An exceptional gift was granted to the lancer, coming in the right time to steer his mind back to the matter most important now; Oscar. He was given a permission to visit the boy in his cell by the governor. The gesture seemed like an indirect apology for the latter's inability to spare the boy but Diarmuid was content with it. If anything, even if it meant betraying the blonde's trust, it presented him with an opportunity to inspect the prison and find a way to aid in Oscar's escape.
He was permitted the visit, but the guard took his lances temporarily and the Celtic did not mind. They served no purpose now, the escape had to be perfectly planned and executed. As he walked behind the guard who seemed anxious to have the visitor behind him, afraid he might suddenly spring into action to rescue his kin, he kept turning his head back every few seconds to check on the lancer who looked composed with no ill intentions bore or shown.
The dim poorly lit narrow corridors and the foul smell filling the air, made Diarmuid's heart tightens with the first memories of his capture, and his mind started rebelling against his will to remain composed; why would Oscar choose to end up in this place? Even when Sabina, if she was truthful with him, tried to deter him and advised him against it. Her lack of interference, despite the excuse she used, emerged once again in his thoughts, not forgiven.
Oscar was secluded in a far cell by himself, as if he was a dangerous criminal. How much blood did he shed? How many men did he kill to be treated in this way? But when Diarmuid's eyes fell on him, the boy was sitting in a relaxed position, wearing a cheerful smile on his face even before seeing his mentor coming to see him. His eyes were staring at the ceiling with a dangerous bright, as if he was imaging some scenario in his mind that brought so much joy to his soul. He looked in a high spirit despite the fate awaiting him. The only logical explanation the lancer could conjure from this picture was that either Oscar had already prepared an escape plan, or that he was so confident in Sabina's aid, which until now, nothing of it was proposed or shown.
"Oscar…"
The lancer called him, awakening the boy from whatever vision that was occupying his mind. When the imprisoned boy heard his mentor's voice, he sat up, still smiling.
"Diarmuid, you are here!"
The echoes of his full name, without the endearing abbreviation, fell heavily on the lancer's ears, it was not lovely or intimate at all. It made the call sound as if they were new friends or mere acquaintances that shared few conversations and talks. Diarmuid, irritated by this behavior, answered with a sharpness he did not intend, instead of the soft whisper he imagined.
"Did you think I would abandon you?"
"No, I know your obligation toward me will force you to come. And right now, you are probably thinking of a way for me to escape this place."
"My obligation?"
Diarmuid repeated, his voice stolen by shock. Did Oscar just classify their friendship and mentor – student relationship as an obligation? But the loud laugh quickly turned the lancer's attention back at the strangely behaving boy..
"Well, joke on you… because I do not intend to escape, not now and not later either."
"I will help you escape… I will…"
The lancer said believing Oscar's words stemmed from loss of hope but he was quite serious.
"Of course you would, you have to… but I do not want to leave this place."
Diarmuid became fed up with his former student's insistence on reverting any true intentions the lancer harbored into the mere idea of obligation, and so he asked angrily.
"What are you trying to say? I remember I told always to speak clearly and directly! We are not merchants or scumbags to twist our words and go around beating the bush!"
"How much clearer could I be?"
Oscar answered innocently although his latching smile was not as innocent at all. It was slightly bitter, slightly sinister.
"You still believe you are a knight, you still believe I am your weak helpless disciple… you still think it is your duty to protect and save me because of your honor, vows and nobility…"
The first thought to cross the addressed man's mind was that Oscar had somehow seen what he did at the battle, sending a helpless shiver down his entire body, but that was not the case.
"I am no longer your student just as you are no longer a knight! We are both gladiators now, living to kill and entertain the masses, living to gain a fame beyond any fame in this huge empire! Why cannot you admit this and treat me as your equal?"
"Do you even miss home, Oscar?"
The boy was taken aback by the sudden question, and remained silent for a while before he directed the same words at the lancer.
"Do you, Diarmuid? You are more famous and hailed here than when you were in Britain. The governor even favors you, his counselors fear you, the crowds adore you, your owner reveres you… what part of home should any of us exactly miss?"
Diarmuid could not imagine that Oscar possessed such a lethal tongue, like a serpent's hissing and spilling a poisonous truth.
"Our freedom…?"
"Can you even call yourself a slave with all the love and admiration you are showered with? Our village accepted a refugee with a poor wasting woman, before they knew who you were when you announced you would join the battle against the invading troops. Have they known then who you were, they would have never accepted the risk of sheltering you against Fionn's rage and revenge!"
"It sounds like you are the one bent on revenge now."
Oscar looked at the sadly smiling man then shook his head, his features softening for the first time since the visit started.
"No, I do not blame you for anything, not for my capture or enslavement. I only blame my weakness. However, Lady Sabina saved me… she made me into a man… answered my wishes for training and fighting at the arena… I do not blame you, Dia."
"Yet she did nothing to save you from this ditch."
Any softness that blessed the boy's face vanished immediately at this guilty remark, as he answered crudely:
"I will never endanger or implicate Lady Sabina in this matter, and I have been insisting to the people who are questioning me that she knew nothing. I would never disgrace the woman I revere, unlike…"
The boy stopped, he did not need to complete his thought, the meaning behind his words was more than obvious. It was a direct insult thrown at the eloping lover, who indeed protected the woman he loved but not against the struggling and tiredness and terror of the flight. The image of Grainne's fading beauty, tattering majestic clothes, her unkempt long hair and the dimming shine in her eyes, the same shine that bewitched the lancer, and which he failed to preserve and brighten, this sorrowful image of a falling princess attacked his mind and strangled his heart. His thoughts never spared him the regret he held toward the woman he loved, but to hear his crime spoken out loud, from a person whom he had believed to be pure and innocent enough to understand the blessing of love, the deliciously of its torment, and the inevitability of its happening was just too much to bear and endure. Despite this, he had no words to defend himself. After all, Oscar was right, though he refused to let the boy succeed in turning his love for Grainne into nothing but regret and sorrow. Still, it was Oscar, the once pure innocent boy, who managed to protect the woman he seemed to admire more than love.
"Tell me, Dia…"
The lancer raised his head, not expecting any more warm words from his once upon a time disciple, but when he was faced by the latter's expression it revealed a little guilt about his previous insinuation before it quickly returned to an excited smile as he drifted the conversation to another topic that was no less repugnant than the previous one.
"You were a prisoner after killing that merchant. You have spent days and nights in a cell similar to this one… what did you think of back then? How did you feel?"
Oscar was still as innocent though in a sinister way as he had been before. He was imitating the lancer, trying to walk down the same path as his mentor, the one he proclaimed he did not admire or need his pampering anymore. He was trying to recreate the same events, to walk the same steps, he wanted to absorb the lancer's experience which he did not know much about its hidden details, like a budding flower parched for more rain and storms, hoping it will remain standing and bloom against all the odds.
" What are you hoping to accomplish?"
Diarmuid asked, eyeing the fidgeting lad with pettiness and sadness and these stares stirred the boy's anger as he erupted into a fit of rage, long hidden and impatiently waiting to express itself.
"I am hoping to surpass you! You came here a slave, then turned into the city's hero and the governor's favorite! Everyone respects you despite your status! You… you defeated death and gained a pardon! And that's exactly what I will accomplish, better than you did! And with a single lance to top it!!"
The words flowed from Oscar's mouth like the foams of a wave crashing against a stony shore as the lancer's gaze only deepened with more pity and sorrow, contrary to the encouragement or even reproach the prisoner was expecting from the dual wielder.
"You idiot, I killed a merchant no one liked, you slaughtered soldiers who were at that time your allies and brothers in arms… you are redrawing a completely wrong picture!"
"Do you really think so?"
"I know it!"
"And do you think I will die?"
"Yes."
Diarmuid replied in a solemn tone he did not know he still possessed and with a truthfulness he thought he had forsaken long ago. He was surprised by his own words, but this was a fate that could not be twisted or changed and Oscar had clearly failed to realize that, being more than delusional in his pursuit of the grandiosity he envied his mentor for accomplishing despite the fact that the man who possessed it abhorred it to no end, another truth he was blinded to.
"You will see! I will be more than happy to prove you wrong when I…"
Oscar's rage suddenly came to a halt, he definitely had more to say but stopped his impulsiveness at the last moment, afraid to reveal an additional detail the lancer could not fathom. The boy, restraining himself, returned into his former position of lying down and calmly asked the visitor to leave.
"Please Dia, go away. I do not need your help. Not in this way."
Oscar asked respectfully this time, and the lancer said nothing. His will and determination to save Oscar did not dwindle by the estrangement and the shunning he was welcomed with. He turned his back and left, giving no promises or hopes of salvation to the boy without giving up on them.
***
Was Oscar envious of his mentor's success? Could the reputation he built for himself here be called a success? It would be a stupid lie to say it was not. The greatness of the arena Sextus had never stopped talking about was easily grasped within the dual wielder's hands, his status even rising higher and higher with Germanous favoritism and pardon, his invitations for meeting with him, and lastly by the veiled truth of the last battle. Was it Sabina who seeded this deluded ideas and if so, for what purpose? Or was it a trait ingrained in the lad all along and which the lancer had miserably failed to detect?
He hated Sabina for no clear reason other than her mere presence and confidence but the lancer believed she was innocent this time and this belief tore his heart. It was as Oscar had explained, she saw a poor weak slave, bought him out of mercy, then indulged him in his desires to grow strong and fulfill his previously nonexistent lust for fighting, but with her eyes that could penetrate souls and walls alike, she must have predicted the crazy outcome.
If only he could know what that woman wanted from him… what was her goal? What purpose and plan did she have in her unreadable mind for him?
These questions served no purpose now, he could plead at her feet to save Oscar but
he knew that this particular matter, even for a woman of her status, was out of her reach and power. So, he could only rely on one last trial, against his pupil's desire. And thus he headed to the governor's palace where he was welcomed as if he was a regular visitor or a counselor.
The lancer entered to the hall, empty except for the blond governor who wanted to be happy about seeing the lancer yet could not allow himself to after failing him, and as he sensed that he would be failing him once again in a crueler way than before.
"I beseech of you, save Oscar's life… and I will never leave your side…"
"Is not that an already given promise?"
Diarmuid's lips trembled, his promises and vows interlacing like the paths of a maze that had no entrance or exit. But Germanous was not trying to rile the man. He was simply weak when it became to the thoughts of these magnificent lances that brought him luck and their wielder that gifted him a sense of security and protection, leaving his side. Diarmuid opened his mouth, trying to rephrase his words, but he did not need to. Germanous knew what the lancer meant. The governor left his chair and raised the bowing man's head with sorrowful eyes, then helped him to stand up shaking his head.
"Please do not bow to me, I know you are always sincere and faithful."
"Have I ever failed you before? Have these blades not fulfilled your wishes? Did they not impress you and protect you?"
"I cannot deny any of this because I respect and love you… the same way I believe you respect and love your younger friend."
This turn in the conversation was intentional, and it hid what the lancer dreaded the most.
"Had he killed a civilian or a single soldier I would have risked everything to prevent his trial at the arena despite the hypocrisy of the act, that you, yourself, would disdain me ordinarily for… but this matter is much more complicated… many soldiers have died… more than ten, wounded and unscathed alike in front of a whole battalion! "
"And if he won the trial?"
"You think he can?"
Diarmuid furrowed his eyebrows at the governor's puzzled intonation, anticipating the upcoming reveal.
"Sabina had told me of her slave's last wish, and insisted on carrying it. I refused at the beginning but then I thought; all what that boy had done was to reach this certain situation…"
"What certain situation?"
The lancer asked, knowing the answer but still in a desperate need to hear it. A ragged thread of hope that was surely to get torn.
"He wishes to fight you, to demonstrate who is superior."
Germanous truly did not know what place did he stand at these two kin out of nowhere rivalry, especially after he heard that the two were mentor and pupil, captured together then separated. He could remember the lancer humble request of finding the boy so vividly.
"I see."
The lancer merely answered with these few words, holding his two lances and leaving without excusing himself. He need not burden the governor who had no authority over this matter while determined not to indulge his pupil's desire at the same time.