Chapter 11

When Marcus awoke, the brilliance of light outside his window told him he had slept well into the morning. Some time in the night, he had become chilled, and had pulled a cover over himself, but now the heat of the day was such that he awoke feeling uncomfortably hot and thirsty. He flung the cover away from him, and swung his legs over the side of the bed, but when he looked around for water to drink, he found no jug by his bedside. For a moment, he sat there, rubbing his face in his hands and trying to clear his head of its sleepy confusion. Then he remembered the circumstances of the night before, and realised that Esca had not attended him since he sent him away, so the water in which he had washed the night before was still standing on the wash stand, and no drinking water had been brought for him.

'Esca.' He spoke quietly, wondering if his call would be answered and then, not bearing to wait to find out, he stood up, intending to go and look for him. Instantly, pain, sharp and unexpected, shot through the thigh in which he had been injured, so that he staggered and nearly fell to the ground. Instinctively he cried out 'Esca!' again, but already in that moment, the door had opened and Esca rushed in, wide-eyed and concerned. He ran to take Marcus' weight upon his shoulder as he had done so many times before. He must have been waiting outside the door, Marcus realised through his pain, and he felt a soothing balm of reassurance that Esca had been there for him even though he had sent him away.

Esca eased his master back on to his bed and anxiously dropped to one knee to examine the cause of the pain, wondering if, improbable though it seemed, Marcus had somehow reopened the wound. But the scar was pink and undamaged. His strong hands ranged over the muscle and felt the tight knotting beneath the surface. He looked up at Marcus with a reassuring smile.

'It's only cramp, rest easy while I massage it.'

At once his hands set to work rubbing and kneading at the contorted muscles, and Marcus flung his head back and gasped with the searing pain that this pummelling induced, but gradually, the Briton's ministrations began to take effect, and the knots unravelled, and the massage became gentler as he soothed away the pain. Marcus sat upright again and looked down at his slave, but Esca's head was bent forward as he concentrated on his work, and Marcus could only see the russet-brown hair and Esca's long white fingers kneading and stroking. Slowly, the pain diminished away to nothing but still Esca massaged on and Marcus let him continue, knowing it was no longer needed, but not able to tell him to stop. It was only when he saw for himself a sticky trace of last night's activity still on his thigh, and felt his cock twitch infinitesimally at the thought of Esca cleaning it off him, that he knew enough was enough.

He reached for the nearest cloth with which to cover himself and pulled his leg slightly away from Esca's touch.

'That will do,' he said gruffly, and Esca's hands snapped away at his curt voice, and he stood up quickly, eyes fixed on the ground in front of him.

Marcus cursed himself inwardly. He had not meant to sound so brusque, but the touch of Esca's hands so close to his manhood had taken him completely unawares, and he had acted hastily in order to avoid the embarrassment of an erection. If Esca had seen that, he would have known that Marcus longed for him in the same way that Placidus did. Marcus recalled Esca's abhorrence at Placidus' attentions, his disgust at the debauchery of Romans. He remembered Esca saying that for a master to use his slave for personal services dishonoured and debased the slave, and took away the very essence of him. Marcus knew he needed to convince the Briton that he was not a man to condone lasciviousness and immoral self-indulgence. But unbidden, the memory came into his mind of the night before when he had thought of Esca, rising from the river, and the thought had fuelled his arousal and led Marcus to the most exquisite pleasure he could remember experiencing in a long time. He wondered if Esca had seen the sticky trace on his thigh. It would have been one thing for Esca to have seen the spent seed, that was only natural, a sign of a healthy male, but for him to know that he had been the catalyst for that seed being spilt? no that could never be. It was imperative that he did not say or do anything now to suggest that he found Esca attractive or felt any pleasure in contact with him.

In any case, he could not forget that there was unresolved tension between them. This was Marcus' first sight of Esca since he had dismissed him the night before. For a moment, when the cramp had seared through him, he had needed his slave as he had needed him when he was an invalid, and that need had outweighed any underlying feeling between them, but the cramp had been only a temporary emergency and now it had passed. In the stillness that came upon them, Marcus felt the tensions of the previous night return, and Esca's stiff withdrawn stance told him he felt the same. The tension would have to be addressed, but not yet. He needed a moment to compose himself.

'Fetch me some food and water,' Marcus ordered quietly. 'I have clearly slept past the time when I might eat breakfast with my uncle so I will eat in here.'

Esca nodded and turned quickly to do his bidding without a word. When he had gone, Marcus sighed and stood up, carefully this time, though there was no more pain. He reached for a tunic and put it on and then walked to the small statue of Mithras that he kept in a niche in the wall and looked at it, wondering what to say to Esca when he returned.

He remembered the promise he had made himself, to treat Esca compassionately but firmly. He needed to win over Esca so that the Briton would never again doubt that his master was a man of honour and decency. The best way to do this was to behave as his father had encouraged him as a child, and then later, as his legion had taught him: with dignity, with fortitude, and above all, with discipline. He had to conduct himself, at all times, like the stoic and honourable Roman he had always believed himself to be; like the Roman Esca had admired and respected.

He wished he could tell Esca that he was safe with him, that Marcus felt guilty for the silent suffering Esca had undergone for his sake, and that he would always protect him and ensure no harm came to him, but such words would only be fitting from a man to his lover. They were not the words a stoic Roman soldier could utter to his slave. The act of protecting him would have to be enough, without the declaration of his feelings.

'Mithras, let me always be honourable in my dealings. Let me not bring dishonour to my family,' he implored in a whisper.

At that moment, Esca returned, carrying a tray of food and a jug of water. Marcus went back to his bed – he had no table to sit at – and allowed Esca to hand him a goblet of water which he downed in one go. Esca silently refilled the goblet and put it within easy reach on the little table next to the bed where he had also placed the food, and then stood to one side awaiting his master's pleasure, the very image of the perfect slave. Except that normally, when the two were alone together, Marcus did not demand such formality from his slave, and Esca did not give it. Marcus looked at Esca and noticed how drawn his face was, as though he had not slept at all that night. He wondered where he had been, and if he had been away from the villa all night, but he decided he would not ask. After all, he had sent the Briton away the night before, so he could hardly blame him for obeying. It was enough that Esca was back now. The silence between them, however, was unnatural and strained, and Marcus itched to break free of it. He looked up at Esca, words forming in his head as he did so, but the need to speak was taken from him by the Briton, who, no sooner had he caught Marcus' look, blurted out contritely:

'It is in my heart that I had not said what I did to the Centurion.' His eyes appealed to Marcus, imploring him to speak some words of compassion and mercy, to show that all was not irrevocably lost between them.

Marcus nodded his understanding.

'I know. I understand that you have been sorely tried by Tribune Placidus. It is he, not you, I hold to account for what happened between us yesterday.'

Marcus wanted to smile and tell Esca that he did not bear him a grudge, but to smile would be to show his feelings and at present he didn't trust himself to do that, so he maintained an air of cool detachment.

'I should not have allowed him to cloud my judgement,' Esca continued, chastened.

Again, Marcus nodded dispassionately, although behind his mask, he felt deeply affected by Esca's anxious contrition.

'The tribune has made fools of both of us,' he replied, allowing a little resentment into his voice. He reached for the bread Esca had brought him and bit into it moodily. 'I will see to it that he pays for it,' He thought about Placidus' superior status to his own and bit into the bread again, more savagely. 'Somehow.'

Esca was watching Marcus' face keenly and he read in it the vengefulness that the Roman was undoubtedly feeling.

'You must be careful,' he cautioned anxiously. 'The tribune is not a man to be crossed...'

'And I am?' Marcus demanded.

'No, I did not...'

'Let me deal with the tribune, Esca.' Marcus spoke dismissively, and his unaccustomed tone made the Briton recoil. Marcus berated himself internally. What was he doing? He did not mean to cut Esca dead in the way that he had, but because he could not allow his emotions free range, somehow all that was coming out of his mouth were cold and haughty words. Esca was doing his best to keep his expression blank, but he still looked anxious and ill at ease Marcus thought, and this was the very opposite of what Marcus wanted him to feel. In frustration, he tossed aside the barely eaten bread, drank some more water, and stood up.

'I am going to the bath-house,' he announced. 'Fetch me a clean tunic and my sandals.' He remained standing, waiting for Esca to pass him the things he had asked for, and Esca could not hide a look of astonishment that he was not being asked to simply bring the clothing along with him.

'Do you not wish me to accompany you?' he asked. Marcus knew the source of Esca's amazement. He could not recall ever going to the bath-house without Esca. If he used the public baths, he preferred Esca's touch to any of the slaves employed to attend the customers, and if he used his uncle's small baths as he intended to do today, the alternative to Esca was only old Stephanos, and only then if he was not engaged with his master, Aquila. Marcus had always complained to Esca that, before Esca's arrival, when Marcus had been obliged to be attended by Stephanos, the old slave had irritated him with his feathery light hands and trembling touch.

Marcus could not tell Esca that the reason he could not bear to have the Briton near him was because he was not sure he would be able to control his desires. It was as if a madness had come upon him overnight; as if, having inwardly admitted his attraction to Esca, and granted himself one moment of pleasure, he had opened a flood gate that could now not be shut again. Just the thought of Esca's strong hands rubbing oil into his skin, of his long fingers and thumbs probing every inch of his body while his hot breath ghosted above, was enough to make him aroused. He would have to learn to control his reactions but for now, he needed to be alone.

He shook his head.

'I want you to go on an errand for me. I noticed yesterday that Vipsania's bridle is becoming frayed. Take her into Calleva to have it mended.' Esca nodded gravely and handed over the tunic and sandals Marcus had asked for.

Marcus regarded him for a brief moment. It was hard being this way with Esca. He was accustomed to their easy fellowship and he did not enjoy keeping his distance. Esca was maintaining a carefully neutral expression, but Marcus felt sure that inside he was as uncomfortable as Marcus was. As the Roman headed for the door, he decided to make one small step towards a rapprochement. Looking over his shoulder, he said, smiling: 'Be back by noon and then we can go riding again.'

The radiance of Esca's fleeting grin told him it had been the right thing to do.