Saturday Morning, 33 A.D.

The dark air was stagnant with the smells of leather, metal, and men.

He sat on the hardwood bunk, his tunic-clad body hunched over, elbows on knees.  The other seven in The 8 On 12 were asleep.

Another early morning.  Yet he knew something had changed, was changing, Something important.

He rotated the folded fabric in his hands almost reverently.  He stared at the floor, his mind trying to see what was coming.

"Hey, Bull."

Blinking, he turned towards the whisper.  The perpetual grinning face of Lucius winked back from the next bunk.

"Couldn't sleep, big guy?"

Gaius looked down at the blood-stained tunic.

"No.  Rough night."

In one quick smooth motion, Lucius rolled out, over, and sat down next to his large friend.

Gaius had to smile.  Lucius "The Cat" was quick and deadly even when half-asleep.

Lucius nodded toward the cloth, his voice soft.

"Who'd ya get that off of"?"

The quiet grunt of a laugh escaped The Bull's craggy face.

"All those years of gambling with you idiots and I finally win......this.  A dead man's tunic."

Lucius held out his hand.

"The Golgotha detail?  I lucked out. Got to come back here for some rack-time."

Gaius gave him the cloth.  Lucius opened it up.

"Nice material.  Someone put some work into it.  So, who was this guy?"

Gaius leaned back, reliving it.  He shrugged.

"I dunno.  Some Jew, I guess.  The Old Man had me nail the judgment sign on the cross."

Lucius leaned forward to give the fabric back.

"What'd he do to win a rooftop view of Golgotha?"

No response.  The big man stared ahead, lost in memories.  Lucius slow-slid away then poked him.  Gaius' body jerked up and away as a huge hand slashed the air where Lucius had just been sitting.  Lucius grinned at his now fully-aware friend.

"So why'd we kill 'im?  What was on the judgment sign?"

Gaius shrugged again.

"Jesus.  King of the Jews,", The Bull chuckled at the memory. "The Old Man loved that.  Really ticked off the fat cats."

He shook his dark-haired head.

 "Dunno why the Governor is playin' footsie with those idiots.  It's not like they're Romans."

Understanding finally dawned on Lucius' face.

"He the guy at the Praetorium?  They beat him to a pulp."

The big man's face contorted in disgust.

"Yeah.  That's the guy.  Glad the Old Man kept us outta that.  Let the newbies and wannabes feel all tough and bad poundin'  a helpless man.  That's not being a soldier.  That's not war."

Lucius glided back and sat on his own bunk.  He locked eyes.

"Gaius.  What is it?"

The Bull looked away, his whisper fierce and angry.

"We killed an innocent man, Lucius.  The guy was no criminal.",  he swallowed hard, "We murdered an innocent man."

The two men sat amid the soft, sleeping noises of the others. Lucius broke the silence.

"We don't judge 'em, Bull, we just carry out the judgments.  We're not decision-makers.  We're order-takers.  Besides - ", The Cat stood and stretched his battle-scarred body, "how do ya know he was innocent?"

Gaius stood, setting the tunic reverently on his bunk.  He looked down at his small friend.

"His eyes, Lucius.  The love in his eyes.  He said he forgave us."

The two men moved noiseless down the hallway to the courtyard.  Stepping out into the dawn, they felt the prelude of a searing day in a dusty land.

Lucius stopped.

"Wait.  Whadda ya mean he forgave you?"

"The fat cats were mockin’ him.  The scumbags hangin’ on either side were swearin’ at him. The mob was screamin’ at him.  He looked at them all.  And then he looked at me."

Gaius looked up, reliving the moment,

"That's when he said it..."Father, forgive ‘em. They don't know what they're doin’.""

Lucius nodded as they continued down the street.

"So his dad was there.  That sucks."

"No, Lucius, that's just it.  He...he was talkin’ to God."

Lucius shot a sideways glance at The Bull.

"Well.  Crucifixion'll do that to ya."

Gaius shrugged, not convinced.

"A lotta people get religion at the end, Bull.  It's human nature."

"I'm thinkin' he was right."

"Right 'bout what?"

"That his father was - is - God."

Lucius tugged Gaius' arm as they turned into the mess hall.

"You're sayin' he was a Son of God, like, uh, Hercules?"

Gaius nodded as the realization hit him.

"Yeah.  I guess I am.  All the things that happened.  The dark at midday.  The earthquake when he died.  And I think the Old Man feels the same way."

"Wait-wait-wait.  You're tellin' me he died that afternoon?  That's not even a quarter of a day!  Nobody dies that quick on a cross."

Gaius shrugged.

"The fat cats had some big religious thing comin' up so they wanted everyone dead before they got all holy.  We had to break legs so they'd choke out.  I got the bludgeon.  I did the other two first, but when I got to him, he’s already dead.  The fat cats were yellin’ for the Old Man to make sure."

The big man rubbed his chin.

"But he knew.  And I knew."

"And then what?"

Gaius straightened up.

"The Old Man handed me his short spear and nodded.  I did a cross thrust, up and through.  Water and blood.  But he was long dead before I touched that spear."

"Bull, nobody dies that fast from a crucifixion!"

Gaius locked The Cat in a vice-like gaze.

"He died on a cross -  but that wasn't what killed ‘im."

"Gaius! Lucius!"

Immediate recognition caused both men to turn and snap to attention.

Centurion Flavius Maxis strode toward them in full armor,  years of disciplined service honing his movements into precision and efficiency.

The Bull and The Cat barked in unison.

"Sir!"

The Old Man's leathered face softened as he approached, his thoughts going to The 8 On 12.

12 on the sundial cast the shadow directly behind the gnomon, behind its back.  The 8 always had his back.  No enemy had every gotten through.  The enemy dead numbered in the hundreds that were unlucky enough to be across from The 8 On 12 in battle.

He liked that they called him The Old Man behind his back but never to his face.  Their loyalty was without question.  Their bravery and skill were unequaled in the Cohorte.

The Centurion managed a tired smile for two of his best.  He stepped forward to clasp Gaius on the shoulder then Lucius.

"You, Bull, will be in charge of The 8 On 12 until I return.  Cat, you are my witness to his charge."

"May I ask, Sir, where you're goin’?  And why aren’t we goin’ with ya?"

The Centurion sighed as his hands dropped.

"I have been asked by the Governor himself to oversee a guard detail for a dead man.  It seems that man we crucified has the Jewish politicians all upset."

The Old Man's eyes locked onto Bull’s.

"They said he told people he would rise from the dead in three days time.  And the leaders think his followers will steal the body to make it appear so."

The Old Man and The Bull held their gaze, confirming what they were now beginning to believe.

The Centurion looked over at Cat.

"But I don't think that will be the case ."

Lucius blurted out what both of the soldiers were feeling..

"But sir, if there's gonna be trouble, we oughta be with you."

A grim smile flickered across The Centurion's face.

"There are new recruits that need experience.  It would be best to get that against unskilled foes.  So -  get some chow, get some rest, and have that barracks spotless when I get back."

The Bull and The Cat stiffened to attention.

"Sir!"

The Old Man strode away, speaking over his shoulder.

"Besides, gentlemen, if this King of the Jews is who I believe he might be, we could take the entire Legion - and it wouldn't matter."

The Centurion strode down the deserted street and whispered to no one in particular.

"And if death can't stop him..."