Based on the work of Robyn Bee, In 7 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

The streets had been quiet as we’d passed, oddly subdued. The few people we saw had quickly ducked out of our way, though we were in our tunicae and sandals.

Kostas’ place, I was happy to see, was lively. Drunken soldiers weren’t spilling out of the place, but there was enough of a crowd that we had to push our way past a few people. I led Helena to the back, where crusty old Kostas scowled from behind his bar.

“Kostas,” I said, leaning against the bar. “I promised this Rhodian lady some pitaroudia. Are you going to disappoint her?”

“Rhodian?” He said, suddenly a lot less grouchy looking.

“From Lindos,” Helena said.

We chatted for a bit, swapping the latest bit of island news that we had while Kostas poured us a couple of flagons of dark wine. The food would be ready in a few minutes, he told us.

“She’s paying,” I said, when I spotted Kostas’ young son.

The kid was coming back with an empty drink tray. I hooked him by the arm, leading him away. I put a silver coin in his hand, promising him another if he’d fetch something for me.

Helena looked at me curiously, but I kept my mouth shut against her silent question.

“Centenarius!” I heard a voice call. “Leontius!”

I turned, already feeling a grin stretching my features. At a nearby table, five men were waving towards me. They wore happy smiles, their cheeks rosy with wine.

“Sergius! You old bastard! What the hell are you doing here?”

Sergius, a crusty old stratiotai with more scars on him than most had years, made a show of cupping one ear.

“Can’t hear you so good, sir! Come here and whisper it to me.”

The men at his table laughed. I did too, shaking my head.

“Friends of yours?” Helena asked.

“Men from my old cohort,” I said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Helena’s body tightened. I saw that same expression flash across her features. Resignation? Consternation? I wasn’t sure. Even here, away from the dark street, I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d seen. It was gone too fast.

“Sure,” she said, stepping forward and forcing me to move after her.

The men rose to meet me, and I greeted each with a rough embrace and a few rougher words. Sergius, Gratian, Suda, Maurice and Niketas; as good a squad of stratiotai that had ever served in Justinian’s legions.

“Boys, this is Helena,” I said as we sat in the chairs pulled over for us. “My shield mate. She guards the Empress with me.”

Sergius blinked. Maurice choked on his wine while Suda and Niketas glanced at each other in disbelief. Helena, however, seemed to loosen. Her gaze flicked to me, and I saw the faint crinkle of something disappear from the corners of her eyes.

Gratian, horse’s ass that he was, guffawed.

“Come on, Centenarius,” he said. He was seated on Helena’s other side, and took the opportunity to drape one arm around her shoulders. “You can’t expect us to believe that sweet little thing fights beside you?”

Whatever else I could say about Gratian, and there was a lot, I couldn’t fault his eye.

Helena was in her tunica, cut in the same simple, utilitarian shape as my own. It was loose, ending just above her knees and doing nothing to accentuate the feminine curves of her body. However, unlike the wrinkled, slightly stained pale gray of my tunica, hers had been dyed a deep green.

It was near to the cypress of her eyes. It made them appear brighter, and more vivid than I’d ever seen them. The green brought out the copper of her hair, deepening it and adding layers to those tumbling waves.

She was beautiful; the field of grass after rain.

“You think I’m sweet?” Helena said, lips curling into a small smile.

“Sweet enough to eat,” he said. His eyes roved up and down her body. “How much?”

Helena stayed relaxed. That small smile never left her lips.

“I’m good, too.” Gratian insisted. “You’ll see. My phallus’s so good that you should be the one paying me!”

He snickered through his leering grin. I shook my head when Sergius opened his mouth to interfere. Although I needn’t have. Because, an instant later, Helena’s fist crunched into Gratian’s throat.

He gagged, falling backwards, his chair crashing to the ground. The tavern fell silent, all eyes on Helena as she slowly stood. Helena’s eyes swept the room. There was a heartbeat of silence, and then two. Her lip suddenly quirked.

“Nobody touches before they pay.”

The room exploded with laughter, covering the sound of Gratian’s moaning. Helena sat back down, while I moved to help the man pick himself off the floor.

“I’ll kill her,” he choked. “I’ll fucking kill that bitch.”

“Shut up,” I said, loud enough for the others to hear. “She’d gut you like a fish. And I’d cut off whatever bits my shield mate left of you.”

I pulled him up, and made a show of checking him over. I hissed into his ear. “You stupid bastard. Helena’s the Empress’ personal guard. Do you want your head to the decorate palace walls?”

Gratian’s face blanched. He started to stammer something but I pushed him away. “I told you to shut the fuck up. Go get us some more wine.”

“Whatever Kostas hasn’t pissed in for me,” Helena called.

Sergius grin was wide. “Good punch, that. It’s the only way to get him to shut his hole.”

“Aye,” Niketas said, draining his cup. He burped. “Finally, some fucking peace.”

“Centenarius,” Maurice said, leaning forward. “No offense to your lady, but a shield mate? Are you sure about this?”

“This lady,” Helena said. “Can speak for herself. Look me in the eyes and tell me what you mean.”

Maurice complied. “You’re a woman. You’re real pretty, I’ll give you that, but you don’t know what this means.”

“I don’t need a phallus to piss standing up. Why would I need one to hold up a shield?”

Maurice smirked. “Cute. But it’s more than that, it’s,”

"Wait, you can piss standing up?” Gratian interrupted, returning with two clay pitchers of wine. “Seriously?”

The others groaned.

“That wasn’t the point, Grat,” Suda said. “Although, now I am a bit curious,”

"It’s easy,” Helena said, throwing him a wink. “And I guarantee that I can piss better than Grat fucks.”

Laughter rolled around the table. Even Gratian snickered, though heat crawled up his face. He started pouring the wine, filling Helena’s cup and then mine.

“So, what the hell are you talking about, then?”

“If she can really be Leo’s shield mate,” Maurice said. “If she can fight.”

“She knows what it means, Maur,” I said. “She’s good, too. Fast. And she’s got some sense, unlike you thick-headed bastards.”

“Good enough for me,” Sergius said. “What do you say boys, we gonna keep her around?”

“Let’s drink!” Niketas said, grabbing his cup.

Sergius banged the table, hoisting his own cup into the air. “To Helena!”

“Helena!” We roared, slamming our empty cups down a few moments later.

Helena joined in, her smile wide and her cheeks flushed a happy red. Our pitaroudia arrived, and we fell to bickering over the platter of fried balls. They were delicious; tomato, onion and bits of a leafy herb mixed into a patty of ground chickpea.

These were rough men that lived rough lives. They were soldiers; killers that earned their coin in the grinding crush of the shield wall. They respected a foul mouth, a hard fist and loyalty to one’s brothers.

They were stratiotai.

And when Helena clacked her cup with a still sheepish looking Gratian; I saw them start to think of her as one too.

“Leo never told me that he was a Centenarius,” Helena eventually said.

I snorted. “That’s because I’m not. These idiots just call me that.”

“The crest on the helmet don’t make the Centenarius,” Suda drawled. “Ain’t that right, Serg?”

“You’re damned right about that, lad,” the older man replied. “Some wise words there.”

I rolled my eyes, the rest of the boys snickering into their cups. Sergius liked to share whatever kernels of wisdom popped into his head. We’d all heard this particular one a hundred times already.

“We call him that because of Callinicum,” Sergius continued, answering Helena’s question.

“Ah,” she said. “You were all there?”

Sergius nodded, “and my bones would be decorating some Persian’s trophy shelf if it wasn’t for the Centenarius here. All of ours would.”

The mood sobered, each of us remembering. I looked down to my hands; seeing the flecks of old, old blood beneath my fingernails. The ones I could never seem to clean.

“Was it bad?” Helena asked.

“Aye,” Sergius answered. “The old Centenarius was a right stupid prick. He got himself killed in the first charge of the Sassanid horsemen. Leontius here took over after that. Things were real shaky for a bit, but he kept us from scattering and being cut to pieces. And when the general decided he’d had enough of watching us die, Leo got us retreating.”

Nobody spoke for a while, memories holding us. Some of us put wine to our lips. I just stared out at nothing with unfocused eyes. The mood remained dark until Gratian, bless his fool soul, blurted out;

“Fuck, but Centenarius Demetrius was a prick.”

That brought out a few chuckles. Niketas let out another burp, and Maurice swatted the back of his head. Most of us felt lighter after that. It didn’t do any good to dwell on the past. The things we’d done, the friends we’d lost, It wasn’t good to remember. Stratiotai had to live for the moment.

Maybe that was why I’d always been such a terrible soldier.

Midnight guard duty.

It was approaching midnight when Sergius hauled himself to his feet. He blinked bleary eyes, motioning to the others.

“Right boys, we’ve got patrol in the morning. Let’s get moving.”

The men swallowed their last mouthfuls of wine, said their goodbyes and stumbled away with various levels of coordination.

Sergius watched them go with a shake of his head. He riffled through a pouch at his side for a moment before turning back to me.

“I’ve got something for you here, Centenarius. It got to the barracks a week or so ago.”

He held a folded envelope out towards me. It had my name on it, written out in my mother’s blocky hand. I snatched it from him, quickly stuffing it away and out of sight. I didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to ruin this night.

“It was good to see you, Leo,” Sergius said. He pulled me to my feet, and pounded my back in a rough embrace. “Don’t forget about us rankers while you’re dining with nobles.”

“Take care of yourself, Serg,” I said, returning his embrace. “And, thank you.”

“We’re on garrison duty,” the old soldier grinned. “What’s going to happen in the capital?”

Sergius surprised Helena by pulling her into a hug next. “Keep your shield tight to his. Our Centenarius always seems to be around when shit is the deepest.”

“I’ll keep him the sword from his back,” Helena said. “Though, it might loosen him up a bit.”

The older man laughed. “It was good to meet you, lass. And remember, you’ve got a brother in old Sergius.” With a last little wave, he ambled out and into the deepening night.

“You were right,” Helena said, settling back. She popped the last of the pitaroudia in her mouth. “This is a great place.”

“Even with Grat here?” I asked with a smile.

“Even still,” she said, her lips curling upward. She put her elbow on the table, leaning her heads against her palm. “I’m happy that you introduced me to your friends. I didn’t think it would be this, nice.”

“It was,” I said. I shifted in my seat, wanting to move my chair closer to her. But the movement jostled the letter in my pocket. Suddenly, my mother’s words weighed more than a boulder. I shifted again, an awkward jerk of my body that accomplished nothing.

Helena’s smile softened. She took pity on me, scooting over until her leg pressed against mine. I let out a breath, leaning back in my chair. We sat in silence for a while. I closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth, and the quiet murmur of the few remaining patrons.

“This was always my favorite part,” I said, after a while. I opened my eyes to find Helena watching me, waiting for me to continue.

“A place like this,” I said. “With the others; once the campaigns done. It’s,”

I trailed off, trying to order my thoughts. How could I explain this to someone who’d never been to war? How did I tell her of the constant tension; of the anxious expectation that came with knowing that somewhere, beyond the light of your campfire, someone wanted you dead.

Kill or be killed; there was none of that here. I could drink with my friends, without wondering which of them I would lose. Or what I would have to do.

It was just; "different,” I finished.

Helena didn’t laugh. She didn’t smile or tease. She just watched me with eyes that took in so much of me. I caught a glimpse of it; the edge that wondrous vastness behind her cypress gaze. She leaned into me, resting her head against my shoulder and letting out a long breath.

“Different,” she said. “I like that.”

My eyes suddenly prickled. I blinked furiously, trying to clear the wetness seeping into them. I turned, leaning my chin against her hair; breathing in the scent of her. I shifted my arm to pull her closer, my mother’s letter forgotten.

“Leo,” she said. “What would you do if you weren’t a soldier?”

“I, I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve always been a soldier.”

“But could you do it for ten more years?”

“What else would I do? My father was stratiotai, and his father and his father. I don’t know anything else.”

Helena shifted against my shoulder, her hair tickling my neck.

“What was your plan once you retired?”

I bobbed my shoulders in a small shrug, careful not to disturb her. “Go back to Rhodos. My mother is a seamstress. I’d help her run the shop.”

“And marry a ‘good’ woman?” She said, her tone edged with mocking.

I didn’t answer, though I tightened my grip on Helena. For a heartbeat, her body was stiff. Then, she let out another long breath, relaxing against me.

“What about something like this?” She asked, gesturing around us. “A tavern.”

“Running a Winehouse?”

She pushed off of me, suddenly more animated. “Why not? You could open a soldier’s tavern on Rhodos; make a place for old stratiotai.”

“A peaceful place,” I murmured.

“Exactly!” She grinned. “It’s a good idea, right?”

“I’d have to learn how to make pitaroudia,” I said, feeling a smile tug at my lips.

“I’m sure Kostas will give you his recipe.”

I laughed. “I’m a solider, Helena, not a cook. I think I even burned water once.”

“You are a soldier,” she said. Her eyes held mine. “But you can be something else.”

I looked away, swallowing.

“You’ll think about it?”

“Sure,” I forced some lightness into my tone. “But only if you promise that you’d go out and catch fish for me every day.”

Helena stiffened, her face suddenly bright red. Not the reaction I’d been expecting. Her eyes flicked over my face, searching. “You don’t think I’d be better as the cook? Or serving drinks?”

“No,” I said, not having to force my smile. “You belong on the sea, right?”

Her eyes were so wide. I felt my heart start to beat faster. That vastness, it was there, rising to the edge of her; on the verge of breaking through.

“Leo,” she murmured. “I,”

She was interrupted by the thump of a pouch onto our table. I looked over to find Kostas’ son standing by our table. The kid looked exhausted, but triumphant.

"You found what I asked for, then?” I said.

He nodded, holding out a grubby hand.

“Good man,” I grinned, flipping him a silver coin. He disappeared without another word. I quickly disengaged myself from Helena to put the lumpy, medium sized pouch away.

“It’s a surprise,” I told her. “For later.”

She arched an eyebrow, but didn’t press me. She downed her last mouthful of wine, letting out a happy sigh. “We have to come back here.”

I nodded, bringing my own wine to my lips.

“It’s nice to see that you can relax without my cunny in your mouth.”

I choked, spraying out a mouthful of wine. Helena laughed, that deep, joy-filled sound. She pounded my back as I coughed myself hoarse. My face blazed, and I felt the eyes of everyone turn towards me.

“Leo,” she said. “You’re defenseless.”

I coughed, glaring at her through watery eyes.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get back to the palace.”

We walked out into the night, breathing in the city’s quiet. Although, it did not last long. We were but a handful of blocks from the Winehouse, when, out of the dark, we saw the fire.

And heard the baying of the mob.

A past shared with the Empress.

The baying of the mob. The glow of fire.

After a few moments of debate, Helena and I decided to move towards it. There were no screams of pain, no real sounds of violence coming from the streets ahead. We would see what there was, we decided, before returning to the Empress.

We came into a square; one with a small, torch-lit church planted solidly at the northern end. A few squads of armored stratiotai, perhaps forty men, stood before the single door. They were imperial legionaries, though I did not recognize any of the grim-faced men. They all looked outward, swords drawn.

Surrounding them, was the mob.

The seething body of humanity was all around them. They totally filled the square; men, women, children. The old and the