The night was calm and quiet, with no sounds above the gentle tapping of soldiers' hobnailed boots on the walls as they paced silently, like ghosts in the soft moonlight. It was like a peaceful scene from a painting. It was almost too calm.
Once again, the General Octavius was having a restless night. He had tried to rest, but his mind refused to let him settle down. Recent events were the cause of his sleeplessness. His mind was still dwelling on the events of the evening.
The old man the cowboy had brought with him was somewhat of an excitement. It meant that the plan could go on. Yet, although the man had agreed to aid him in his mission, Octavius had not yet explained the plan to him.
It would be very dangerous, to everyone involved. If the man Wyatt was caught aiding a Roman, his people would stand against him. The same went for Jedediah. He was one of the Westerner's military leaders. If he was caught, there would be terrible consequences for him. Even worse, if the two Westerners were taken by his superiors, they would surely face execution. The Roman general would not be able to handle such guilt.
There would be consequences for him, too, if the plan failed. He would be stripped of his rank. Taken to stand before the Senate. And, eventually, executed as well. The stakes were high for them all.
With a heavy sigh, he turned onto his back, and closed his eyes. He tried to picture his old childhood home. The little family farm with the olive trees, and the small pond with the geese, and the horse stables…..he missed it all. He missed the simplicity of being young. Of being free from the burden of decision and consequence. When he had no responsibilities, and the worst punishment was missing a night of his mother's delicious pork and olive soup.
Without really realizing it, he began to think about how quickly all of that had been taken away from him. Learning that his father had been appointed governor of one of the far provinces, having to move to the city, going to school with the children who had been rich their entire lives….
He smiled as he thought about his days a student. It had been rough, yes, but worth the effort of learning what he needed to know to get through life.
But then, he saddened as he recalled the day he learned of his father's passing. That was always a thought that upset him. As a child, he tried to act like it did not bother him. He tried to show his strength and bravery. But, unlike the toy armor he would wear while playing with Marcus, his young heart had not been as protected.
The depressed mood and sadness abruptly disappeared as he smiled. He recalled all the adventures he and Marcus had embarked on. He remembered their last adventure, before the burdens of adulthood befell them.
They had both been nineteen at the time. He and Marcus had been studying abroad in Greece. They were studying the great literatures of past Roman historians. Things that he had found interesting, but Marcus had not. He specifically remembered one night, after a long session of reading and studying, Marcus suggesting they go to one of the local resturants in the area on their way home.
He had never been one for eating out or partying, as reflected upon him now in his adulthood. He had always preferred to go back to the little, one room apartment they had been renting, for a quiet evening of reading. But that night, he had decided to go with his keen friend. So they went. They ate and stayed there for a while, talking and laughing good naturedly, when there evening was interrupted.
Three men had walked in, all of them large and muscular beings. Both Marcus and himself had recognized who they were. The leader of the men, who he recalled was named Alcindor, had been one of the children who enjoyed beating on him as a child. Memories of humiliations had flooded his mind, and he had risen to his feet to go back to the apartment.
But, Marcus, being the troublesome young adult he was, had pulled him aside to share his plan of vengeance. Marcus had met a couple of girls while off at the counter, and asked them a favor. He asked for their clothes, so that himself and Octavius could use them as disguises.
Octavius couldn't help but laugh softly to himself as he remembered his disgust. Having to wear the stola and dress of a lady had been rather embarrassing, and probably more humiliating than anything Alcindor had ever done to him. But, Marcus had reassured him of the plan. It was their only chance at vengeance.
So, he and Marcus left and began flirting with the three men. Afterwards, after agreeing to go home with them, home with them, they revealed their identities, much to the horror of them men, said a few words of victory and ran off, dresses lifted.
Definitely not my most shining moment. Octavius thought to himself, unable to stop smiling. But, still, it was one of the funniest things I have ever done.
Thinking about this past adventure made Octavius' mind drift to thoughts of Marcus. The man who was now his First Centurion had changed over the years. After joining the army, his attitude had softened. He had become more careful; more cautious and alert. He seemed to have very little humor left. He was not fun anymore. He was instead a serious, observant man who took his job very seriously.
Everything Octavius had hoped he would become, but now he wished Marcus had not changed.
With a sigh, Octavius sat up and gazed out the window by his bed. The third watch was about to be sounded, Marcus' century's watch, and he decided he should take a short stroll about the camp. He put on his standard military tunic, and opened his door.
"Marcus!" He exclaimed in surprise, staring at the man who had been standing at his door.
Marcus' fist had been raised as if he had been about to knock, and he slowly lowered his hand and stared back at his General. "I...sorry. I did not mean to disturb you."
"You are not disturbing me." Octavius said tiredly, offering a small smile. "I was on my way to see you."
"Oh." Marcus replied, unable to hide a look of mild surprise.
Octavius frowned. "If you do not wish to see me, I will go-"
"No no," The Centurion replied quickly, forcing a smile. "Your company is much needed."
Octavius smiled, and gestured down the path leading to the wall. Marcus nodded once, and began to walk, his General following behind until they reached the wider stretch, where they walked side by side.
"So…" Octavius began, unsure how should go about speaking to his friend now that they were together. "How do you feel about the man the cowboy brought?"
Marcus thought for a moment, his mouth turned in a slight frown. "I am surprised he returned at all." He said, his voice sounding sharp for a moment, showing his disapproval. "But he did, so perhaps there is hope for this mad plan of yours. As for the man….can we trust him?"
"I do not see why not." Octavius replied, giving a small shrug. "He is old and unsteady. I doubt he could do much harm."
Marcus chewed his lip in concentration for moment, before replying. "The older the wiser. He will know more about the war than the blond one. You should be wary."
Octavius sighed deeply, giving a small shake of his head. Marcus seemed to stomping on every choice he made. Was he going about this all wrong? Should he listen to his heart, his friend, or reason?
Almost as if knowing what the General was thinking, Marcus spoke the answer.
"A leader relies on reason and the loyalty of his men." Marcus explained, taking measured steps as they walked, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. "He cannot rely on his feelings. Empathy will get him killed by ruthless enemies that have none. That is why he must kill before it is too late."
Octavius looked at the Centurion, a sense of foreboding ringing through his heart. Was Marcus suggesting they execute the Westerners? That was pure, cold blooded murder, and Octavius knew it.
"You think we should kill them." Octavius spat accusingly, glaring at the Centurion in anger.
Marcus hesitated, licking his lips nervously. "I mean, for the safety of yourself and the men-"
"Marcus that is barbaric!" Octavius yelled angrily, unable to hide his shock. "To suggest such a thing! If we do that we are no better than our enemies."
"Octavius, it is the right thing to do-"
"No." Octavius said firmly, his gaze like fire as he looked at the Centurion. He reached over and yanked his friend's helmet out of his hands, tossing it aside. "Centurion Marcus, I need men I can trust and who will side with me whether I am right or wrong. You have blatantly shown your strong opinion against my decisions, and have offered me nothing but cold acts. As of now you are demoted from the rank of Centurion to that of a common legionary."
Marcus stared at him in disbelief, before his eyes narrowed and he gave a small growl of anger. "This is treason."
"Treason?" Octavius shook his head. "Your challenge to a man higher in authority is treason, soldier. Now get to the barracks before I put you on a charge."
Marcus glared at the General. "You will regret this." He hissed through clenched teeth, before he turned on his heels and marched stiffly away.
Octavius stared after him, his anger slowly ebbing away as his senses were restored. What had he done? He had just demoted his first ranking centurion, and one of his closest friends, to the rank of a common soldier. It was unfair of him. Who would he go to now?
He took a deep breath, about to call to the figure quickly walking away, before he caught it, and released it with a deep sigh of defeat. Marcus had been right. He needed to be stern. He needed to be more strict. And that started with Marcus' demotion.
With another sigh, Octavius turned and walked back to his room to prepare the former papers of the demotion, wishing more than ever for the carefree days of youth once again.