A few hours later, the sound of galloping hooves came from down the legionary road just as Octavius was walking back from the hospital block, and he stopped by the front gate to await the messenger who hopefully carried with him the message he so desperately needed. The auxiliary, who was on his usual messaging duty, smiled as he handed the fort's general a sealed tablet and a slip of papyrus.
"Is that all?" Octavius asked, forcing a smile on his face. He was so anxious to see what had been written, that he hadn't realized he'd been frowning.
"Yes, sir. For you, at least. I have messages for a few soldiers." The rider replied, saluting.
"Good, then. Carry on."
As soon as the man had left, Octavius stole a chance to run to the commanding office, and shut the door behind him. His heart beat faster with anticipation, his fingers fumbling to undo the seal and tie and his eyes straining to read the words that would spell life or death for so many men. The seal finally split, and he opened the two tablets, reading over each, his mind processing every word as if each were a life hanging on the edge of a sword blade.
To the General Octavius G. Caesar of the XIII, XII, XI Legions….
He jumped to the next paragraph. He could skip formalities.
It has come to the attention of the Senate that you are facing the most difficult of threats along the border wall where you are stationed…
Why was that in there? He hadn't asked about that.
…..and we intend to send you reinforcements.
Fantastic, he thought, annoyance flooding through him. More men is just what I need. He read on, and found what he was looking for.
As to the matter of prisoners, we the Senate would like to know why you take men of the opposing side alive in the first place. It makes little sense, since all our other generals do not. If they continue to cause trouble, we the Senate suggest that you, the general promptly execute them at once. If you are unable to, we will gladly take them and execute them ourselves. Thank you for your concern. We also have decided to arrive for our monthly tour of your base in one week's time...
For a moment the general's breath caught in his throat, and he dropped the tablet at his feet. In hindsight it may have been an overreaction, but the fact that he had been sending men to their deaths without knowing for so long was horrifying. After a moment's shock, he quickly gathered up the clay tablets, and ran from the room, heading across the exercise ground to the prison block. He had not expected to quite literally run into Marcus.
"Omph!" Came the sound of losing breath from Marcus as he stumbled and tripped, landing on his side while his helmet rolled off.
"Marcus!" Octavius exclaimed, quickly helping him up. It had been a misty morning, and the ground was wet and muddy, and the poor Centurion had landed right in a puddle of it. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I am fine, Sir," Marcus replied, flicking the goppy mud off his armour and cape. He bent down and picked up his helmet, hesitating to put it back on as is was dripping with mud. With a sigh he began wiping it away with the cleanest part of his cape, placing it gently back on his head before looking at Octavius. "Why the hurry, Sir?" He asked.
"I have gotten a letter from the Senate," Said Octavius, moving to reach the prisoners' quarters. Marcus followed.
"Did it answer your question, Sir?" He asked.
"Pardon?"
"The Senate, Sir?" Marcus asked, puzzled.
"Yes, yes, Centurion. I sent a letter to the Senate, and they answered my question."
"But, why-"
But before the Centurion could finish his sentence, the general opened the door to the prison block, and entered, closing it behind him as he did so. That had been close. Though a trustworthy man, Marcus was, he wasn't ready to confide in him about the roughly formulated plan he'd made. He wanted to work out the details before he told him, if he told him. The conversation over breakfast earlier that day had been quite disappointing, since the general had hoped his Centurion would understand. But apparently he didn't, so it would be a while before Octavius disclosed any information.
Wrapping his cape tightly around his shoulders against the coldness of the building he needed to have that fixed, he set his gaze on the door at the very end of the hall which was his destination. He had made it a point to ignore the men around him, for fear of losing his courage and abandoning the idea he had. Though terribly rude, he reminded himself it was for their sake and carried on. He failed to notice the studying eyes of one of the prisoners trained on the tablet he held.
"Jedediah?" Octavius whispered into the dim room as he opened the door and slipped inside. When he didn't see the cowboy prisoner, his heart began to race. Had he escaped? Was he hiding somewhere, waiting for him to step into the open before slitting his throat? Movement from the corner startled him, and he jumped before regaining his composure and standing rigid, choosing to ignore the almost overwhelming feeling of relief. He smiled a greeting.
"Can I help ya?" The cowboy asked, turning to face the Roman. His were full of confusion,and what seemed to be subtle joy.
"Indeed you can," Octavius replied, walking over to the small chest and setting the tablets down. Jedediah watched curiously.
"What's with the artifacts?" He asked, glancing up at his company.
"They are not artifacts, they are documents.
For a moment there was an amused look on the cowboy's face, and he chuckled slightly. "You know im America we use paper," He said, smiling goodnaturedly.
"Well papyrus, what we call our paper, is hard to come by one campaign. So we must settle for this." Octavius replied. " Now. Remember what I discussed with you last time, the plan I had to free you and the others?"
Jedediah nodded, but didn't speak. Secretly, he was still unsure of the sanity of the plan. He listened as the Roman read everything, word by word, written on those slabs of clay. When he had finished, the cowboy had found himself in confusion, and stared up at the Roman.
"So...my boys are killed, then?" He asked, his voice a lot softer than it normally was.
Octavius nodded forlornly, and sighed. "Both our sides are at fault in their ways of punishment. But now that we know, we can begin formulating a plan of action. I have a rough idea, but I would like to share it with you first."
The cowboy thought for a moment before nodding, eyes blazing with a ferocious courageousness matched by nothing else.
Octavius began with the plan.
"We must keep this operation a secret. We cannot afford the information we share to drift into the wrong ears." He said, sketching roughly on the wall with a piece of coal he'd taken from the brazier in his quarters.
"Can we trust your men?" Jedediah asked, staring with an intrigued yet slightly worried expression.
"Yes," Octavius replied rather coldly. He was defensive of his men's status as loyal and trustworthy. "They are trustworthy. Yours?"
"Trust is our honor. We vow it to our flag...er, standard, you would call it."
"Good. Now. I believe we should do this slowly, as to not arouse suspicion. If we can get at least five men a day out, then we should have all of them freed by the time the Senate come to inspect the camp." Octavius explained, gesturing to the marks he'd made on the wall. There were thirty five total.
"Which is in...?" Jedediah questioned.
"Seven days. They will come to inspect the camp and make sure all is in order. They will inspect the prisoners' quarters, and I will tell them you were all executed." While saying this, the Roman circled the the marks into groups of five and labeled them with the number of days.
"And, if they don't believe you?" Jedediah asked, slight concern in his voice. His eyes betrayed nothing.
Octavius was silent for a moment, praying to all the gods he knew it wouldn't come to that. "Then I will have to face the charges."
Silence settled between them, and they not succumbed to a silent sense of dread as their mind raced with lights about the possible punishment. Though the cowboy knew quite well the consequences of those punishments, he could never imagine the horror.
"We should...change the subject." Jedediah suggested, shifting uncomfortably.
"Agreed." Octavius replied grimly, his face etched with a frown. "We will need someone on the inside, preferably one of your men, to meet at a specific rendezvous point and lead them back to your camp."
"I know someone who can do that," Jedediah said, a slight smile on his face.
"Right, then." Octavius said, scribbling out the drawings on the wall. "I should be going. If there is anything you need..."
"Please," The cowboy whispered, a sincere look on his face. "You've done enough for me."
With a nod, Octavius turned, and prepared to leave the room, when Jedediah's voice once again came from within. There was a quick shuffling in the cell he was in front of but he didn't notice is.
"Yes, Jedediah?"
"May I...may I keep the light?" Jedediah asked, his eyes slightly pleading. "I-it's so dark at night..."
With a small nod Octavius once again entered the room and placed the torch in the silver holder. He could see the relief in the cowboy's eyes, and realized he really had been frightened of the dark. With a last nod goodbye he turned and left the room, leaving the prison blocks for the warmth of his own room, and some much needed sleep.
He did not see the eyes staring with malice after him.