Chapter Text
“Any word yet from Esca Marcus?” Uncle Aquila asked his nephew as he sat enjoying the slices of honeyed watermelon laid out before him on a silver tray. “I do not know your thoughts, nephew, but I, for one, believe Esca should have kept you informed as to his plans.” Uncle Aquila shrugged as he gulped down some cool water from his cup watching his nephew standing arms crossed and leaning against one of the columns in the triclinium.
Marcus tried as best he could to mask the fury within for he did not wish his uncle to know of the anger burning him since the arrival of the messenger three days earlier. The slave had handed Marcus a scroll with the following written upon it:
Marcus, I have come upon a friend I thought long dead while in town this morning, and although we have spent hours recounting our stories to each other, there is yet more to tell. He is a guest at the home of a friend of his, and he has asked me to join him until tomorrow, or until we have nothing further to say to each other.
Esca
“He sent a messenger, Uncle, that is all he is required to do… as a friend, for otherwise he owes me no explanation.”
“And I understand that, Marcus, but it has been three days!”
“They must still have much to talk about.” And had Marcus believed the words he had just spoken to his uncle, all would have been well, but Marcus did not believe what he said. Marcus was not a stupid man. He understood if this man was a friend Esca thought “long dead,” then yes, they must have much to talk about; countless stories to tell about everything that transpired since their last meeting.
But… three days?
And what made matters worse was the mysterious conversation Esca had been unable to continue the night Uncle Aquila caught Marcus on his knees before Esca. Esca had confessed to Marcus that what he had to say was not simply put into words, but he had promised to tell Marcus the following day. Unfortunately, Esca had set out for Calleva shortly after sunrise and Marcus had stayed behind to receive the Legate Claudius Marcellus leaving the conversation unconcluded.
Would that he had gone with Esca despite the Legate’s untimely visit.
“Marcus! What is the matter my boy?” Uncle Aquila turned to a silent Marcus who spun around and headed to his room where he paced to and fro talking aloud to himself.
“What if this meeting was not the accident Esca made it out to be? It seems very convenient that the day after he tells me he has something important to tell me, he suddenly comes upon a friend he thought dead. What if what he was trying to tell me is that he wished to leave my side, but did not know how to say it, and… instead… decided to leave me suddenly and without farewell.” Marcus threw the chair near his bed across the room where it hit the wall and broke in half.
While venting his fury, Marcus failed to see Uncle Aquila open the door, look over at the broken chair pieces on the floor, and back at his nephew standing in the center of the room, hands on his hips, reddened face, narrowed eyes, and looking much like a raging bull.
“By the gods, Marcus, what is going on?”
Marcus looked over at his uncle and raised a hand, “Uncle, please. I shall explain later.”
“No! You shall explain now! This, Marcus, is my home! This is not a barracks, nor a mess hall for you to be throwing and breaking things as though they were your own and mattered not. That chair you felt so free to break, belonged to my father, your grandfather, and now it is only fit for firewood. I understand you are angry at Esca for disappearing and leaving you behind, but that does not give you the right to disrespect my home or anything in it!”
Marcus could feel his face flush at his uncle’s words. What had his uncle meant by Marcus being angry at Esca for disappearing with his friend and leaving him behind? Marcus had a suspicion and it had everything to do with the night his uncle had found Marcus on his knees; not that he had found Marcus in any compromising position, but to Uncle Aquila, a proper Roman, there was no viable reason for Marcus to be on his knees before a Briton: friend or not.
The look in his uncle’s eyes had been judgmental -and Marcus could not have expected anything less- and the words his uncle now spoke had filled Marcus with humiliation.
Marcus was no fool. He knew what his uncle had meant: if Marcus was jealous of Esca preferring someone else's company to that of Marcus, Marcus had better deal with it in a different manner than the tirade he had let loose in someone else’s home.
Marcus immediately apologized to his uncle for his behavior both profusely and with great sincerity. Uncle Aquila, although still vexed at his nephew’s outburst, calmed down as best he could for he did not wish to distress Marcus further.
“I shall have Marcipor go into town tomorrow and find a carpenter that can mend the chair. I am certain it can be saved if placed into the right hands.” And then the elder Aquila left Marcus to himself and retired to his study without another word.
Marcus stood alone on the veranda outside his room and shook his head, “What did I not see?”
Marcus remembered the feeling he had had that last night with Esca. The feeling that there was something wrong, something amiss. Marcus had had the impression Esca was trying to find a way to let him know he intended to leave his side but was having difficulty finding the right words.
“What was I so blind to?”
But… why would he have suddenly wished to leave Marcus’ side?
They were happy together, or so Marcus had thought. They had bought the horse farm Esca wanted; a lucrative business that had begun to swell their purses. Their villa was small, but it was not lacking in any of the amenities found in a more luxurious home. And… most importantly… they had each other.
Rarely did a night past into day without Marcus and Esca having sated their passion for each other, but it was more than lust. They loved each other deeply… or so Marcus had thought.
They had planned and were working toward a life and a future together; or so Marcus had thought.
Now… Marcus was no longer certain of anything having to do with Esca and him and that realization made his heart pain. Suddenly a thought entered Marcus’ mind; he snapped his fingers and nodded his head as though he were agreeing with someone other than himself. Marcus threw the cloak over himself and secured it with a brooch Uncle Aquila had presented him as a birthday gift a few months earlier.
He would go in search of Esca!
Calleva was not Eburacum, after all. In Eburacum there were as many strangers as there were friends among its populace; if not more. In Calleva everyone knew everyone else, and a strange face was something that was immediately recognized as such. Because of this, Marcus was certain someone was sure to have seen Esca or know of his whereabouts.
And with a hopeful heart, Marcus mounted his horse and rode off to town.
“If you are still in Calleva, my Esca, I shall find you and bring you home with me… where you belong.”
**********
Hours later, a disheartened Marcus sat down at the tavern he and Esca would frequent whenever business brought them to town. The young tavern maid recognized the Roman and brought him a cup of wine along with a bowl of roasted boar stew and a chunk of bread. She placed it in front of him and stood to the side waiting for him to notice he had been served.
Marcus looked tired and defeated, a look the tavern maid had never seen on his face before. “Master Aquila are you unwell, sir?” Was all the young woman could suspect was causing her otherwise relaxed and smiling customer, to seem so disheartened and distressed.
“I am well enough, Briane, gratitude for asking.” Marcus answered without removing his gaze from his clenched fists.
“And where, if I may ask, is Master Esca, sir?”
Again, Marcus answered without raising his eyes to meet the young woman’s face which was quite perplexed at the Roman’s attitude, “That I do not know.”
And then as if suddenly realizing the tavern maid might have seen Esca, Marcus lifted his face to the girl and the desperation in his eyes was immediately evident to her. “Briane, you would not happen to know anything about his whereabouts, would you?”
But Briane shook her head vehemently, “No, Master Aquila. I do not. Is he lost?” The tavern maid’s pretty round face seemed genuinely worried and that fact made Marcus briefly smile.
“No, he is not lost. He came to Calleva three days ago where he met an old friend and he has yet to come home.”
Briane breathed deeply in relief and smiled, “Oh, then he must be with this friend still. Do you know who this friend is, sir?”
Marcus chuckled at the girl’s innocence and shook his head for had he known who the friend was, or which house he was a guest in, Marcus would have long since gone to that house and the search would have been over.
“Master Aquila… wait here… I shall go to the kitchen and ask the staff if any of them have seen Master Esca.”
And before a grateful Marcus could offer his gratitude for Briane’s concern, the girl had disappeared behind the curtains that separated the kitchen from the dining room.
Marcus looked down at the food set before him and his mouth watered; he was truly hungry for he had barely had half a honeyed cake before setting off for Calleva early that morning. And now it was almost near time for dinner and he had yet to have anything more than a cup of water offered him by a friendly and familiar merchant.
Marcus had taken the opportunity to ask the merchant if he knew of Esca’s whereabouts, but the man claimed not to have seen Esca for quite some time; he offered an explanation as to why. The man had been visiting his ailing mother in Corinium and had returned to Calleva the previous night. But the merchant promised Marcus to keep an eye on anything that seemed peculiar, and an open ear to anything having anything to do with Esca.
When Briane returned to Marcus’ table, she did not wear the look of someone who brought good news and Marcus’ heart sank even further.
“Forgive me, Master Aquila, but no one seems to know anything about Master Esca’s whereabouts, nor have they seen or heard from him.”
Marcus took Briane’s hand in his and held it tightly between both of his hands, smiling warmly, and offering his gratitude for her attempt at trying to help him unravel the mystery of his friend’s disappearance. Marcus left extra coins on the table for food he had not touched and walked toward the front door.
As he stood in front of the tavern, Marcus surveyed the merchants busily securing their wares and closing their shops for the night. He lifted his head up toward the sky and the diming light of day and then began to make his way to the stables.
As he neared the stables, his gaze fell upon a familiar figure..
The messenger.