Eagle of the Empire

by Martin Ferguson

  In my fury, I call forth on my years in the legion and with sword and shield, Garus beside me, I strike down both men, cleaving them almost in two such is the strength of my rage.

  ‘Another!’ Mercatio orders, but the result is much the same. ‘Cast these wretched boys down!’

  When, finally, eight men are fallen to our blades, three defeated by Garus, the rest by my sword, an end is at last called, the crowd cheering ever louder, chanting the name of centurion to the heavens. We raise bloodied swords in salute, the day is ours and my word kept.

  I can only pray Hader keeps his.

  23

  ADAM—Terminal 5, Heathrow Airport, London, England

  Only the worthy. The words echo in my head again and again. Only the worthy.

  Four hours after leaving the British Museum, I am on board a plane, waiting for take-off. My destination is Rome. As I wait for the rest of the passengers to take their seats and the crew to make their pre-flight checks, I read through the messages on my phone, from Duncan and Sara first, saving my mother’s until last.

  Mate, I wish you would get in touch. Let me know where you are and I will help you find Matt. You need anything, let me know and I’ll help all I can. Keep safe.

  Duncan.

  He is a good friend and I knew he would offer help. There is nothing he can do though, finding Matt is my mission.

  Hey Duncan. I’m still searching for Matt. Cant stop until I find him. I’ll they to keep you updated but it’s proving difficult. Speak when I can. Thanks again.

  Next is Sara.

  Hi stranger. Starting to worry you’re avoiding me. Duncan says you’ve been away, trying to find Matt. Need anything, please let me know. Stay safe. Sara Starr. x

  No mention of shopping, clothes or make-up this time she must be worried. I smile briefly at her show of concern, before I come to the last messages, my mother’s. There are many.

  Come home now! I am so angry. Why can you never do as you’re told or listen to me?

  You are a child!! Ring me!!

  Why are you doing this? Is it just to hurt me?

  The last message surprises me most of all.

  Please, come home. I’m sorry. Please call me, text me, anything. Just let me know you’re okay.

  It has been almost a week since I left. I should speak to her. She deserves at least a call before the plane takes off and I leave the country.

  She answers immediately, though any sentiment and apology from her last message is completely absent. ‘Where the hell have you been?’

  ‘Hi,’ I reply.

  ‘You run away just as your brother goes missing. I have been worried sick. I have never been so furious, so disappointed…’

  ‘Yeah I got your messages,’ I interrupt.

  ‘Then why didn’t you reply?’

  ‘Didn’t have much of a chance…’

  ‘I want you home, now!’

  ‘I can’t do that.’

  ‘Why the hell not?’ my mother demands.

  ‘Matt…’ I try to say but she cuts me off.

  ‘I want you home, now!’ she repeats.

  ‘I have to find him…’ I begin to say but am interrupted again.

  ‘For once, do as I say, Adam!’

  I feel the frustration bubbling up. ‘Listen to me!’ I shout down the phone, drawing startled looks from other passengers on the plane. ‘Listen to me for once. Matt is out there. I can find him. I can bring him home.’

  ‘You’re just a boy,’ she says after a few moments silence, her voice broken. She’s almost crying.

  ‘Not anymore,’ I tell her.

  A stewardess waves a hand in front of me, urging me to turn off the phone, take-off fast approaching.

  ‘I will find Matt,’ I say. ‘I’ll find him and I’ll bring him home.’

  ‘I don’t trust Charles Lovell,’ she says.

  ‘Then trust me,’ I tell her.

  There is silence. Just as I’m about to click off, I hear her voice, unusually fragile, ‘Please be careful, Adam. I love you.’

  I hang up then, closing my eyes as a thousand thoughts flurry through my head.

  ‘You know the stewardesses have already asked for all mobile phones to be turned off,’ a military tone says from the man behind the newspaper in the seat next to me.

  ‘How did you track me down?’ I ask, recognising his voice without opening my eyes.

  Dave Conway nods to my phone.

  ‘You bugged my phone!’ I state. It was stupid of me not to consider it.

  ‘When we saw you were headed for the airport, it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to guess where your destination would be. How did you afford the ticket?’

  ‘It’s an economy seat and I have an emergency credit card,’ I explain. ‘Look, if it’s about the equipment I took, I was only going to borrow it. I was planning on returning it.’

  ‘Sure you were,’ he replies.

  ‘You can’t stop me from going after Matt and the Eagle,’ I tell him. ‘He is my brother and I will not let his name join those upon your stupid plaques to honour your dead. You can’t stop me.’

  ‘I know, that’s why I am not going to try,’ he says, securing his seatbelt.

  ‘What?’ I ask, confused.

  ‘You remind me so much of Matt,’ Dave begins to explain. ‘You’re clever and determined but stubborn and foolhardy, just like your brother. He thought nothing of charging up to Scotland in search of the legion and its fabled Eagle. Now you are doing the same, rushing off on your crusade.’

  ‘What other choice do I have?’ I argue but he holds up his hands to quiet me and apologise.

  ‘I meant no disrespect,’ he says. ‘I simply wanted to illustrate the similarities. You are both good liars too, but I knew you were not telling the truth in the operations room when you said you had already spotted mentions in the journal about the legion and the Eagle.’

  ‘Whatever it takes to get Matt back,’ I say, justifying my lie. ‘Besides, I was right, there were leads to the Eagle.’

  ‘You think there are leads,’ he corrects me. ‘This centurion, it could all be a wild goose chase.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I argue. ‘If there is a chance to find my brother, I will take it.’

  ‘I don’t blame you.’ He sighs, leaning back in his chair. ‘That is why I’m going with you.’

  ‘What?’ I ask in disbelief.

  ‘You would’ve passed the last physical test of the trials if it wasn’t for your fear of water,’ he tells me. ‘Besides, accessing the crypt in Scotland, evading Matt’s captors, those were trials in themselves that you passed alone without any advice or support. I am going with you to Rome though, on babysitting duty again.’

  He hands me the headset I wore during the trials, urging me to put the glasses on.

  ‘I’m going with you, too,’ Abbey says, her slight Irish accent speaking to me through the earphones of the glasses. ‘You didn’t take any of the mental and psychological evaluations I had ready for you but I can give you all the information and research you could possibly need.’

  ‘What of Charles?’ I ask. ‘Does your boss know about this?’

  ‘Officially he and the British Museum cannot support your travel to Italy or whatever activities you undertake there,’ Abbey says in her sternest, stiffest British voice to mask her Irish accent.

  ‘And unofficially,’ Charles’ voice interrupts over the headset, ‘find your brother, Mr Hunter. I will be watching.’

  ‘As will I,’ utters a voice from the seat in front of me, Emma’s. ‘I told you not to do anything stupid, yet here you are.’

  24

  THE CENTURION—Capua

  Marcus,

  I cannot believe it. I was certain you were dead. To have word from you, alive and well, it lifts my heart beyond belief. The gods finally hear my prayers.

  When I received word that you and the legion were returned, I hurried to the Campus Martius but all I found were the slain, the legion des
ecrated. I thought you among them, certain of it, taken from me by cruellest fate.

  I have joined Mother and Father in Pompeii, fearful of reprisal from the emperor after turning on you and the legion. I do not believe what they say, that you turned traitor and fled your brothers in Britannia. That is not the man I married.

  Your messenger found me by your instruction after discovering our home empty, his words bringing untold joy of your survival. I await you in Pompeii should you ever gain freedom. My heart belonging to you for all eternity. You are a strong and fierce warrior. I know we will be reunited, in this lifetime or the next.

  Eternally I wait for you.

  Lucilla.

  I read her words again and again, the letter given after my latest victory in the arena, hands still marked by my foe’s blood. She is alive and she is safe. Nothing matters more than that.

  Folding the letter and securing it within my armour, I turn to the gates, watching Garus stand alone on the sands, on the same spot where we first fought. We are now nine victories further on our journey. My ascension in the House of Hader has been swift; I am now a trusted brother and gladiator amongst the warriors of the ludus. I am offered women and wine in exchange for the coin I earn with each victory, but I ask for neither. I stash my coin, saving for my freedom. Lucilla’s letter gives me all motivation needed.

  Watching Garus, I stand amazed at how he has grown since first standing alongside me as a recruit. Under tutelage of Hader’s Doctores and heeding my words, he has become a fine warrior. He does not rush or fall to feint, waiting for his opportunity to strike. Catching his foe off balance, he draws blade across stomach, the man falling to his knees as Garus stands over him, tip of gladius raised to his throat.

  ‘Mercy,’ the man calls; his wounds are not grievous enough to kill, but the fight is ended all the same. Two fingers rise to offer missio.

  ‘Poor showing indeed,’ nobles call out, thumbs down in irritation, the fallen man’s judgement and sentence given.

  ‘Please, don’t…’ the man pleads, and I see Garus waver with uncertainty.

  ‘Don’t be foolish,’ I shout, although he is too far away in both body and spirit to hear my words.

  The crowd begins to show its displeasure as the victor continues to falter.

  ‘He is defeated, is that not enough?’ Garus yells from the sands.

  ‘If you do not end this man, your life will end, too,’ warns a noble. Garus does not act until he throws his blade away, falling to his knees, tears streaming from his eyes.

  ‘I… I cannot…’ he mutters before screaming to the heavens. ‘I CANNOT KILL THOSE WHO BEG FOR MERCY!’

  ‘NO!’ I yell, pulling at the gates, trying to reach him as the arena guards circle the pair, weapons drawn.

  My brother gladiators and guards from the House of Hader grapple with me, pulling me back, trying to stop me from joining the fate of those on the sands. I fight them off, reaching the gates as I see the blades fall. Garus cries out with his final breath, damning them all. Brave but foolish.

  Hader’s Doctores are upon me, striking with club and lash until darkness claims me, body bruised and broken – and now I have lost another brother.

  25

  ADAM—Somewhere over Italy

  My new companions don’t speak much; Dave sleeps most of the way, and Emma wears a large set of headphones with music loud enough for me to hear every word clearly. She has not spoken a word since the plane took off, annoyed at my presence. I don’t really care to be honest. I will find the damned Eagle, and with it, hopefully, I will find Matt. Only the worthy. It runs through my head again. I will prove my worth and show Emma, Dave, Abbey, Charles, my mother… all of them.

  Looking out of the plane window, I see the expanse of the channel below us. I try to start conversations with Dave to take my mind off the waters below, but he doesn’t stir.

  ‘You’d have better luck waking a bear from its hibernation,’ Abbey tells me through the headset. ‘You dislike flying, too?’

  ‘How can you tell there’s something wrong?’ I ask.

  ‘You’re trying to wake an ex-commando and your hands have turned white from gripping the arms of your seat so tightly.’

  ‘It’s not the flying, it’s what’s below the plane.’

  ‘Only another few minutes and then you’ll be over mainland Europe,’ she tells me. ‘Then, if the plane should crash, you’d just be flying into the ground in a great fiery ball of death rather than plunging into water.’

  ‘Very reassuring,’ I say sarcastically.

  ‘I try.’ She laughs.

  I spend most of the flight trying to decrypt more of Matt’s journal, forcing the water beneath the plane from my mind by focusing on work. A pen twirls between my fingers as I read, the motion helping me to settle and focus on my task. Abbey asks lots of questions, unable to understand the encryptions even with the help of all her computers. I can see them though, the patterns and intricacies. There are mentions of golden palaces, sunken and missing ships vanished from the seas, lost civilisations and more. There are even references to old legends; Atlantis, the Holy Grail, and Shangri-La to name but a few. Matt has been busy, but all that is featured is the slightest of clues and nothing of certainty. There are no more mentions of the legion or the Eagle, apart from that of the centurion I uncovered before.

  After working on the journal for another hour, I give up, looking out of the window and seeing land beneath us.

  ‘Whereabouts are we, Abbey?’ I ask.

  ‘Over northern Italy at the moment,’ she says quickly, as if she’s been watching my progress constantly. ‘At most, another half hour to go.’

  ‘So tell me about you,’ I ask. ‘I know Dave is an ex-soldier who likes to torture people through assault courses. Emma hates that I’m here. Charles is a pompous government type with some frustration issues. Tristram is a techie a little too proud of his equipment, who I suspect you might be dating or at least have a crush on…’

  ‘What? Abbey splutters. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘…and Gabriel is a drunk with a… a dark past. You though, remain a mystery, apart from that you do the work of an entire team of analysts.’

  ‘Not a whole lot to tell,’ she says, seemingly glad for the subject to move away from her and Tristram. ‘I was top of my class at school, skipped ahead a few years and flew through college and university. I don’t know if it’s an eidetic memory or what, but I just seem to be able to remember and process things well.’

  ‘Such as Latin, a dead language,’ I add.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘What led you to join the museum?’

  ‘Charles found me,’ she explains. ‘He had a team down in Dover who had uncovered scriptures all in Latin. He was seeking out the best historian who could translate for him and his team.’

  ‘And got more than he bargained for,’ I finished for her.

  ‘I was assigned to Echo Team along with Matt, and until now, I was the youngest recruit.’

  ‘I am not one of your recruits,’ I tell her.

  ‘Not yet,’ she chirps.

  ‘So, youngest recruit, how old are you anyway?’ I ask.

  ‘You’re never supposed to ask a lady that,’ she replies with mock horror.

  ‘But you’re going to answer anyway,’ I tease.

  ‘Not that much older than you,’ she says.

  ‘Eighteen,’ I guess.

  ‘Maybe,’ she says after a long pause. I know I’m right.

  ‘I thought you would want to know about Em?’ she asks, Em short for Emma.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I saw on the monitors you two talking in the garage at the museum. She’s usually very closed off, rarely speaking to new people.’

  ‘It was mainly shouting at me,’ I reply, lowering my voice just in case Emma might hear over the sound of her loud music.

  ‘Sounds about right.’ Abbey laughs.

  ‘She helped,’ I admit. ‘I haven’t spoke
n about my fear of water to anyone for a long time.’

  ‘Yet you told Em?’

  ‘Before she started shouting at me again.’

  ‘She’s not always like that. She has her own fears, too.’

  ‘Fire,’ I say. ‘She told me. Fire and water. Quite the pair, opposites attracting and all that.’

  ‘That is a terrible line,’ Abbey teases.

  ‘I’ve used worse,’ I admit.

  ‘Did she tell you why?’ she asks.

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why she fears fire?’

  ‘It is her secret,’ I reply. ‘You can tell me one thing though – what are your surnames? Yours and Emma’s?’

  ‘Before I tell you, you have to know that Em was chosen for this team for being very, very good at what she does,’ Abbey says, Irish tone showing as she rushes her explanation. ‘She passed all the tests and trials and is as good a hunter as your brother…’

  ‘Get to the point, Abbey,’ I say.

  ‘Lovell,’ she reveals, the same surname as Charles.

  ‘Ah, so daddy’s little girl was helped into this job,’ I say, taking joy from the revelation.

  ‘He’s her uncle,’ Abbey explains.

  ‘Same difference,’ I retort.

  ‘No, it’s not,’ she says, suddenly becoming very defensive. ‘Charles is the only family Em has.’

  ‘She lost her parents?’ I ask, my voice barely audible.

  ‘Yes.’