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The Journey

Chapter 8: Loyalty

Summary:

Esca and Marcus run away from the Seal People's village.

But the journey will not be an easy one.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The Eagle was there, standing tall at the end of that scary, dark and smelly walkway they had to crawl through to get to the cavern.

In the light of the torches, it shone bright and golden.

For a moment, Esca could believe the Eagle was more than a piece of metal. Maybe even a god.

Marcus had said that wherever the Eagle was, there was Rome.

Goddess, if you are here, help your son out of this, Esca thought, having noticed how Marcus had winced in pain as they had advanced in the dark.

Right there and then, as Marcus went to the Eagle, he seemed to have forgotten, pain and humiliation.

It was almost beautiful to see it, the son finally reconnecting with his past.
The son finally finding the memory of his father in the proud curve of the Eagle’s golden body.

But Esca was not a fool. It looked too good to be true. Too easy. Esca took a deep breath to calm himself a little and concentrated, scanning the area for any signs of human presence.

Where were they hiding?

They had to be somewhere. Had they already seen them? Were they ready to attack at their first sign of weakness?

And, for all the gods, Marcus and himself were giving them plenty of opportunity to attack, with Marcus standing there, the Eagle in his hands.

He was looking at it, mesmerized.

Esca could understand, even sympathize. If he could ever retrieve the last object touched by his father, he would probably be as mesmerized too.

But, right there and then, they didn’t have the luxury to bask in the light of the past.

‘There is no time now, let’s go’ he said, trying to gauge a reaction from Marcus.

But the Roman didn’t move.

‘We have to go’ he said once again.

‘Traitor’ the word bounced on the walls of the cavern.

The Warriors had come out of their hiding spot to meet them, weapons in hand.

And Esca was ready.

Father, give me the strength to face this, he prayed, as his body took over, moving fluidly as he hit the two Warriors that had gone for him.

This is the strength of the son of Cunoval, he thought, as they exhaled their last breath, blood flowing out of their mouths and wounds.

He lifted his eyes where he knew he would find Marcus.

He always knew where Marcus was.

And he saw him facing the Seal King.

Esca’ grasp increased around the handle of his sword.

Go, help him, he thought. Esca knew Marcus' body was probably already starting to struggle, he hadn’t been given much food and….

No. He needs this, he thought then, as he watched the two men struggle for purchase.
Yes, Marcus needed that, needed that victory, but was he going to make it? He was much younger than the Seal King, stronger...but the Seal King wasn’t injured and…

‘Just another dead Roman. The coward knelt and begged for his life’ the older man said, a taunting grin on his face.

Marcus couldn’t have understood the words.

But the hate in that voice was unmistakable.

And, just like that, Marcus killed him, with one last violent attack.

The Seal King fell to the ground, at such a short distance from where the Eagle had once stood.

‘What did he say?’ Marcus growled, his eyes still on the body, watching the life escape from it.

I will never tell you, Esca thought.

It could have been true or false, Esca didn’t care. But Esca knew that, as much as he was chasing his own freedom, Marcus deserved to be free of the ghosts of his past too.
Knowing what the Seal King had said would not have helped.

‘We have to go’ he said instead, relieved when Marcus didn’t ask further.

 

They moved faster out of the cavern, as they didn’t have a choice. Dawn was upon them, the Seal Prince and his Warriors were going to wake up soon enough, and it was not going to take long for them to figure out what had happened in the cavern.

The words of the old Roman politician resounded in Esca’s mind:

‘Eagle lost, honour lost. Honour lost, all lost’.

Was that going to be true for the Seal People too?

As he prepared his horse quickly, his hands running faster than they had ever done before, he hated the Eagle like he had never hated anything before.

Not even Rome.

That stupid, stupid piece of metal was meaning the destruction of so many people.

‘Esca’

His heart contracted so painfully at that sound that he thought he was about to choke.

He recognised that voice long before he turned around to see the son of the Seal Prince standing there.

Stupid, he thought of himself. He should have thought of him. He wouldn’t have been resting after the excessed of the night before.

Esca exchanged a look with Marcus.

The Roman was exhausted, he could tell. But he wasn’t certain that he would not repeat what had happened in the forest, now that freedom was close enough to taste it.

‘Are you leaving?’ the boy asked.

If the Eagle was Rome, was this boy Britannia? Were the spirits of the land asking him to stay?

 

I can’t, please don’t make this even harder than it is.

Marcus needs me.

I have a debt of honour with him.

I love him.

 

And then the boy asked him something that, perhaps in another time, in another life, would have made him the happiest man in all of the blasted Roman empire and in the lands beyond:

‘Can I come with you?’

Esca’s eyes burnt.

A family.

The boy was looking at him with hope in his eyes.
Even, maybe, love.

But such happiness was not for him.

‘Go back to your family’ he said, gesturing to the village.

‘My father will be angry’

A cold shiver went down Esca’s spine. He hoped Marcus didn’t see that.

‘You tell him, when he wakes, that Esca’s sorry but he has to go now. Not until he wakes, yes?’

The boy nodded.

But Marcus had no idea what they had just said to each other.

‘Esca. If he wakes them, we are dead, and you know that. He has no reason to protect us’ he said suddenly, his voice quick and breathless.

Gods, he looked pale.

The journey was not going to be a pleasant one for him.

 

Be strong, my son, he imagined his father whispering.

 

‘Do you trust me?’ Esca asked him back.

Marcus didn’t reply. He looked at him, studying Esca.

But he didn’t say no.

Considering all that had happened between them, Esca counted that silence as a victory.

‘He won’t betray us’ he insisted.

And Marcus, probably against his better judgement, didn’t raise his sword on the boy.

Be happy, little man, Esca thought, as he rubbed his hand on the boy’s head.
You will grow and you will be the leader of men you are meant to be. Your future will be golden, he thought.

And then, he passed him the little wooden fish he had carved in the idle moments during the journey.

Remember me, he thought, but didn’t say.

One last look to what it could have been, and they were off.

 

It could take four, maybe five days if they were lucky, if they could ride hard and the horses wouldn’t buckle under the pressure.

The question was: was Marcus fit enough to make it?

Esca was trying to go through all the possible scenarios, trying to come up with as many strategies as possible, just as his father had taught him to do in battle.

 

You never know what you might face, what the enemy might throw at you. But, if you have a counter plan, you might surprise them.

Which was fair enough, but his father had never told him what to do when you are being hunted like a dog as you try to save the man you are bound to.

The man that, for all intents and purposes, had become your slave.

 

It was in that frame of mind, as he tried to keep the panic at bay and concentrate on moving quickly up a rocky surface where even the horses were struggling, that he noticed how Marcus had slowed down behind him.

And it was in that frame of mind, when he was already struggling himself, that he saw the blood on Marcus' leg.

 

Stupid, stupid Roman.

 

‘You are wounded. Why didn’t you say?’ he growled. They didn’t have time for either of them to play the stoic hero. It was just logic, the faster they could address any problems, the faster they could move forward, and the faster they could reach the wall.

If Esca wasn’t tired to the bone, he would have found a veiled irony in that situation.
For years he had thought of running away from Rome, and now he was riding towards its symbol in the land.

‘It’s nothing’ Marcus said, grinding his teeth.

 

Stubborn, stupid Roman.

I love you.
But you make it darn hard sometimes.

 

‘It’s your bad leg. Sit down’ Esca insisted.

‘We don’t have time’

‘Just sit down’ he shouted, cursing Marcus for making him act as a slave owner once again.

Esca thanked all his gods when Marcus did as he was told, and Esca went quickly to bound his wound.

The smell of blood was overpowering. And he could tell Marcus was sweating, and not just from the exertion of riding.

Which was not good.

His heart missed a bit at the thought that Marcus might soon develop a fever out of his wound, which would make an already impossible journey extra hard. An infected wound was only bound to make Marcus’ movements even slower.

Think clearly, his father would have said.
There is always a way out, his father would have smiled at him.

Father, I don’ t know if there is one this time, but I will try my hardest to make you proud.

 

So, they continued on, pushing as far as they could till the darkness enveloped them.

Esca hoped that, in the vastity of the land, the cover of the dark would hide them from the Seal People’s eyes.

Because Esca had a bigger problem that night: Marcus’ strengths were leaving him, and quickly. His body was shaking and pale from all the blood loss.

 

Rome, damn you, what kind of goddess are you? Help your son.
Help me.

They needed food. Marcus needed food, but Esca knew he couldn’t leave him alone.

And, perhaps, for the first time the goddess listened to the prayers of a Barbarian and sent a rat their way.

One easy prey for a starved hunter like Esca.

‘No fire, it’ s too risky’ he said, almost more to himself than to Marcus.

The body in his hands was warm and slimy.
It was possibly the most disgusting thing he had ever thought to eat.

But it was the only thing they could do.

He was sure that Marcus’ disgusted expression was a reflection of his own.

‘I’m not eating that. I am not a savage’ Marcus said.

‘Then die a Roman’ Esca replied immediately, with all the spite he could master in the dark and wet environment they were in.

Only to feel pity the moment after he said that.

‘You lost a lot of blood’

‘You need to keep your strengths up. Eat’

Once again, Marcus listened.

Despite the rain, the pain and the tiredness in his muscles, Esca felt glad.

 

They were off as soon as possible. And the run only became worse.

 

They were coming closer.

 

Esca could hear the Seal People’s shouts.

 

They were coming closer.

 

Esca could hear their dogs.

 

They were coming closer.

 

And Marcus’ conditions deteriorated further.

Damn you Marcus, damn you, he thought, trying to push away the guilt in his chest.
Maybe this was all his fault. He should have thought of something else, another excuse for Marcus’ presence that far north. He shouldn’t have said that he was his slave.

 

Concentrate Esca. Look at the land, find a clue, his father had instructed him once.
And, under the unrelenting rain of Caledonia, he did once more.

 

Esca looked.
The answer came immediately: the river.

The river turned out to be a good choice, as they heard the Seal Warriors run past their little hiding spot. But it turned out to be a curse too, as it took what remained of Marcus’ strengths.

There was water all over them. Water from the river. Water from the sky.

The fire under Esca’s skin was the only thing keeping him going, as they pushed themselves through the water and the rocks.

‘You need to rest, Marcus’ he said. Perhaps they could have a little bit of time, a little bit of rest, while the Seal People figured out that the river had fooled them.

But Marcus didn’t listen, his body moving forward even if Esca suspected his mind was reaching the same conclusion that was knocking on Esca’s spirit, but that he was keeping on pushing back against.

No, he was not leaving Marcus.
Even if that was the most sensible thing to do, the one thing that could mean freedom.

‘You need to rest. Come on’ he insisted, and, with one last push, he moved him a little out of the river, on slippery rocks to the side.

‘I can’t go on’ Marcus said, giving voice to Esca’ deepest fear.

‘Yes, you can, you just need to rest’

There is always a way out. He just needed to concentrate a little more to find it.
If only the rain would give them a moment.

Water everywhere.
Water at his throat as desperation clawed its way into his heart.

 

It can’t end like this. Father please, I won’t be able to survive another defeat.

Think Esca, study the land.

 

‘Take the Eagle, if you find horses, come back. If not, just keep south, make sure this goes back to Rome’ Marcus said, pushing forward the basted Eagle.

‘I am not leaving you here’ Esca said.

Marcus didn’t get to die an honourable way under the chariot of his enemy.

He was not going to die there, forgotten. Abandoned.

Alone.

‘You will not dishonour me. Take it’

Think Esca, think, his father would have said.
But desperation had now pierce that blasted the heart of his.

No, no, it couldn’t be happening.

‘I came this far with you. I won’t leave you now’

Why was he always made to abandon people the moment he started to care for them?

‘Esca, I order you. Take it’

Order. Did an order even mean anything in those lands? Did an order even mean anything when Death is at your doorstep?

Orders and class didn’t mean anything anymore.

But honour still did.

‘I swore an oath of honour, never to abandon you’

 

And, just like that, everything became clearer in his mind.
Even through the darkness, even though the most desperate moment, there was a way out. It was crazy, and it might not work. But it was worth a shot.
He just needed to give his destiny a little push.

 

‘If you want me to leave, set me free. Give me my freedom’ he said.

Freedom.

He never thought it was going to happen like that, with his former master dying in a river in Caledonia.

But it was happening. And it was on his terms.

 

‘You are free. You are free my friend’ Marcus replied, stretching his arm.

Cunoval’s dagger was in his hand.

‘Take it’ he then said, pushing forward the Eagle.

‘No’ Esca said.

 

Don’t be scared, my friend, he thought, as he grabbed Marcus’ head.

 

I will not abandon you.

I love you.

‘I will return’

 

And Esca run.

He run with the strength of a thousand horses.

Was it the strength of the bond of honour he and Marcus shared? Like his father had told him?

No, he was free of those bonds.

 

He was running with the strength of the love he had for him.

 

Soon, his mind detached from his body as his muscles sprinted through the forest.
Sliding, tumbling, running.

He knew where he was going.

He just needed to go faster.

 

Rome, if you let him die, I swear, I will find I way to destroy you.

But he was going to die, wasn’t he? Marcus had been so broken, desperate and in pain. He needed to drag his sorry ass to a nice, warm place where a surgeon could check out that damn leg of his.
That wound was going to kill him. And it was all Esca’s fault.
Unless the Seal Warriors found him first. He could even see it, Marcus trying to stand up and fight.

And them killing him mercilessly. Cutting off his feet so that he wouldn’t be able to go to the underworld.
And cutting off his head, before pinning his corpse to a tree.
If he could have stopped, those images alone would have caused him to puke his guts out.
But he didn’t have time.

 

Marcus had once chance of survival.

And it was on his shoulders.

 

Esca felt tears run down his cheeks as he reached Guern’s village. It was little, a handful of roundhouses, nothing more. But it looked peaceful enough, with old folks, women and children helping each other out.
And Guern was there too, tending to the carcass of a dear.
‘Guern’ he shouted.

Come on, one last push, he told himself, forcing his muscles through the pain.

The man of the Selgovae turned. And he didn’t look happy to see him.

‘What are you doing here, Brigantes?’ he said, pronouncing the name of his tribe as if it was an insult.
Perhaps it had been his own father, Cunoval, the one to scare off Guern so much to push him to become a deserter.
A little present to Esca from his father.

‘I am here to plead for you help’ Esca said, through the pain of speaking through the lack of breath.

Esca had not pleaded for his own life. Marcus had done that for him.
And now, Esca was begging for Marcus’ life to be spared.

He was going to do whatever it took to have that life spared.

‘What do you need my help for? I have told you and your master everything I knew’
Esca tried to tell him everything about what had happened after they had separated. All the pain and anguish. Guern listened silently.

He only shook his head at the end of the tale.
‘So, this is how it end. It was mad to think that the honour of the ninth could ever be restored. Something that happened twenty years ago should be left in the shadows of time’ he said. But Esca picked up immediately on that note of bitterness in his voice.
He hadn’t been wrong.

Thanks to all the gods.
He hadn’t been wrong when he had thought he understood Guern and the shame bearing on his heart.
It was the same shame bearing on his own’s heart, after not dying in the fields with his family as it would have been his duty.
‘When we met you, I told Marcus I didn’t trust you, because you were a deserter. And Marcus replied that we didn’t know that and that you were still a Roman. He still, for whatever reason, trusted you. He seemed to be able to look beyond your shame, your running away when it was your time to prove your loyalties. And what do you do, you turn your back once again on his family? You turn you back at the son of the commander you left to die the most horrible of death?’
The exhaustion. The anger. The frustration. Esca wasn’t sure what did it, but he moved forward once more, grabbing Guern by the neck of his tunic.
Guern stood still as Esca growled right in his face:
‘The honour of the ninth will not be restored. But your honour will be, if you help him’
‘Why do you care? You could just run. Abandon all of this. It’s madness and you know it’
‘I’m not like you’ he said, almost spitting the word you with as much venom as he could.
‘I will not be able to move forward, to leave with the shame of having abandon Marcus Flavius Aquila to death’ Esca said, defiant, as he let Guern go.
‘Perhaps it is his time’
‘It’s his time only if you decide to be a coward once again’

 

There was nothing more to add.
Would Guern come through?
Esca took a deep breath. And then another.

 

Don’t panic, my son.
There is always a way out.

 

And then, right when he was starting to panic, thinking that perhaps he had been wrong, that he hadn’t understood anything about that strange man they had met in the forest, Guern smiled.
‘Go in the roundhouse. My wife will give you some food. I need to speak with a few people’
‘There is not much time. We need to run’
Guern patted him on the shoulder.
‘You will no be any use to yourself or to your man if you are dead on your feet. Get a bit of food in you. We will be ready’
He saw Guern take a deep breath before smiling once more and say:
‘The first cohort of the ninth legion will be ready before you know it’
As the immense weight on his shoulders was lifted, Esca’s legs couldn’t support him anymore. He fell down on the wet ground, shaking.
More silent tears fell down his face.
‘Come on young man. You said it yourself, no time to lose’ Guern said, as he helped him up and into the house, leaving him to his wife, a blonde, strong woman with a crooked smiled that welcomed him in her house with the same warmth his mother would have shown.

 

Father, maybe you were right. There is always a way out.

 

When Guern returned to the roundhouse, he was not alone.
Esca had hoped Guern knew where the other legionaries were, but seeing them all there, armed with their old Roman military gear made a wave of relief wash over him.

 

One of them, Tiberius Sempronius known as Carausius, passed him a Roman shield.
Esca looked at it without touching it.
The monsters of his childhood had shields like those.
‘It’s for you. You will need it, trust me’ he said, with a smile marred by a few missing teeth.
A Roman shield.
Not a Brigantes’ one.
But did those divisions mean anything anymore?
‘Thank you’ he said then, taking the piece of equipment.
‘Come on, let’s go’ Guern said.
Esca watched him kiss his woman deeply, before putting himself in charge of the other soldiers.
He hoped with all his heart that he was not going to be the cause of heartache for that kind woman that had fed him.
‘Brigantes’ Guern called him, with a stern, military voice.
And he rushed to his side. What did he want?
Esca expected him to say anything, but not what he actually did say:
‘Thank you’.
Esca simply nodded, not trusting his voice as he showed them the way to Marcus.

 

We are coming Marcus, just hold on a little longer, he thought.

 

Esca took a relieved breath when they found him. He was alive. All in one piece.
And he was standing, holding himself against a piece of wood, on top of which he had tied the Eagle.

The Eagle looked so proud once more.

Esca didn’t miss the muted gasps in the legionaries around him.
And he smiled, at the confusion on Marcus’ face. He had clearly thought he was about to face the Seal People all by himself.
‘You were wrong. The Dead can live’ Esca said to him, looking at Marcus with the proudest smile he could master through the tiredness and the worry of seeing how pale Marcus still was.

They had arrived just in time, the Seal Warriors soon were upon them. The two armies were now facing each other.

And Esca was side by side with Roman deserters.

The lines of loyalty can be drawn and redrawn.

And, in that very moment, Esca knew that he was only loyal to one man.

‘Esca’ the Seal Prince shouted.
A voice that Esca had wished to never hear again.
‘This is what happens to those who betray their people’ the Prince continued, as he dragged forward his own son.

No, his mind shouted.
This can’t be, he thought, as his disbelieving eyes saw the Seal Prince lift his weapon to the neck of his own son.

 

The boy’s eyes were big and terrified.
Just like that eyes of the little rogue warrior boy in the forest.

No, stop it.
Esca stop him, he thought.
But his body couldn’t move.
That little boy was going to have a golden future. That little boy deserved to be happy.

How can you kill your own son? He wanted to shout, as he watched the Seal Prince draw blood, before laying the boy down in the water.

Esca inhaled sharply from his mouth.
Another innocent caught in the crossfire.
And, when Marcus shouted, ‘Out Swords’, Esca followed his Roman orders.

 

He had been right. Both Romans and British tribes could commit the same horrors against the innocents.

 

And if fighting that battle would rid him once and for all of all that cruelty, that he would fight with all that was left of his courage and his strength.

It was easy at first. His body knew what to do before his mind could even think of it.
But, when he saw the Prince advancing onto him, Esca faltered.

Maybe it was time. Maybe it was the price for what had happened to the boy. A life for a life. Marcus, at least, would live.
But Esca did fight back. He tried to defend himself, but the prince was too strong, throwing him easily to the watery ground.

There, it was coming, the blow he had been waiting for since the arena.

But it never came.

Marcus had parried it, and, with the strength of a thousand horses, had pushed the Seal Prince off Esca.

With the strength of a thousand horses, Marcus pushed the Seal Prince in the water.
And killed him with all the strength of his desperation.

At the death of their lord, the remaining warriors quickly left.

Leaving their dead together with the Roman dead.

After all, there was no difference between the dead. The Dead don’t have loyalties as they fly beyond the sunset.

Esca was still on the ground, breathing hard but he could see Marcus, kneeling in the water near the Seal Prince, staring at the dead man.

Marcus.

With what little strength he had left, Esca dragged himself up, wincing at the pain of the wound he hadn’t even noticed before in his arm, and advanced to where Marcus was, letting himself fall next to the Roman.
‘Marcus’ he whispered.

With his eyes still on the corpse, looking so vulnerable and innocent, Marcus took a deep breath and his hand searched for Esca’s.

Once he had found it, he squeezed it so tightly that Esca had to bite his lower lip not to make a sound.

A part of him welcomed that feeling.

‘It’s done’ Marcus whispered. A joyous incredulity in his voice. He sounded like a man sure to drawn suddenly finding himself on the shores.
‘Yes’ Esca replied, his voice choking in his chest.
It was over. And they were alive.
‘You restored my family honour’ Marcus said, still keeping his eyes away from Esca, but Esca saw him smiling softly.
‘You did’ Esca replied.
He knew how important that was for Marcus. But he couldn’t stop the wave of warmth in his heart at that recognition.
Marcus finally turned to him. His face was so pale it was a miracle he was still standing.
But he was alive. His damn, stubborn buffoon of a Roman, with his stupid honour and pride, was still alive.

Esca had kept the promise to his father.

Then, Marcus lifted his hands and, before Esca could move, he was cupping his face, dragging him closer so that they rested forehead against forehead.
Esca could feel Marcus’ ragged breathing on his face.
It was ragged and he still needed a surgeon as quickly as possible.
But he was still alive. Alive and breathing.
Esca’s eyes burnt again, but, even if his heart was running even faster than when the was chasing after Guern’s shadow, he kept his emotions in check.
‘Thank you, Esca’ Marcus said, surely, his voice devoid of any insecurities.
Till, suddenly, it broke:
‘Esca, I…I…’
Esca smiled, as he moved one hand to cover one of Marcus’.
‘Marcus, I’
What were the right words to talk about how he felt? How his chest was burning with a happiness he would have never thought possible?
But the gods seemed to give me a chance to think that over perhaps a little more, because, when somebody near them coughed loudly, Marcus’ hands immediately lost their grip on him.
‘Sir, we need to organise the funeral pyres’
‘Yes, certainly’ Marcus replied, almost as startled as Esca was.
Then he turned to Esca.
‘What would be best for the Seal Prince and his warriors?’
Esca’s eyes widened.

Marcus could have decided to cut their feet, preventing their journey forward. He could have decided to cut their heads off and their revenge for the bodies they saw dangling right beyond the wall.

And that stupid, stubborn, buffoon of a Roman had decided to have mercy and give them too the right honours.
‘We should bury the Prince and his son at least’ he said.
‘So, it shall be’ Marcus replied, smiling.

Esca watched Marcus as he helped with the burials and the fires.
He watched Marcus as he stood near Guern’s pyre and pronounced his speech.

He watched him as his strengths left him.
And panic set in his chest once more.

Notes:

Next chapter will be my "beyond the movie" part :) It will possibly require a change of rating from M to R.

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