The Eagle of the Ninth
A slash fiction
How Esca won his freedom
In The Eagle of the Ninth by Rosemary Sutcliff, Marcus frees Esca before setting out to hunt for the lost Eagle because Placidus questions the true worth of Esca's loyalty:
'Are you sure that you can trust that barbarian of yours in a venture of this kind?'
'Esca?' Marcus said in surprise. 'Yes, quite sure.'
The other shrugged. 'Doubtless you know best. Personally I should not care to let my life hang by so slender a thread as the loyalty of a slave.'
'Esca and I - ' Marcus began, and broke off. He was not going to make a circus show of his innermost feelings and Esca's for the amusement of such as Tribune Servius Placidus. 'Esca has been with me a long time. He nursed me when I was sick; he did everything for me, all the while that I was laid by with this leg.'
'Why not? He is your slave,' said Placidus carelessly.
Sheer surprise held Marcus silent for a moment. It was a long time since he had thought of Esca as a slave. 'That was not his reason,' he said. 'It is not the reason he comes with me now.'
'Is it not? Oh, my Marcus, what an innocent you are; slaves are all – slaves. Give him his freedom and see what happens.'
'I will,' said Marcus. 'Thanks, Placidus, I will!'
When Marcus gives Esca his manumission, Esca at first thinks Marcus is sending him away. Marcus explains that it is for him to decide whether he leaves Marcus or stays with him and Esca instantly says he will stay. Marcus admits he should not have asked Esca to go on such a dangerous hunt when he was not free to refuse:
'No-one should ask a slave to go with him on such a hunting trail; but – he might ask a friend.' He looked questioningly into Esca's face.
Esca tossed the slender papyrus roll on to the cot, and set his own hands over Marcus's. 'I have not served the Centurion because I was his slave,' he said, dropping unconsciously into the speech of his own people. 'I have served Marcus, and it was not slave-service . . . My stomach will be glad when we start on this hunting trail.'
In the 2011 film The Eagle, screenplay by Jeremy Brock, Esca does not gain his freedom until he and Marcus are running away from the Seal People with the Eagle and Marcus has reached the point of exhaustion and cannot run any further. He wants Esca to carry on without him but Esca won't leave Marcus because he feels honour bound to stay with the man to whom he owes service. Only being set free would release him from this obligation.
Marcus: I can't go on.
Esca: Yes you can. You just need to rest.
Marcus: Take the Eagle. If you find horses, come back. If not, just keep south. Make sure this gets back to Rome.
Esca: I'm not leaving you here.
Marcus: Do not dishonour me. Take it.
Esca: I came this far with you. I won't leave you now.
Marcus: Esca, I order you. Take it.
Esca: I swore an oath of honour never to abandon you. If you want me to leave, set me free. Give me my freedom.
Marcus (getting out Esca's father's knife and offering it to him): You're free. (Esca holds the knife also.) You're free, my friend. (Esca places his other hand over Marcus's. Marcus then offers the Eagle to him again.) Take it.
Esca: No. (Kneeling down to hold Marcus's head) I will return.
These are two very different versions of how Esca regained his freedom and now there is a third version – mine. I take from both Rosemary Sutcliff and from Jeremy Brock's screenplay, but I also add in a third dimension, neither Sutcliff nor Brock felt able to express openly: the innermost sexual and romantic feelings of the three main protagonists. Yes, three. For, as in the book, Tribune Servius Placidus has a major role to play in how Esca won his freedom.
Chapter 1
The snorting boar crashed through the bushes lining the forest track, closely followed by half a dozen horses galloping to keep up, the men mounted on their backs crouching low to avoid the overhanging branches of young oaks and birch trees. In their hands, each man carried a spear but the speed of the chase and the confusion of branches and foliage all around did not allow for any to attempt to bring down their prey. For the moment, all they could do was hold on to their reins with one hand, and their spears with the other, keep their heads down, and steer their mounts with pressure from their knees, a skill each had learnt from childhood for moments such as this.
If they were lucky, and the boar ran into the slightest bit of open ground - a glade perhaps - or attempted to cross a stream, then the fortunate man who was foremost in the chase would have the chance to spear it. Whoever brought the beast down would be given the prize of taking it home with him, a great prize indeed for it was a large specimen and would roast well. If they were less lucky, however, there was still the possibility that the boar could escape by running into thick undergrowth through which the horses could not follow. In that case, an hour or more of careful tracking and this daredevil chase would have come to naught.
The foremost rider was a young man with features that clearly set him out as a Roman, and one of good birth. He was very good looking, with unusually pale skin and blond hair. His mount was an enormous black stallion which he rode with effortless grace. Behind him rode three other men whose clothing and horses identified them also as Romans, and one who was a native Briton but had adopted the bearing and dress of his Roman overlords. At the rear of the chase was a smaller man who was just as obviously born to a native tribe. His hair was russet-brown and his short sleeved tunic revealed sinewy arms tattooed with swirling blue patterns.
Esca rode on one of his master's mounts, a small brown mare who, despite her size, was fast and fearless and seemed to enjoy the chase as much as Esca did himself. She did not seem to require direction or encouragement from her rider but knew once the chase was on what to do. To begin with, Esca held her back a little, allowing the Romans, and the Romano-Briton to take the lead in the pursuit of the boar, but after a while, he grew frustrated. He was in the company of skilled hunters, but the Romans were not native to this land, and the only other Briton present was a soft southerner who had never had to hunt to survive, whereas Esca had been hunting in forests for food since he was little more than a babe, and his skill was far in excess of theirs. He knew that the longer the chase lasted, the more chance the boar had of finding cover, and furthermore, he knew the lie of this particular part of the forest well and knew that the gentle slope of land soon gave way to a steeper hillside which was covered in a thicket large enough to hide an entire forest worth of boars.
Urging his horse on with the slightest kick of his heels, Esca veered off the main track and took a smaller one that ran parallel to it. The mare responded immediately, and quickly overtook the others, with Esca leaning far forward onto her neck, keeping his head right down to avoid branches snapping into his face. The speed of the horse and the exhilaration of finally being free to chase the boar as he wanted to flooded through Esca's body and made him laugh out loud for the sheer joy of it. For a while he lost sight of the boar behind trees, but he could still see the other riders and knew where the boar must be in relation to them. An extra squeeze of the mare's flanks and she inched ahead further, and then, as the thicket covered hillside came into view and the side path swung round to rejoin the main track, Esca was suddenly leaning back, drawing on the reins with one hand, and leaping to the ground before the mare had fully stopped. In one fluid movement, he drew back his spear, and flung it with deadly accuracy into the neck of the boar mere moments before it would have disappeared into the tangled undergrowth. There was a high pitched squealing, and a great thrashing of the bushes; then Esca ran forward with his small hunting knife in his hand, and a second later, the squealing and thrashing came to an abrupt end.
As he withdrew his bloodied knife, the other riders came to a shuddering halt, and the handsome pale Roman jumped down and came running forward, spear at the ready should it be needed. He, like Esca, was panting with the exhilaration of the chase, grinning widely, and there was a colour in his cheeks that did not match the pale smoothness of the rest of his skin. Esca took hold of the dead boar by its hindquarters and dragged it into the open to show the Roman that his spear was not needed.
'So!' exclaimed the Roman, throwing his spear down to the ground, and bending over a little to catch his breath. 'That was a noble thrust!' He was smiling and did not seem put out that Esca had robbed him of the glory of felling the boar.
Esca, still caught up in the excitement of the moment, allowed himself a broad grin back at the Roman.
'He gave us a good chase,' he replied. 'And might have won his freedom had it not been that I knew the lie of this land too well.'
'Indeed,' the Roman agreed, noting for the first time the steep, impenetrable hillside which had so nearly allowed the boar to escape. 'And so you win the prize and will be feasting on boar before long.'
Esca acknowledged this with a nod. His breathing was beginning to slow, and, as his excitement lessened, so his natural reticence began to make itself shown and he reminded himself that he was talking to a hated Roman. While the hunt had been in full flow, he had momentarily forgotten the enmity he felt towards all people and things of that nation, but now his inner self was gaining control of him again. The Roman, however, was still animated from the pursuit and in awe of the speed with which the painted Briton had despatched his prey. 'Truly you deserve the prize,' he continued, 'I've scarce seen any so quick and skilful as you were here today. My name is Tribune Servius Placidus. May I ask yours?'
Esca paused a moment to take in the Roman. Until now, he had had no idea who his fellow huntsmen were, for any could join the hunt if they had the horse and weapons needed, and no account was taken of whether the man be high or low-born, Roman or Briton, slave or free. But now Esca knew this Roman was not just a common soldier or an ordinary merchant but a tribune! A man of power who represented the very state Esca hated so much and had lost his freedom fighting against. He drew himself as tall as he could and looked the Roman boldly in the eyes.
'My name is Esca, son of Cunoval, of the tribe of Brigantes, the bearers of the blue war-shield.'
Placidus started at the sudden defiance in the Briton's voice and noted his proud upright stance. He was familiar with the name of the warrior tribe but unmoved to know that he was facing one of its members. No tribe south of the Wall could stand in the way of Roman might, and the fact that this man was here in Calleva, participating in a Roman-led hunt meant that he had submitted to Roman rule. Still, there was something about the way the painted barbarian (for that was undoubtedly how Placidus saw him) spoke, the note of challenge in his voice, that Placidus responded to on two levels. Firstly, he felt contempt for the savage little man, and anger at his lack of respect. But beneath that, he also felt the stirring of arousal, for Placidus liked nothing better than humiliating and debasing those he considered arrogant little upstarts, and this savage, with his lean, muscular body and defiant attitude was exactly that. He looked at him speculatively for a moment, and then smiled slightly. When he spoke, his tone was unctuous.
'You are a credit to your tribe, Esca. It is good to know the Brigantes are skilled hunters at least.' The implication was that they were poor warriors. Esca stiffened, but Placidus had already bent to retrieve his spear and turned away to mount his horse.