The Roman Soldier br br br It was late evening, when walking along the walls of br the ancient city of Chester, I saw him, the old centurion, br he stood alone dreaming of retirement, the land and br slaves he had been promised when he joined the army. br He and his kind was hated here, in his own beloved land br the almond tree stood in ornate regalia whishing spring br welcome by strewing a carpet of flowers on its path. br br He didn’t see the two terrorists sneak up on him, when br he did it was too late, and slowed by age he was knifed br repeatedly. I think they must have sensed my presence, br looking my way they stopped, jumped over the parapet br and vanished. I held the centurion’s hands, he opened br his brown eyes, a brave little smile, and said: “Guess br I shan’t see the flowering of the almond tree this year.