Brothers

Esca loved the river by Marcus's Uncle's house. It reminded him of the rivers of his child hood, the one that had run just past his encampment.

Marcus was trying to teach him how to fish like the Romans did, civilized like, but Esca had shaken his head and told Marcus he could easily catch more than him. That had led to a challenge, which had led to Esca casting off his tunic and leaning over into the river, waiting patiently for a fish.

Marcus spoke softly when he asked him, "Those lash marks? Did you get them - "
"In the fight pens? Aye. Everything but the cut I got there."
He knew Marcus was looking at his back, at the scars that ran along it from a whipping, a brutal one, at the brand that had marked him a slave for so long. The cut was an old rune, with woad rubbed in, in his people's style. He told Marcus, "That cut makes me a man among my people."

"Where are your people?"
He shook his head. Sat up to look at Marcus, who was also neglecting his fishing, telling him, "I am the last of my father's line."

"You had no brothers?"
He cocked his head, wondering how to say what he meant without hurting the centurion. Marcus was still a soldier at heart, and Esca was careful, saying, "They died when the lines broke. They had me between them - "
Marcus didn't make him go on, instead asking, "What were they like?"
"Kell was like my mother. He had her hair. She was dark, and slight. Cai, well - " He stopped a moment, considering, "Cai was much like you."
Marcus dipped his head at the compliment, then told him, "I wonder sometimes, about my father."
"Oh?"
The roman sighed and cast his fishing rod aside, "He was the perfect Roman. And I'm – not."
That made him laugh. Marcus seemed peeved but he couldn't help it. Once he'd gotten his breath back he told him, "You traveled past the wall to get back a piece of metal that you didn't even get to keep. How much more Roman can you be, Centurion?"
Marcus shook his head, "I consort with Britons."
"Ah yes. That's frowned upon, you know."
Marcus sighed, then told him, "My father's name was Marcus."
"Mine was Cunoval."
"He was a war chief?"

"Ai. Lord of three hundred spears."
"Is that much, among your people?"

He had to smile, "Ai. We are not like you Romans. My brother, he would have been the lord of six hundred, if our boys had lived to be warriors."

Marcus looked infinitely sad, and Esca laughed, "It is not your fault centurion. You cannot help being born."
Marcus laughed at that too, then said, "We should go back."
"Ai." He called Cub to heel and helped Marcus to stand, then said, "Your uncle will say we've been larking off all day."
"And what's wrong with that. It's summertime Esca. The whole world is larking off."
Esca couldn't help it. He smiled, told Marcus, "You would have fit in well with my people."