A shorter chapter, it is chapter 9's twin, only this time it follows the thoughts and actions of Esca.

Chapter 10

In the stillness of the night, Esca returned from the forest and crept back into the villa. All the household was asleep and he stole silently along the moonlit colonnade, keeping to the shadows even though there was no-one awake to see him. At Marcus' room, he paused for a moment, but no light showed under the door and there was no sound within to suggest that his return was anticipated. The hunter in Esca took in one long silent breath, and then, noiselessly, he eased the door open and looked in.

Marcus lay asleep on his bed, bathed in the soft opaque luminescence coming through the high window. He was lying on his back, naked and uncovered; his self-gratification before sleep took him was evidenced in the way his legs were splayed in total abandonment, his cock lay flaccid on his thigh, and one hand rested near it on his hip. His face was turned away from the light so Esca could not read his expression, but his deep regular breathing told of a contented sleep. Esca gazed at him for a while, his troubled soul soothed by this scene of serenity and repose. When he had last seen Marcus, the Roman had been furious with him, and Esca had left with his rage and animosity ringing in his ears, and had dwelt on them ever since. It was a relief then to see that Marcus had not remained agitated but had reached a point during the evening when he had relaxed enough to pleasure himself and finally sleep.

Nevertheless, Esca did not feel that he should stay in the room now that he had returned. True, his pallet was against the wall, and this was his usual sleeping place, but he was conscious of the fact that Marcus had sent him away, and he needed his master's reassurance that he welcomed his return before he would impose himself upon him again. In the morning, when Marcus was awake, Esca would know his state of mind and be able to act accordingly, but until then, it was not right to assume he still had the Roman's acceptance.

Noiselessly then, he turned and left the room, and stole silently to the slave quarters where he knew a spare pallet lay in Stephanos' room. The old man was a light sleeper, but Esca was even lighter of foot, and he easily made it to the pallet without disturbing the steady rumble of Stephanos' snores. This room faced in a different direction to Marcus', and the window was smaller, so the moonlight did not shine directly in and consequently, the light here was fainter and greyer. Esca, though, was accustomed to no light at all, and again had no difficulty removing his sandals by touch alone, and then lying down to sleep.

But sleep did not come. Although he had hunted all day in the energy sapping heat, his argument with Marcus – the first time they had seriously fallen out with each other, and certainly the first time Marcus had sent him away – was sufficient to keep his mind racing and thus preclude all chance of sleep. Of course, he had known this would be the case. It was one of the reasons he had stayed away all evening and deep into the night; he knew he would not be able to rest. The other reason he had been gone so long was his need to be away from the Roman world in order to truly understand how he felt about returning to it. So he had walked into the forest and sat against a fallen tree and watched the moon rise, while he thought about Marcus and went over in his mind the argument that had led to the breach in their relationship.

When he had thought about what had been said, one thing was clear to him. They had both misjudged each other but Marcus had more excuse than Esca. Marcus had thought he had welcomed Placidus' advances, but how he was to know differently given that Esca had kept so silent about the matter? Placidus, after all, was not an unattractive man. He was young, he had a grace and subtlety of movement that men might consider attractive, his features were strong and manly. He was a powerful tribune from a good family, with a bright political future. Many a lowly slave might consider he had fallen on his feet to find himself noticed by one such as Tribune Placidus. Of course, Esca would sooner have died in a ditch than become a Roman's plaything, and he had thought Marcus had known that, but he had to admit, his lack of protestation once Placidus began hounding him could be construed in a different way.

On the other hand, Esca's misjudgement of Marcus had been inexcusable. How could he have thought Marcus would condone a Roman forcing himself on a slave? Marcus, whose first action towards Esca had been to save his life, whose over-riding mission was to behave at all times with honour and justice, who constantly showed compassion towards those beneath him, and who led by his own good example and sense of duty. Esca had always hated Rome and had believed, as he lay captured and bound after his tribe's defeat, that all Romans were depraved, rapacious and malicious people. He had never imagined he would ever find one he genuinely honoured and admired, and yet fate had brought him to Marcus, and he realised now that honour and admiration were only part of what bound him to him.

They were inextricably linked, like the moon and the stars, Esca had thought as he sat on the forest floor and looked in wonderment at the night sky. No, closer than that, he had corrected himself; like two wolf cubs born in the same litter. They shared emotional and physical bonds. Both of them were hunters and warriors. Both were orphans; Esca's parents, and Marcus' father each taken in battle by the other's countrymen. Both had been injured and brought low by the enemy; Marcus physically, Esca through slavery. Both were highly principled men who placed their honour even above their bonds of family and culture.

But Esca had then realised something he had not considered before. Until recently, Marcus had depended on him and he had been the stronger of the pair, nurturing his master through illness and infirmity, but now the balance had altered between them. Marcus no longer needed Esca in the same way, as his physical health and strength were being restored to him. Esca, on the other hand, through Placidus, had become vulnerable, and the only thing that could protect him from Rome was another Roman: Marcus. Vulnerability did not sit easily on Esca's shoulders, but he knew he had to accept that, although he had been raised to fend for himself, he was no longer living within the Brigantes tribe but in the Roman world, and in that world, he was no longer the warrior son of a chieftain, but merely a slave, the lowest of the low. It was a different world with different rules, and he could see that the protection of Marcus was both valuable and important to him. So their bond was closer even than that of sibling wolf cubs, who would eventually separate to lead packs of their own. He and Marcus were bound for life, needing each other to overcome their physical and emotional injuries, and Esca needing Marcus' protection. It seemed to him that they depended on each other as mistletoe depended on the oak trees growing in his native lands of Brigantia, and, in the same way that mistletoe thrived, each man thrived from contact with the other.

Esca was surprised to find he enjoyed the thought of Marcus' protection. True, he had been brought up to be a warrior, reliant on his wits, strong, courageous, his own shield and protection, but there was surely no weakness in needing the protection of others at times. Even his father, the great Cunoval, bearer of the blue war-shield and lord of five hundred spears, would return from the hunt or battle to Esca's mother, and accept her loving ministrations and sleep in her arms at night. Esca had been too young to take a woman before he had been wrenched from his tribe, but on cold nights, he and his brothers, and his young brothers-in-arms, had curled up together under wolf skins, like cubs under the pelt of she who brought them into the world, each protecting the other with their body heat. In the hunting grounds and on the battle fields, they had looked not just to their own safety but to that of their brothers-in-arms also, and there was honour to be had in both affording protection to a comrade and accepting it. So even strong warriors could accept protection. As he had welcomed the shared body heat and shields of his brothers-in-arms, so he could accept the protection afforded him by Marcus' status within the Roman world.

As the moon reached its zenith, however, Esca fretted that, through his lack of trust for Marcus, he might have lost the Roman's protection, and ruined the only relationship that now gave meaning to his life. What if Marcus now decided he did not wish to retain his services? What would happen to Esca then? He had long ago decided, that if Marcus ever sold him - it did not matter who to - he would find a means to kill himself. Hopefully, as an honourable man, Marcus would first return to him his father's knife which Esca had given to him as a sign of his bond, and he would use it to slit his own throat. But even if Marcus did not return the knife to him, he would not wait for death to claim him as he had done in the arena; he would hunt death down like he had hunted boar with Marcus, and when his predatory skills had brought his chase to a successful conclusion, he would turn from predator to prey and allow death to take him. It was at this point, when his thoughts became so desperate that they turned to death, that he realised he was being foolish. He should not think about Marcus selling him. They had only argued in the heat of the moment, and Marcus was not one to react carelessly. He would return to the villa and be constant in his service, and all would be well between them.

And so it had come about that he had returned to the villa and now lay on the pallet in the slave quarters, contemplating a new day and renewed service to his master. He had come to Marcus as a slave, but he knew that the feelings he had for the Roman were more than a slave usually feels for his master. Sometimes, when he had been a Brigantes warrior, curled up with his brothers-in-arms under a pile of wolf skins, more than body heat had been shared. Sometimes fingers had strayed on to bodies, arms had encircled torsos, legs had become entwined, hands had clasped semi erect shafts and comfort and pleasure had been given and received. Esca missed these moments of intimacy and wondered what it would be like to share them with his master.

Marcus had not shown any sign of being attracted to Esca, but Esca couldn't help feeling an attraction for Marcus. Over the time that he had served the Roman, he had grown to know every inch of his body, and when his mind was not clouded by foolish apprehensions, he recognised in Marcus a man of the highest principles. He was someone Esca could admire for both his physical and mental qualities. He thought about his body again, of how he had looked tonight in the cool moonlight, lying sprawled and abandoned and sated. He thought of all the times he had massaged that muscled torso and those sinewy legs, always careful to avoid the area in between. He wondered what it would be like to touch Marcus freely, to run his hands over his taut buttocks, to grasp his hips firmly, to let his fingers drift into the crevices where his legs met his groin, to cup his balls, and finally to slide his hand up the hard smoothness of his throbbing shaft. Unconsciously, he mirrored the movements on his own body, until he became aware of what he was doing, and felt the ache of longing in his groin. The moon had long since set leaving complete darkness in the room, but now Esca could see a faint grey square marking the window high in the wall. It was the coming of dawn; Esca had been awake throughout the night. He glanced down, and in the dimness could see his cock standing erect beneath his tunic. It would not do to have Stephanos wake and see him in this state. Already the older man's breathing was becoming shallower, and Esca guessed that years of rising with the dawn would mean that he would soon be awake. Urgently, he reached down and began to tug at his manhood, stroking and pulling it, willing himself to find relief but feeling nothing but intense longing and unobtainable desire. Finally, as Stephanos began to stir, Esca whispered to himself 'Marcus!' and the name was enough to bring his climax spilling out of him in a hot desperate spurt.