Constantine didn’t get anything to eat for two days until Antonius brought him a platter with bread, garum and olives. The vampire watched in disapproval as Constantine began wolfing the meal down, and so the young boy slowed down his eating pace.
“Do you think the centurion unfair?” Came the question just as Constantine was grabbing for an olive.
“I think he does his duty by treating me like one of his century,” Constantine knew that Antonius, unlike Beshter, was not prone to lies. So, he gave him cold facts and hoped he would not press forward.
“The bones of the man you found were burned and pissed on. His silken shroud has been added to your luggage,” Constantine shuddered at that. So, he had starved for nothing?
“You have starved for nothing, Constantine, son of Rome. Next time you show mercy to traitors or savages, I will have you whipped. With a real whip, not a wet cloth. Am I clear?” Constantine nodded and, when Antonius’s frown deepened, he managed a sir, yes, sir.
“May I ask a question?” Asked the boy, his appetite lost.
“You may, but you will be marching with the front century tomorrow as a result. So help you if you lag,” Constantine accepted the price for his momentary show of will and cleared his throat.
“Wouldn’t the spirit of the person who we…dishonored and robbed haunt us now?”
“Child, I am a fourth generation vampire. The closest thing you will ever see that is eternal. And I have never seen a spirit, be it a vengeful one or benevolent,” Constantine nodded.
“Still, it didn’t seem right. My father honors the dead. He has his people build them tombs and mausoleums. So, why did the centurion decreed to do such things?” Antonius sighed and nudged the plate with the food closer to Constantine.
“Eat this. You will get grief over it anyway, so utilize it,” Constantine resumed eating gingerly, but the food tasted foul now.
The olives were like coal in his mouth, the bread smelt of mold to his nose, the garum was too salty and stank of fish. But, if he ended up not getting any more food for the next couple of days because of the centurion, then he needed to force everything down.
“When you become an empire, more importantly, the dream, you will be faced with the same choices as the centurion. You disobeyed him before slaves, Constantine, that had to be paid for. He wanted you to jog naked in the back,” Constantine gulped at that and reached out to dip his bread in the garum. “But Beshter was enraged that he had you digging latrines. He doesn’t understand that it is needed for one to start at the bottom when they are in the army, my beautiful angel. He was never a warrior, rather, a creative soul.”
“When can I see him again?” Constantine blurted. He had not seen Beshter since that day when he found the skeleton. He missed their long conversation about the dream. The vampire was like a favored older brother to him.
“When you can prove that you can follow the Roman way. When you make it your own. Then, you will be allowed to dream the Dream,” Constantine bowed his head. He was replaceable, at least that was what he heard come out of Antonius’s mouth. The affection Beshter held of him could be cut short by a word from the Ventrue vampire. And then Constantine’s dreaming would end.
“I will work hard and listen to both the spoken and the unspoken commands of the centurion, teacher Antonius,” assured him Constantine. There was approval now, and Antonius picked up a book to read in the candlelight as Constantine finished eating his dinner.
His stomach was still tied in knots when he finished, but, at least, it was full now. So much so, that Constantine feared that he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep.
“Constantine, there is another thing,” the distracted way in which Antonius said that made Constantine stand to attention.
“You will be sleeping with the century and be responsible for the guarding of the caravan from now on, alongside them. There are no tents, and you have proven too entitled to your fellows by disrespecting your superior. You will have to sleep under the stars.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” mumbled Constantine. In a strange moment of affection, Antonius ruffled Constantine’s curls.
“You have to know that Beshter considers you his son, had done so ever since he met you. Work hard, and I will do the same,” with that Antonius stood up and Constantine followed him. After they washed their hands in the basin, Constantine snagged a water skin and went to the tents of the century.
The only space left was closer to the slaves. Constantine didn’t mind. They have proven to be better human beings than the century. Well, apart from that Nubian who kept whacking him with the rod every time Constantine stopped to draw breath.
Laying on the grass, he looked up at the stars and begged the spirit of the deceased man he had found while digging the latrines for forgiveness. Maybe he could change things when he became an empire. But, for now, he needed to listen to the surrounding adults.
Just as he was closing his eyes, he heard a twig snap close to him. He managed to look in that direction just in time to see a hand reaching out to him. Tired as he was, he couldn’t get away from the man, and a sack muffled his screams.
He struggled in the hands of the attacker, but found he was unable to get away. Reaching towards his belt, he found a small dagger that had mostly ceremonial purposes, and he plunged it into the man’s flesh.
The scream woke up the century and bells were heard in the darkness. A strong arm snatched him from his attacker and placed him on the ground. Constantine pulled the sack off just in time to see Beshter kneeling with the attacker.
He was latched at the man’s neck, and the light was slowly dimming from Constantine’s would be kidnapper. That was the first time he saw a man die. Constantine rolled to the side and promptly emptied his stomach.
