Third Scroll

There was something about that third scroll. Martin was almost afraid to open it. Downstairs the front door opened and shut. A hushed whisper came up from the bottom of the stair, "Honey, I'm home."

Martin was about to reply when he unraveled the third scroll. The first thing he noticed was the small blots of ink. They were letters that had been obscured by drops of water. Too sparring to be rain but too spread to be a simple spill. He'd forgotten his intent to answer his love.

I fear this to be my last opportunity to write. When one nears that old age the world is witnessed through such a wonderfully different point of view. It is impossible to describe without having lived a lifetime. Much like knowing everything will end, but not fearing it as the young do.

I've been thinking, perhaps we all have lived a lifetime, by chance maybe we experience life over and over we just forget our past in our infancy.

Lucius, you have made your father and I so proud. I must speak for my dearly departed Esca, however I know how he felt. He, like I, could not be more proud of the man you've become. It saddens me that Esca was never able to meet your beautiful daughter. She is an absolute blessing as is your simply magnificent and stunningly beautiful wife.

I may rest easy in my old age knowing that there is a loving family inhabiting this farm and by this crazy ride that we call life it turns out that my own son and his wonderful family will care for it and allow it to continue on for years past my time.

Martin smiled. A clang from the kitchen followed by a hushed, "Shite!" Made him chuckle. He was never good in the kitchen. Sure in his heyday he could mix a mean drink, but the kitchen managing had always been Martin's doing. Martin would go down and help him when he finished reading.

Permit me a short trip through my life's happiest memories, my son. When I ponder as to the happiest moment of my life I nearly always start when I was little. Happiness then equated to happiness from ignorance. Not knowing of the darkness is the easiest defense from it. My father's death, though disappearance at the time, was enough to open my eyes. Even with said ignorance, however it still is not my fondest memory.

My time as a Centurion, though filled with honor and pride could not be considered as in old age, like those of few years, the idea of war and killing seems an unnecessary notion.

Then something wonderful happened. The first time I saw my Esca was a moment I will remember until my last day. I did not care for the games held in Calleva and I did not particularly want to be there on that day. However my uncle ever wanting to cheer me up decided it was the proper medicine to my ailment of depression from my early discharge.

At least at the games I felt the slightest bit of adrenaline that I always felt in battle. When Esca appeared with only his trousers and a measly sword and shield I used such adrenaline as an excuse for my heart's unusual thumping.

Once Esca had proven he would not beg for his life I could not hold my tongue any longer. This in fact was the first time I ever professed my love for your father. However I did it in such a way that disguised my feelings from everyone around me and even from myself. I took his life in my hands and begged and urged for his savior. By the gods it was so.

Of course there were times later when I may have seemed happier. Even days where I legitimately believed I was. In the end it was that day that will live on inside me as the happiest memory I would have because I chose to display my heart and win my love. Such strength and bravery can never be measured on a battlefield in armor, that I know to be the truth.

"Jesus," Martin breathed. "These guys had it rough there for a while."

Love is such a mysterious thing. I do not kid myself, nor did your father ever truly hide from me, the fact that our initial relationship was one of disdain and requirement on your father's side.

I just thank the gods that I was able to turn that into what we have today. We together turned that. Despite my Roman birthmark as the Britons would call it. That scar from under my chin. That scar Esca never possessed. That scar that alerted us to your namesake's true identity. That scar Esca never allowed to affect our love and devotion to each other.

Martin rubbed underneath his own chin, curious that he'd have a birthmark in a seemingly similar place.

It was one year ago and a handful of moons that Esca's recently smoothed road came to an end. I haven't wept as I did that day since my own father's disappearance. I would venture to say I possibly cried more tears than ever before. The unimaginable loneliness I felt consumed me and I allowed darkness to overcome my entire existence. However, after those first few hard days without him, I realized, that he was still with me in you.

And I thank the gods everyday.

And if we do live multiple lifetimes like I had suggested so many years ago, I will spend each and every lifetime searching for my Esca, as I know now that I am not one whole human being, but a half. And for a full and complete existence all I must do is find my better one. And he is Esca.

-Marcus Flavius Aquila

Martin was so overcome with emotion. No translation had ever affected him like this before. A single tear slid from his wrinkled cheek and splashed silently on the scroll. A small blot of ink morphed from the single letter the tear had struck. As Martin silently cried, careful now of his teardrops, he realized what those blots of ink were.

They were the tears of a Centurion. Marcus Flavius Aquila, crying as he wrote the memory of his lost love Esca. His lost love that he knew he'd find again in another life.

"Oi, you're up?" Allan said in the doorway of the study. "Why are ya cryin?"

Martin looked up from the scroll. Allan, beautiful Allan. Seventy-three years had been good to the man who still ran the family pub. Beautiful Allan who'd ignored Martin's very American existence even though he was treading on British land, digging up their past as he'd joke.

"Esca?" Martin said standing from his chair staring into the eyes of his lover of over fifty years.

Allan returned a puzzled stare. "Is that Latin or something? Have I heard it before?"

Martin slowly made his way to his husband, still crying though no longer considering the third scroll. Instead he considered this: He considered that Marcus Flavius Aquila had in fact been right. We spend each and every reincarnation searching for our true perfect fit.

Martin placed a hand on his Allan's cheek, "I love you so much."

"Aye, and I love you," Allen or Esca replied.

Martin could only smile. Martin or perhaps Marcus Flavius Aquila could only smile.