Chapter Text
“If you run like that, you know I’ll scold you. So why do you insist?” Esca asked as he pressed his knees against the sides of horse beneath him, feeling it strain again to the right. It had occurred to him several times since the farm had become Marcus’ and Marcus had insisted it was also his, what he could be. Cunoval of the Brigantes had been a horse lord, a warrior chieftain proud of his herds. Though he was no longer in the lands of his father, Esca wanted to be surrounded by horses again, their broad chests and firm legs, their warm breath. So among the growing fields, the wheat that would rise to wave at the sun, they now had five horses and had hopes to breed more. Esca had hopes for the stallion he rode out now, great hopes that he would be the father of a colt come spring.
Arcus tried to get his head again and Esca calmly reasserted his hold on the reins, bringing the stallion back to his control. He closed his eyes as he smiled up at the sun, content for the moment as the creature beneath him subsided back to a walk so they could return to the stableyard at a more dignified pace. To be truthful, Esca didn’t blame the stallion for wanting to run. There were still days that he wanted to be the one straining forward against the strength of his own legs and the depth of his own lungs, to escape a nameless anxiety that ran below his life even now. Sitting quietly before an evening fire with Marcus, he had tried to explain it.
“But you’re free now,” Marcus had insisted, his brown eyes earnest and apologetic at the same time as they were confused.
“But I was a slave,” Esca had said softly. “You’ve never known what that is. And I’ll never remember again what it is not to know I was one.”
On horseback, he was free, and this land was theirs. That was what he reminded himself when the sun rose high over his head, over the wheat and the house and the stables and Marcus and the other slaves. Maybe that was the problem now. Even with Marcus working alongside them, as he insisted he spend some time at each day, they were his reminder as they were somehow not Marcus’. You can be a citizen and still not be Roman, he told himself. Or maybe it was his father’s voice. His brother’s. Someone dead to time and place, someone who had worshipped by the waters.
Esca’s hand smoothed the stallion’s neck as they rode back into the yard. There were two figures waiting for him; he squinted against the light to identify them. The one closest to the fence was easy to know; Esca felt that he would know him by the way he breathed out in the darkness or the way his own breath caught when he was near him. Silhouetted by the sun as it lowered itself toward the horizon, Marcus leaned against the fence in a way that would look casual to anyone but Esca. To his eye, Marcus was tired after a long day and his leg was feeling its long-healed wound. The other figure was thinner but likely of the same height as Marcus if he hadn’t been leaning. It wasn’t a shape Esca recognized, but then, there were many people in the region he didn’t know. He knew the household and those families Marcus invited to dine with them as he folded himself back into Roman society. Even then, he knew them by name and face and the details Marcus told him both before the dinner and then the really interesting things after the meal, when the guests had left and both his memory and his tongue had been relaxed by the wine. Drusilla, wife of Quintus Amicus, had been rumored to use frogs in some unknown way to keep her skin smooth. Quintus himself had once fallen from a tree which he had climbed to prove his youthful strength to his son and had lost one of his testicles to either the accident or the surgeon. Esca liked to listen to all the stories with a smirk on his face and his eyes closed as he rested his own wine-heavy head on Marcus’ chest while they reclined on his bed. Lazy and finished with the rest of Rome for the day, that was the way he liked to be in general. If he couldn’t be with his horses.
The crux of this all being that he had no idea who was standing with Marcus, which wasn’t a huge surprise, but wasn’t the most pleasant of them. He would rather have come back to his lover waiting for him, so they could talk as Esca fed and watered the horses and then as they walked back to the villa together. The dark outline of a stranger meant a stranger at dinner, someone who would squint at his light hair and pale eyes and mark out the ways he was not a Roman, regardless of his freedom or his legal citizenship. But it did mean the promise of some delightful stories as the evening wore on and he had Marcus to himself.
As he drew close, Esca could make out their faces, Marcus’ already smiling as he turned away from his conversation to wave a hand in greeting. The stranger stood straight, with both hands before him on a walking stick of dark wood. He wore a trimmed beard and Esca wondered at it for a moment; he wasn’t used to facial hair anymore. Perhaps he was becoming more Roman that he’d thought. Other than that, the stranger wasn’t too fascinating. His nose was thin and humped, his limbs lean and straight, his eyes keen, and his mouth unsmiling as he watched the approach of man and horse. Esca slowed the stallion to an easy walk as he drew closer, then swung down from his back to lead him the last few steps.
“Esca,” Marcus said warmly, standing up from where he’d been leaning. “How does Arcus ride today?”
“Worse than yesterday, better than the day before. It’s a process, but Arcus and I will finish the journey together.” Esca smiled a little, rubbing his hand on the horse’s neck. He was rewarded with a snuffle at his hair, which only made his smile a little broader. So he was able to turn that smile to the stranger as Marcus presented him.
“Good! Esca, please meet Arruns Secudius Plautis, a friend of my father’s from before I was even born. Arruns, this is Esca Mac Cunoval. He is my co-conspirator on our lands.” To his credit, he didn’t stumble at all over Esca’s name or try to colonize the pronunciation. Marcus’ smile was proud and in the corners of it, Esca saw the other things he was to him -- lover, companion, comforter, tormentor, keeper of his memories, soother of his pain. He wondered briefly, as he stepped forward to clasp Arruns’ wrist, what words for him Marcus saw in his own smile.
“Welcome,” Esca said simply. “You see one of our ongoing works with Arcus. He is young and spirited, but the fastest in these parts. I know as I’ve felt myself near to flying as we have ridden through the hills. Sometimes other horses, those of our neighbors, give chase. They fall behind as though they were sheep and not horses at all.”
Arruns nodded to him, though his grip on Esca was quick and he immediately gripped the handle of his walking stick again. “We watched you approach; his speed is undeniable. As is your skill. He tries to take back control; you must have a very firm hand to take that much power into it.”
“We are not master and slave, Arcus and I,” Esca said quietly, his open palm stroking down the stallion’s neck. Under his hand, the horse was still and waiting, his energy calmed for the moment. “That is not how the race is won.”
“Speaking of races!” Marcus chuckled to himself, gesturing with one hand. “But, no, no, I’m getting ahead of myself. Come in to dinner, Esca. We’ll talk over wine. Arruns has much to speak of that I think you’ll like to hear.”
Esca thought that Arruns was watching him too closely but refused to meet his gaze, instead turning his eyes to look at Arcus whenever Esca tried to catch them with his own. He thought that Arruns didn’t particularly like to see a Briton this close and know he was as free as he was, as suffused with rights as he was. A friend of Marcus’ father could be filled with old ideas that he had not let go since he had never had to come face to face with people those ideas had relinquished. His hand tightened on the reins, feeling the worn corners of them line up against his palm.
“I’m happy we’ll have company this evening,” Esca said evenly. “I’ll join you at the villa after I get Arcus settled.”
“You could leave him to Felix,” Marcus suggested. There was a little question in his voice, down in the undertone like the current deeply hidden in a river. Of course he wanted him to walk down with them to the villa now. But Esca didn’t want to stay like this, sweaty from the day, smelling of horse and exertion, with his hair messy and pulling out of the thong he’d tied it back with, as they made their way down the path to the house. He wanted to come to the table washed and wearing fresh clothes, his hair combed and the emerald bracelet from Marcus on his wrist. Then he would recline at the table and take the same wine that they did and he would be equal to Arruns, not just the horse trainer in the field. For now, he smiled at Marcus.
“It will remind Arcus that our bond is not ended just because I am no longer in the saddle. You’ll forgive my temporary absence? I will come to you as soon as I can.” He bowed slightly to Marcus’ guest. “It was good to meet you. I look forward to speaking with you more at dinner.”
“A pleasure to see you astride, Esca.” Again, the name seemed alien to his tongue, and Esca wished there was something else he could be called when Arruns was speaking. “To dine with you both will be a delight.”
“We’ll see you when you come, Esca.” Marcus smiled at him. “Don’t be too long.”
“My stomach will not let me tarry.” Esca was happy to hear Marcus’ little laugh; it felt private between the two of them.
“Then let it lead you home.” Marcus was still smiling as he turned to Arruns. “Come, we will leave Esca to his stallion, and we will to our wine.”
Esca watched them as they headed down the path until he felt Arcus pull a bit and he turned away from the shapes of the two men as they walked toward the villa. Arcus watched him with sentient eyes, clever and testing. What a glory of a horse, Esca thought to himself. He was no puzzle to unlock or a beast to tame. He was the type of horse Esca had always dreamed of knowing as he knew himself, and riding to feel that they were one body and one mind.
“Ah, no, you don’t get to take some attitude now. Come. Let’s get you settled before I go and make myself presentable.”
Dinner was much of what Esca had expected. He was quiet as Marcus and Arruns talked about local affairs, much quieter than he would have been had it just been the two of them. There was something mercantile about the thin man; it seemed that there was something he wanted from Marcus but he wouldn’t just come out and say it. Before the sweets course had come out, Esca wanted to climb over the table and shake him until he managed to stutter it out.
When talk had fallen to a type of wine Esca had never heard of, he gave himself over to his imaginings more fully. While at first he contented himself with the mental shaking of Arruns, eventually he was able to let the man go and focus on his true interest. Tomorrow he planned to run Arcus past the vineyards, lining him up against those long rows of trellised grapevines with their thick sweet scent in the air. He would take him down to show him the series of low, crumbling walls he’d found while exploring the estate when he’d first arrived. Arcus had it in him to be a jumper, as his horse as a first year warrior had been, the horse that had been a gift when he’d still just been his father’s armor-bearer. Horme had been fast and sure, smaller than Arcus as British horses were, but there had been no terrain he wasn’t master of, no obstacle to spook him. His imagination took him from his tall, still uncertain steed to remembering the cream of Horme’s heavy mane and the pride he’d taken in braiding his own hair to match that of his mount’s, little complicated plaits with beads on one side of his head. Horme had been the one to fetch one of his elder brothers when Esca had taken a spill into a brook the horse had just jumped. He likely would have drowned, unconscious and face down when his head struck a rock, had the horse not decided it also had canine loyalty. The scar snaked back behind his ear, hidden by his hair, though Marcus’ fingers found it unerringly when he caressed him.
“So I knew you’d be interested, Esca. What do you think?”
The sound of his name brought Esca back from the mixed past and present weaving through his head. What was he interested in? He turned his head and met Marcus’ smile, but not before he had seen Arruns staring at the side of his head. Cursing silently, he shook his head to let his hair fall over his cut ear. Of course he had absently brushed his hair behind it, and of course the man would take a keen interest in it. This was exactly why he’d been growing his hair longer, for all the good it had just done him.
“What do I think?” he managed finally, reaching for his nearly untouched wine glass.
“Of a race.” Marcus’ voice was almost childishly breathless with excitement.
“You’re racing?” Esca looked between the two. “There is no one to beat you in a chariot, so I’ve heard from your uncle Aquila.”
“Not me!” Marcus laughed with good humor and Esca wondered if there was pain behind it as well. His racing days were most likely over, and he felt a little bit of guilt for asking the question to which Marcus had had to answer no. “Not a chariot race. Just man on horse. For a fine prize. And not just the money purse.”
Esca frowned slightly and shook his head. “What else then?”
“A lovely Bedouin mare, of a breed you rarely see in these parts. Much finer than the horses you see in any stable around here,” Arruns said smoothly and Esca bristled, as he’d been expected to. “Her fine face, her roasted almond coat, the lines of her legs...she is unmatched. Her foals will be celebrated throughout the empire.”
“A fine prize indeed,” Esca said suspiciously. “What does the man organizing the race get in return, besides the joy of local entertainment.” There were good riders and good horses in the area. Marcus and Esca had gone to the horse market several seasons. The white mare Marcus preferred had been costly. Arcus had been cheap; Marcus had bought him as a gift to Esca and had kissed his cheek with a laugh as he’d presented him.
“I will have the entrance fees of the brave riders,” Arruns said with an oddly modest lowering of his eyelashes. Esca felt queasy at the expression. “And the joy of the entertainment, as you said. You are a bold rider, Esca. Marcus believes you would wish to ride in a race, and he has already half-made a wager that you would win.”
“On Sol.”
“On Arcus.” Esca wasn’t sure what made him speak so quickly.
“The horse we saw you with in the field?” Arruns smiled slowly. “Marcus, I will see your wager.”
Marcus laughed and sat up as the trays of fruit were brought to the table, and he grinned over at Esca. Esca smiled back, warming to Marcus’ pride in him but still feeling that something was strange. It had to just be the presence of Arruns in their home, he told himself. It would be good to race, and even better to win it. The money would go to the estate. The breeding mare would be the mother of their future.
After dinner, Esca lounged in just the way he preferred-- Marcus, stretched out over his bed with a cushion under his knee to take some of the pressure off it, and then Esca could drape himself over his lover for his own comfort. He looked up at the ceiling with eyes that were a little dazed with wine and food, letting his gaze travel the curved path that was painted along the upper border of the walls while Marcus lazily ran his fingers through his hair. Perhaps he felt a little like a stroked pet, but he was comfortable and content so his mind didn’t even put up too much of an argument.
“I’ll see you even less now, won’t I?” Marcus asked quietly, a smile in his voice. “Training for the race will consume you.”
“You think I’ll be so easily obsessed?” Esca scoffed without much heat.
“I know you’ll want to win.” They were both quiet a moment in perfect agreement. “Esca.”
“Hmm?” Esca closed his eyes, then opened them when Marcus didn’t continue. “Did you fall asleep on me?”
Turning over and resting his forearms on Marcus’ chest, Esca found himself looking down into the other man’s solemn face. “What?” he smiled, wrinkling his nose. “What’s that face for?” Marcus’ dark eyebrows were flat across his brow, his mouth pulled slightly to one side. He shifted to lean up on one elbow, pushing his other hand into Esca’s hair. The broad fingers sliding against his scalp made Esca shiver slightly.
“Not Arcus,” he requested softly. “Any other horse but Arcus.”
“Marcus…” Esca took a deep breath and let it out as a long sigh, letting the pressure of Marcus’ hand on the back of his head draw him down to put his forehead against his chest. “He’s the fastest.” His words were muffled against Marcus’ bare skin, but as they were no surprise, Marcus was able to reply.
“And the most unpredictable. He threw you not a week ago, and you’d have broken your neck if not for those bushes that we still haven’t gotten around to trimming.” He was trying to keep his tone light, the fear behind it thrummed in his chest. “Don’t try to tell me that in a month’s time you’ll have gotten him completely in hand. He’s got something wild in him and that wildness wants to kill you.”
Esca laughed as he raised his head. “Wants to kill me? That’s the wine talking.”
“It isn’t! I’ve caught that horse’s eye and there’s murder in it. Esca. Please.” Marcus met his eyes, trying not to smile at the wicked expression on the other man’s face. “Esca…” He made a noise when Esca ducked to kiss his collar bone. “Esca...I’m trying to be serious here.”
Esca trailed his mouth down Marcus’ chest, knowing that the room wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone until morning, and by then he could have made it back to his own room. For now, the master of the house was his. The cooler evening breeze made it through the high windows and ruffled their hair and Esca even felt it down the length of his spine. He raised his face from Marcus’ skin to smile at him.
“Do I not seem serious?” he asked. “I’m very serious about this.” He moved his hand up Marcus’ side as he slid down his body, tasting the day’s warmth and the bath’s coolness on him. His self-satisfied smile grew when he heard Marcus sigh. “Tell me about Arruns.”
Marcus’ eyes snapped open again and he raised himself on his elbows to look down at Esca, whose chin was digging into his belly now. “Now?”
“Mmhmm. You’ll be asleep after.” Esca raised his eyebrows, but otherwise stayed exactly where he was. Marcus groaned and flopped down onto his back, both hands over his face.
“He is a man who was a friend of my father’s, a man who had connections and access to every glorious thing having to do with horses. The horse my father rode as he left for Britannia had been acquired for him by Arruns. It was Arruns who made arrangements for my own lessons, my first chariot. My mother relied on him, after my father was gone, to make sure that our own stable was well-kept.” Marcus paused, lost in memory for a moment before continuing. One of his hands came down to rest in Esca’s messy hair. “He bought horses of us as well, when our coffers faltered.”
There was a silence in the room, and in the slow movement of fingers through his hair, Esca could feel Marcus weighing the estate now with his family’s past fortunes, both when his father had been the commander of a legion and when his father had been lost in the mists north of the Wall.
“Now he returns when you have money to spend,” Esca said and Marcus leaned up to look at him again.
“Esca...it’s not like that. He is a friend of my family, and he seeks to involve us in his new venture.” He waited for a reply but received none. “Anyway, you speak as though you don’t want to race.”
“I will be the only Briton in the race,” Esca pointed out.
“And the only one riding a beast from the underworld,” Marcus said drily.
“Arcus will run as though he had wings on his hooves,” Esca said, pinching Marcus’ side. “He will win us that mare and the coin.”
“Ow!” Marcus slapped at Esca’s hand; his fingers were strong and rough with work. “I trust you! I promise you that. I don’t trust that demon horse, but I do trust you. Just don’t get so lost in the training that I lose you at table. And at night.”
“Ah, now we see your true fear.” Esca chuckled, putting his face down to laugh against Marcus’ skin. “Be comforted. Who am I to leave you alone?” His mouth left patches of wetness as he pressed himself down Marcus’ body, listening for the sounds that told him the precise spots his lover melted to. To think that it had been Marcus who had shown him what a kiss was. His body had known other actions, but the kiss? That had been solely Marcus’.
Marcus now was exhaling in a shaky rush of air. “I know you wouldn’t. Not now. Not…” His words were lost in a quiet noise of pleasure when Esca’s mouth found its mark.