Testament
The Three Scrolls of a Centurion
First Scroll
"I'm telling you, this guy is a genius," Dr. Harrison said adjusting the bag holding one of the scrolls.
His assistant, Michael nodded trying to adjust his glass as he lugged the other two scrolls along with Dr. Harrison's laptop bag up the steps of the beautiful, suburban home they'd just parked in front of.
"He reads these texts like it's his first language," Dr. Harrison marveled as he rapped hard on the door. "And you know I was his TA once upon a time?"
Michael nodded before jumping as the door opened.
"David Harrison! Come on in! Let's see what you have!" Dr. Martin Asher cheered in his usual joyous tone. "And who's this? Another poor slave to your researching adventures?"
"Michael Winters, sir," Michael tried to extend a hand for a shake but the threat of dropping the scrolls made him think twice.
"Ah poor soul," Martin laughed. Martin had long since retired from his professorship and had looked forward to retirement. What he hadn't realized was just how much he'd miss the work when it was gone. That's why young colleagues like David Harrison were such a blessing. "Just bring them up stairs and we'll put them in my study. I'd help you, but I'm afraid in my state I may do more harm than good."
"Dr. Asher, this is an incredible find," Dr. Harrison said as the walked up the stairs towards the study.
"David for the last time call me Martin, you've earned it," Martin laughed.
"It's a three part scroll collection found in a beautiful, ornate chest from my last excavation."
Martin held up a hand, "That's all I need to know, I'd like to look at this with some fresh eyes if you don't mind." The three piled into the study. Martin pulled up two chairs opposite of his comfortable, ratty desk chair he'd used for so many years. Arranging the three scrolls in front of him Martin felt from the moment he touched them that he knew their order.
"This is the first?" Martin asked placing a careful hand on one of the scrolls.
"We think so, how'd you know?" Dr. Harrison laughed as Michael marveled at Martin's trained eye.
"Call it a hunch," Martin winked as he began unraveling the scroll. "Let's get started."
After about twenty minutes of silently watching Martin's eyes dance about the page soaking in all the knowledge it provided, Dr. Harrison and Michael had both become so used to the quiet, stale atmosphere that when Martin spoke they both jumped.
"Well here we go," Martin said. "It has been four wonderful years since our last adventure…"
It has been four wonderful years since our last adventure. Adventure as is classified by the general perception, though life itself is on its own one single exciting journey.
Though our return was marked with nothing but a slave's freedom, both he and I knew of our accomplishment. The Eagle of the Ninth had been restored to its place of honor among the fallen brethren of the Ninth.
"Does he mean THE Eagle?" Michael gasped wide-eyed.
"Seems so," Martin frowned. "That's impossible…"
Dr. Harrison chuckled as Martin became totally enthralled in this new world that had been laid out in front of him. The things this scroll was suggesting were definitely too incredible to be true.
Whether or not those fallen brethren are remembered by their Roman or Briton names, they hold with them the honor of true warriors and men of valor. It pained me to bid farewell to a good many of them, especially our new but good friend Guern.
Esca's warriors, which is exactly what they were despite my leading them in final battle, proved themselves among the bravest and most honorable I've had the privilege to serve with.
"I'm confused, what battle are they even talking about?" Dr. Harrison interrupted.
"My friends, this seems to be a radical find. I think most of what we read from here will not be recorded in our current histories," Martin replied, a twinge of annoyance cast in his voice as he tried to keep reading.
The Seal People, though savage, fought too and without Esca I would have never acknowledged such a fact. Esca has brought to my eyes the light of knowledge that all men, no matter what their practices or who their gods are, are men nonetheless.
Since our return to Hadrian's Wall, Esca and I have challenged ourselves to settle. Both akin to the adventurous lifestyles of warriors, our bodies, admittedly mine more than he, have reached that threshold where any extreme duress could be the last and lead to a broken body as I once feared I'd be.
That feeling of loneliness that used to accompany my broken fears has alleviated since my time with Esca. Just knowing that he is there with me, by my side in settlement, allows my heart to handle the static and stale life of a farmer so much more.
However now many years into the practice of farming I've found the life not at all as relaxing and boring as I once feared and now wished. Constant upkeep of the crops and the livestock keeps Esca and I running from sunup to sundown.
I find myself praying to the gods for a chance to relax, almost wishing upon my leg to give out as it once had. Those days when the pain is simply too much I find myself pushing harder than I would in battle. Esca never allows me to push too hard. His ever-knowing gaze keeps a watchful eye on my wellbeing, which in the end is a good thing because I alone find difficulty in stopping for mere pain or discomfort.
Esca knows of the body more so than any Roman doctor. His acute knowledge of how and where to press on my leg creates beautiful alleviations from my incredible pains that may flare at any time. Esca knows that pain is not a sign of weakness but a warning of impending failure and that avoidance of such relies in rest and rejuvenation.
A year ago almost to the day I learned of Esca's extent of knowledge of the body. It had been a particularly cold day, an early sign of a long and harsh winter. My damned leg had been reduced to a fury of pain, which had caused my mouth utterance of names and phrases one does not normally hear outside of military barracks.
Esca, the understanding and wonderful man he is, ignored my offensive language and obviously misguided anger. Though his knowing smirk at the time only enraged me further, I now laugh at the memory and I am pleased that Esca finds similar humor.
Ignoring my muttered curses, Esca's trained hands began to rub my leg slightly rougher than I was used to. Though the initial pain was greater, the reward of relief far surpassed the excess pain. I remember saying to him "Your wonderful hands I wish them all about my body." I fear that maybe paraphrase, but considering the mouth I had adopted that day, the censorship is likely a welcomed aspect.
Esca smirked again, this I remember clearly without such paraphrase. That smirk knowing and yet different he replied to my praise with, "You'd best be wary of what you wish as it can always threaten to come to pass."
With that mere joking threat I felt another new feeling, however unlike the added pressure, this sensation was better than anything I'd felt of the like and there was certainly no pain. Esca's wonderful, slender fingers slid up my tunic…
"WOAH!" Dr. Harrison slammed his hand against the table. "What the hell is going on here?"
Michael chuckled lightly knowing that Dr. Harrison hadn't expected anything like this.
Martin felt flush with heat from the scene he'd just seen painted in his mind. He'd allowed himself to become lost in this wonderful past world that he felt he had such a personal connection. The ability to read such texts in such a personal way had always been Martin's strongest ally in his historical studies and research.
"I'd say we had two lovers on our hands," Martin shrugged. "It was not uncommon for body slaves at the time to be used for sexual purposes, male or female. Sometimes even a slave would be freed so that the master and the freed slave could marry."
"This is going to be interesting to write about," Dr. Harrison shook his head pondering the book deals awaiting this find. "Okay, keep going."
Esca's wonderful, slender fingers slid up my tunic causing me to jump in fright. However we had both noticed my instant of hesitation, my second of desire shining through my worthless attempt to suggest that I had not been dreaming of a moment like this.
He limited this physical interaction to just his hands but the action was still no less beautiful. I had wondered if perhaps Esca had felt such feelings as I felt for him, but my fear had overcast my ability to ask or act.
I had feared when he was my slave that any attempt to further a physical relationship would come across as a command rather than an offer. Only once Esca had his freedom and yet still stayed strong by my side had I begun to consider exploring our relationship more.
At this point it seemed that Esca had felt some similar feelings as I. My mind, ever overthinking, was no exception that night as Esca had to sooth both my physical manhood followed by my mental stability. Even with my Roman birthmark, Esca still allowed me to love and returned with his own.
For a discharged Centurion with no mother and father, the idea that something like love could exist always seems a fool's notion. Even more so when that love is for a specimen like Esca, opposite in every way except for the one aspect society deems he should be.
That day was about love. A love unspoken, but a love acted upon in only a way that Esca could. He had always been one of actions and so few words. Perhaps that's why he and I are such a flush pair. And perhaps that's why I thought it pertinent to act a scribe and copy my life.
Even now, by the light of a small flame I write with only the sound of my quill scratching and the faint, but oh so beautiful rhythm of Esca's breathing in our bed a few steps away. He will be angry with me in the morning when I am not full of the sprightliness one garners from a full night of rest, but then again some nights it is his fault for our lack of sleep.
-Marcus Flavius Aquila
"This guy is funny," Dr. Harrison laughed.
"Wow," Michael breathed in disbelief. "This is incredible."
"You can say that again!" Martin smiled. He felt a surge of warmth from the words. Having always been a bit of a romantic Martin couldn't help but smile.
"Well old man, it's probably your bedtime!" Dr. Harrison joked.
"Eight o'clock is even a little early for me," Martin replied. "But I'd love more time with these scrolls."
"No problem. I'll leave them here. We'll be back tomorrow to finish up the translations of the other two," Dr. Harrison shrugged.
Michael's mouth fell agape at the interchanged he'd just witnessed. "Oh Michael," Dr. Harrison chuckled, "if there's anybody I truly trust on this planet it's Martin Asher. He'll take good care of them."
"Why thank you son," Martin was honored.
"Where's the ole' ball and chain?" Dr. Harrison asked as they made their way to the front door.
"Still at the bar, can't believe we still own that damned thing," Martin laughed.
"Jeez you guys are troopers," Dr. Harrison shook his head. "I'll be stopping by sometime for a round of drinks in celebration of the find.
"And you know it'll be on the house!"
