The Eagle: The Making of a Roman Epic Page #3

---

However, my father will insist

I go into politics.

Have we met before?

Your name sounds familiar.

Oh, I doubt it.

The Tribune's Club, in Rome?

No, I was only

a cohort centurion.

Ah. Right.

I remember now.

Flavius Aquila... Your father marched

with the Eagles, too, did he not?

He commanded

the First Cohort of the Ninth.

Of course. The Ninth.

Every Roman

remembers the Ninth.

Talking of the Ninth, there's been a

rumour recently along the Wall.

Rumours, rumours.

Britain's full of nothing

but rumours.

They say the Eagle's been seen,

Receiving divine honours in some

tribal temple in the far north.

An Eagle in the hands of the

Painted People, a potent weapon.

One has to wonder

how any Roman could let it go.

If this were to be true,

Surly, we should act.

What would Rome say?

Eagle lost, honour lost.

Honour lost, all lost.

Rome would love to get

the Eagle back,

But politics being politics,

No Senator's going to risk thousands

of lives, on a tainted Legion.

My hands are tied.

Not if you sent one man.

North of the wall?

No Roman could survive

up there.

- Has anyone ever tried?

- No...

But that's the point, militarily...

To try, would be to fail.

How do you know?

One man can hide

where an army can't.

No one would even know

he was there.

- It's too risky.

- Quite right.

The loss of the Ninth

was humiliating enough,

without adding

another pointless death.

Marcus.

Marcus.....

You can't let the likes of him

do this to you.

He has no notion

how you and I, lived our lives.

Ever since I can remember.

All I've ever worked to be

was a soldier, like my father.

I know.

I can still see him now,

riding away for the last time.

I can still feel

how proud I was.

My father...

Centurion of the First Cohort

of the Ninth Legion,

Can you imagine anything

more magnificent,

Than to be a soldier?

And to serve Rome,

- With courage and faithfulness.

- But you did, son.

For what? For what?!

- An honourable discharge?

- That's fate.

That's in the hands of the Gods.

When I made Centurion,

They asked me...

Where I wanted to be posted.

I knew the answer

before they'd even asked.

Britain.

This is where my father

lost the Eagle.

This is where I was going

to win so much glory,

That no Roman would ever dare

bring up his name again.

And what all I do now?

What all I do? I sit, and I listen to

some silk-arsed politician's son,

Pisses on our family's name!

I will not sit in some villa,

for the rest of my days,

Rotting and remembering.

If I can't win back

my family's honour,

by being a soldier,

Then I'll do it by finding

the lost Eagle.

You can't.

No Roman can survive

north of the wall alone.

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote