Fic: The Dead Can Live (part 10 of 14)
“Good day to you, Marcus.”
It was a business-like greeting, a freedman paying his respects to his patron and nothing more and as he spoke, Esca was reminded of the days when he used to wake in Marcus’s arms and greet him with kisses. That morning he had woken next to Trenus, the two of them nestled together for warmth in the barn and for a moment Esca’s foggy mind had tricked him into assuming it was Marcus beside him. He had pressed closer, not quite fully awake and he had reached out to wrap his arm around the sleeping form, murmuring Marcus’s name before he had opened his eyes and remembered.
Trenus followed Esca into the house now, adding his own greeting. Marcus mumbled a response but his puffy, sleep-deprived eyes did not stray towards either of them and Esca was tempted to reassure him that they had done nothing the night before but bury themselves under their furs and sleep. He did not allow that temptation to make itself heard though and they ate their morning meal in an atmosphere which was no less uncomfortable than it had been the night before.
“Do you have any instructions for us?” Esca asked, aware that he had never asked for instructions before - he had never had to - but hoping that his request would not incur Marcus’s wrath. He had woken today with no stomach for bad feeling.
“Instructions?”
“I thought that perhaps now Trenus is here, it would be best if you let us know what tasks you would prefer us to do each day rather than making assumptions. It will avoid any misunderstanding.”
Marcus sighed and pushed away his food, only partially eaten and Esca noticed Trenus eyeing it, still hungry even after finishing his own. He leaned over slightly to catch Marcus’s attention and when Marcus gave a nod of assent, Esca slid the bowl in front of Trenus who smiled at him gratefully.
“The two of you can see to the animals,” Marcus said, “while I fetch water from the stream and then we can all continue turning over the field for the wheat. The sooner it is done, the sooner we can begin sowing.”
“Have you given any more thought to how many cattle we can purchase?”
“We may have to wait and see how much profit our harvests bring us this year.” Marcus’s tone suggested that he was reluctant to discuss the farm and Esca thought of the plans they had made over the winter just gone for some cattle and maybe sheep to provide their own milk and meat. “I must repay my uncle from our existing funds and I do not want to leave us with nothing.”
“I understand.”
Trenus was the first to leave the table, eager to be outside but whether it was to escape the lingering air of tension or to be at work Esca was unsure. “I will see how many eggs the chickens have for us and let the horses out into the pasture,” he offered. “It looks like fine weather today for working in the fields.”
Esca agreed and went to follow him but he stopped when Marcus called him back.
“I will be away to see Manlius later today,” he said, “and I expect to be gone until late. He and I have matters of an important nature to discuss so please do not wait for me before having your evening meal.”
Esca nodded. Important matters to discuss, he thought, understanding fully the meaning of those words even without an explicit explanation. A betrothal. A betrayal. By the end of the day the wheels would be set in motion for Marcus’s marriage and their estrangement would almost be complete. So be it, but he would offer no words of congratulations. There was nothing to be gained by doing so and the words would sound false and sorrowful even if he could bring himself to say them.
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Manlius must still be confined to his bed for there was neither sight nor sound of him in the villa as Marcus waited in the atrium, nervously shifting from foot to foot, the ruined muscles in his thigh protesting after his day’s work.
“Marcus. So soon.”
He heard footsteps behind him and Lucilia appeared, the slave who had chaperoned their meeting the day before following her and once again taking up a discreet position in the corner.
“Forgive my intrusion,” he said, eager to be about his business before his nerve failed him. “There is something rather serious I would like to speak with your father regarding.”
“Father was asleep when I looked in on him not so long ago,” Lucilia advised. “Can I be of assistance?”
“I have no doubt you and I shall talk in length afterwards for it does concern you but perhaps I should speak to your father first.”
“How very intriguing.” She seemed unsettled. “Please tell me or I shall be imagining all kinds of horrors.”
“No horrors, I assure you,” Marcus said but he decided that there could be no harm in telling Lucilia of his intentions towards her. He stood as straight as a centurion giving out orders to his cohort and addressed her in a loud, clear voice. “It is my intention to ask his permission…..”
“Marcus,” she interrupted but his heart was pounding and he stopped any further words by stepping forward and kissing her, crushing his lips against her mouth, hearing the surprised yelp that she let out and the sharp intake of breath from the chaperone.
“You forget yourself!” Lucilia gasped as she pushed herself away from him.
“My apologies.” Marcus was astonished at his own actions. “I have indeed forgotten myself. My eagerness and the significance of the occasion have overcome me. I will speak to your father this very minute before I can disgrace myself further.”
Lucilia stopped him with a firm hand on his arm.
“Please Marcus, wait!” she implored him. “I can guess your purpose in coming here to see father today and I beg you to reconsider.”
Reconsider? Marcus frowned, his mind racing to try and fathom why he should do such a thing. Was there some custom he had failed to honour? He could think of nothing but Lucilia cut into his thoughts, a desperate edge to her voice.
“I know that I am no man’s idea of beauty and I know that one day a marriage of convenience may be my only choice but that day has not yet come. Soon, possibly, but not yet. If you ask father for my hand, he will agree wholeheartedly and we will be betrothed to each other but I beg you to think again. I have no wish to disrespect you by being so blunt but I have always felt that I can speak plainly to you.”
Marcus’s head was spinning. It had never occurred to him that Lucilia would reject him. He was not unattractive after all - he owned his own land, he was still young and, despite his lame leg, not entirely a cripple. He could provide well for a family and Lucilia was no child who had only recently put on her first stola. If she thought he had nothing to offer, what would he do? He knew no other suitable women. He had pinned all his hopes on her.
“Please, speak,” he told her.
“I am right, am I not? You wish us to marry.”
“That was my intention, yes.”
“You see, I still hope to marry for love,” she said gently. “I do think you would be a most kind and dutiful husband and that you would father fine, strong boys and beautiful girls but you do not love me and I do not love you. Perhaps in time the respect we feel for each other would blossom into a deeper understanding but it would never quite be enough, for I suspect that you are not a man to be truly satisfied with that and I know with all my heart that I am not such a woman. Any union between us would harness the spirit that I suspect lies within you as much as I and a man as fine as yourself deserves better.”
Marcus looked into her beseeching eyes, staring at her open-mouthed as his plans crumbled around him, their flimsy protection falling away at the first blow and leaving him exposed.
“A man as fine as I am?” he said finally, slumping down to sit on a couch and holding his head in his hands. He had been a coward, too easily-swayed from his heart’s true desire by pride and shame. “If only you knew.”
“Oh Marcus.” Lucilia sat beside him. “You told me yesterday that all was well with you but you spoke falsely! Contentment has deserted you of late and all of a sudden you show an interest in me that you never had before! We have met many times and indulged in lengthy and rather fervent discussions on all manner of subjects and not once have I ever seen the slightest spark of desire for me in your eyes. Tell me, I beg of you, what is all this about?”
Marcus looked up at her and he felt his natural reserve loosen, unable to hold in the burden of his sorrow any longer. What good had holding his tongue and denying his true feelings ever done him anyway?
“My heart has belonged to another for some time now,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “but I have destroyed the happiness we shared and hurt them beyond repair. It was not a suitable match for a good Roman and I allowed my shame to rule me. I was wrong to do so.”
Lucilia listened intently, her eyes never leaving him and Marcus felt encouraged to continue.
“I wanted so much to be the perfect Roman, to shower my family name with glory and hold my head high. I have spent most of my life working towards those goals but I was thwarted in my soldiering career and when I heard of the lost standard being worshipped as a god in the wilds beyond the wall, I knew it was my last chance to honour my father and wash clean our name. This unsuitable match…” He hesitated and swallowed hard, past the lump in this throat. “It threatened to cost me everything I have worked for and suffered for since I was a child and so I abandoned my heart’s desire and sought out a more suitable companion. It was not my intention to dishonour you. I would have devoted myself to you and given you everything it was within my power to do so. I would have tried to make you happy.”
Lucilia nodded her head in understanding. “I am sure you would have tried as hard as any man has ever tried to please his wife.”
“Can you forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive.” She placed her hand in his and Marcus gripped it tightly. “We are all bound by laws and customs. I would like nothing more than to be afforded the same rights and freedoms as a man but it is not to be. I must accept my place in this world and be satisfied by occasional triumphs wherever I can find them. Had I been in your place, I may well have done as you did.”
“It was wrong of me to seek to salvage my own reputation by removing your chance to choose your own husband,” he said. “I will admit that I had assumed you would be flattered by my attention and more than willing to be my wife.”
“Such vanity.” She laughed but it was kindly and held no hint of anger or reprimand. “Yet not without good reason for you are indeed most handsome.”
Marcus allowed a small smile to creep across his face and he felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“I have made a fool of myself,” he said, dipping his head slightly. “I have thrown myself at you and acted in a manner most unbecoming.”
“I do not think less of you for any of this, Marcus but I would implore you to listen to your heart and attempt to repair your bond with this most unsuitable person.”
Marcus was relieved that she did not press him on the identity of the love he had set aside and the reasons why they would be unsuitable for a good Roman.
“I fear it is not as simple as that,” he admitted. “Too much damage has been done.”
“Are they already wed to another?”
“No.”
“Do they have four legs and a tail?”
Marcus laughed out loud and felt such a swell of gratitude to Lucilia that he would have embraced her had the chaperone not been watching them still.
“Not unless they have been cursed since I saw them last!”
“Then I see no obstacle before you except for your own pride and your scorned lover’s ire. We all want to be good Romans Marcus but love is sacred, a gift from the gods and it is not bestowed upon everyone. Whoever this unsuitable match is, put things right between you.”
The brief moment of levity passed and once more Marcus felt a heavy weight settle on his shoulders.
“I have made my choice and I must live with it,” he said. “All hope must surely be gone.”
“There is always hope,” Lucilia told him fiercely. “Wrongs can be put right if you have the courage to face them and ask for forgiveness and prove your worth.”
“I fear that I lack such courage.”
“Nonsense! You are the bravest of all men. You did what no other would have thought to do when you ventured north to find your father’s lost eagle. You have earned your right to love whoever you choose.”
Marcus met Lucilia’s eyes again and took strength from her firm resolve. He was fond of her but he knew that he could never feel for her, or any woman, the amount of passion that she deserved, for his heart had already been too perfectly paired and such love could never be surpassed. What if he returned to the farm and pleaded with Esca, admitted his stupidity and promised him everything? Esca’s love could not have completely vanished already. Surely if there were still a single grain of love left in the man then Marcus could work hard and tend it and watch it grow again in time. Trenus was an added complication but if Marcus did not try then he would spend the remainder of his miserable life tortured by repentance and grief. He did not want a wife. He wanted Esca.
Slowly, hope began to creep back into his heart.
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Esca and Trenus had continued to work in the field for a while after Marcus left, stopping to eat their evening meal only when they were both exhausted and soiled with sweat and dirt. As they were alone with no Romans around to preach cleanliness and hygiene they ate first before washing - one more act of rebellion, Esca thought, although what good it did when Marcus was not around to see it he did not know.
They boiled some of the eggs collected fresh from the chickens that morning and ate the last of the broth that remained and when they had finished they cleared away their bowls, careful not to leave any mess, and went outside to wash. They stripped to the waist and doused themselves with the water that Marcus had drawn from the stream earlier but the water was bitterly cold despite the day having been quite warm.
“Bathing in hot water is all very well,” Trenus said as Esca shivered, “but it induces far too much softness of character. This is far more bracing.”
“Softness?” Esca declared, attempting to feign outrage. “You will eat your words!”
“I am still a little hungry. I will eat anything you have to give me!”
He grinned and Esca cupped his hands together before splashing him with as much water as he could. Trenus whooped and an answering spray of water came flying towards Esca. He tried to dodge out of the way but it caught him and the yard erupted into a melee of shouts and laughs and wasted water and grappling until they were both frozen and dripping from head to toe.
Dusk had already fallen and night was closing in fast so they ran about to keep warm, still wearing only their boots and braccae as they locked away the chickens and brought in the horses then they retreated to the barn and stripped off the rest of their sodden clothes.
“We should take these into the house and dry them by the fire, ourselves also. Marcus will not return for a while yet.” Esca pushed away any thoughts of Marcus betrothing himself to Lucilia and smiled. “Here,” he said, squatting to pick up a rough woollen blanket with the intention of passing it to Trenus. “Wrap yourself in this.”
“Esca?”
The soft, low quality of that voice made his skin prickle and Esca looked up to see Trenus watching him, his eyes dark and enquiring. There was no need for either of them to say anything further for Esca knew what Trenus was asking and his own body answered on his behalf. Accustomed to a regular bedmate before Marcus had changed his mind and left him bereft, he craved release and a warm willing body to help him along. Esca stood and took a step towards Trenus, reaching out to run his fingers slowly up his arm and lingering over the inking on his skin, his cock already rising before Trenus had touched him.
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Marcus dallied on the way home, hope and fear and uncertainty clashing in his breast and it was dark by the time he returned, the farmhouse empty and the fire almost burnt out. There was no sign of life, the table cleared and no evidence of dinner having been taken. For a moment he thought they had gone but his eyes fell upon Esca’s bow propped against the wall and relief flooded through him. Esca would never leave without his bow.
He went out into the yard and looked around, everything that he meant to say to Esca milling around inside his head.
“Esca!” he called but there was no answer, no noises except the breeze blowing past his ears and soft whinnies and the stamping of hooves coming from the stable.
It was too dark for them to be out in the fields still and a quick look inside the stable showed only the horses so Marcus headed towards the barn, propelled forward by some invisible force despite a deepening feeling of foreboding that began to pool in his gut. He stopped in front of the entrance, gripped by an irrational fear of passing the threshold then he slowly slipped through the darkened doorway.
He heard them before he saw them, low moans and the rustle of straw, and he knew what he would see before his eyes lit upon them. They were both naked, a lantern sat atop a bale of hay casting a flickering golden glow across their bodies. Esca sat with his arms extended behind him and supporting his weight, his legs parted and bent slightly at the knee to accommodate Trenus between them.
Marcus wanted to look away, to force away that image but something kept him rooted to the spot and he remained hidden in the shadows just inside the door of the barn. Nothing that he had imagined in the dead of the night when he was alone with his thoughts had even come close to the despair that engulfed him now and he almost fell to his knees.
Esca’s head was thrown back, his throat exposed and his lips parted as Trenus knelt over him, mouth savouring all that was spread before him until finally he nuzzled the skin at the side of Esca’s neck. Esca groaned and Marcus could almost taste the skin there - he had suckled there many times himself for it was a particular favourite area of Esca’s, that strip from below his ear down to where his neck met his shoulder. Marcus remembered other areas that would drive Esca wild with desire - the small of his back, the insides of his thighs and the curve of his ears. Trenus had known all that before of course and he would not have forgotten.
As Marcus watched Esca sat upright, his arms coming forward to slide around Trenus’s waist. He kept moving forward, tipping Trenus backwards onto his arse, the two of them laughing. Trenus remained where he was and Esca straddled his thighs, his hands braced against Trenus’s chest while he moved slowly, grinding against the man beneath him. Trenus stroked his hands upwards over Esca’s hips and settled on his waist for a moment before moving to his shoulders and pulling him down, their bodies pressed together and writhing with increasing vigour.
Marcus let out a strangled cry and clamped a hand over his mouth but they had not heard him, too engrossed in each other. He was glad on this occasion that he could not understand the words they whispered hoarsely to each other but still his treacherous mind imagined their meaning. He thought of the words in Latin that spilled out of Esca’s mouth when they had lain together. Marcus had always kept in check the impulse to curse and howl and cry out but Esca usually made no such effort, words of encouragement and praise falling from his lips whenever those lips were not engaged elsewhere.
Esca and Trenus began to move faster now, rutting against each other frantically, the barn filling with desperate grunts and the sound of sweat-slicked skin slapping against sweat-slicked skin until Marcus wanted to turn and run as far from this place as he could. A few moments more, then Esca pushed up on his arms and arched his back, letting out that same low guttural groan as he always did when he spilled his seed, his lean lithe body jolting in pleasure as Trenus bucked underneath him and gave out an answering cry.
When they had finished Esca lowered himself against Trenus’s chest and they lay still in the soft light of the lantern but Marcus could hear their ragged breaths and murmured words. He felt light-headed, aware only of the sickness in his gut and the trail of hot tears running down his cheeks to drip off his jaw. Too late, he managed to lower his eyes from the scene before him, squeezing them tightly shut. This is what your pride has brought you, he thought, your Esca lying with another while you spy from the shadows like an outcast. You have brought this upon yourself. You thought that you could leave your love for him behind but you were wrong. You thought that you could fall at his feet and rekindle what you had lost but you were wrong. You returned home so full of hope but you were too late.
The mocking voice in his head continued as Marcus quietly crept out of the barn and returned alone to the farmhouse.