Centurion Page #3

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Come on. Give me your hand!

No!

Sh*t!

- We have to jump.

- Are you out of your mind?

- Do it!

- F*** it.

- I can't!

- Yes, you can!

You can do it!

No! Tarak!

Are you OK? Come on up.

- Grab him.

- I've got him.

Where's Tarak?

I lost him.

Thax, Macros?

Let's get out.

Come on.

Take off the tunics,

they'll weigh us down.

Oh, sh*t.

- Can you walk?

- Yes.

Then you can run.

They've followed us downstream.

That's it. Keep going.

Sh*t!

- She's onto us.

- Damn witch. How can she do that?

It's not magic, she's a tracker.

And she's downwind of us.

- What's happening?

- They're making camp across the valley.

They don't care

if we know where they are.

But she won't expect it... us.

Bothos, watch over Leo.

- What are you going to do?

- Going to even the odds.

Come on.

Aargh!

Quintus!

Kill him and be done with it.

No!

They took his f***ing head.

- Bothos!

- They had the same idea as you.

They're not defending their lives

or their country any more.

They've sworn a blood vengeance

against us.

And they won't rest...

...until we beg them... for death.

Are you ready to get on your knees

and beg?

- I'm finished. It's hopeless.

- Hopeless?

Hopeless is what they sing songs about,

write poems about.

Hopeless is the stuff of legend, Bothos.

And being a legend will get you laid.

What do I have to do?

Keep moving, while we still have

darkness on our side.

The gods have forsaken us.

We make our own chances now.

Aargh!

Macros. Macros.

I... I can't keep up.

I can't keep up.

Macros, at least this way,

one of us will make it.

- Bastard!

- Don't cry out, Macros.

They'll end it quicker

if you don't cry out.

Don't leave me! Thax!

Thax!

Come on!

We should give this place a wide berth.

We need food and a place to rest.

Where the hell are we now?

- I'll get some water. Stay alert.

- Yeah.

- Oh!

- Whoa, whoa!

Brick, go back inside.

Go back inside now.

I'll leave you to it, then.

You speak my language.

Are you from the garrison?

I thought you'd stopped

coming up this far north.

Garrison? What garrison?

- Two days south of here.

- They come here?

How do you think I know your language?

I do what I can to discourage them.

They think I'm a necromancer...

...and they leave me alone.

It usually works on the others.

Why not you?

We're too tired to be afraid.

We were 3,000 and now we are three.

Here.

Brick, put the f***ing knife down.

Bothos, there's a Roman garrison

two days from here.

It must be the Western Frontier Post

at Mentieth.

Two days?

Let's take a look at your friend.

Quintus, what's she doing?

She's a Pict and a woman...

Two good reasons not to trust her!

Right, that'll stop the bleeding.

Death caps?

Smells good.

Well, how's your leg?

Has our witch worked her magic?

Quintus, the mushrooms.

- What?

- She's trying to poison us.

Why heal your leg, only to kill you?

Death caps have white gills.

It pays to know your mushrooms.

Good.

It's really good.

- It's delicious.

- It's good.

Your men are very nervous.

They ought to be.

A demon stalks us day and night.

A demon?

They call her Etain.

You know her?

If Etain is hunting you,

you might as well be dead already.

That's comforting.

Her soul is an empty vessel.

Only Roman blood can fill it.

Where's Arianne?

She went to fetch us some breakfast.

Are you OK?

Is that for bait?

Where I come from it's considered rude

to interrupt a man midflow.

Where I come from it's considered

only fair to warn a man

when he's pissing on his breakfast.

Good point.

Must've been a storm

in the hills last night.

Come on!

- Trouble.

- Let's get out of here. Bothos.

Too late for that.

Hide in the grain store

and don't make a sound.

We put you in too much danger.

We'll leave.

Leave now and she'll have you gutted

and skinned before nightfall.

Stay until morning,

and your friend will be fit to travel.

These are your people.

They are not my people.

Not since Gorlacon accused me

of witchery and gave me this...

...to mark me as an outcast,

and banished me

to live out my days here, alone.

What cruel devices

does fate yet have in store for us?

To find sanctuary

in the house of our enemy.

Is she angel...

...or devil?

- Clear.

- All right.

Get some rest.

I'm a cantankerous old soldier...

...but not too stubborn

to admit when I'm wrong.

I'm sorry I misjudged you.

There it is.

- It's getting cold.

- Thank you.

You've given us the shelter of your home,

the warmth of your fire,

and risked your life for us.

Why?

I owe allegiance to no man,

but to whom I choose.

Here's some food for the journey.

Thank you.

Good luck, Roman.

Good luck, witch.

Bothos, get up. Come on.

My leg!

Look! Look! See, the fire's burning.

Look, hot food and a dry bed.

Come on.

Agricola has fallen back.

Emperor Hadrian has given orders

to form a new defensive line to the south.

Giving up the ground we fought for.

- And where does that leave us?

- F***ed.

How does she do that?

I don't know about you,

but I'm tired of running.

- This is all I could find.

- Make them count.

For Virilus.

For the Ninth.

Bothos, they're flanking us.

West wall!

Brick!

Come on!

- How much further do you think?

- I don't know.

A day's ride. Maybe two.

That's close enough, Thax.

Oh, sh*t!

I thought you were Picts.

We thought you were dead.

Where's Macros?

Wolves got him.

Is this it? Are we all that's left?

Hey, at least the three of us made it!

- We're not home yet.

- What are you talking about?

- We should be at the frontier by now.

- No.

Agricola's been given

his marching orders.

Ha! So, Rome's finally given up

on this shithole of a country, then?

Can't say that I'm sorry.

Then we fought for nothing.

Hup! Hup!

- What happened with the boy, Thax?

- I've no idea what you're talking about.

This is Hadrian's big, f***ing plan?

A wall?

Hey, who cares? We made it.

- Let's go!

- Bothos, wait!

Slow down, Centurion.

Thax, what are you doing?

Just making sure

that we understand each other.

I understand that many good men died

because of what you did,

and you will answer for it.

Why did I just know

you were going to feel that way?

Hey!

Bothos!

This report

confirms our worst fears.

You fought your war, soldier,

and earned the gratitude of Rome.

This man will show you to my private

quarters, he will see you fed.

You look half starved.

We cannot return to Rome in disgrace.

Better that the fate of the Legion

remain a mystery

than the truth of their failure be known.

If word gets out, every tribe

and every nation will rise against us.

It's too great a risk.

Are we agreed, then?

The fate of the Ninth Legion

will be struck from the record.

Aye.

Aye.

I hope the food is to your liking.

I've brought you some wine.

It is the least we can do

for a hero of Rome.

Is this how Rome honours her heroes?

You want to bury the truth

and me along with it?

You are too much of a risk.

Where will you go?

Where I belong.

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