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After the argument with his uncle, Marcus couldn’t face returning to the triclinium to help entertain Placidus and Claudius. How did they think they had any right to speak about matters of war and sacrifice? Two people who had never set foot on a battlefield. Just looking at Placidus’s smug face caused Marcus’s rage to boil over and he did not want to dishonour his uncle by starting a brawl in his home.
Even if he really wanted to.
Instead, Marcus ordered a jug of wine and retreated to his room to drink and mourn his days as a soldier. Everything had been simpler then; he followed orders and protected his men. Even at his first command in Isca Dumnoniorum, Marcus had been able to connect with his men and gain their respect. It was going to be his first step towards repairing the reputation of his family name.
He swallowed the last of the wine in his cup and refilled it from the jug. And what did he have now? A wounded leg and an honourable discharge? He should still be out there, fighting alongside his men. Protecting Rome and building glory for the Empire. Not stuck in a country villa listening to the platitudes of men who knew nothing - nothing - about what glory was.
Now he only had once road open to him. He was going to travel north, and he was going to recover the lost Eagle. Restore honour to his family, to Rome, and to show smug and pompous men like Placidus that it was the army, and not the senate, that brought the glory to Rome.
Marcus gulped down his drink and tipped the last drops of wine into it. He knocked the jug to the edge of the table, not through with drinking for the night. “More wine.”
Esca stepped forward from where he’d been standing in the shadows, took the jug, gave a short bow and disappeared towards the kitchens. In a few days they would head up north. Marcus might be stubborn, but he was not an idiot, he needed Esca for this mission to succeed. North of the wall and Marcus would not survive without someone who spoke the language and knew the ways of the Britons.
His uncle’s words came back to him, warnings that Esca would betray him and slit his throat as soon as they were beyond the territories. Even now as he considered his uncle’s words, Marcus didn’t believe that Esca would betray him. Esca may despise him with every fibre of his being, but he was a man of honour, and whilst Marcus held his father’s dagger, Esca would obey him.
Marcus watched as Esca returned and placed the jug of wine on the table in front of him. He’d been angry when his uncle had purchased Esca without asking him, but he was glad to have Esca with him now. Marcus had been captivated by Esca the moment he’d set foot in the gladiator arena. Marcus had respected Esca’s refusal to die on his owner’s terms, but that wasn’t the only reason that he’d bullied the crowd into sparing his life. Marcus was attracted to Esca, and that feeling had only developed further as they’d spent more time together.
Not that Esca would ever return those feelings, and Marcus was not one to force himself on another. He had never had a shortage of potential partners, and took no pleasure from someone unwilling. He would settle for Esca to hate him just a little less.
He grabbed Esca’s arm before he could step away once more. “Drink with me.”
Esca didn’t pull from him, but he shook his head slightly. More than a little under the affects of his uncle’s wine, Marcus persevered. “A drink to our mission. To the Eagle.”
Esca shook his head again. A few moments passed, and when Marcus did not push any further, Esca tugged his arm free and returned to his place against the wall.
Marcus poured another cupful of wine. “Why will you not drink with me?”
“It is forbidden.” Esca still only spoke to him when silence would be disobedient.
“My uncle wouldn’t mind.” Marcus didn’t think he would. In truth, they’d only known each other a few weeks and Stephanos was a loyal slave.
As it hadn’t been a direct question, Esca didn’t respond, but Marcus knew he had his slave’s full attention.
He finished the second jug of wine in silence, Esca’s eyes on him from across the room. Esca was always watching him, sometimes Marcus wondered if he was waiting for Marcus to prove his dishonesty. Or if Esca was purely wishing for his death so he would be free of his debt and could run back to his people.
He went to stand, stumbling a little as the room moved across his vision. Strong hands wrapped around his arms stopped him from falling and Marcus leaned into the hold as Esca helped him walk back to bed.
As Esca lay him down, Marcus reached for him again, catching the folds of Esca’s tunic. “Do you still hate me?” He asked. “Will you hate me for taking you north of the wall?”
Esca froze and Marcus could see anger flash across his face. “Do you believe that I will betray you?”
“No.” Marcus shook his head vehemently. “You gave me your word.” He wrapped his fingers in the folds of the fabric. “I just wish you did not despise me.”
Esca stared at him, looking for something in Marcus’s expression. After a few searching moments, he put his hand over Marcus’s fingers and gently removed them. “You are a man of honour, Marcus. I could never hate you.”
It was the most that Esca had spoken since Marcus’s uncle had first brought him to the villa. Marcus desperately wanted to continue the conversation but the drinking and the long day of hunting after so long injured had worn him out and his eyes were sliding closed however hard he fought against them.
He felt a hand on his forehead. “Sleep now. We have a long ride tomorrow if you want to capture your precious Eagle.”
“Stay with me?” Marcus murmured sleepily.
“Promise.” Were the last words he heard before he drifted off. One word that gave him hope for their future.