The two Celtics, each standing behind a member of the ruling family, kept a sober strange pose. Contrary to the lively arguing Romans, the two same bloodied estranged kin did not speak by words nor by stares. They did not even make one eye contact as if completely estranged by the foreign entourage they found themselves captured in.
"Oscar, go tell the servants to prepare the palanquin."
The governor's cousin ordered her blond slave as the night came to an end, acting completely ignorant to the other Celtic slave whom she had enjoyed using his blade from time to time.
"As you wish, my Lady."
The young man answered seeing immediately to his job.
Ending the night with a toast to the empire and the emperor, the other guests also prepared to leave when the governor noticed his guardian was no longer behind him.
***
"Excuse me."
Oscar shyly spoke, not realizing the one following him and blocking his path was his old mentor. When he finally raised his eyes and saw it was Diarmuid, his face paled in embarrassment and his lips shivered with discomfort.
He was actively avoiding his old friend and mentor, Diarmuid could easily tell. While he kept trying to catch the young lad's attention throughout the night like a little kid missing his friend, that friend was ignoring him with perfect mastery.
The lancer did not know if his friend was carrying Sabina's orders or acting of his own will. Having turned his friends and band of knights into enemy after eloping with his king's bride, he could easily tell those who chased him under the weight of obligation and loyalty and those who delighted in his shame and turning fortune.
He could clearly discern what motivated Oscar; it was his own self. Still, he decided to blind his eyes to this knowledge .
At least he was blessed to hear the younger boy's gentle voice again and despite the indifference and hesitation it held, he was nevertheless glad to hear it.
He needed to see his face, make sure he was well, but they did not even make a single eye contact.
His caring touch was brushed away with ignorance.
Everything he did to reach this moment, to meet the youngster and ensure his wellbeing was burned away by denial.
Oscar was there but not really there.
His curly fussy hair, his wide curious eyes, his hesitant voice were all there, but not his heart.
He had changed.
Change was painful, and it kept turning the lancer's life like a dice never landing on a favorable number.
"Oscar!"
Diarmuid called in a commanding tone.
The ashamed - looking young man on his way to the exist gate, stopped at the end of the long corridor.
His bent stance indicated he was troubled, probably struggling inside between going on with his act of ignorance or listening to his heart. His trembling legs and interlacing fingers revealed he was hesitant, weighing the options in his mind but why did he have to in the first place?
If Oscar was afraid a bit, then Diarmuid was afraid tons.
Diarmuid had faced and triumphed over numerous enemies, he had confronted and spelled the blood of several of his friends and comrades in arms. However, for some reason, merely standing in front of that particular sweet apprentice had drained every ounce of power from his body. The sharp instincts he possessed diminished as he anticipated the many conclusions this confrontation could end with.
"I am sorry Diarmuid… I just did not know how I should act through that grand banquet!"
Oscar rushed toward his friend and gave him a hug, tears staining his cheeks and reflecting the old image of himself, the old image that made the lancer forget all the weak excuses Oscar presented in every meeting they had quickly.
"It is all right now."
"But this still doesn't justify my…"
"I said it was all right. The important thing is that you're fine!"
Oscar's words, intermitted by sobs, turned into a warm sigh as he sank into the
lancer's strong embrace.
"I am glad we could meet again… really…."
The boy whispered almost in a whimper; this coincidental meeting favored by luck and chance may never be repeated again, and when meetings were left for chance, then separation was the favored option.
"That woman… is she still treating you well?"
Diarmuid asked once more with the same worry and readiness to take out the woman were Oscar's answer to change, silencing his wicked thoughts with his rooted affection for the young blond.
"Yes… Lady Sabina is my savior!"
Oscar immediately defended that detestable woman that had not only tainted his mentor's blade with dishonorable blood, but had apparently taken his place as a savior as well. How late was the lancer for his friend's rescue? Did he put enough efforts and thoughts into helping his young disciple and friend? Were his prayers sincerely sent? By the time he was struggling and wading from one deep lake of despair into another, that woman had painted for herself a colorful picture in the youngster's heart that outshone his own image, now fading and greying in the blond's eyes. Who can he blame but himself? When he was fighting to keep his honor, holding to his knightly values like a fool, refusing to ask for anyone's help though offered to him simply and sincerely; Sextus's help, Germanous's help, both offered without an expected benefit or awaited price, that woman had seized Oscar's freedom and heart, forcing him to abide by her rules and demands while the other two asked for nothing in return except for the loyalty Diarmuid had already extended to them. But his doubts and pride made him selfish and dragged him into a losing battle, one where he became, the hero and the active knight in the arena, a spectator enchained by his friend's safety.
He had no one to blame but himself and if Oscar was no longer looking up to him or seeking his comfort, then the boy had every right to make this choice. The lancer could not call this a treason, he could not accuse the lad of abandoning him especially now while he was looking at him with a warm smile, as if to reassure his mentor's troubled mind.
His same old worm smile.
If Oscar was ashamed of himself for ignoring his mentor coldly, then that mentor's shame was double.
Diarmuid could not believe how he submitted to the dark thoughts and allowed them to cross his head first.
Only a traitor would think of the worst explanations first.
Only a traitor dwells over his surrounding's changing.
Oscar was right here, the same honest sweet young boy. He did not give up his shyness, his hesitation, he wasn't ashamed to explain what his reasons for acting in particular manners were… he was the same old Oscar indeed.
If anyone had changed, it was him, and only him.
"We are together now, Diarmuid!"
Oscar said, fingers tightening around his kin's shirt as if to reassure him that everything was and still is alright, another way of saying you've kept your promise
and found me. But this was merely an easier way to reduce the pain that accompanied this lie.
"Yes…"
Diarmuid whispered, hearing but not allowing himself to fall into the allure of that beautiful lie.
Oscar remained silent for a moment, though he was fidgeting, clearly thinking of a way to express what he wanted to say until he finally blurted out while scratching his neck.
"What about you? Serving the governor, right? That is the number one lancer for you!"
Oscar asked happily and proudly when he realized there was nothing to be proud of for the lancer, it was just another humiliation added to the numerous ones he had possibly endured through the past year.
"Sorry! I mean…"
"No, you're right. But I do not serve the governor as a…"
Diarmuid shook his head, he was indeed the number one lancer even in this strange land, but not as an honorable knight or servant to a king.
How can he tell him what he had become?
A spear to amuse blood - athirst crowds.
A black raven omening death for the oppressed and wrongly judged.
Oscar knew this, and the fact that he was thrilled, looking even slightly jealous by his
mentor's fame did not ease the lancer's doubts that he kept trying to silence.
"We are leaving Oscar."
The two men turned at the female's voice. Sabina was walking down the corridor as she pointed at her servant to follow her.
Oscar said nothing, he glanced quickly between the two persons before he followed the woman whispering an apology to the lancer.
What should he tell her? How can he buy Oscar's freedom from her?
Reading his thoughts, the woman quickly glanced at the lancer answering him with a short - lived yet meaningful stare.
"Your friend's life lies within my hands, so do your spears."