Sword of Rome: Standard Bearer by Richard Foreman

and return that evening for a
light supper.
    Before returning to his tent however Oppius visited Teucer , who was
resting in bed after his surgery. Despite all they had shared over the past few
days – or because of it – the conversation between the two comrades was a
little stilted. Finally, after one of many pauses, Oppius announced,
    “If you like I can petition Caesar for you
should you wish to remain here. Your tribe needs a chieftain.”
    But the Briton shook his head, in a mixture of
sadness and relief.
    “I’m afraid you’re going to have to suffer my
company some more. There’s nothing left for me here, not even an embittered
ex-wife.”
    “Britain’s loss is Rome’s gain. Now get some
rest,” Oppius replied, fraternally squeezing the
archer on the shoulder.
    “You should give yourself the same order. You
look tired, as though you’ve been out all night with Roscius ,
drinking.”
    “I will. I’m so fucking exhausted that I won’t
even need to read some of Fabius ’ poetry to send me
off to sleep.”
    Rain began to drum upon the roof of the tent
again and both men briefly looked up, rolled their eyes and smiled wistfully.

 

 
 
    22.

 
    Outside the tent a bulbous moon and a treasure
trove of stars lit up the night sky, majestically and coldly imperious towards
the squalid world beneath.
    Inside braziers flanked the General. Servants
continued to bring in all manner of dishes for the “light supper.” He would
definitely need Roscius by his side should his next
mission be to clear the table of food, the centurion thought to himself.
    “Marius once said me that, rather than a great
centurion, give me a lucky one. It seems that you may be both Oppius ,” Caesar exclaimed, popping another salted olive in
his mouth and washing it down with diluted wine. “Firstly, how is Teucer ?”
    “He’ll live. I am sorry again that I could not
keep the agent alive. We learned nothing.”
    “There’s no need to apologise .
We also learned more than you might think too. The manner of his death and his
zealous devotion to stoicism has given me food for thought as to the identity
of his employer. We also confirmed the existence of a conspiracy – and doused
the flames of the treachery. It will be some time before news of his death will
reach his master back in Rome. Recruitment will dry up during that time.
Similarly it will take a while for someone to take the place of the agent.
During that respite I will look to defeat our enemies across the channel – be
they Gauls , Britons or Romans.”
    “So are we returning to Gaul?”
    “Not all of us, all at once. But you will be
returning with me. You’ve proved yourself to be of far too much use. You’ve
become a victim of your own success. Although I have promoted you to centurion
Lucius, you’re still my standard bearer. But rather than a silver eagle, I want
you with a sword in your hand – bloodied with the enemies of Rome and Caesar.
There is a storm on the horizon. Gaul has only been half-tamed, civilised . There are still weeds in our garden there to
pull up. The business of Britain and Rome can wait.”
    Oppius observed the good-humoured glint in his
commander’s eye go out again, clouded over with a furrowed brow and expression
of icy determination.

 
    Later that evening, after the centurion had
been dismissed, Joseph looked in on his master. The braziers were still
glowing, but barely. Caesar was finishing off some correspondence, a letter to
Brutus. Caesar’s relationship with his mother had been long and intense. He
looked upon Brutus as being like a son. He had encouraged him in his studies,
taught him soldiering. As he wrote to Brutus though Caesar could not help but
sneer as he thought about the other father-figure in his life, his uncle –
Cato.
    “Would you like anything before I go to bed?”
    “No thank you Joseph. Get some rest. Try to
get some for me too,” Caesar replied, wearily.
    As he stood by his master the old