THE ROMAN CENTURION

by Veronica Jane Williams

THE FIRST IN THE REINCARNATION SERIES:

ANOTHER TIME

DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Paramount. The story is mine.

NOTE: This story will be the first of a new short series.

RATING: G

ANOTHER TIME: THE ROMAN CENTURION

He was on horseback, a black stallion that clopped its way through the throng of people milling the short, dusty lanes that flanked the market place of the busy town.

The horse whinnied impatiently as his master tried to soothe the temperamental beast, his hand caressing the long neck, making soothing clucking sounds to it. It seemed the animal listened, yet its trot held barely contained nervous energy, as if, at a signal from its master, would break into a canter and then race off at great speed.

Flavius held the reins loosely, giving his magnificent steed just enough slack to obey his barely spoken commands. It was yet another hot, dusty day, and like his beast, Flavius was impatient get moving through the busy streets to his home on the outskirts.

The young Roman centurion felt clammy, sweaty. He had been in uniform all morning and was dying to get out of it. It sat well on him, as natural as his seat was on his horse. The breastplate shone, reflecting the rays of the sun, causing some of the people to shield their eyes. His feet were shod with the strapped sandals worn by the soldiers, the straps crisscrossing right up to just below his knees. The short red tunic, overlaid by leather panels all round lent him grace, as did his plumed helmet. The epaulettes were two round silver disks to which was attached his long red toga, fanning out over his back, down almost to his feet.

All that was really visible of his face, were his eyes, now plotting his way ahead. Some children came scurrying along in his direction, causing his steed to rear nervously.

"It's okay, Orion. They're children. No need to get nervous," he soothed the animal. But the town of Sidon was full of children, it seemed. Was it only three years ago he stood, imperious in red, a distance away from where a young man, not much older than himself beckoned the children to come to Him? But he was a Roman, who believed in a great number of gods, yet he found this Man's philosophy held a certain appeal. But, he mused, now was not the time to dwell on philosophies while the hot sun was beating down on him.

The children, it seemed, were running away from some scuffling ahead, about a hundred ell away. He was immediately on the alert. Orion's nose went up, snorting as he made his way through the crowd.

He approached the general area of the commotion, most of the rest of the crowd oblivious of what was happening way ahead. So like these people, he thought - going their own way, uncaring. Who cares? his friend, Marcus Tullius, that sometimes arrogant Roman told him. He approached the group, who immediately deferred to his presence. His heart went out to the unknown person who was lying in the centre of the circle. The men and women surrounding what was to him, and them obviously a stranger. Dressed in rags, face bleeding, abrasions on the bare arms, he tried to raise himself on his elbow. His hair was shoulder length, a dark, deep brown, and eyes dark, the pleading and fear clear in them. There were stones lying around him, clearly signifying the intent of the mob.

"What is going on here!" he commanded.

When no one answered, he said: "Who is that man?"

"My lord," one of the men ventured, obviously scared and caught in the act of stoning a defenseless person, "that is a woman. A pretender. She is evil."

"It seems to me those casting stones should speak about themselves," he retorted as he slid easily from his horse, and the crowd opened a way for him. Some disappeared, afraid of retribution for an act the Roman Senate had banned.

He bent down, and looked at the woman, young still, and saw the fear in her eyes. She appeared badly injured, with cuts on her arms, and her face and forehead scarred.

Her breathing was shallow, and there was a pleading look in her eyes. And fear. But the fear was not all he saw. He saw the pride, eyes suddenly filled with fire. More than that, he was shocked at the scars on her face.

He reached out to touch her face, but she backed away.

"Do not be afraid. I will not hurt you."

He held out his hand to her. She looked around her, at the men standing, and started trembling again. She put out her hand hesitantly, not daring to look this important officer in the eye. Very slowly she took his outstretched hand. He pulled her gently up.

"Who did this to you?" he asked her, not unkindly. Her eyes were cast down.

"My lord," one of the men said, "she's a runaway slave."

"Your master?"

She nodded. Then she sagged and would have fallen down if he did not catch her and held her against him. Her thin body felt bony, and she shivered slightly.

"You need help," he said to her. Then he looked at the men standing around her. "Who is her owner?" Then he directed his question at her. But she would not speak.

"She is owned by a trader who was going to sell her here, in the market," said one of the men.

"Fine," Flavius said, as he took out his pouch, removed several gold denarii and threw it at their feet. " She belongs to me now. See that the trader gets his money."

She looked carefully at the centurion who had come to her rescue. He had removed his helmet, and hung it on one of the saddle rungs.

His golden hair was damp from the sweat, his eyes very blue. He had patrician features, she thought, of high birth and rank, not a common soldier. It was in the lines of his face, the sharp, yet sculpted nose.

He deftly lifted her up on his horse, and because she was dressed like a boy, she sat astride the horse, surprising him that Orion did not buck under her.

"My horse likes you," he said to her, as he led them through the crowd, towards his own abode, smiling at her.

She looked at him, the first person not to shrink at her appearance, who appeared friendly towards her. She touched her forehead where Quintus used his dagger and carved it open. The blood had dried, and she wondered idly whether those scars would remain. But, Quintus was a maniac, bent on sadistic pleasures. At least her new owner seemed more friendly. Perhaps he will treat her better, she hoped. She had escaped the clutches of an evil man. Things could not get worse than that.

"Thank you," she said softly, looking into the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

"No need to thank me," he smiled.

It was his smile that gave her the assurance she hoped for. No, she thought to herself, he would be a good master.

By the time they reached his home, a stable boy had run out. Flavius lifted the young woman off, marveling at how light she felt, and how thin. She's shaking like a leaf.

"Come with me." His hand was on her shoulder, coaxing her forward into the cooler, shaded area of the courtyard. They were met by by an older woman who, when she saw the condition of the young woman, ran immediately to her. She started clucking over the girl, wanting to take her quickly into the house. Her son she knew, has rescued yet another slave. But Melissa looked at her son, and noticed his regard of the young woman. This one will stay, she thought.

The girl, when she saw the older woman, bowed her head in deference, and was on the point of kneeling, when the centurion held her up.

"Here you do not have to. You are free."

Before she could register any shock, he addressed the older woman.

"Mother, she - " Then he looked at her, a quizzical look in his eyes. "Tell me, what is your name?"

"Eleni. Eleni of Crete," she said softly.

"Eleni of Crete," he said, rolling her name on his tongue.

"Master - "

"No - !" don't call me that, Eleni of Crete. Don't ever call me that," he said softly, looking into her eyes.

She looked at him, then asked:

"What then shall I call you, Roman Centurion to whom I owe my life?"

"Flavius. I am Flavius Tomas Parisius of Alexandria. And this is my mother, Melissa."

THE END

I'd love some comments. Big please!

Veronica Jane Williams

Star Trek: Voyager, Captain Janeway, Chakotay, Paris, Torres, the EMH, and other characters of the series, etc. are the property of Paramount Pictures. Other characters created by the author, will remain the author's property. All photos/images are copyright of Paramount Pictures, 1998, 1999, No infringement upon their trademarks or copyrights were intended. All stories are my own property, that Paramount or anyone else doesn't own. The stories and displaying of pics are intended for entertaining purposes only and not for any financial gain.

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