The moment they left the wall behind, everything changed.
The air was different.
The sky was different.
Marcus was different. Since seeing the beheaded, naked bodies dangling from the trees in the white light of the northern sun, his proud smile was gone. Esca saw his body tense, all his senses alerted to the most miniscule signs of any rogue warrior studying them.
Esca felt differently too.
Lighter.
The land was not so dissimilar from that of his father.
The woods were ancient but teaming with the life he had forgotten, stuck behind the walls of the villa of his oppressors.
His heart felt less heavy.
Would his gods be more prone to listen to his prayers, in such a free land, a place where he could leave Rome and her cruelty was behind?
Cruelty.
That word made him pause for a second.
He looked once more at the bodies dangling from the trees.
His first thought at the sight had been "serves you well, pay the price for the pain you caused. You didn't deserve these lands. You didn't deserve to live".
But then, for a moment, those bodies grew heads back.
And those heads were those of his brothers. And that of his father.
A cold shiver went down his spine as he rode ahead of Marcus.
Those dangling bodies were those of other men, men that had been following orders, chasing a dream they thought they had. There surely had been people destroyed at the news of their deaths.
The same pain he had experienced at the death of his family.
Who was he to say that they deserved to die, more than the warriors that had done that?
What did he even know of them?
They were not the butcher of a doctor that helped him through his recovery, not having even the good grace of giving him so wine to help him through the pain.
They were not the slave owners, with their whips.
They were not the one that had cut his ear.
They were not the fat man that torture him before sending him to the arena.
For what was worth, they might not have even been Romans. Esca was distantly aware that the Roman army had people from all over the world, taken from one place and catapulted in another, making them fight with the promise of citizenship for them and their children.
If they lived long enough to have children.
Stupid, stupid Esca, he thought. Your time as a slave has made you go soft in the head.
And yet he knew it was going to take a little while before forgetting the picture of his brothers' dead eyes dangling from the trees.
But he hoped that the spirits of the forest would listen, and he prayed.
I hope, wherever you are, that you find peace.
I will be with you soon. I will just finish this mission.
I will bring honour to you the only way I have left.
He didn't say a word to Marcus for the rest of the journey that day, knowing full well that it would have been better for the mission, for his plan, to put as much distance between the two of them as possible.
A distance that seemed to be increasing with each step they took.
He focused on moving forward, on enjoying the noises of the forest.
But he could feel Marcus's eyes on him as he studied the world around them.
What are you thinking about? Esca wanted to ask him. He could see Marcus looking, studying the land, filing things away for the time when he would need to make a strategy or something.
Like a good Roman soldier.
In that very moment, Esca had the clear perception of the chasm between them.
Are you assessing how barbaric the tribes are here, compared to your stupid, stupid scale of values?
Are those values even worth it, when people get caught in the crossfire between them?
He wanted to shout when the memory of his mother's last kiss washed over his pain.
Marcus was the one to break the silence Esca had been treasuring, when night fell, and they rested around a little fire in the most secluded area in the woods they could find.
Esca could have done with maintaining that silence. It was cold, so cold as he tried to make himself as small as possible within his clothes, somehow hoping to get more warmth out of them.
Oh, how he missed his father's roundhouse.
'You know, sometimes I dreamt I would find my father up here. That he survived in some hidden place'
Esca kept his face as stern as possible, hiding the way that comment had tugged at his heart.
He had those dreams too. They had tormented him over and over again, the illusionary images of Cunoval rushing in his chariot to come and save him, telling him that it had all been a nightmare.
That his brothers, his mother, the rest of his tribe and his future were not dead.
People get killed in the crossfire.
And hearts get shuttered.
He and a Roman shared the same pain. Something he had never thought possible.
'Is that why you are here? To find your father?'
Yes, please say yes. Tell me that you are as shuttered as me, he thought, hoping that the connection he thought they had established in that golden afternoon hadn't just been in his head.
'No. We are here to find the Eagle' Marcus replied, with the certainty of a Roman centurion, not that of a friend.
The certainty of someone who still thought the world was black and white.
Esca had to grasp all the restraint he had left not to jump at Marcus and punch him in the face.
How can you be so blind? Did you not see those dead bodies in the woods?
'How can a piece of metal mean so much to you?' he said, fearing his voice would shake too much.
Don't show him all these emotions of yours.
He wouldn't understand.
Marcus smiled, pride shining in his eyes against their little fire.
'The eagle is not a piece of metal. The eagle is Rome. It's a symbol of our honour. Every victory. Every achievement. Wherever the Eagle is, we can say, Rome did that'
Esca remained silent. What was there to say to that?
Marcus' worldview was one big monolith, like those of the stone circles he remembered seeing as a child.
Never moving. Never changing.
But Esca didn't challenge him. The idea of Rome was too tangled together with the memory of Marcus' father. He could perhaps show mercy on him and let him keep his delusional dream.
But that evening, Marcus seemed determined to drag all of Esca's anger out of him.
So, even though he could have just gone back to the silence they had been sharing, that bastard of a Roman went on to say:
'You wouldn't understand. How could you?'
Esca lifted his gaze then, staring at him for a moment.
For Marcus, he would only ever be a Barbarian.
For Marcus, they had nothing in common, even if he had told him about his losses.
He lowered his gaze back down to the fire.
Father, you made me promise something I don't know if I can keep.
Please, give me strength to protect this man from my own hatred.
So, he told Marcus his story again, hoping that drilling it in the stubborn Roman's head would help him understand.
He faltered a moment when it came to his mother's tale.
His graceful, indomitable mother brought down to her knees.
He remembered how she had smiled at him one last time.
Even in death she had not been as scared as he was.
'My father killed her before the legionnaires broke through. He knew what they would do to her' he said, spitting the words at Marcus.
Would you have done those unspeakable things to her too? You, the one taking time to thank a slave, would you have lost yourself in the frenzy of battle.
Blood turns men into beasts.
Marcus just stared back at him.
'Rome also did that'
Esca didn't think, called or curse Rome the goddess that night.
She didn't have any power here.
Just like Marcus didn't.
The silence, finally, returned.
The pushed forward. And forward.
He did try to make Marcus see reason. He advised him that five thousand men could indeed disappear in a glen.
And there were thousands of glens.
But Marcus' resolution continued to not waver, weighting his neck down like that damn, little wooden eagle he still had around his neck.
So, Esca decided to get comfortable. After all, the longer it would take for Marcus' strength to leave him and finally decide to march back, the longer he could enjoy the distance between him and the villa.
But right as he settled down to have something to eat during a midday pause, he felt his skin prickle.
He had heard the clear, distinct noise of someone movie around them.
And, as the trained hunter he was, he studied the forest without giving away that he knew.
Three warriors were hiding away in the dark forest behind Marcus.
If Esca hadn't been tensed enough, he would have laughed.
For all your Roman military training you have miserably failed to pick up on the presence of the rogue warriors right behind you.
'Don't look' he finally said.
Marcus stilled.
'There are three rogue warriors behind you. How many behind me?'
He had heard them.
'I don't see anyone'
Of course, you don't.
Funny how the barbarians have bested you.
'They' re there. Are you ready?' he said.
The next moment the fight started.
Adrenaline rushed all over his body, making him hyper aware of everything.
Allowing him to save Marcus, shooting an arrow just in time to kill a rogue warrior that had jumped out of the water.
But it didn't help him when he was attacked by a warrior that jumped out of the trees at his shoulders.
A rogue warrior that turned out to be nothing more than a child.
A scared, terrified child that looked away from Esca and Esca's weapon when he knew death would come to him.
Had the children of his own tribe looked like that when their time had come?
Another child caught in the crossfire.
Esca let him go.
And, a moment later, he saw his young body flop down, grounded by an arrow.
Esca took deep breath, trying desperately to calm down.
But he couldn't.
'Next time don't hesitate' Marcus said, showing the mercy of a killer by finishing the child.
Monster.
Monster.
The fire under his skin was alight once more.