment, Esca holding his head high and knowing that the determined jut of his jaw would leave the man in no doubt as to his sincerity.
“It may still not be possible.”
“You can speak to the tribune and ask his permission,” Esca suggested. “What can it matter to him? This man is one of my people and I will see him and I will not wait!”
“Your people were many and those that are left are now spread far and wide. He will likely be a stranger to you.”
“A stranger? Do you not seek out company with other Romans? You are still brothers although you do not know each other at first. This man is Brigantes. He is my brother, no matter who he is.”
Marcus sat heavily on a bale of hay with his head in his hands while Esca waited for him to either agree or refuse to help.
“Very well,” he said finally, looking up at Esca with eyes that betrayed his reluctance. “I will go to Calleva with my uncle when he returns and send word to Placidus that I wish to see him although what end this will achieve I cannot see.”
“I shall come with you.”
“No. If I am to do this then you must stay and tend the farm. I will send word to you if I am granted a meeting with the tribune but you must prepare yourself for the fact that he is under no obligation to show his slave to me or to tell me anything about the man.”
“You retrieved the golden eagle from the Epidii.” Without wishing it, Esca found his anger ebbing away to be replaced by the respect and pride he had felt for Marcus’ bravery and resilience, now tinged with sadness and the sharp bite of loss. “You are a hero to your people. Even Placidus cannot deny you.”
“He can and I suspect that he will, for he has no liking for me. But I will try, Esca. I promise.”
Marcus turned away to return to the house where his uncle waited and Esca was left alone once more with his thoughts and the uncomfortable battle between anger and loss that waged within him. A promise from Marcus. What reason had he to trust that such a promise would be honoured?
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Uncle Aquila complained that the journey back to Calleva would be far too much for his aged and bony backside to endure on two consecutive days and so it was not until the following day that Marcus and his uncle set out in the old man’s cart with Marcus at the reins. He looked back only once to watch as Esca, standing in front of the little farmhouse, grew smaller and smaller as the cart rumbled on but the sight brought back unpleasant memories of the dream he’d had where Esca faded into oblivion and so he set his eyes firmly on the road ahead once more.
When they had ridden out together from his uncle’s villa to venture north of the wall, Marcus had been filled with a sense of honour and hope. Now, he set forth on a different journey filled with guilt and uncertainty. He had no wish to see Placidus and ask about the man’s slave but he owed Esca after rejecting him and the further they travelled away from the farm, the heavier this debt weighed upon him. Not so long ago, he had travelled this road while thinking fondly of Esca and eagerly anticipating their reunion once his business had been concluded but now he thought only of the chasm of his own making that he had allowed to open up between them, their friendship and the love they had shared in tatters. He was returning to Calleva, the place he had first set eyes upon Esca; the place where they had returned triumphant from Caledonia; the place where rumours had surfaced that threatened to cast him into the gutter and had encouraged him to turn his back on the happiness he had found.
“Are we to spend the entire journey in silence, Marcus?”
“My apologies, uncle,” Marcus said, shaking his head to chase away the sorrow he felt. “My mind is much distracted these days. I was thinking of all the work that has to be done on the farm.”
“So much work that you can leave on a whim to satisfy Esca’s curiosity.” There was no reproach in the old man’s voice despite his words and he reached out to place a hand on Marcus’ forearm. “Does he really mean that much to you?”
“Esca is the truest friend I have ever had.” There was much more he could have said but his uncle would never understand. No good, true Roman could understand.
“You may have given him his freedom but you are still his patron,” Uncle Aquila continued. “He still has a duty to you, not the other way around. I have lived to see many changes in my lifetime but some rules endure and we must live by them. We must.”
Marcus turned to face his uncle and gave voice to something which had gnawed at him since the three of them had sat at the table and the Brigantes slave had been spoken of.
“Why did you come so quickly with news of this slave, uncle?” he asked. “What purpose lay behind your haste? Did you hope to drive a wedge between myself and Esca?”
The old man stared back at him from beneath his bushy brows, contemplating his answer and never breaking their gaze.
“I was worried about you,” he said eventually. “When you left Calleva on that last occasion I could see that those rumours had wounded you deeply. I knew you would brood on them and I wished to have an excuse to visit. News of that slave gave me cause.”
Marcus laughed, a hollow joyless sound.
“I thought we were never to speak of those rumours again.”
“Yes, I did say that but still, I worry.” Uncle Aquila’s sharp eyes continued to bore into him and the old man sighed deeply. “I will admit however that there was more to my coming than simply wishing to see how you were and that in doing so, I may have done more harm than good. I fear that I acted in too much haste and rather overlooked the consequences.”
Marcus nodded and looked away, listening to his uncle speak as he watched endless fields roll by.
“I did not anticipate that you would feel obliged to travel back to Calleva with me on some mission to uncover this slave on Esca’s behalf. Indeed, I had expected only to bring the news and perhaps encourage Esca to consider his future here. I knew that this would be of interest to him and you have told me before how keenly he still feels the loss of his kin.” Uncle Aquila shifted in his seat and grunted in discomfort. “You know I do not approve of things between the two of you and I had hoped that news of another Brigantes with the same markings as Esca might inspire him to embrace his heritage once more and perhaps you would agree to let him leave to seek out what remains of his kin. I felt that would have been better for you but the fact that you sit next to me now, the embodiment of misery, makes me regret my actions somewhat.”
“I have never asked Esca to stay. He could have left at any time,” Marcus said, although he could not find it in his heart to be angry with his uncle for interfering for the old man had spent many more years than he had living his life according to the will of Rome and could not be expected to see another way at this late stage. “He stayed because it was his wish to do so but I was a fool to think I could live by my own rules and seek happiness with him.”
“Marcus, my boy, I did what I did to try and spare you further pain from this gossip not to cause more upset.”
“The damage had already been done,” Marcus admitted sadly. “You were too late.”
“So it would seem for I did not expect to find such discord in your household. Did you tell Esca of the rumours?”
“No.”
“Yet something has come between you. I may be old but my eyes are not dim, nor is my mind. You were already both of you hurt and angry when I arrived. You I can understand, Marcus but what has happened to make Esca so unhappy? What have you done?”
“Rome expects,” Marcus muttered, a sliver of ice piercing his heart. “And I have allowed Rome to guide my hand.”
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The first message that he sent to Placidus immediately upon his arrival in Calleva brought Marcus a decline in response and no more.
The second message that he sent the following morning, stressing the importance of the matter, brought a further decline but also an explanation that the tribune was too busy seeing to business and perhaps to enquire again at a later date.
His third message brought no offer of a meeting but a promise that, as soon as he was able, Placidus would send word of his availability.
Marcus was restless in his uncle’s villa, wandering the various rooms and the grounds until his leg began to protest at such use after the long, uncomfortable journey in the cart and nights spent tossing and turning in his old bed. Half awake in the depths of the darkness, he had reached out for Esca one night only to feel an emptiness engulf him when he remembered, and that same emptiness returned to him now as he rested his leg by a small gurgling fountain, keeping watch for yet another message from Placidus. Uncle Aquila was nowhere to be seen and left alone with only his thoughts, with the hard work demanded by the farm and the fortifying presence of Lucilia out of reach, doubts began to creep back into Marcus’ mind. He cursed himself for his pride and was dogged by remembrance of the life he and Esca had shared, memories of their plans for the farm and the long lustful nights they had spent together.
He closed his eyes and, unable to stop himself, he conjured up a vision of Esca, naked, his skin glowing gold in the firelight. He imagined the feel of that skin under his hands, the taste of Esca on his tongue; eyes that watched him like a cat watches a mouse it has trapped before devouring it but instead of lust, Marcus felt nothing but bitterness.
The sound of a horse’s hooves heading towards the villa grew louder and Marcus was relieved to be able to distract himself. He rose to greet the messenger, wondering what excuse Placidus had made up to rebuff him this time but it was no messenger who rode up to the entrance of the villa and his heart lurched uncomfortably.
“Esca!” he gasped. “What are you doing here? Who is looking after the farm?”
Esca jumped down from the unfamiliar horse, dusty and windswept from his ride. A servant appeared as if from nowhere to take the animal and Esca let him, his full attention on Marcus as he strode towards him.
“On the same day you left,” he said, “I went to our neighbour Manlius and asked that he might send two of his freedmen to tend the farm in our absence. I told him it was a matter of such importance that you had already left and could not come to ask him yourself and so he agreed. He loaned me a horse also so I could follow you to Calleva, for none of ours can fly as fast as his.”
“Do you not trust me?” Marcus asked. “I gave you my word I would act on your behalf.”
“Trust you?” came the sharp reply. Esca stood close in front of Marcus, staring up at him and bristling, his mouth a rigid line in his face. “There was a time I trusted you with my life.” The words lingered in the air between them, the implied accusation that Esca’s trust in him was lost but when Esca spoke again he sounded tired and the furrow between his brows eased. “As soon as all was settled with Manlius’ freedmen, I came. I will not wait on the farm for you to send word. I wish to be here. Is there news?”
Marcus shook his head.
“I have not yet been able to see Placidus.”
“When then?”
“This must be handled correctly, Esca. We must wait for Placidus, there is no other way to go about it.”
Marcus turned to lead them both into the atrium but he did not hear footsteps following and he stopped.
“Why?” Esca asked from behind him, his voice so soft that Marcus almost did not hear.
He turned to meet Esca’s eyes and knew immediately what Esca was asking; not why they must wait but another question he was long overdue in providing an answer to.
“I never set out to cause you pain, Esca,” he began. “You must understand that.”
“Must I?” Once again anger flared bright in those beloved grey eyes but it quickly faded to reveal such hurt that stole the breath from Marcus’ body. “If you have grown tired of me and wish to marry then why did you not say so? I would have stood aside and respected your wife’s place in your affections but we could still have meant much to each other. I was your shield-bearer, Marcus. Why did you simply discard me?”
“Oh, Esca,” Marcus sighed, his heart sinking like a stone dropped into water. “It is true that when I visited Manlius and Lucilia the other day it was because I intend to ask for her hand in the near future but you must believe me when I say that…..” What could he say? What could he say that would possibly make Esca understand? He could say nothing but the truth, for Esca deserved that. “On my last visit to Calleva, I heard people talking about me. About us. They were laughing and talking of shameful things and some would not trade with me. I was ashamed and I made the decision that our……arrangement….it could not continue. I fought hard to restore honour to my father’s name, to my name and I cannot allow that fight to be for nought. If these rumours persist, I shall be disgraced and you also.”
“And you could tell me none of this?” Esca accused.
“I could not let you try to dissuade me from the path I had chosen.” Marcus knew his reasoning was falling on deaf ears but he could not bear to think that Esca thought he had tired of him. “It is for both our benefits that I will marry but I cannot do so and keep you as a lover. You are worth more than that.”
“Then take your wife and have your children. When you gave me my freedom, I stayed with you because in my heart I knew that I loved you but I am no longer sure you are deserving of my love.”
“Esca,” he began but Esca was walking past him into the late afternoon shadows of the villa, leaving Marcus staring disconsolately after him and finally seeing himself for the fool he was.
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The messenger saluted, a different man from the one who had come earlier to deliver Placidus’ rejections.
“I bring word from Tribune Servius Placidus to Marcus Flavius Aquila.”
Still standing by the entrance where Esca had left him, Marcus had met the messenger himself, shooing Stephanos away when the old man came scurrying out to greet the visitor.
“I am Aquila,” he said. “What message from the tribune?”
“He requests the pleasure of your company at midday tomorrow, if it is convenient to you. He regrets that he is too busy to call upon you himself.”
Without hesitation Marcus accepted the offer and went inside to find Esca and tell him.
“A Brigantes,” he said quietly, knowing it was Marcus behind him. “A warrior, painted as I am.”
“I know, Esca. I know. What do you wish to do?”
He spun around to face Marcus, affronted that the man would even have to ask.
“I will see him!” he spat out. “I will not stand by and do nothing while one of my people toils under the yoke of Rome so close by. I will see him and he will take strength from the knowledge that if we two are still alive then others may be also and all is not lost.”
Marcus nodded his head, his expression serious as if he understood Esca’s reasoning but was about to tell him all the ways in which Rome would not allow Esca to intervene.
“This Brigantes,” he said. “He is another man’s slave. You cannot simply confront someone, especially a man like Placidus, and demand to view his property.”
“View his property?” Anger welled up inside Esca but he could not be sure whether it was because of the words themselves or the fact that they came from Marcus’ lips. “This is a man we speak of, Marcus! A living, breathing man, or have you become so consumed by your sudden desire to marry and bring more Romans into this world that you have lost sight of the decent man you used to be? A man who was not so blinkered that he cared only for his own future.”
Marcus clenched his jaw at the outburst and glanced down at his feet but Esca could see how his words had stung. Unbidden and unwanted, the old feelings of protectiveness he had towards his friend leapt to the fore and it took a great effort for him not to say something else to take the sting out of his words.
“That is how Placidus will see it,” Marcus said softly, his eyes still downcast. “Whoever he is, this tribesman of yours belongs to a Roman tribune and you cannot simply ride into Calleva demanding to see him!”
“Then perhaps you can do so, on my behalf.” Ever since old Aquila had mentioned the existence of a Brigantes in Calleva, Esca’s mind had been filled with ideas regarding what he should do and how to go about it but he had not considered involving Marcus, not until now. Marcus looked up at him and they stared at each other in silence for a moment, Esca holding his head high and knowing that the determined jut of his jaw would leave the man in no doubt as to his sincerity.
“It may still not be possible.”
“You can speak to the tribune and ask his permission,” Esca suggested. “What can it matter to him? This man is one of my people and I will see him and I will not wait!”
“Your people were many and those that are left are now spread far and wide. He will likely be a stranger to you.”
“A stranger? Do you not seek out company with other Romans? You are still brothers although you do not know each other at first. This man is Brigantes. He is my brother, no matter who he is.”
Marcus sat heavily on a bale of hay with his head in his hands while Esca waited for him to either agree or refuse to help.
“Very well,” he said finally, looking up at Esca with eyes that betrayed his reluctance. “I will go to Calleva with my uncle when he returns and send word to Placidus that I wish to see him although what end this will achieve I cannot see.”
“I shall come with you.”
“No. If I am to do this then you must stay and tend the farm. I will send word to you if I am granted a meeting with the tribune but you must prepare yourself for the fact that he is under no obligation to show his slave to me or to tell me anything about the man.”
“You retrieved the golden eagle from the Epidii.” Without wishing it, Esca found his anger ebbing away to be replaced by the respect and pride he had felt for Marcus’ bravery and resilience, now tinged with sadness and the sharp bite of loss. “You are a hero to your people. Even Placidus cannot deny you.”
“He can and I suspect that he will, for he has no liking for me. But I will try, Esca. I promise.”
Marcus turned away to return to the house where his uncle waited and Esca was left alone once more with his thoughts and the uncomfortable battle between anger and loss that waged within him. A promise from Marcus. What reason had he to trust that such a promise would be honoured?
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Uncle Aquila complained that the journey back to Calleva would be far too much for his aged and bony backside to endure on two consecutive days and so it was not until the following day that Marcus and his uncle set out in the old man’s cart with Marcus at the reins. He looked back only once to watch as Esca, standing in front of the little farmhouse, grew smaller and smaller as the cart rumbled on but the sight brought back unpleasant memories of the dream he’d had where Esca faded into oblivion and so he set his eyes firmly on the road ahead once more.
When they had ridden out together from his uncle’s villa to venture north of the wall, Marcus had been filled with a sense of honour and hope. Now, he set forth on a different journey filled with guilt and uncertainty. He had no wish to see Placidus and ask about the man’s slave but he owed Esca after rejecting him and the further they travelled away from the farm, the heavier this debt weighed upon him. Not so long ago, he had travelled this road while thinking fondly of Esca and eagerly anticipating their reunion once his business had been concluded but now he thought only of the chasm of his own making that he had allowed to open up between them, their friendship and the love they had shared in tatters. He was returning to Calleva, the place he had first set eyes upon Esca; the place where they had returned triumphant from Caledonia; the place where rumours had surfaced that threatened to cast him into the gutter and had encouraged him to turn his back on the happiness he had found.
“Are we to spend the entire journey in silence, Marcus?”
“My apologies, uncle,” Marcus said, shaking his head to chase away the sorrow he felt. “My mind is much distracted these days. I was thinking of all the work that has to be done on the farm.”
“So much work that you can leave on a whim to satisfy Esca’s curiosity.” There was no reproach in the old man’s voice despite his words and he reached out to place a hand on Marcus’ forearm. “Does he really mean that much to you?”
“Esca is the truest friend I have ever had.” There was much more he could have said but his uncle would never understand. No good, true Roman could understand.
“You may have given him his freedom but you are still his patron,” Uncle Aquila continued. “He still has a duty to you, not the other way around. I have lived to see many changes in my lifetime but some rules endure and we must live by them. We must.”
Marcus turned to face his uncle and gave voice to something which had gnawed at him since the three of them had sat at the table and the Brigantes slave had been spoken of.
“Why did you come so quickly with news of this slave, uncle?” he asked. “What purpose lay behind your haste? Did you hope to drive a wedge between myself and Esca?”
The old man stared back at him from beneath his bushy brows, contemplating his answer and never breaking their gaze.
“I was worried about you,” he said eventually. “When you left Calleva on that last occasion I could see that those rumours had wounded you deeply. I knew you would brood on them and I wished to have an excuse to visit. News of that slave gave me cause.”
Marcus laughed, a hollow joyless sound.
“I thought we were never to speak of those rumours again.”
“Yes, I did say that but still, I worry.” Uncle Aquila’s sharp eyes continued to bore into him and the old man sighed deeply. “I will admit however that there was more to my coming than simply wishing to see how you were and that in doing so, I may have done more harm than good. I fear that I acted in too much haste and rather overlooked the consequences.”
Marcus nodded and looked away, listening to his uncle speak as he watched endless fields roll by.
“I did not anticipate that you would feel obliged to travel back to Calleva with me on some mission to uncover this slave on Esca’s behalf. Indeed, I had expected only to bring the news and perhaps encourage Esca to consider his future here. I knew that this would be of interest to him and you have told me before how keenly he still feels the loss of his kin.” Uncle Aquila shifted in his seat and grunted in discomfort. “You know I do not approve of things between the two of you and I had hoped that news of another Brigantes with the same markings as Esca might inspire him to embrace his heritage once more and perhaps you would agree to let him leave to seek out what remains of his kin. I felt that would have been better for you but the fact that you sit next to me now, the embodiment of misery, makes me regret my actions somewhat.”
“I have never asked Esca to stay. He could have left at any time,” Marcus said, although he could not find it in his heart to be angry with his uncle for interfering for the old man had spent many more years than he had living his life according to the will of Rome and could not be expected to see another way at this late stage. “He stayed because it was his wish to do so but I was a fool to think I could live by my own rules and seek happiness with him.”
“Marcus, my boy, I did what I did to try and spare you further pain from this gossip not to cause more upset.”
“The damage had already been done,” Marcus admitted sadly. “You were too late.”
“So it would seem for I did not expect to find such discord in your household. Did you tell Esca of the rumours?”
“No.”
“Yet something has come between you. I may be old but my eyes are not dim, nor is my mind. You were already both of you hurt and angry when I arrived. You I can understand, Marcus but what has happened to make Esca so unhappy? What have you done?”
“Rome expects,” Marcus muttered, a sliver of ice piercing his heart. “And I have allowed Rome to guide my hand.”
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The first message that he sent to Placidus immediately upon his arrival in Calleva brought Marcus a decline in response and no more.
The second message that he sent the following morning, stressing the importance of the matter, brought a further decline but also an explanation that the tribune was too busy seeing to business and perhaps to enquire again at a later date.
His third message brought no offer of a meeting but a promise that, as soon as he was able, Placidus would send word of his availability.
Marcus was restless in his uncle’s villa, wandering the various rooms and the grounds until his leg began to protest at such use after the long, uncomfortable journey in the cart and nights spent tossing and turning in his old bed. Half awake in the depths of the darkness, he had reached out for Esca one night only to feel an emptiness engulf him when he remembered, and that same emptiness returned to him now as he rested his leg by a small gurgling fountain, keeping watch for yet another message from Placidus. Uncle Aquila was nowhere to be seen and left alone with only his thoughts, with the hard work demanded by the farm and the fortifying presence of Lucilia out of reach, doubts began to creep back into Marcus’ mind. He cursed himself for his pride and was dogged by remembrance of the life he and Esca had shared, memories of their plans for the farm and the long lustful nights they had spent together.
He closed his eyes and, unable to stop himself, he conjured up a vision of Esca, naked, his skin glowing gold in the firelight. He imagined the feel of that skin under his hands, the taste of Esca on his tongue; eyes that watched him like a cat watches a mouse it has trapped before devouring it but instead of lust, Marcus felt nothing but bitterness.
The sound of a horse’s hooves heading towards the villa grew louder and Marcus was relieved to be able to distract himself. He rose to greet the messenger, wondering what excuse Placidus had made up to rebuff him this time but it was no messenger who rode up to the entrance of the villa and his heart lurched uncomfortably.
“Esca!” he gasped. “What are you doing here? Who is looking after the farm?”
Esca jumped down from the unfamiliar horse, dusty and windswept from his ride. A servant appeared as if from nowhere to take the animal and Esca let him, his full attention on Marcus as he strode towards him.
“On the same day you left,” he said, “I went to our neighbour Manlius and asked that he might send two of his freedmen to tend the farm in our absence. I told him it was a matter of such importance that you had already left and could not come to ask him yourself and so he agreed. He loaned me a horse also so I could follow you to Calleva, for none of ours can fly as fast as his.”
“Do you not trust me?” Marcus asked. “I gave you my word I would act on your behalf.”
“Trust you?” came the sharp reply. Esca stood close in front of Marcus, staring up at him and bristling, his mouth a rigid line in his face. “There was a time I trusted you with my life.” The words lingered in the air between them, the implied accusation that Esca’s trust in him was lost but when Esca spoke again he sounded tired and the furrow between his brows eased. “As soon as all was settled with Manlius’ freedmen, I came. I will not wait on the farm for you to send word. I wish to be here. Is there news?”
Marcus shook his head.
“I have not yet been able to see Placidus.”
“When then?”
“This must be handled correctly, Esca. We must wait for Placidus, there is no other way to go about it.”
Marcus turned to lead them both into the atrium but he did not hear footsteps following and he stopped.
“Why?” Esca asked from behind him, his voice so soft that Marcus almost did not hear.
He turned to meet Esca’s eyes and knew immediately what Esca was asking; not why they must wait but another question he was long overdue in providing an answer to.
“I never set out to cause you pain, Esca,” he began. “You must understand that.”
“Must I?” Once again anger flared bright in those beloved grey eyes but it quickly faded to reveal such hurt that stole the breath from Marcus’ body. “If you have grown tired of me and wish to marry then why did you not say so? I would have stood aside and respected your wife’s place in your affections but we could still have meant much to each other. I was your shield-bearer, Marcus. Why did you simply discard me?”
“Oh, Esca,” Marcus sighed, his heart sinking like a stone dropped into water. “It is true that when I visited Manlius and Lucilia the other day it was because I intend to ask for her hand in the near future but you must believe me when I say that…..” What could he say? What could he say that would possibly make Esca understand? He could say nothing but the truth, for Esca deserved that. “On my last visit to Calleva, I heard people talking about me. About us. They were laughing and talking of shameful things and some would not trade with me. I was ashamed and I made the decision that our……arrangement….it could not continue. I fought hard to restore honour to my father’s name, to my name and I cannot allow that fight to be for nought. If these rumours persist, I shall be disgraced and you also.”
“And you could tell me none of this?” Esca accused.
“I could not let you try to dissuade me from the path I had chosen.” Marcus knew his reasoning was falling on deaf ears but he could not bear to think that Esca thought he had tired of him. “It is for both our benefits that I will marry but I cannot do so and keep you as a lover. You are worth more than that.”
“Then take your wife and have your children. When you gave me my freedom, I stayed with you because in my heart I knew that I loved you but I am no longer sure you are deserving of my love.”
“Esca,” he began but Esca was walking past him into the late afternoon shadows of the villa, leaving Marcus staring disconsolately after him and finally seeing himself for the fool he was.
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The messenger saluted, a different man from the one who had come earlier to deliver Placidus’ rejections.
“I bring word from Tribune Servius Placidus to Marcus Flavius Aquila.”
Still standing by the entrance where Esca had left him, Marcus had met the messenger himself, shooing Stephanos away when the old man came scurrying out to greet the visitor.
“I am Aquila,” he said. “What message from the tribune?”
“He requests the pleasure of your company at midday tomorrow, if it is convenient to you. He regrets that he is too busy to call upon you himself.”
Without hesitation Marcus accepted the offer and went inside to find Esca and tell him.