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fadagaskiTitle: Absence Makes (2a/10)
Author: Allocin
Fandom: The Eagle, movie!verse
Wordcount: 5780 (this chapter/section a)
Rating: Adult
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Pairing: Marcus/Esca
Warnings: Graphic slash
Disclaimer: The Eagle belongs to Rosemary Sutcliff and/or Kevin Macdonald and/or Focus Films. No profit is made from this work of fiction and no infringement intended. Please don't sue.
Summary: The Roman Empire is rocked by a series of natural disasters. With explanations ranging from Jewish terrorism to supernatural interference, Marcus and Esca are tasked by the Emperor himself to uncover the truth. But will they succeed, when it seems they themselves are tearing apart at the seams?
Chapter 1 /
Author: Allocin
Fandom: The Eagle, movie!verse
Wordcount: 5780 (this chapter/section a)
Rating: Adult
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Pairing: Marcus/Esca
Warnings: Graphic slash
Disclaimer: The Eagle belongs to Rosemary Sutcliff and/or Kevin Macdonald and/or Focus Films. No profit is made from this work of fiction and no infringement intended. Please don't sue.
Summary: The Roman Empire is rocked by a series of natural disasters. With explanations ranging from Jewish terrorism to supernatural interference, Marcus and Esca are tasked by the Emperor himself to uncover the truth. But will they succeed, when it seems they themselves are tearing apart at the seams?
Chapter 1 /
[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<a [...] ">') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]
Title: Absence Makes (2a/10)
Author: Allocin
Fandom: <i>The Eagle</I>, movie!verse
Wordcount: 5780 (this chapter/section a)
Rating: Adult
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Pairing: Marcus/Esca
Warnings: Graphic slash
Disclaimer: <i>The Eagle</I> belongs to Rosemary Sutcliff and/or Kevin Macdonald and/or Focus Films. No profit is made from this work of fiction and no infringement intended. Please don't sue.
Summary: The Roman Empire is rocked by a series of natural disasters. With explanations ranging from Jewish terrorism to supernatural interference, Marcus and Esca are tasked by the Emperor himself to uncover the truth. But will they succeed, when it seems they themselves are tearing apart at the seams?
<a href="http://fadagaski.livejournal.com/429696.html">Chapter 1</A> / <a href="http://fadagaski.livejournal.com/433016.html"">Chapter 3</A>
<a href="http://fadagaski.livejournal.com/429165.html">Challenge Table</A>
<b>Two</B>
<lj-cut text="The wool of his tunic had gone scratchy as it dried, and it was that which brought Marcus out of his doze.">The wool of his tunic had gone scratchy as it dried, and it was that which brought Marcus out of his doze. Opening his eyes, he twisted his head to see that Esca had also slipped into a light sleep, still kneeling behind Marcus with pointy chin gouging into the meat of Marcus' shoulder.
"Esca," he murmured, nudging him gently with an elbow. "Esca, wake up."
"Hmm?"
"We need to pack."
"Hmm. In a moment."
"No. Now." Marcus moved to sit up straight, but Esca's arms tensed around him, keeping him pulled flush to Esca's chest. "Esca," Marcus sighed, grumpy.
"In a moment," Esca repeated. Huffing, Marcus allowed him this luxury. Exhaustion nagged at him, and he fought sleep valiantly under the soft stroke of Esca's hands up and down his arms. "I was worried," Esca confessed, a secret whisper in Marcus' ear. Marcus grabbed at his hands, enfolding them in his own with interlocking fingers. At least they were here now, he thought. No harm done.
The awkward bend to his spine began to take its toll, and Marcus flexed forward. "Enough now," he said, breaking free of Esca's hold. His skin itched beneath the damp wool of his tunic. He wrinkled his nose as he caught a whiff of himself. "I need to change," he said emphatically.
Esca clambered off the bed to rummage through their gear – still perched on the table, spared the wrath of the gods – while Marcus wrestled out of his tunic and braccae. He stood shivering in the damp chill, feet submerged in two inches of icy water, and thought wistfully of the hot bath at his uncle's villa.
Esca approached him with a towel. He batted away Marcus' arm, squatting at eye level with Marcus' softened penis, and began to dry him. The circular movements of his hand, the firm pressure, brought blood and heat flooding back to Marcus' legs, causing them to itch even more. His fingers twitched with the need to scratch, but long winter months in Germania had taught him the futility of that, and so he resisted. Esca worked his way up from groin to belly to chest, his face furrowed with intensity as he worked.
"You are injured here," he murmured, his fingers ghosting over a few shallow cuts just above Marcus' navel. They were pink, and a little sore, but they had hardly bled, and would cause him no trouble.
"It's nothing," he said. Esca's mouth pinched slightly, but he didn't comment as he moved behind Marcus. The towel was noticeably damp as it moved across his shoulders and down his back. He shivered when Esca patted dry the sensitive flesh behind is balls, but his touch was fleeting.
Esca stood in front of him again. "Lower your head," he instructed. Marcus nearly lost his balance when the towel blocked the room from view. He gripped Esca's waist to anchor himself when Esca began to rub at his short hair, thumbs nestling in the divots above his hipbones as if they were made to fit there.
When Esca was apparently satisfied, he stepped back, pulling the towel off Marcus' head with a rasp. Marcus blinked at the sudden light. He narrowed his eyes when he caught Esca's mischievous smirk.
"What?"
"Nothing," Esca said, and tried to wipe his expression, unsuccessfully. Suspicious, Marcus felt first at his face, then at his hair – which was sticking up in every direction. He probably looked like a newborn calf, cowlick and all.
"Ha ha," he muttered, scowling. His palms were still damp enough to flatten his unruly hair, or at least he hoped.
"Perhaps if your hair were longer it would be less inclined to float off your head," Esca teased, and threw a tunic at Marcus' face before he could respond.
Not much had changed in the villa when Marcus and Esca ventured from their room, newly dressed and braced for a difficult journey back to Calleva. Auxilius was far more alert than the last time Marcus had seen him. He was supervising the rescue of his property when they approached to take their leave.
"I am sorry we part under such awful conditions," Auxilius said, gripping first Marcus' arm, and then Esca's. "Thank you for all your help today," he addressed Marcus. "Nessa has told me of your actions. You are to be commended."
"It needed to be done," Marcus said demurely. "Farewell, and good luck."
They picked their way over the rubble of the southern exterior wall and around the side of the villa to where the stable had been. Esca stopped so suddenly Marcus nearly barrelled into him. He looked up, annoyance quickly subsiding in the face of the sheer destruction ravaged by last night's storm. The stable, a temporary wooden building, was no more than splinters stretching down the length of the garden. Marcus dreaded to think what had happened to their horses.
"That complicates things," he said.
"No, wait. Listen," Esca said, head cocked to the side. Marcus followed his lead, closing his eyes to better parse out the different sounds: waves on the distant beach, the clatter of dead twigs tumbling in the breeze, and there – an equine snort.
"Surely not!" he said, laughing. Esca grinned at him, then tore off down the long garden with enviable speed. Marcus followed slowly, careful of his leg in the slippery mud. He watched as Esca cornered Lampas against the far wall, the big roan dancing on his hooves as nimbly as a colt. Celer stood to the side, waiting to see what Lampas would do, as always. Lampas seemed to settle when Esca got a hand on his shoulder, and the two stood quietly for a long time. When Lampas was calm and docile again, Esca led him up the waterlogged garden, one hand under his chin giving the illusion of a rope to stop Lampas running off. Celer trotted along obediently behind.
"They were lucky not to suffer the same fate as the bull," Marcus commented when Esca was in earshot. Lampas spooked at his voice, rearing up with the whites of his eyes showing.
"Hey, hey now," Esca soothed, keeping one hand wrapped in his mane. "Don't be an ass."
Marcus hobbled towards them, and was relieved when Lampas did not flinch when he stroked along his neck. "Dumb animal," he said affectionately.
"Are you going to be able to ride with that leg?" Esca asked him. Marcus frowned, bending to knead at his thigh.
"I'll be fine," he said, defensive. When Esca opened his mouth to argue, Marcus cut in: "It isn't like we have much of a choice. We can't stay here." Esca's jaw shut with an audible click.
"So be it," he muttered. Marcus felt the well of anger bubbling in him again. It would be so easy to lash out, start an argument, but this wasn't the time nor the place. They had to get moving if they stood any hope of reaching the first roadside inn on the way to Calleva.
"I don't suppose the tack survived as well as the horses?" he asked instead. Esca smirked without real humour.
"In the tree yonder," he said, gesturing with a nod of his head to a birch in the adjacent garden, its roots in the air – and what looked like a bridle knotted in amongst them. It would take more effort than it was worth to retrieve it.
"Second plan, then," Marcus said. "There must be rope in the house. I'll get some."
"No, wait, Marcus." Esca grabbed onto his wrist, halting his turn. "You shouldn't strain your leg too much. Stay here, I'll find the rope." Scowling, Marcus wrenched his arm free.
"And if the horses spook again, what then? I can't go running after them. You stay, keep them calm. I'll find the rope."
"Marcus –" But Marcus was done listening. He slipped and squelched his way back to the villa with Esca's eyes burning a hole between his shoulder blades, and did not look back.
He found Nessa in the atrium still, changing a bloodied bandage for one of the boy slaves. She looked up at his approach, and made to stand, though Marcus waved her back down. He waited until she finished the boy's dressing and sent him on his way before approaching her.
"My companion and I are leaving, but we have need of rope. Is there any here we can have?" he asked. Nessa frowned in thought.
"Rope, master?"
"Our horses survived the night, but the bridles didn't," he explained shortly. The light dawned in her eyes, and she scurried off with barely a 'by your leave'.
A fine rain began to fall as Marcus waited, generating a chorus of moans from those in the atrium, injured and able-bodied alike. It soon soaked through Marcus' tunic, dripping from the ends of his hair into his eyes and down his back. He suppressed a shiver.
"Here, master," Nessa said breathlessly, brushing her wet hair back with impatience. In her hand was several feet of coiled rope, damp and prickly when Marcus took it from her.
"Just what we need," he said. She blushed when he offered her a smile in thanks; slave or not, she had worked hard without complaint, with so much more left to do. "Be strong," he said in parting.
Esca was where Marcus had left him, scowling up at the heavens with such fierce intensity it was a wonder the clouds didn't flee in terror. He looked relieved when he spotted Marcus limping back from the villa, rope over one shoulder.
"That should work," was all he said. Marcus kept hold of Lampas while Esca fashioned some kind of head collar. There would be no bit, which would make Lampas even more spirited than usual, but at least his rider would have some measure of control. Now all that was left to argue about was who that rider was going to be.
Normally, Marcus rode Lampas. He was the bigger horse of the two, and could better carry Marcus' weight. Marcus had ridden Lampas to Isca Dumnoniorum, and by all rights he should be the one to ride him home.
But he well knew what Esca would say, and despite the wound to his pride, it was the truth: if Lampas, already on edge after the night's events, spooked on the road, Marcus was more likely to fall off than Esca, and then they would be without a horse, and Marcus' leg would not thank him for it.
"There. That will hold for today at least. We should try to get proper tack at the inn," Esca said. Lampas snorted, and favoured Esca with a baleful look. "Now," he turned to Marcus, "I suggest –"
"You should ride him," Marcus interrupted, mostly because the mingled surprise and annoyance on Esca's face would never cease to entertain him. "With he in such high spirits, and my leg, it makes more sense for me to take Celer. At least to the inn." Esca glared at him; he knew exactly Marcus' thoughts, and was unamused.
"It seems the storm blew some sense through your ears," he said, scathing. Marcus scowled at him.
Esca led Lampas around the ruined villa, Celer tagging along faithfully behind, and Marcus brought up the rear. Auxilius' pile of ruined possessions had grown, with more slaves carrying things out of the house to add to it. The storm had been massive, and devastating; Marcus sent up a quick prayer that it had expended all its fury before reaching his uncle's home in Calleva.
Displaying an agility Marcus could only dream of, Esca vaulted onto Lampas' back. Marcus had to lead Celer to a pile of rubble that he used as an impromptu mounting block, and clambered on gracelessly.
It was decidedly uncomfortable without a saddle. Celer was built for speed, and therefore didn't have the broad back nor the padding that Lampas carried. Marcus grunted, shifting until he was closer to comfortable than he had been, and resolutely ignored Esca's knowing smirk. His leg twitched in warning; this was going to be a long trip.
"Are you ready?" Esca asked.
"Wait, Aquila!" came Urbicus' barking voice from the other side of the rubble. Esca seemed to shut down before Marcus' eyes as Urbicus approached them, body stiff and face a mask.
Marcus turned to the governor. The goose egg on his forehead had darkened to the colour of aubergine. It was a testament to the hard-headed soldier that he hadn't been laid low by such a strike.
"What's the trouble, Governor?" Marcus asked. It was rude of him to remain on his horse, but he was loathe to dismount only to have to clamber up again like a fat, ungainly child.
"I would ask a favour of you, if you permit it," Urbicus said. He stood at Marcus' knee, one hand on Celer's neck, stroking in that absent-minded way familiar to all horse riders.
"It would be my honour," Marcus said, leaning down to hear better.
"You are heading to Calleva, yes?" Urbicus asked. At Marcus' nod, he continued: "Please act as my eyes and ears on the road. Last night was no ordinary storm, and I fear it will have wrought much havoc to southern Britannia."
"I fear that also," Marcus agreed.
"Rome must be made aware of what has happened here, from a reliable witness." Urbicus paused, and gave Marcus a meaningful look. "The Emperor needs to know."
"You want me to go to Rome?" Marcus asked, eyes wide. Urbicus nodded once.
"I know it is a great imposition. At any other time I would go myself, but if what I suspect is true, then the legions will be needed, and so will I." He looked Marcus directly in the face. "You will be handsomely rewarded for your trouble," he said.
"That isn't necessary," Marcus said. Inside, a well of joy burst forth. He could hardly maintain the proper tone of respect when he added: "Of course I will go to Rome on your behalf. I would be glad to." Urbicus smiled in relief.
"Thank you. You are a good man, Aquila. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last," he said, and offered his arm. Marcus gripped it firmly. "Good riding to you, from here to Calleva and beyond."
Esca sat waiting on the road outside the villa. He was dwarfed by the size of Lampas; Marcus could just picture how ridiculous he looked astride Celer. When he drew up beside Esca, he realised they were actually of a height.
"What did he want?" Esca asked without inflection. In a moment of great foresight, Marcus thought it best not to reveal the truth here, when Esca would likely descend into a rage in front of all the residents of Isca Dumnoniorum, with no consideration for decorum.
"We should hurry," he said, glancing at pregnant rainclouds rolling in from the ocean. "The morning is almost gone, and we have a long way to travel." Esca's mouth thinned, but he urged Lampas to move with only a click of his tongue, rope reins held securely in his hand. Celer plodded contently along behind. All Marcus had to do was keep his cloak wrapped around to ward off the chill air, maintain his balance on Celer's back, and hope the rain held off.
It quickly became apparent that the gods' wrath of the previous night had not been targeted solely at Isca Dumnoniorum. Roadside villages of thatched houses and cattle had become little more than scattered firewood, the residents ghosting through the wreckage of their homes with blank and bloodied faces. Great trees had been tossed across the road like twigs, which slowed their progress considerably. Celer stumbled, and Marcus had to scrabble to hold on.
"Are you alright?" Esca called back.
"Fine," Marcus said shortly. Once he had wriggled back into a balanced position, he nudged Celer on and hoped the dumb animal would have the good sense to watch where he was going, seeing as Marcus couldn't guide him. He hoped even harder when they had to ford through a flooded part of the road.
They didn't stop, and barely spoke, until they reached the inn. By then it had been dark for many long hours. The way was lit only by Esca's candle; Marcus thought it a miracle that Celer hadn't gone hoof over tail, and taken his rider with him. At least they had outpaced the rain, the smell of which was heavy in the air. But Marcus was hungry now, and he ached with exhaustion and cold. He could almost have slept on Celer's back, if his horse didn't keep tripping over branches that were invisible in the dark.
"Greetings, masters," said the woman who came to see them in the courtyard. Her accent was highly unusual; Marcus couldn't place it. "I am Aloli. If you have need of a place to stay tonight, I will show you to a room."
"Yes please," Esca replied, sliding off Lampas with more difficulty than he had mounted him. It had been a long day on the road, without even a saddle for comfort. Marcus, fully expecting his bad leg to give out completely, slipped from Celer's back onto his good leg only. Aloli whistled once, and a small figure shuffled from the dark stables towards them.
"Seth will tend your horses. Come," she said. Esca came to wrap an arm around Marcus' waist in support. Marcus grit his teeth, but didn't argue, as his leg sent up a flare of agony at the very first step. Together they hobbled into the warmth of the inn.
"We have but one room," Aloli told them as they climbed the stairs. In the dim candlelight, Marcus could see she was an older woman, with very dark skin and thick black hair curled tightly to her skull. "Two more are taken by travellers like yourselves, and the fourth suffered damage in the storm."
"Was it bad even here?" Esca asked.
"Indeed, master. I have seen much of the world, but never a storm like that." She drew back the curtain to their room. "If it please you, I can fetch a pallet."
"It is a chill night. We will share a bed as brothers do," Esca told her. She bowed, unsmiling, and left them.
Brushing off Esca's arm, Marcus hopped to the bed and collapsed against it with a deep sigh. His leg twitched and throbbed, and he massaged it as best he could with one hand whilst refusing to move from his prone position. He was too tired even to recognise how hungry he was. Dimly he heard Esca pottering around the room, but didn't really focus on him until there were hands at his feet.
"What –?" He came to suddenly, lifting his head off the mattress. Esca glanced at him over the slope of Marcus' thighs.
"Hush. Just relax," he said. Deft fingers loosened the straps of each boot before easing them off. Marcus let his head fall back again. He groaned when Esca began to knead his aching feet, flexing the toes back and forth, then pressing against the ball of each foot, the arch, the heel, massaging until Marcus felt like a puddle of flesh with no bones to piece him together.
"Esca," he said on a sigh. Sleep already pulled at him with siren song.
"There we go," Esca murmured. "Let me take care of you."
Marcus tensed, and sat up. "I'm not a child," he warned. Esca leaned back on his haunches, blinking in surprise.
"I never said you were." They stared at each other for a long moment, a battle of wills without words. Marcus' leg seized but he ignored it with gritted teeth. Finally, Esca huffed an annoyed breath and stood up. "It's time for bed. We have another hard day ahead of us."
They stripped to their underclothes and climbed under the blankets in silence. Marcus blew out the sole candle on the bedside table, and in the dark allowed a grimace of pain to twist his face. He almost regretted stopping Esca. It was just so aggravating, that his leg could go weeks without incident, but a change in weather or strenuous activity would have him limping and miserable. Esca's problem was that he saw too much; there was no privacy between them since their return from the north. Marcus couldn't hide anything.
An arm wrapped around his middle, and Esca shuffled until he was pressed flush against Marcus' back. Then Marcus knew he was forgiven. He fell asleep with Esca's breath a tickle against his neck, and their fingers interlocked on his belly.
<p>
Esca was gone from the bed when Marcus awoke in the morning, though it was barely light outside. Despite being in Britannia for a year, and Germania before that, the strange days this far north still confused his internal clock. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand, Marcus rolled out of bed and was relieved that his leg gave no twinge whatsoever. He dressed in yesterday's clothes and made his way downstairs.
Esca was alone in the common dining area, bread roll in hand. Marcus sat next to him on the bench. A girl brought him a roll of his own, and a cup of water. She favoured Aloli but for her lighter skin and a strong Roman nose. Like her mother, she did not smile at them.
"What did Urbicus want?" Esca asked, by way of greeting. At the scent of food, Marcus' body seemed to remember how famished it was. He chose to eat rather than answer, swallowing his roll in a just a few quick bites. He gestured for the girl to bring him another, which he ate just as swiftly, and washed it down with water. "Marcus," Esca pressed.
Marcus felt better already, which was just as well, because he knew this would not be a pretty conversation. Steeling himself, he faced Esca head on. "I'm going to Rome," he said. Esca lifted both eyebrows.
"Rome?"
"Yes. The Governor requested it."
"Why?"
"He trusts me," Marcus said, with some pride. "He asked me to go directly to the Emperor, to inform him of the storm. Britannia will need extra support in order to recover. The mines, especially, are vital to Rome." It felt fantastic to have a purpose, a job to complete, some measure of business for the empire. Since his discharge, he had wandered lost through Britannia. His heart treasured Urbicus' words.
Esca stared at him, and then at the bread roll being picked apart by his restless fingers. Marcus watched from the corner of his eye for a hint of Esca's thoughts, but found none. As ever, Esca hid behind a guarded mask.
After a heavy silence, Esca put down his ruined bread roll. "So be it," was all he said, and stood up.
"Esca?"
"See what food you can buy from Amisi, the girl." Esca nodded towards Aloli's daughter. "I will pack our things. With any luck, the road will be clearer as we head further inland."
In short order, they were back in the courtyard. Marcus had managed to haggle for a few rolls and some bitter apples, and even a couple of thick blankets to put on the horses. Lampas and Celer were led to them by Seth, who turned out to be a dwarf rather than a child, as Marcus had assumed in the darkness.
"Masters," he greeted in a gravelly voice, the same accent as Aloli tinting his Latin. "My daughter Amisi informs me you are in need of tack. I have no bridle to sell to you, nor saddles that would fit such broad backs, but you may have more rope if you wish."
"Thank you," Marcus said, and paid him.
They were away soon after, the journey considerably easier with blankets and a head collar. Esca set a brisk pace on Lampas. Celer matched it easily enough, though Marcus worried that his heavier weight would tell on him.
It did. By the afternoon, Celer was sweating despite the chilly temperature, and Marcus was tired of kicking him to greater speed. "Esca, stop!" he called. He walked Celer up to Lampas, and the two nudged heads. "I am too heavy for Celer to keep this pace for the rest of the day. He will be twice as slow tomorrow. Either we walk, or we swap." Esca bit his lip, eyeing first the horse, and then the sky, dark grey with promised rain.
"Good feed in summer would solve this problem," he muttered.
"Well, it isn't summer. Let us swap. Lampas seems much calmer, and my leg has not troubled me all day."
Marcus was able to boost himself onto Lampas' back without help. For a time they walked side by side, sharing bread and apples between them and the horses. "Seth was very strange," Esca commented around a mouthful of food.
"He is a dwarf. Have you not seen one before?" At Esca's shake of the head, Marcus continued: "Often they fight in the ring, or entertain at circuses and high-class dinners. I hear they are worshipped in Aegyptus. That is probably his homeland."
They reached the second inn well after dark again, but not as late as the night before. The horses were exhausted, and seemed glad to be led away into the stable. Marcus' legs felt shaky, like there was a hum in his bones from hours spent over running hooves.
They caught the tail end of <i>cena</I>, some kind of mutton stew with winter vegetables, and enough sour wine to ease the ache from Marcus' limbs. Esca came back from arranging their rooms with the innkeeper, saying, "I told him we were short of money and could only take the one."
"I'm sure he thinks most highly of us," Marcus groused. Esca ignored him.
They slept that night on a bed filled with pins, or so it felt. Esca fell asleep instantly, nose tucked into the curve of Marcus' neck. Marcus tried not to move for fear of being prickled again. It was a long night.
The road from the inn to Calleva was mostly clear of large debris. The storm must have blown itself out, as Esca had predicted, though there was enough decimation to prove the wind and rain had been strong here. Marcus had new hope that his uncle's villa had survived intact, and it was hope that was rewarded when, from the final hill slope into town, the red roof by the river appeared whole and undamaged.
No one came to meet them in the atrium. Marcus dismounted, and listened for any sound from inside. There was none.
"I'll sort the horses. Go find your uncle," Esca said. A part of Marcus wanted to take care of Lampas himself, if only because Esca had told him not to, but his concern won out.
The tiles were warm underfoot, so at least they had not been gone long. There was even food prepared in the kitchen, and no sign of trouble in any of the rooms. Satisfied that his uncle was on some errand in Calleva, Marcus joined Esca in the stable.
They remained the only two in the house until Marcus' uncle and Stephanos returned for late <i>cena</I>. Their faces were grave, but Aquila smiled to see his nephew. They gripped arms warmly.
"It is good to see you safe and well," Aquila said. "Traders have come from the south with horror stories about the storm."
"It was terrifying," Marcus admitted. "Isca Dumnoniorum is little more than rubble." Over the evening meal, Marcus detailed the stinging rain and the violent winds and the bull flung about like a leaf.
"It's a miracle you came out alive," Aquila said.
"There's more. Governor Urbicus has requested that I journey to Rome, to give a full account of the storm to the Emperor." Aquila blinked in surprise.
"Did he now? That is very interesting." He seemed pensive though, sipping at his wine with a thoughtful frown. Marcus waited until he could wait no more.
"I would have you speak your mind," he prompted. Aquila gave Marcus a long look.
"I know better than to try to stop you, after my experience last time," he said. Marcus winced, remembering his harsh words to a man who had shown him nothing but kindness. "It is an honour I know you have already accepted, and I'm glad for you. This sedentary life, dinners and minor trade, it hasn't suited you. Any man can see you are bored, taken too young out of the army to be glad of the peace offered to old men like me." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "I ask only that you take care. Your leg is twice-wounded, and it is a long journey. Will you take Esca with you?" Marcus was surprised at the question, though he divined the hidden meaning: would he take an assistant, his crutch? He grimaced.
"Esca will go where he wants with no input from me," he said. "If he chooses to stay, I will travel alone, and suffer no more for it."
Aquila chuckled low in his throat with no humour. "Such pride," he muttered.
"Should I not be proud?" Marcus challenged, and was favoured with a weary glance.
"Marcus, you are your father's son. You will be whatever you will be, no matter what I think of it." With a sigh, Aquila rose to his feet, grunting in the way old men do when their bodies have grown tired. "I bid you good night," he said. Stephanos left at his master's heel.
Alone at the table, Marcus pushed away his plate and put his face in his hands. His stomach was in knots, and his mind ran round in circles. He needed to prepare for the journey, arrange new tack for Lampas and pack his belongings, but ahead of that long list was the problem of Esca.
If Esca came with him, he would be there as companion and bodyguard and nursemaid. It would be like the journey north again, under each other's feet, sharing food and warmth, pain and glory. If Esca did not come, Marcus would be without him for the first time since that day at the gladiator ring. Marcus was honest enough with himself to know he would always wonder what Esca was doing back in Britannia, if he was waiting for him, or if he had embraced a new freedom without Marcus there. The very idea burned him up.
As if summoned by the call of Marcus' thoughts, Esca appeared beside him. "Marcus," he whispered, his hand coming to rest on the back of Marcus' neck, a warm and welcome weight pulling him back from the edge of sleep. "Come to bed." His fingers squeezed gently.
Marcus allowed himself to be drawn away from the table, through the dark corridors of the villa to the room he shared with Esca. They kissed, a soft press of mouths, little more than lip to lip. Esca's fingers slid under Marcus' tunic, danced over the skin of his belly, then up. Marcus lifted his arms and the tunic came off. Esca pressed little kisses to the flesh there, following the wings of his collarbones down to the sternum, then further still. Struck dumb by lust and tiredness, Marcus could only stand and watch as Esca went gracefully to his knees, deft fingers picking at the laces of his braccae until his cock nudged free.
In the beginning, it had taken no small amount of coaxing from Esca for Marcus to allow this. It ran counter to everything Roman in him, but Esca loved it, and had argued at length about the value of Roman custom for a Briton. In the end, Marcus had capitulated when he realised he had been Esca's slave, and was still a Roman now. No one but the Seal People knew of the power Esca held over him.
When Esca opened his mouth over the head of Marcus' cock and tongued at the slit, Marcus had to admit that he loved it too. He stroked Esca's hair through his fingers, still short in the Roman style but enough to hold on when Esca sank down, taking Marcus' prick to the root in a wave of blistering wet heat. The hint of teeth scraped against the underside as Esca sucked back up to the head. Marcus choked, fingers clenching in Esca's hair, and watched as his cock disappeared again. Esca's lips were stretched wide around his girth, until he nosed at Marcus' pubic hair, swallowing around Marcus' length.
Esca took his sweet time, tongue following the vein on the underside and cheeks hollowing as he pulled back, until spit was dribbling from the corner of his mouth and Marcus couldn't help the involuntary thrust of his hips. He could feel his orgasm building, a slow burn at the base of his spine that spread through his balls into his cock. "Esca," he gasped, hips twitching against Esca's hands. Esca hummed around his length, a deep vibration that shot through every nerve in his cock, and then he was coming, riding the wave of pleasure as he spilled into Esca's willing mouth, fingers tangled in hair, his breath caught somewhere in his throat.
Marcus was wobbly on his legs when Esca helped strip him off his braccae. He tumbled into bed, exhaustion like lead dragging him into sleep. Esca climbed in soon after, stripped bare, and rolled so he was pressed against Marcus' back. His cock was a hot brand against the cleft of Marcus' arse, but though Marcus waited – for a word, a sign, something – Esca did nothing more than place a tender kiss to the top knob of Marcus' spine.
"Esca, what –?"
"Hush. Go to sleep."
"But –"
"It's fine, Marcus. I'm too tired. Sleep."</lj-cut>
<a href="http://fadagaski.livejournal.com/431132.html">Chapter 2b</A>
Author: Allocin
Fandom: <i>The Eagle</I>, movie!verse
Wordcount: 5780 (this chapter/section a)
Rating: Adult
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Pairing: Marcus/Esca
Warnings: Graphic slash
Disclaimer: <i>The Eagle</I> belongs to Rosemary Sutcliff and/or Kevin Macdonald and/or Focus Films. No profit is made from this work of fiction and no infringement intended. Please don't sue.
Summary: The Roman Empire is rocked by a series of natural disasters. With explanations ranging from Jewish terrorism to supernatural interference, Marcus and Esca are tasked by the Emperor himself to uncover the truth. But will they succeed, when it seems they themselves are tearing apart at the seams?
<a href="http://fadagaski.livejournal.com/429696.html">Chapter 1</A> / <a href="http://fadagaski.livejournal.com/433016.html"">Chapter 3</A>
<a href="http://fadagaski.livejournal.com/429165.html">Challenge Table</A>
<b>Two</B>
<lj-cut text="The wool of his tunic had gone scratchy as it dried, and it was that which brought Marcus out of his doze.">The wool of his tunic had gone scratchy as it dried, and it was that which brought Marcus out of his doze. Opening his eyes, he twisted his head to see that Esca had also slipped into a light sleep, still kneeling behind Marcus with pointy chin gouging into the meat of Marcus' shoulder.
"Esca," he murmured, nudging him gently with an elbow. "Esca, wake up."
"Hmm?"
"We need to pack."
"Hmm. In a moment."
"No. Now." Marcus moved to sit up straight, but Esca's arms tensed around him, keeping him pulled flush to Esca's chest. "Esca," Marcus sighed, grumpy.
"In a moment," Esca repeated. Huffing, Marcus allowed him this luxury. Exhaustion nagged at him, and he fought sleep valiantly under the soft stroke of Esca's hands up and down his arms. "I was worried," Esca confessed, a secret whisper in Marcus' ear. Marcus grabbed at his hands, enfolding them in his own with interlocking fingers. At least they were here now, he thought. No harm done.
The awkward bend to his spine began to take its toll, and Marcus flexed forward. "Enough now," he said, breaking free of Esca's hold. His skin itched beneath the damp wool of his tunic. He wrinkled his nose as he caught a whiff of himself. "I need to change," he said emphatically.
Esca clambered off the bed to rummage through their gear – still perched on the table, spared the wrath of the gods – while Marcus wrestled out of his tunic and braccae. He stood shivering in the damp chill, feet submerged in two inches of icy water, and thought wistfully of the hot bath at his uncle's villa.
Esca approached him with a towel. He batted away Marcus' arm, squatting at eye level with Marcus' softened penis, and began to dry him. The circular movements of his hand, the firm pressure, brought blood and heat flooding back to Marcus' legs, causing them to itch even more. His fingers twitched with the need to scratch, but long winter months in Germania had taught him the futility of that, and so he resisted. Esca worked his way up from groin to belly to chest, his face furrowed with intensity as he worked.
"You are injured here," he murmured, his fingers ghosting over a few shallow cuts just above Marcus' navel. They were pink, and a little sore, but they had hardly bled, and would cause him no trouble.
"It's nothing," he said. Esca's mouth pinched slightly, but he didn't comment as he moved behind Marcus. The towel was noticeably damp as it moved across his shoulders and down his back. He shivered when Esca patted dry the sensitive flesh behind is balls, but his touch was fleeting.
Esca stood in front of him again. "Lower your head," he instructed. Marcus nearly lost his balance when the towel blocked the room from view. He gripped Esca's waist to anchor himself when Esca began to rub at his short hair, thumbs nestling in the divots above his hipbones as if they were made to fit there.
When Esca was apparently satisfied, he stepped back, pulling the towel off Marcus' head with a rasp. Marcus blinked at the sudden light. He narrowed his eyes when he caught Esca's mischievous smirk.
"What?"
"Nothing," Esca said, and tried to wipe his expression, unsuccessfully. Suspicious, Marcus felt first at his face, then at his hair – which was sticking up in every direction. He probably looked like a newborn calf, cowlick and all.
"Ha ha," he muttered, scowling. His palms were still damp enough to flatten his unruly hair, or at least he hoped.
"Perhaps if your hair were longer it would be less inclined to float off your head," Esca teased, and threw a tunic at Marcus' face before he could respond.
Not much had changed in the villa when Marcus and Esca ventured from their room, newly dressed and braced for a difficult journey back to Calleva. Auxilius was far more alert than the last time Marcus had seen him. He was supervising the rescue of his property when they approached to take their leave.
"I am sorry we part under such awful conditions," Auxilius said, gripping first Marcus' arm, and then Esca's. "Thank you for all your help today," he addressed Marcus. "Nessa has told me of your actions. You are to be commended."
"It needed to be done," Marcus said demurely. "Farewell, and good luck."
They picked their way over the rubble of the southern exterior wall and around the side of the villa to where the stable had been. Esca stopped so suddenly Marcus nearly barrelled into him. He looked up, annoyance quickly subsiding in the face of the sheer destruction ravaged by last night's storm. The stable, a temporary wooden building, was no more than splinters stretching down the length of the garden. Marcus dreaded to think what had happened to their horses.
"That complicates things," he said.
"No, wait. Listen," Esca said, head cocked to the side. Marcus followed his lead, closing his eyes to better parse out the different sounds: waves on the distant beach, the clatter of dead twigs tumbling in the breeze, and there – an equine snort.
"Surely not!" he said, laughing. Esca grinned at him, then tore off down the long garden with enviable speed. Marcus followed slowly, careful of his leg in the slippery mud. He watched as Esca cornered Lampas against the far wall, the big roan dancing on his hooves as nimbly as a colt. Celer stood to the side, waiting to see what Lampas would do, as always. Lampas seemed to settle when Esca got a hand on his shoulder, and the two stood quietly for a long time. When Lampas was calm and docile again, Esca led him up the waterlogged garden, one hand under his chin giving the illusion of a rope to stop Lampas running off. Celer trotted along obediently behind.
"They were lucky not to suffer the same fate as the bull," Marcus commented when Esca was in earshot. Lampas spooked at his voice, rearing up with the whites of his eyes showing.
"Hey, hey now," Esca soothed, keeping one hand wrapped in his mane. "Don't be an ass."
Marcus hobbled towards them, and was relieved when Lampas did not flinch when he stroked along his neck. "Dumb animal," he said affectionately.
"Are you going to be able to ride with that leg?" Esca asked him. Marcus frowned, bending to knead at his thigh.
"I'll be fine," he said, defensive. When Esca opened his mouth to argue, Marcus cut in: "It isn't like we have much of a choice. We can't stay here." Esca's jaw shut with an audible click.
"So be it," he muttered. Marcus felt the well of anger bubbling in him again. It would be so easy to lash out, start an argument, but this wasn't the time nor the place. They had to get moving if they stood any hope of reaching the first roadside inn on the way to Calleva.
"I don't suppose the tack survived as well as the horses?" he asked instead. Esca smirked without real humour.
"In the tree yonder," he said, gesturing with a nod of his head to a birch in the adjacent garden, its roots in the air – and what looked like a bridle knotted in amongst them. It would take more effort than it was worth to retrieve it.
"Second plan, then," Marcus said. "There must be rope in the house. I'll get some."
"No, wait, Marcus." Esca grabbed onto his wrist, halting his turn. "You shouldn't strain your leg too much. Stay here, I'll find the rope." Scowling, Marcus wrenched his arm free.
"And if the horses spook again, what then? I can't go running after them. You stay, keep them calm. I'll find the rope."
"Marcus –" But Marcus was done listening. He slipped and squelched his way back to the villa with Esca's eyes burning a hole between his shoulder blades, and did not look back.
He found Nessa in the atrium still, changing a bloodied bandage for one of the boy slaves. She looked up at his approach, and made to stand, though Marcus waved her back down. He waited until she finished the boy's dressing and sent him on his way before approaching her.
"My companion and I are leaving, but we have need of rope. Is there any here we can have?" he asked. Nessa frowned in thought.
"Rope, master?"
"Our horses survived the night, but the bridles didn't," he explained shortly. The light dawned in her eyes, and she scurried off with barely a 'by your leave'.
A fine rain began to fall as Marcus waited, generating a chorus of moans from those in the atrium, injured and able-bodied alike. It soon soaked through Marcus' tunic, dripping from the ends of his hair into his eyes and down his back. He suppressed a shiver.
"Here, master," Nessa said breathlessly, brushing her wet hair back with impatience. In her hand was several feet of coiled rope, damp and prickly when Marcus took it from her.
"Just what we need," he said. She blushed when he offered her a smile in thanks; slave or not, she had worked hard without complaint, with so much more left to do. "Be strong," he said in parting.
Esca was where Marcus had left him, scowling up at the heavens with such fierce intensity it was a wonder the clouds didn't flee in terror. He looked relieved when he spotted Marcus limping back from the villa, rope over one shoulder.
"That should work," was all he said. Marcus kept hold of Lampas while Esca fashioned some kind of head collar. There would be no bit, which would make Lampas even more spirited than usual, but at least his rider would have some measure of control. Now all that was left to argue about was who that rider was going to be.
Normally, Marcus rode Lampas. He was the bigger horse of the two, and could better carry Marcus' weight. Marcus had ridden Lampas to Isca Dumnoniorum, and by all rights he should be the one to ride him home.
But he well knew what Esca would say, and despite the wound to his pride, it was the truth: if Lampas, already on edge after the night's events, spooked on the road, Marcus was more likely to fall off than Esca, and then they would be without a horse, and Marcus' leg would not thank him for it.
"There. That will hold for today at least. We should try to get proper tack at the inn," Esca said. Lampas snorted, and favoured Esca with a baleful look. "Now," he turned to Marcus, "I suggest –"
"You should ride him," Marcus interrupted, mostly because the mingled surprise and annoyance on Esca's face would never cease to entertain him. "With he in such high spirits, and my leg, it makes more sense for me to take Celer. At least to the inn." Esca glared at him; he knew exactly Marcus' thoughts, and was unamused.
"It seems the storm blew some sense through your ears," he said, scathing. Marcus scowled at him.
Esca led Lampas around the ruined villa, Celer tagging along faithfully behind, and Marcus brought up the rear. Auxilius' pile of ruined possessions had grown, with more slaves carrying things out of the house to add to it. The storm had been massive, and devastating; Marcus sent up a quick prayer that it had expended all its fury before reaching his uncle's home in Calleva.
Displaying an agility Marcus could only dream of, Esca vaulted onto Lampas' back. Marcus had to lead Celer to a pile of rubble that he used as an impromptu mounting block, and clambered on gracelessly.
It was decidedly uncomfortable without a saddle. Celer was built for speed, and therefore didn't have the broad back nor the padding that Lampas carried. Marcus grunted, shifting until he was closer to comfortable than he had been, and resolutely ignored Esca's knowing smirk. His leg twitched in warning; this was going to be a long trip.
"Are you ready?" Esca asked.
"Wait, Aquila!" came Urbicus' barking voice from the other side of the rubble. Esca seemed to shut down before Marcus' eyes as Urbicus approached them, body stiff and face a mask.
Marcus turned to the governor. The goose egg on his forehead had darkened to the colour of aubergine. It was a testament to the hard-headed soldier that he hadn't been laid low by such a strike.
"What's the trouble, Governor?" Marcus asked. It was rude of him to remain on his horse, but he was loathe to dismount only to have to clamber up again like a fat, ungainly child.
"I would ask a favour of you, if you permit it," Urbicus said. He stood at Marcus' knee, one hand on Celer's neck, stroking in that absent-minded way familiar to all horse riders.
"It would be my honour," Marcus said, leaning down to hear better.
"You are heading to Calleva, yes?" Urbicus asked. At Marcus' nod, he continued: "Please act as my eyes and ears on the road. Last night was no ordinary storm, and I fear it will have wrought much havoc to southern Britannia."
"I fear that also," Marcus agreed.
"Rome must be made aware of what has happened here, from a reliable witness." Urbicus paused, and gave Marcus a meaningful look. "The Emperor needs to know."
"You want me to go to Rome?" Marcus asked, eyes wide. Urbicus nodded once.
"I know it is a great imposition. At any other time I would go myself, but if what I suspect is true, then the legions will be needed, and so will I." He looked Marcus directly in the face. "You will be handsomely rewarded for your trouble," he said.
"That isn't necessary," Marcus said. Inside, a well of joy burst forth. He could hardly maintain the proper tone of respect when he added: "Of course I will go to Rome on your behalf. I would be glad to." Urbicus smiled in relief.
"Thank you. You are a good man, Aquila. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last," he said, and offered his arm. Marcus gripped it firmly. "Good riding to you, from here to Calleva and beyond."
Esca sat waiting on the road outside the villa. He was dwarfed by the size of Lampas; Marcus could just picture how ridiculous he looked astride Celer. When he drew up beside Esca, he realised they were actually of a height.
"What did he want?" Esca asked without inflection. In a moment of great foresight, Marcus thought it best not to reveal the truth here, when Esca would likely descend into a rage in front of all the residents of Isca Dumnoniorum, with no consideration for decorum.
"We should hurry," he said, glancing at pregnant rainclouds rolling in from the ocean. "The morning is almost gone, and we have a long way to travel." Esca's mouth thinned, but he urged Lampas to move with only a click of his tongue, rope reins held securely in his hand. Celer plodded contently along behind. All Marcus had to do was keep his cloak wrapped around to ward off the chill air, maintain his balance on Celer's back, and hope the rain held off.
It quickly became apparent that the gods' wrath of the previous night had not been targeted solely at Isca Dumnoniorum. Roadside villages of thatched houses and cattle had become little more than scattered firewood, the residents ghosting through the wreckage of their homes with blank and bloodied faces. Great trees had been tossed across the road like twigs, which slowed their progress considerably. Celer stumbled, and Marcus had to scrabble to hold on.
"Are you alright?" Esca called back.
"Fine," Marcus said shortly. Once he had wriggled back into a balanced position, he nudged Celer on and hoped the dumb animal would have the good sense to watch where he was going, seeing as Marcus couldn't guide him. He hoped even harder when they had to ford through a flooded part of the road.
They didn't stop, and barely spoke, until they reached the inn. By then it had been dark for many long hours. The way was lit only by Esca's candle; Marcus thought it a miracle that Celer hadn't gone hoof over tail, and taken his rider with him. At least they had outpaced the rain, the smell of which was heavy in the air. But Marcus was hungry now, and he ached with exhaustion and cold. He could almost have slept on Celer's back, if his horse didn't keep tripping over branches that were invisible in the dark.
"Greetings, masters," said the woman who came to see them in the courtyard. Her accent was highly unusual; Marcus couldn't place it. "I am Aloli. If you have need of a place to stay tonight, I will show you to a room."
"Yes please," Esca replied, sliding off Lampas with more difficulty than he had mounted him. It had been a long day on the road, without even a saddle for comfort. Marcus, fully expecting his bad leg to give out completely, slipped from Celer's back onto his good leg only. Aloli whistled once, and a small figure shuffled from the dark stables towards them.
"Seth will tend your horses. Come," she said. Esca came to wrap an arm around Marcus' waist in support. Marcus grit his teeth, but didn't argue, as his leg sent up a flare of agony at the very first step. Together they hobbled into the warmth of the inn.
"We have but one room," Aloli told them as they climbed the stairs. In the dim candlelight, Marcus could see she was an older woman, with very dark skin and thick black hair curled tightly to her skull. "Two more are taken by travellers like yourselves, and the fourth suffered damage in the storm."
"Was it bad even here?" Esca asked.
"Indeed, master. I have seen much of the world, but never a storm like that." She drew back the curtain to their room. "If it please you, I can fetch a pallet."
"It is a chill night. We will share a bed as brothers do," Esca told her. She bowed, unsmiling, and left them.
Brushing off Esca's arm, Marcus hopped to the bed and collapsed against it with a deep sigh. His leg twitched and throbbed, and he massaged it as best he could with one hand whilst refusing to move from his prone position. He was too tired even to recognise how hungry he was. Dimly he heard Esca pottering around the room, but didn't really focus on him until there were hands at his feet.
"What –?" He came to suddenly, lifting his head off the mattress. Esca glanced at him over the slope of Marcus' thighs.
"Hush. Just relax," he said. Deft fingers loosened the straps of each boot before easing them off. Marcus let his head fall back again. He groaned when Esca began to knead his aching feet, flexing the toes back and forth, then pressing against the ball of each foot, the arch, the heel, massaging until Marcus felt like a puddle of flesh with no bones to piece him together.
"Esca," he said on a sigh. Sleep already pulled at him with siren song.
"There we go," Esca murmured. "Let me take care of you."
Marcus tensed, and sat up. "I'm not a child," he warned. Esca leaned back on his haunches, blinking in surprise.
"I never said you were." They stared at each other for a long moment, a battle of wills without words. Marcus' leg seized but he ignored it with gritted teeth. Finally, Esca huffed an annoyed breath and stood up. "It's time for bed. We have another hard day ahead of us."
They stripped to their underclothes and climbed under the blankets in silence. Marcus blew out the sole candle on the bedside table, and in the dark allowed a grimace of pain to twist his face. He almost regretted stopping Esca. It was just so aggravating, that his leg could go weeks without incident, but a change in weather or strenuous activity would have him limping and miserable. Esca's problem was that he saw too much; there was no privacy between them since their return from the north. Marcus couldn't hide anything.
An arm wrapped around his middle, and Esca shuffled until he was pressed flush against Marcus' back. Then Marcus knew he was forgiven. He fell asleep with Esca's breath a tickle against his neck, and their fingers interlocked on his belly.
<p>
Esca was gone from the bed when Marcus awoke in the morning, though it was barely light outside. Despite being in Britannia for a year, and Germania before that, the strange days this far north still confused his internal clock. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand, Marcus rolled out of bed and was relieved that his leg gave no twinge whatsoever. He dressed in yesterday's clothes and made his way downstairs.
Esca was alone in the common dining area, bread roll in hand. Marcus sat next to him on the bench. A girl brought him a roll of his own, and a cup of water. She favoured Aloli but for her lighter skin and a strong Roman nose. Like her mother, she did not smile at them.
"What did Urbicus want?" Esca asked, by way of greeting. At the scent of food, Marcus' body seemed to remember how famished it was. He chose to eat rather than answer, swallowing his roll in a just a few quick bites. He gestured for the girl to bring him another, which he ate just as swiftly, and washed it down with water. "Marcus," Esca pressed.
Marcus felt better already, which was just as well, because he knew this would not be a pretty conversation. Steeling himself, he faced Esca head on. "I'm going to Rome," he said. Esca lifted both eyebrows.
"Rome?"
"Yes. The Governor requested it."
"Why?"
"He trusts me," Marcus said, with some pride. "He asked me to go directly to the Emperor, to inform him of the storm. Britannia will need extra support in order to recover. The mines, especially, are vital to Rome." It felt fantastic to have a purpose, a job to complete, some measure of business for the empire. Since his discharge, he had wandered lost through Britannia. His heart treasured Urbicus' words.
Esca stared at him, and then at the bread roll being picked apart by his restless fingers. Marcus watched from the corner of his eye for a hint of Esca's thoughts, but found none. As ever, Esca hid behind a guarded mask.
After a heavy silence, Esca put down his ruined bread roll. "So be it," was all he said, and stood up.
"Esca?"
"See what food you can buy from Amisi, the girl." Esca nodded towards Aloli's daughter. "I will pack our things. With any luck, the road will be clearer as we head further inland."
In short order, they were back in the courtyard. Marcus had managed to haggle for a few rolls and some bitter apples, and even a couple of thick blankets to put on the horses. Lampas and Celer were led to them by Seth, who turned out to be a dwarf rather than a child, as Marcus had assumed in the darkness.
"Masters," he greeted in a gravelly voice, the same accent as Aloli tinting his Latin. "My daughter Amisi informs me you are in need of tack. I have no bridle to sell to you, nor saddles that would fit such broad backs, but you may have more rope if you wish."
"Thank you," Marcus said, and paid him.
They were away soon after, the journey considerably easier with blankets and a head collar. Esca set a brisk pace on Lampas. Celer matched it easily enough, though Marcus worried that his heavier weight would tell on him.
It did. By the afternoon, Celer was sweating despite the chilly temperature, and Marcus was tired of kicking him to greater speed. "Esca, stop!" he called. He walked Celer up to Lampas, and the two nudged heads. "I am too heavy for Celer to keep this pace for the rest of the day. He will be twice as slow tomorrow. Either we walk, or we swap." Esca bit his lip, eyeing first the horse, and then the sky, dark grey with promised rain.
"Good feed in summer would solve this problem," he muttered.
"Well, it isn't summer. Let us swap. Lampas seems much calmer, and my leg has not troubled me all day."
Marcus was able to boost himself onto Lampas' back without help. For a time they walked side by side, sharing bread and apples between them and the horses. "Seth was very strange," Esca commented around a mouthful of food.
"He is a dwarf. Have you not seen one before?" At Esca's shake of the head, Marcus continued: "Often they fight in the ring, or entertain at circuses and high-class dinners. I hear they are worshipped in Aegyptus. That is probably his homeland."
They reached the second inn well after dark again, but not as late as the night before. The horses were exhausted, and seemed glad to be led away into the stable. Marcus' legs felt shaky, like there was a hum in his bones from hours spent over running hooves.
They caught the tail end of <i>cena</I>, some kind of mutton stew with winter vegetables, and enough sour wine to ease the ache from Marcus' limbs. Esca came back from arranging their rooms with the innkeeper, saying, "I told him we were short of money and could only take the one."
"I'm sure he thinks most highly of us," Marcus groused. Esca ignored him.
They slept that night on a bed filled with pins, or so it felt. Esca fell asleep instantly, nose tucked into the curve of Marcus' neck. Marcus tried not to move for fear of being prickled again. It was a long night.
The road from the inn to Calleva was mostly clear of large debris. The storm must have blown itself out, as Esca had predicted, though there was enough decimation to prove the wind and rain had been strong here. Marcus had new hope that his uncle's villa had survived intact, and it was hope that was rewarded when, from the final hill slope into town, the red roof by the river appeared whole and undamaged.
No one came to meet them in the atrium. Marcus dismounted, and listened for any sound from inside. There was none.
"I'll sort the horses. Go find your uncle," Esca said. A part of Marcus wanted to take care of Lampas himself, if only because Esca had told him not to, but his concern won out.
The tiles were warm underfoot, so at least they had not been gone long. There was even food prepared in the kitchen, and no sign of trouble in any of the rooms. Satisfied that his uncle was on some errand in Calleva, Marcus joined Esca in the stable.
They remained the only two in the house until Marcus' uncle and Stephanos returned for late <i>cena</I>. Their faces were grave, but Aquila smiled to see his nephew. They gripped arms warmly.
"It is good to see you safe and well," Aquila said. "Traders have come from the south with horror stories about the storm."
"It was terrifying," Marcus admitted. "Isca Dumnoniorum is little more than rubble." Over the evening meal, Marcus detailed the stinging rain and the violent winds and the bull flung about like a leaf.
"It's a miracle you came out alive," Aquila said.
"There's more. Governor Urbicus has requested that I journey to Rome, to give a full account of the storm to the Emperor." Aquila blinked in surprise.
"Did he now? That is very interesting." He seemed pensive though, sipping at his wine with a thoughtful frown. Marcus waited until he could wait no more.
"I would have you speak your mind," he prompted. Aquila gave Marcus a long look.
"I know better than to try to stop you, after my experience last time," he said. Marcus winced, remembering his harsh words to a man who had shown him nothing but kindness. "It is an honour I know you have already accepted, and I'm glad for you. This sedentary life, dinners and minor trade, it hasn't suited you. Any man can see you are bored, taken too young out of the army to be glad of the peace offered to old men like me." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "I ask only that you take care. Your leg is twice-wounded, and it is a long journey. Will you take Esca with you?" Marcus was surprised at the question, though he divined the hidden meaning: would he take an assistant, his crutch? He grimaced.
"Esca will go where he wants with no input from me," he said. "If he chooses to stay, I will travel alone, and suffer no more for it."
Aquila chuckled low in his throat with no humour. "Such pride," he muttered.
"Should I not be proud?" Marcus challenged, and was favoured with a weary glance.
"Marcus, you are your father's son. You will be whatever you will be, no matter what I think of it." With a sigh, Aquila rose to his feet, grunting in the way old men do when their bodies have grown tired. "I bid you good night," he said. Stephanos left at his master's heel.
Alone at the table, Marcus pushed away his plate and put his face in his hands. His stomach was in knots, and his mind ran round in circles. He needed to prepare for the journey, arrange new tack for Lampas and pack his belongings, but ahead of that long list was the problem of Esca.
If Esca came with him, he would be there as companion and bodyguard and nursemaid. It would be like the journey north again, under each other's feet, sharing food and warmth, pain and glory. If Esca did not come, Marcus would be without him for the first time since that day at the gladiator ring. Marcus was honest enough with himself to know he would always wonder what Esca was doing back in Britannia, if he was waiting for him, or if he had embraced a new freedom without Marcus there. The very idea burned him up.
As if summoned by the call of Marcus' thoughts, Esca appeared beside him. "Marcus," he whispered, his hand coming to rest on the back of Marcus' neck, a warm and welcome weight pulling him back from the edge of sleep. "Come to bed." His fingers squeezed gently.
Marcus allowed himself to be drawn away from the table, through the dark corridors of the villa to the room he shared with Esca. They kissed, a soft press of mouths, little more than lip to lip. Esca's fingers slid under Marcus' tunic, danced over the skin of his belly, then up. Marcus lifted his arms and the tunic came off. Esca pressed little kisses to the flesh there, following the wings of his collarbones down to the sternum, then further still. Struck dumb by lust and tiredness, Marcus could only stand and watch as Esca went gracefully to his knees, deft fingers picking at the laces of his braccae until his cock nudged free.
In the beginning, it had taken no small amount of coaxing from Esca for Marcus to allow this. It ran counter to everything Roman in him, but Esca loved it, and had argued at length about the value of Roman custom for a Briton. In the end, Marcus had capitulated when he realised he had been Esca's slave, and was still a Roman now. No one but the Seal People knew of the power Esca held over him.
When Esca opened his mouth over the head of Marcus' cock and tongued at the slit, Marcus had to admit that he loved it too. He stroked Esca's hair through his fingers, still short in the Roman style but enough to hold on when Esca sank down, taking Marcus' prick to the root in a wave of blistering wet heat. The hint of teeth scraped against the underside as Esca sucked back up to the head. Marcus choked, fingers clenching in Esca's hair, and watched as his cock disappeared again. Esca's lips were stretched wide around his girth, until he nosed at Marcus' pubic hair, swallowing around Marcus' length.
Esca took his sweet time, tongue following the vein on the underside and cheeks hollowing as he pulled back, until spit was dribbling from the corner of his mouth and Marcus couldn't help the involuntary thrust of his hips. He could feel his orgasm building, a slow burn at the base of his spine that spread through his balls into his cock. "Esca," he gasped, hips twitching against Esca's hands. Esca hummed around his length, a deep vibration that shot through every nerve in his cock, and then he was coming, riding the wave of pleasure as he spilled into Esca's willing mouth, fingers tangled in hair, his breath caught somewhere in his throat.
Marcus was wobbly on his legs when Esca helped strip him off his braccae. He tumbled into bed, exhaustion like lead dragging him into sleep. Esca climbed in soon after, stripped bare, and rolled so he was pressed against Marcus' back. His cock was a hot brand against the cleft of Marcus' arse, but though Marcus waited – for a word, a sign, something – Esca did nothing more than place a tender kiss to the top knob of Marcus' spine.
"Esca, what –?"
"Hush. Go to sleep."
"But –"
"It's fine, Marcus. I'm too tired. Sleep."</lj-cut>
<a href="http://fadagaski.livejournal.com/431132.html">Chapter 2b</A>
