Fic: The Dead Can Live (part 8 of 14)
The fee had been paid to Placidus quickly, courtesy of a loan from Uncle Aquila that Marcus would repay when he returned to the farm, and now they waited for Trenus to arrive while Esca paced up and down in the outer courtyard of the villa. Marcus could feel the anxiety emanating from him as he watched him pace.
“We should go into Calleva and confront him.”
“Placidus will not go back on our agreement,” Marcus reassured. “He has his money and Trenus will be with us before the day is out.”
Esca remained unconvinced however, his distrust of Placidus showing in the tight line of his mouth and the frown that shadowed his eyes. “He should be here already,” he snapped. “There has been more than enough time.”
“Have patience, Esca.” Marcus did not feel patience himself though, his nerves becoming more frayed as the day had drawn on and Trenus had still not been delivered to the villa. What if Placidus had some further scheme afoot where he would make excuses and then use his influence to conceal his duplicity? What then? “We must have faith that the tribune will keep his word.”
“If he does not, I will rip out his tongue with my bare hands and feed it to the nearest dog!”
“And I will help you, be assured of that,” Marcus said, relishing the idea of also gouging out Placidus’s eyes, the man’s words from their last meeting still stinging him whenever he thought of them.
He was ready to escape the chilly early evening air and resume waiting indoors when two soldiers strode into view, a third figure trudging after them. Marcus tensed but Esca had not noticed for he had turned away from the road and was now pulling the heads off Uncle Aquila’s flowers and dropping them onto the ground to stamp on them, still scowling and likely thinking up more ways to punish Placidus.
“Esca,” Marcus announced loudly to get his attention. “He is here.”
Esca’s head snapped around as the soldiers who had brought Trenus approached and bowed to Marcus, one of them stepping forward.
“Marcus Flavius Aquila?” the man asked and Marcus nodded. “Tribune Servius Placidus sends his regards to his esteemed friend and hopes that your new slave will prove a worthy acquisition.”
The other soldier gave Trenus a firm shove forwards then both of them bowed once more and were gone, leaving the three young men staring at each other. Marcus took a deep breath and addressed Trenus with his head held high and his voice steady.
“I am Marcus Flavius Aquila and I have not arranged your purchase in order to continue your enslavement. Your freedom will be yours as soon as it can be arranged,” he said, with as much authority as if he were once more a centurion addressing his men. “You are welcome here.”
He avoided looking across to where Esca stood but he knew Esca was watching him and he wondered if the man was holding back from embracing his friend until they were alone. Marcus regarded Trenus. He was filthy; Placidus had apparently drawn the line at making him presentable before dispatching him. He was dressed in the same rags that he had worn when they had first seen him and what flesh could be seen on his arms and around his neck was covered in bruises both old and new.
“Are you well?” Marcus asked him, genuinely concerned. “Do you require the services of the medicus?”
Trenus eyed him suspiciously but Esca went to his side and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, speaking a few words to him in their own tongue.
“I am well,” Trenus replied then, his Latin well-formed but accented as Esca’s still was. “These are only bruises and they will heal.”
“Very well. No doubt you would like to clean yourself,” Marcus told him. “I believe Stephanos has already laid out some fresh clothing in the bath-house for you.” He caught Esca’s eye and struggled to keep a neutral expression on his face. Trenus was really here, a man who could quite possibly rekindle Esca’s love and Marcus himself had arranged for the two of them to be together. “Esca will show you the way,” he continued. “The two of you must have much to talk about.”
Trenus nodded his head in thanks, still staring at Marcus warily then he looked away to smile at Esca and followed him in the direction of the tiny bathhouse. Marcus turned to go indoors and was surprised to see his uncle appearing from the dark interior of the villa to stand in the entranceway.
“He is here then.”
Marcus nodded his head. “I am grateful to you for arranging payment,” he said despite having thanked the old man profusely on several occasions already. “I did not wish to waste time by returning home to fetch my own funds.”
“I have no doubt that I am a fool for doing so,” Uncle Aquila said, rolling his eyes and sighing, “but I suspect I still have a soft spot for my favourite nephew, no matter our differences.”
“I am your only nephew, uncle,” Marcus pointed out, a wry chuckle escaping his lips.
“I’m hoping he understands the rules of this house, this slave or freedman or whatever he is. Rules such as that which states I have no wish to be butchered in my bed.”
“There will be no trouble. Esca will see to that.”
“Where are they off to?” the old man asked, indicating the two figures who were about to disappear from view around a corner.
“Trenus needed to bathe and Esca has gone with him,” Marcus advised. “He is still a slave for now but I do not wish for him to be treated as such. I will arrange for his manumission as soon as is possible and then we shall be gone from here.”
“Peace and quiet at last,” Uncle Aquila said but he was smiling fondly, at least until he looked beyond where Marcus stood, out into the courtyard and his face fell. “What happened to my flowers?”
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“Is this where you live?” Trenus asked, looking around at the villa and what could be seen of its grounds as they made their way to the baths.
“No,” Esca told him. “Marcus and I live on a farm some distance from here. This villa belongs to his uncle. I was a slave here before Marcus freed me but the story of my freedom is something for another time.”
“I saw a lake close by. Are we not to bathe there?”
“No. There is a stone-built pool for bathing. With hot water.”
“Hot water?”
“There is not much about the Roman way of living that is to be admired,” Esca laughed, “but bathing in hot water is very pleasing.”
A pile of fresh clothing did indeed sit upon a bench in the bath-house as Marcus had promised. Alongside the pile lay a plate of bread and a pitcher of water which may have been provided on Marcus’s orders but were more likely a gesture from Stephanos who had been kind to Esca when he had first arrived at the villa and who often provided little favours for others that old Aquila turned a blind eye to.
“Are you hungry?” Esca asked.
“Always.” They both laughed and Trenus picked up the bread, hardly even bothering to chew a mouthful in his haste to have more. “This is good,” he said when he was finished eating. “I hope they have more.”
“As much as you can eat I should think. The cook bakes several loaves every day.” Esca felt a huge grin spreading across his face, joy bursting within him as he closed the distance between them and they embraced tightly. “Say and do as you wish, in front of Marcus anyway. Best avoid the old man, his uncle. He is not cruel but I am sure that we probably insult his Roman sensibilities.”
It felt good to speak in the old tongue again. It felt good to be in Trenus’s arms again. They pulled apart after a long while and Esca indicated the pool of gently steaming water.
“Come,” he said. “I shall bathe with you and it will be like it was when we used to go to the pool with the waterfall.”
“A place I have thought of many times over the last few years to ward off despair.”
Trenus grinned and stripped off his clothes, revealing his back as he stepped gingerly into the water. Mottled lines striped his skin - he had been flogged not too long ago, whether at the hands of Placidus or his previous master Esca had no intention of asking. The sight made his blood boil but he had no wish to dwell on such things at this happy time. Trenus was safe now and no Roman would ever lay a hand on him again.
Esca pulled off his tunic and braccae and climbed into the pool, showing Trenus the ledge where they could sit side by side, half-submerged in the soothing warmth.
“You were right,” Trenus murmured. “This is pleasant.” He sluiced water over himself and rubbed away some of the grime, the blue-inked markings around his upper arm standing out clearly against his skin. “I can hardly believe I am here with you.”
He reached out to cup one side of Esca’s face with his hand and Esca covered it with his own, slowly stroking his fingers.
“I saw you fall,” he said softly. “All this time I thought you were dead.”
Trenus leaned towards him until their foreheads touched, closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh.
“I remember nothing before I awoke, covered by the bodies of our fallen kin. When darkness fell, I crawled away to try and tend to my wounds but a Roman patrol found me and I was too weak to run from them. They sold me as a slave and I was put to work on farms and then building their roads. I never lived in such a place as this.”
“I served many Romans until I was sent to fight as a gladiator,” Esca told him. “It was Marcus who saved me from death in the arena.”
“This Marcus,” Trenus asked. “You were his slave?”
“I was. He was the last Roman to claim ownership of me.”
Trenus sat upright, his green eyes regarding Esca curiously. “How is it that you are a free man once more but you remain with him?”
Esca drew in a sharp breath. He had known that Trenus would ask such a thing, and more, and that it would be difficult to say the words. Rome had been their enemy and Trenus as yet had no reason to see Romans as anything other than murderous invaders and slavers.
“Do not judge me too harshly,” he appealed for he would not lie. “Marcus and I have had many adventures which I will tell you of soon enough but you must know that he treated me like a friend, not a slave and in time we did truly become friends.”
“The last Roman who called himself my master, Placidus, said that you share his bed even though you are not compelled to through the binds of slavery.”
“I did but I do so no longer. Perhaps that is yet another story, for another day,” he added sadly.
“You care for him.”
Esca looked into Trenus’ eyes and struggled to find the right words to explain what Marcus was to him.
“By the time I had my freedom, I cared for him greatly, yes. He never used me when I was a slave. It was my choice to lie with him and I do not regret it. Recently things have changed between us though. He has chosen to marry and he has turned his attention to another.”
“He is a fool if he had your love and then spurned you.”
Trenus stood and waded out to the middle of the tiny pool and Esca followed, moving to stand in front of him.
“A fool is one word for him,” he said, “but he is a good man. He is capable of such bravery and inner strength that he would have made a spear to rival any of our own people. He purchased you to give you your freedom because I asked him to even though he was under no obligation to do so. He could have denied me and left me to find my own way to you.”
“So it was true what he said. I am to be free?”
“Yes.” Esca reached out and entwined his fingers with Trenus’s, squeezing firmly and feeling the answering pressure.
“I never forgot you,” Trenus whispered.
“Nor I you.” Esca stood on the very tips of his toes and tilted his head slightly as Trenus stooped towards him. Their lips brushed lightly together then he buried his face against Trenus’s shoulder, remembering how it had vexed him in their youth that his friend was taller than he was. He did not care now. They clung to each other in the water, their heated bodies pressed close together then Esca released himself from the embrace, fetched a wash-cloth and slowly, gently began to wash the remaining dirt from Trenus’s skin.
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They dressed and ate together in the kitchens, foregoing eating with Marcus and his uncle in the triclinium for Trenus was not yet a freedman and although Marcus would not have objected, Esca did not want to incur his uncle’s wrath. Kindly old Stephanos fussed around them, ensuring that they were both well fed with extra helpings of fish and then honey cakes that elicited hums of delight from Trenus. When they had eaten their fill, Trenus yawned loudly.
“I should not have eaten so much,” he said. “I can barely keep my eyes open.”
Esca grinned at him. “If you wish to sleep, then do so. You are no longer beholden to any Roman who dares to call himself your master.”
He led Trenus from the kitchen to the tiny room where they would sleep, where another pallet had been placed next to his own for Esca did not wish to let his friend out of his sight, not even at night.
“Promise me once more that this is not a dream,” Trenus mumbled as he yawned again and dropped down onto one of the pallets. “That I will not wake tomorrow and find you gone.”
“I promise,” Esca assured him, “and I will continue to promise until you truly believe it.” A slight chill in the air made him shiver. “Stay here and I shall return shortly.”
He fetched extra blankets then stopped for a moment outside old Aquila’s study, watching unseen from the shadows as a melancholy Marcus sat alone, staring into the flames of a brazier. Esca sighed deeply. As he watched Marcus his poor heart did not know which way to turn. He felt such joy that Trenus had been returned to him but what of Marcus? Part of him still wanted so much to hurt Marcus for what he had done but his heart would not allow him to linger on anger for long before pain and disappointment gripped him anew. He missed the feel of that warm, solid body next to him at night. He missed the feel of Marcus’s hands on his skin and the soft, exhilarating touch of his lips. Perhaps if Marcus had regretted his actions sooner, as Esca suspected he now did, he could have found it in his heart to forgive him and they could have repaired their broken relationship but the presence of Trenus changed everything.
Hugging the blankets tightly to his chest, Esca made his way back to the little sleeping chamber.
“Trenus?” he enquired softly from the doorway but Trenus could no longer hear him, able to sleep soundly in the knowledge that he was safe and warm at last.
Esca knelt beside the pallet and covered his friend with the blankets he had brought. He stroked his fingers through the man’s unruly mop of hair and it occurred to him how similar Trenus and Marcus were; both taller and broader then he was, dark-haired and green eyed. Smiling sadly to himself Esca crawled onto the pallet beside Trenus and huddled against him, breathing in his scent until he too fell asleep.
“We should go into Calleva and confront him.”
“Placidus will not go back on our agreement,” Marcus reassured. “He has his money and Trenus will be with us before the day is out.”
Esca remained unconvinced however, his distrust of Placidus showing in the tight line of his mouth and the frown that shadowed his eyes. “He should be here already,” he snapped. “There has been more than enough time.”
“Have patience, Esca.” Marcus did not feel patience himself though, his nerves becoming more frayed as the day had drawn on and Trenus had still not been delivered to the villa. What if Placidus had some further scheme afoot where he would make excuses and then use his influence to conceal his duplicity? What then? “We must have faith that the tribune will keep his word.”
“If he does not, I will rip out his tongue with my bare hands and feed it to the nearest dog!”
“And I will help you, be assured of that,” Marcus said, relishing the idea of also gouging out Placidus’s eyes, the man’s words from their last meeting still stinging him whenever he thought of them.
He was ready to escape the chilly early evening air and resume waiting indoors when two soldiers strode into view, a third figure trudging after them. Marcus tensed but Esca had not noticed for he had turned away from the road and was now pulling the heads off Uncle Aquila’s flowers and dropping them onto the ground to stamp on them, still scowling and likely thinking up more ways to punish Placidus.
“Esca,” Marcus announced loudly to get his attention. “He is here.”
Esca’s head snapped around as the soldiers who had brought Trenus approached and bowed to Marcus, one of them stepping forward.
“Marcus Flavius Aquila?” the man asked and Marcus nodded. “Tribune Servius Placidus sends his regards to his esteemed friend and hopes that your new slave will prove a worthy acquisition.”
The other soldier gave Trenus a firm shove forwards then both of them bowed once more and were gone, leaving the three young men staring at each other. Marcus took a deep breath and addressed Trenus with his head held high and his voice steady.
“I am Marcus Flavius Aquila and I have not arranged your purchase in order to continue your enslavement. Your freedom will be yours as soon as it can be arranged,” he said, with as much authority as if he were once more a centurion addressing his men. “You are welcome here.”
He avoided looking across to where Esca stood but he knew Esca was watching him and he wondered if the man was holding back from embracing his friend until they were alone. Marcus regarded Trenus. He was filthy; Placidus had apparently drawn the line at making him presentable before dispatching him. He was dressed in the same rags that he had worn when they had first seen him and what flesh could be seen on his arms and around his neck was covered in bruises both old and new.
“Are you well?” Marcus asked him, genuinely concerned. “Do you require the services of the medicus?”
Trenus eyed him suspiciously but Esca went to his side and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, speaking a few words to him in their own tongue.
“I am well,” Trenus replied then, his Latin well-formed but accented as Esca’s still was. “These are only bruises and they will heal.”
“Very well. No doubt you would like to clean yourself,” Marcus told him. “I believe Stephanos has already laid out some fresh clothing in the bath-house for you.” He caught Esca’s eye and struggled to keep a neutral expression on his face. Trenus was really here, a man who could quite possibly rekindle Esca’s love and Marcus himself had arranged for the two of them to be together. “Esca will show you the way,” he continued. “The two of you must have much to talk about.”
Trenus nodded his head in thanks, still staring at Marcus warily then he looked away to smile at Esca and followed him in the direction of the tiny bathhouse. Marcus turned to go indoors and was surprised to see his uncle appearing from the dark interior of the villa to stand in the entranceway.
“He is here then.”
Marcus nodded his head. “I am grateful to you for arranging payment,” he said despite having thanked the old man profusely on several occasions already. “I did not wish to waste time by returning home to fetch my own funds.”
“I have no doubt that I am a fool for doing so,” Uncle Aquila said, rolling his eyes and sighing, “but I suspect I still have a soft spot for my favourite nephew, no matter our differences.”
“I am your only nephew, uncle,” Marcus pointed out, a wry chuckle escaping his lips.
“I’m hoping he understands the rules of this house, this slave or freedman or whatever he is. Rules such as that which states I have no wish to be butchered in my bed.”
“There will be no trouble. Esca will see to that.”
“Where are they off to?” the old man asked, indicating the two figures who were about to disappear from view around a corner.
“Trenus needed to bathe and Esca has gone with him,” Marcus advised. “He is still a slave for now but I do not wish for him to be treated as such. I will arrange for his manumission as soon as is possible and then we shall be gone from here.”
“Peace and quiet at last,” Uncle Aquila said but he was smiling fondly, at least until he looked beyond where Marcus stood, out into the courtyard and his face fell. “What happened to my flowers?”
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“Is this where you live?” Trenus asked, looking around at the villa and what could be seen of its grounds as they made their way to the baths.
“No,” Esca told him. “Marcus and I live on a farm some distance from here. This villa belongs to his uncle. I was a slave here before Marcus freed me but the story of my freedom is something for another time.”
“I saw a lake close by. Are we not to bathe there?”
“No. There is a stone-built pool for bathing. With hot water.”
“Hot water?”
“There is not much about the Roman way of living that is to be admired,” Esca laughed, “but bathing in hot water is very pleasing.”
A pile of fresh clothing did indeed sit upon a bench in the bath-house as Marcus had promised. Alongside the pile lay a plate of bread and a pitcher of water which may have been provided on Marcus’s orders but were more likely a gesture from Stephanos who had been kind to Esca when he had first arrived at the villa and who often provided little favours for others that old Aquila turned a blind eye to.
“Are you hungry?” Esca asked.
“Always.” They both laughed and Trenus picked up the bread, hardly even bothering to chew a mouthful in his haste to have more. “This is good,” he said when he was finished eating. “I hope they have more.”
“As much as you can eat I should think. The cook bakes several loaves every day.” Esca felt a huge grin spreading across his face, joy bursting within him as he closed the distance between them and they embraced tightly. “Say and do as you wish, in front of Marcus anyway. Best avoid the old man, his uncle. He is not cruel but I am sure that we probably insult his Roman sensibilities.”
It felt good to speak in the old tongue again. It felt good to be in Trenus’s arms again. They pulled apart after a long while and Esca indicated the pool of gently steaming water.
“Come,” he said. “I shall bathe with you and it will be like it was when we used to go to the pool with the waterfall.”
“A place I have thought of many times over the last few years to ward off despair.”
Trenus grinned and stripped off his clothes, revealing his back as he stepped gingerly into the water. Mottled lines striped his skin - he had been flogged not too long ago, whether at the hands of Placidus or his previous master Esca had no intention of asking. The sight made his blood boil but he had no wish to dwell on such things at this happy time. Trenus was safe now and no Roman would ever lay a hand on him again.
Esca pulled off his tunic and braccae and climbed into the pool, showing Trenus the ledge where they could sit side by side, half-submerged in the soothing warmth.
“You were right,” Trenus murmured. “This is pleasant.” He sluiced water over himself and rubbed away some of the grime, the blue-inked markings around his upper arm standing out clearly against his skin. “I can hardly believe I am here with you.”
He reached out to cup one side of Esca’s face with his hand and Esca covered it with his own, slowly stroking his fingers.
“I saw you fall,” he said softly. “All this time I thought you were dead.”
Trenus leaned towards him until their foreheads touched, closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh.
“I remember nothing before I awoke, covered by the bodies of our fallen kin. When darkness fell, I crawled away to try and tend to my wounds but a Roman patrol found me and I was too weak to run from them. They sold me as a slave and I was put to work on farms and then building their roads. I never lived in such a place as this.”
“I served many Romans until I was sent to fight as a gladiator,” Esca told him. “It was Marcus who saved me from death in the arena.”
“This Marcus,” Trenus asked. “You were his slave?”
“I was. He was the last Roman to claim ownership of me.”
Trenus sat upright, his green eyes regarding Esca curiously. “How is it that you are a free man once more but you remain with him?”
Esca drew in a sharp breath. He had known that Trenus would ask such a thing, and more, and that it would be difficult to say the words. Rome had been their enemy and Trenus as yet had no reason to see Romans as anything other than murderous invaders and slavers.
“Do not judge me too harshly,” he appealed for he would not lie. “Marcus and I have had many adventures which I will tell you of soon enough but you must know that he treated me like a friend, not a slave and in time we did truly become friends.”
“The last Roman who called himself my master, Placidus, said that you share his bed even though you are not compelled to through the binds of slavery.”
“I did but I do so no longer. Perhaps that is yet another story, for another day,” he added sadly.
“You care for him.”
Esca looked into Trenus’ eyes and struggled to find the right words to explain what Marcus was to him.
“By the time I had my freedom, I cared for him greatly, yes. He never used me when I was a slave. It was my choice to lie with him and I do not regret it. Recently things have changed between us though. He has chosen to marry and he has turned his attention to another.”
“He is a fool if he had your love and then spurned you.”
Trenus stood and waded out to the middle of the tiny pool and Esca followed, moving to stand in front of him.
“A fool is one word for him,” he said, “but he is a good man. He is capable of such bravery and inner strength that he would have made a spear to rival any of our own people. He purchased you to give you your freedom because I asked him to even though he was under no obligation to do so. He could have denied me and left me to find my own way to you.”
“So it was true what he said. I am to be free?”
“Yes.” Esca reached out and entwined his fingers with Trenus’s, squeezing firmly and feeling the answering pressure.
“I never forgot you,” Trenus whispered.
“Nor I you.” Esca stood on the very tips of his toes and tilted his head slightly as Trenus stooped towards him. Their lips brushed lightly together then he buried his face against Trenus’s shoulder, remembering how it had vexed him in their youth that his friend was taller than he was. He did not care now. They clung to each other in the water, their heated bodies pressed close together then Esca released himself from the embrace, fetched a wash-cloth and slowly, gently began to wash the remaining dirt from Trenus’s skin.
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They dressed and ate together in the kitchens, foregoing eating with Marcus and his uncle in the triclinium for Trenus was not yet a freedman and although Marcus would not have objected, Esca did not want to incur his uncle’s wrath. Kindly old Stephanos fussed around them, ensuring that they were both well fed with extra helpings of fish and then honey cakes that elicited hums of delight from Trenus. When they had eaten their fill, Trenus yawned loudly.
“I should not have eaten so much,” he said. “I can barely keep my eyes open.”
Esca grinned at him. “If you wish to sleep, then do so. You are no longer beholden to any Roman who dares to call himself your master.”
He led Trenus from the kitchen to the tiny room where they would sleep, where another pallet had been placed next to his own for Esca did not wish to let his friend out of his sight, not even at night.
“Promise me once more that this is not a dream,” Trenus mumbled as he yawned again and dropped down onto one of the pallets. “That I will not wake tomorrow and find you gone.”
“I promise,” Esca assured him, “and I will continue to promise until you truly believe it.” A slight chill in the air made him shiver. “Stay here and I shall return shortly.”
He fetched extra blankets then stopped for a moment outside old Aquila’s study, watching unseen from the shadows as a melancholy Marcus sat alone, staring into the flames of a brazier. Esca sighed deeply. As he watched Marcus his poor heart did not know which way to turn. He felt such joy that Trenus had been returned to him but what of Marcus? Part of him still wanted so much to hurt Marcus for what he had done but his heart would not allow him to linger on anger for long before pain and disappointment gripped him anew. He missed the feel of that warm, solid body next to him at night. He missed the feel of Marcus’s hands on his skin and the soft, exhilarating touch of his lips. Perhaps if Marcus had regretted his actions sooner, as Esca suspected he now did, he could have found it in his heart to forgive him and they could have repaired their broken relationship but the presence of Trenus changed everything.
Hugging the blankets tightly to his chest, Esca made his way back to the little sleeping chamber.
“Trenus?” he enquired softly from the doorway but Trenus could no longer hear him, able to sleep soundly in the knowledge that he was safe and warm at last.
Esca knelt beside the pallet and covered his friend with the blankets he had brought. He stroked his fingers through the man’s unruly mop of hair and it occurred to him how similar Trenus and Marcus were; both taller and broader then he was, dark-haired and green eyed. Smiling sadly to himself Esca crawled onto the pallet beside Trenus and huddled against him, breathing in his scent until he too fell asleep.