The wisewoman had told him to go away.

The old crone was certain that his brother was fine and just needed to rest.

She had insisted that he should go and rest himself too, that he was of no good to either his brother or the tribe as a whole if he was too tired to do anything.

They had come back from a hunt, and accidents happened during hunting trips.

It was not his fault.

Even his father had said it was not his fault. His brother should have been less reckless, especially when hunting boars. He had been told time and time again. This accident would actually do him good, maybe finally calming his fire down.

But Esca didn't pay attention to any of them. He was only vaguely aware of the wise woman shaking her head as she left the hut where they had brought him to rest.

They were alone now, and yet it almost felt more claustrophobic than before.

His eyes were not leaving his brother's face. Sweat covered his forehead and his brother seemed to shake, even under all the furs.

Fever was gripping him.

The crone said he was going to be fine.

But Esca had seen young men dying of fever, even when everybody had agreed that they were going to be fine.

Overwhelmed, Esca moved his eyes up to the top of the hut and, quietly, murmured a prey.

'Please, please' he whispered in the darkness, feeling his eyes burning.

He should have been more aware of the situation. That day he had let himself be too cocky, too self-confident, riding after his brother and that was the result.

And his brother's blood had covered the forest.

It was only fair that, if the gods required a sacrifice, they would take him instead of his brother.

'Take m'

'Esca'

A barely audible whisper made him jump out of his skin.

He turned to his brother. His eyes were open but unfocused and his breathing was wild.

'I'm here' Esca said, quickly taking a cloth the wisewoman had left behind for him and, wetting it in the water bowl next to the bed, started to pass it on his brother's face. Gently, he wiped away the sweat and the tears.

'Esca' his brother called once again.

'I'm here, keep your strengths, don't talk'

But he did, because, after all, stubbornness ran through the family.

'I'm sorry'

'Shhhh' Esca whispered, the only thing he managed to say.

He was tired. Destroyed.

But his brother was alive.

'You will get better. I promise you. And we will get our revenge on that stupid boar'

That brought a smile to his brother's face and he slept a little better for the rest of the night.

The day after, the wisewoman found Esca asleep, kneeling over his brother's bed.

The fever broke the day after.

But his brother still died three years afterwards, pierced by a Roman gladius.

And Esca didn't go on another boar hunt again.

The light of kindness and self-sacrifice was snuffed out of his chest.

Just like the ability to have a good night's sleep.

Because, ever since becoming a slave, Esca had learnt the importance of being a light sleeper.

Ever since becoming a slave, the slightest noise would wake Esca up.

A great skill to have, when you need to keep all your wits close to you, especially when your dominus is a violent, depraved man.

And, the night after Marcus finally woke up, the night when Esca thought he could finally rest a little bit more, it turned out to be the best of skills when attending to an injured centurion.

Because Esca woke up immediately from his pallet in Marcus' room the moment, he heard him moan one, simple, pained word:

'Father'

Esca stood up to check on his master.

Marcus was still asleep, but his face was covered in sweat and his hands were gripping the sheet. His teeth were grinding against each other.

For a moment, Esca just looked at him.

But the fire under his skin wasn't raging.

Maybe it was because he was boned tired, but, right there and then, his anger was tempered. Silent.

There was a man in that bed. A man in pain. And it was not only physical.

The fever was giving him nightmares.

'Father' Marcus moaned again.

And something tugged at Esca's heart.

Had he been calling for his father through the night as well, when his nightmare of a life started?

What has happened to you, Marcus? he thought.

No, dominus. Not Marcus. Remember that.

Yes, he did remember. It wasn't something you could forget.

And yet, the man on that bed didn't seem able to order Esca's death with just the snap of his fingers.

He looked like Esca himself, he thought, feeling himself blush. Like a man's whose past is still haunting him.

And, at that thought, a feeling that he thought his years as a slave had completely squashed from his chest, made its return in his heart. Instinctively, he took the cloth and the bowl of water next to it and, as gently as he could, went to wipe Marcus' face. Esca passed it on his forehead, wrinkled with far too many lines of worry for one so young. Slowly, he passed the cloth on Marcus' cheekbones and then a little further down, along his jawline and neck.

Then, he put the cloth away and he gently passed his own hand on the side of Marcus' face.

His touch was barely there, but he could feel the warmth of the other's skin. The softness under all the pressure.

Esca's breath itched for a moment.

The skin of his palm felt incandescent.

He hadn't been allowed to touch another with kindness in countless years.

He smiled when he noticed that Marcus' sleep seemed to have calmed down. In the stillness of the night, Esca then allowed himself to look at him, free from the anger, hate, and embarrassment that had been hot and alive between them.

The man in his care was handsome. For Roman standards sure, but also for the tribes.

For a moment, Esca allowed himself to imagine Marcus on a Brigantes' chariot, following him into battle. Stupid, pleasant dreams, he thought, looking up again at the man's face and

His whole body got paralysed by fear when he saw his master's eyes opening. It took a few seconds for them to focus, but then he seemed to recognise Esca.

Flee you fool, he told himself.

But he stayed.

Right that moment, there was nothing to fear from Marcus.

And he had more work to do.

'Are you in pain?' he asked.

He watched Marcus take several deep breaths. And then, he finally nodded.

Esca's practical mind then took over. He stood up, took the little jug with the smelly concoction the doctor had left, with the express instruction to only give it to Marcus if he was in pain, and came back to him.

'This stinks' he said, with as much amusement in his voice as he could master.

A warm feeling spread in his chest when he saw Marcus' attempting to smile back at him.

'And it tastes foul' Marcus muttered.

'Familiar with it, aren't we?'

'Far more than I would like' Marcus said, before making a face as Esca helped him up to take a sip of the medicine.

'Well, you know what they say, doctors are all out to poison us' he said.

What was he even talking about, he thought.

He wasn't sure. But talking, finally talking, was making him feel better.

And was clearly making Marcus relax.

'I always suspected as much' Marcus replied, as Esca helped him down once more.

'Try to rest a bit more now' Esca said, putting the jug away.

He was about to go back to his pallet once more when Marcus' hand closed on his wrist.

Esca looked at the hand and then up again to his master.

If they had been back in his land, if Marcus had been his brother or one of his friends, he would have immediately understood what that gesture meant.

In another life, he would have just sat back down on Marcus' bed, keeping watch on his sleep and dispelling the evil spirits of the night.

But they were men of their time. A Roman and a Briton in now Roman land.

Romans are monsters.

Esca's heart shut down again.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He is not your friend or your brother.

But he is my bond of honour.

'What are your orders, domine?'

If a moment earlier, Esca could have sworn that Marcus was about to ask him to stay close, to help him keep away the demons of the night, now he could see that even Marcus was back to his loneliness and pain.

Surely, he was about to tell him to go. He was dismissed or something.

But Marcus, once again, surprised him:

'Thank you'

Esca made a little nod with his head and stood up.

They had known each other for what, three or four days, and Marcus had already thanked him much more than any other Roman had done to him before.

Marcus had thanked him more than Esca himself had with Marcus, even though he had been the one to save his life.

Without looking at Marcus, he said:

'I will be close by'

Screw you Rome.

You might have thought you bested me, making me a slave to this man.

But you are wrong.

I will protect him because he is my bond of honour. Like my father said.

I will bring honour to my forebears by protecting him.

I am not doing this for you.

Marcus' health slowly improved and, soon, he started to be a little too fidgety to stay trapped in his cell, lying down on his bed.

Not that Esca could blame him. Esca's world had become much smaller, to just what was trapped by the walls of the villa. Marcus' one had turned into just the space of his cell for far too long.

'If you are that bored it means it's time to hop out' Esca said, realising, a moment too late, that maybe he had said too much.

His place was on the threshold, looking in, listening in, but never to speak. That was what he had been doing those days while waiting for Marcus to feel better, especially when he had to interact with the other slaves or with Marcus' uncle.

And yet, somehow, as they were alone in Marcus' cell, the words just poured out.

A little smile appeared on Marcus' face.

'I might need a little help standing up though'

Esca made a little nod and, silently, he moved to Marcus' side helping him up.

'You are very strong, for one so wiry' Marcus said, as he passed his arm around Esca's shoulders and they made their first, tentative steps towards the outside world.

Esca was pleased to see a playful grin on Marcus' face.

Esca grinned back, surprising himself that his muscles still knew how to do that.

'And you are quite heavy, for one so tall' Esca replied, only to realise that it didn't make too much sense. Considering how tall Marcus was, of course he was going to be heavy. They had needed two men to help out of the arena.

He was tall, broad and muscular.

Even after the time he had been away from the physical exertion of the army, he still had quite the presence.

He still had the body of a warrior.

'Are you saying I am going soft?' Marcus replied with that same playfulness still in his eyes.

'You started it, saying I am short'

Marcus laughed.

Esca liked the sound of that.

Stop it. Stop it.

You hate this man.

Remember that.

He has been sent to you by Rome to corrupt you, you should better remember that.

They sat together side by side, in the garden, enjoying what was, for once, a nice, sunny day.

'It rains so much here' Marcus said.

'Does it rain less in Rome?' Esca said. His tongue ached as he pronounced that horrid word, those two stupid syllables that made the name of Rome.

But, for whatever reason, he wanted to continue that conversation with Marcus.

He hadn't had a conversation with someone for so long.

'It rains differently. It rains in big, scary downpours from heaven, sometimes so strong that they seriously damage things and rivers overflow. Here it seems to rain more lightly, but for days, with a strange rain that doesn't seem to really wet you'

'Oh, trust me, if you stand in it long enough it does wet you alright' Esca replied, laughing.

He was the one laughing. Never before he had laughed with a master

What are you doing to me Marcus? I should not laugh with you.

'I will try next time I have the chance then' Marcus said, with all the solemnity of an important promise.

Could this man ever do things just for fun?

If he had been a friend or a brother, Esca would have given him a shove, told him to get off his mighty horse and relax a little.

But Marcus was not his friend or brother.

But, once again, Marcus surprised him by asking him:

'Once I am better, would you'

Then he stopped. Esca saw him frowning, unsure if to continue.

'Come on' Esca said, hardening his heart immediately.

What was he going to say? Was Marcus finally going to show his true colours as a Roman and order him to do something untoward?

'Would you like to come on a hunt with me? I hear that there are boars and deer around' he said, looking straight ahead of him.

You know you could just order me to come with you, Esca was about to say.

Rome, this doesn't make sense. Your son here doesn't make sense.

But Esca didn't say any of those things.

Instinctively, he smiled and said:

'Of course'.

That night, Marcus' leg, finally exercised for a bit, pained him greatly.

Esca's heart started to pound like mad in his chest when it became clear to him what to do. He remembered the doctor's instructions loud and clear:

'The moment he recovers from the fever and starts to move around again, the leg will need to be helped a little while it heals. You will need to massage it with his oil'

And the doctor had shown him what to do.

Esca had hoped, deep down, that it was not going to come to this.

But there they were, Marcus' expression was clearly pained once more.

And Esca was practical enough to know when things needed to be done.

'Take you braccae off' he said that night, right before Marcus could dismiss him.

'What?'

'Doctor's orders. I need to' Esca took a deep breath, looking down at the floor.

'I need to massage your leg to prevent pains and cramps'

He saw Marcus immediately blush.

'I thought we agreed that doctors are just trying to poison us' Marcus said

'But this one in particular did help your wound. Perhaps we should believe him' Esca said.

Don't make this even more strange than it is.

I am a warrior too, not a wise man.

But I want to help.

Marcus nodded. He was clearly incredibly uncomfortable, his whole body stiffening up as he took his braccae off.

He lied back down on his bed, looking at everything but Esca, as if he was trying to hide how burning his cheeks looked.

There was a time when Esca's emotions were always paraded on his face. Slavery had knocked that out of him.

While Marcus' heart was on his sleeves.

And, in a strange way, Esca found that endearing.

He put himself to work.

Maybe it was the smell of the oil. Maybe it was the feeling of touching Marcus' warm skin.

But Esca was certain that he was blushing too.

And, finally, Marcus was well enough to go out. He was walking by himself, he was able to go to town on his own.

Esca couldn't help it. He was proud of the work they had done together.

He was proud of the happiness he could clearly see in another human being.

And he was able to ride once again.

They woke up early, at dawn, and got the horses and the weapons ready.

Marcus had to be mad. He had to be.

Why was he giving weapons to a slave?

But Esca didn't ask, didn't complain, as the pleasure of riding away, the feeling of the powerful body of the horse beneath him and the wind in his face, overwhelmed him.

For a moment, it tasted of freedom.

For a moment, looking at Marcus, at the amazing rider that he clearly was, Esca was transported back to the hunts of his past.

For a moment, as the two of them chased a boar down, Esca felt home.

There was a little lake near the villa, and it was here that they decided to stop to take care of their prey.

And it was here that Marcus asked him about the ninth legion.

And about the eagle.

Esca made a joke at first, that the legionary had liked the weather in Caledonia so much that they stayed and married the women, which earned him a soft chuckle from Marcus.

But then, when he mentioned his tribe, Marcus asked:

'Your tribe?'

Esca's heart wouldn't stop pounding he looked back at Marcus with a challenge in his eyes:

'My tribe is gone'

What are you going to say now? Roman?

What are you or your precious eagle going to say now?

The fire roared in his ears, expectantly.

But Marcus didn't say a word. He simply looked away.

Which was a kindness.

No words could match what had been lost.

'My father's name was Cunoval'

A knot formed around his stomach.

It was the first time in all his years as a slave that he was uttering his father's name out loud.

For a moment, in that golden afternoon, the ghosts and the memories were coming back to life, dancing on the surface of the water.

He could feel Marcus' gaze on him as he told him about his brothers' death. And about his mother's sacrifice.

'I alone of all my kin survive' he said, with throat burning as he said those words.

He should have died that day.

He should have died in the arena.

Why was he still alive when they had all gone beyond? He was a shame to his father's name.

When he knew that Marcus had averted his gaze once again, Esca turned to him.

Do you understand now? Do you understand my pain?

Nobody had before.

But maybe Marcus could.

'I am sorry'

Marcus said, looking straight at him.

Esca's words died in his chest.

Marcus was Roman.

Marcus had said sorry to him.

Esca knew it wasn't enough.

It would never be enough.

But Marcus hadn't been there on that day in the fields. Marcus was a killer. But, in a way, so was Esca.

Esca nodded.

Suddenly, he felt he need to move, change the subject.

Leave the ghosts to rest again.

'The hunting was good'