The Risen headed directly at the men in the center and the fight began. With the enemy arriving in unformed lines the Romans had a good start to the killing. With shields locked, they attacked with spears and swords targeting individuals easily. The ranked men on the walls shouted and cheered, despite the order for quiet, seeing the legionaries taking the upper hand.
Vitus could not see what was happening below the walls, but word was passed back that the Risen were moving, herd like, and following like sheep into the camp. Even those at the back were moving, and soon the whole swarm looked to be following the plan as laid out by the Romans. The order for quiet was relayed among the troops and the men began to calm.
On the walls a number of auxiliary units began firing arrows at the Risen from above. The dead entering the gates began to drop, while others headed into the fight with more than one arrow in them.
Antonius turned to Vitus, “Sir, shall I give the order for the men to start firing?”
“No Antonius, no order has been given, and this has to go by the numbers,” Vitus replied.
The injured men began to back away from the overwhelming numbers that were engaging them. The second signal was given, and the ladders were dropped over the sides.
Vitus heard the men saying all but a few stragglers were inside the walls. The first legionaries were over and down the ladders in seconds.
The archers continued to pour fire into the Risen from above, causing less casualties than would be expected for the loss of arrows. However as suddenly as they had started they stopped. Vitus guessed word had been passed to cease fire.
On the ground the men were being overwhelmed on all sides. The superior numbers of Risen, and the less than fit nature of the legionaries were taking their toll. More legionaries made their way out of camp, and the remaining men saw the tide of the fight changing.
Vitus saw a Risen launch himself, as if thrown over the wall of shields, to land among the men behind it. He was dragged to the ground and dispatched, but he was followed by dozens more.
Legionaries were dragged from the wall and torn to pieces by the monstrous horde. More men stepped into place without hesitation. This had never been a fight they could win and they greeted death with abandon.
Vitus heard the signal to close the gate as he came to the front, and it was his turn to climb down. He looked over the side and saw the legions forming up in good marching order.
He was soon over the side, carrying his kit on his back, and making his way down the ladder. As he got to the bottom he heard a commotion start but was unable to tell what it was. He formed up with his men, and waited for the signal to move out.
Two thirds of the men were over, and it wouldn’t be long before the camp was left to the enemy. Against any other foe this would be a humiliation, but against the Risen it was just good sense.
After less than ten minutes the signal was given, and the legions were on the move. The camp was soon behind them and Vitus spared one last thought for the men who had died so that they could escape.
The auxiliaries were near the rear of the marching order, and Vitus figured that his century was about two thirds of the way back. On the way north the twelve thousand men had made an impressive sight marching in ranks that seemed to stretch for miles. Now there were a couple of thousand and they were all weary and beaten. Those that marched without physical injury had heard the bells of Hades ring and the sound had shaken them.
A messenger, a young boy, fell back among the ranks and passed a wax tablet to Vitus. The boy waited until Vitus read the message and then took the tablet back, passing it to the next centurion in line. Vitus read the message and understood the trouble he had heard as he climbed down from the wall.
Regulus was in the rank in front, and Vitus could feel the lad wanting to ask what the message had said. He ignored the turning of his head and carried on marching, instead drifting over to where Antonius was and pulled him away from the men to pass on the message.
In a quiet voice he said, “The gates didn’t close. We can’t be sure we aren’t going to be followed.”
Antonius looked grave, “Did they say how it happened?”
“It was the archers apparently. They dropped a few of the Risen in the gateway. That's why the message was given to ceasefire. One or more of the bodies has kept the gate open. Hopefully it won’t mean anything to us but it’s still about five thousand dead running around the countryside that we could have kept contained.” Vitus shrugged and looked back over his shoulder half expecting to see the Risen following them.
“I guess we have to hope that the men we left behind can occupy them long enough for us to get a good lead. We don’t even know if they can track us do we?”
“At this point, I’m going to assume the worst and hope for the best.”
The legions ate up the miles. After days of feeling like the world they knew had been turned upside down it was good to be doing something they were good at.
Some of the men carried minor injuries but the pace was good and nobody dropped behind. It was past midday when halt was called, and the men shrugged off their packs to eat. Vitus walked among his men, making small talk and checking moral was good. Regulus was sprawled out, leaning against his pack. Vitus knelt next him for a moment.
“How are you doing?” He asked.
“I’m good, sir,” Regulus looked sheepish for a moment. “Am I allowed to say it still feels kind of weird saying that?”
“It still feels odd hearing it,” Vitus smiled. It was like Regulus to say exactly what was on his mind.
“They're behind us aren’t they, sir?”
“Where did you hear that?” Vitus asked, wondering if Antonius had spoken to him already.
“I didn’t, sir. I saw the bodies in the gateway before I climbed down, and I guessed the rest when the messenger came round earlier.”
“We don’t know where they are, that's the truth. It could have taken them days to find out they could get out. For all we know they are still in there now.”
Regulus looked as serious as Vitus had ever seen him, way beyond his fourteen years.
“I get the feeling that keeping them in one place is like trying to stop water. You can do it for a while but eventually it will always seep out.”
“I fear you might be right,” said Vitus. “We can only wait and see. By the end of tonight we may have put enough miles between us and the camp, that's the best defence we have right now. As soon as we get to base we can send for reinforcements, and the governor can start planning how to tackle the Risen properly.”
Up ahead the signal sounded to reform, and before long the legions were on the move again. Vitus found the rhythm of the march working its way into his legs, and he felt like he could put one foot in front of the other indefinitely.
The afternoon seemed to bring with it a sense of optimism for the men. The few mounted scouts that remained with the legion reported no sign of the horde from camp, and the way forward seemed clear. After the previous days there was a lifting of spirits that was as good as a long soak in a hot bath.
The Germanian countryside passed by, distant mountains with snowy peaks looked down on dark green forests of tall pines. The weather was showing the first real signs that spring had taken hold and winter was becoming a distant memory. In short, the world was as good as it ever was to the two thousand men who had endured so much.
The first sign that all was not well did not come from behind the marching column, as they had feared, it came from the west.
As the column marched south a lone Risen lurched out from behind a copse of trees, and headed into a century just in front of Vitus. A legionary stepped briefly out of line and drove his gladius deep into the dead woman’s head. There was a cheer, half ironic, as he did so. The legionary even took the time to perform a dramatic bow before he ran to take his place in line. The bow elicited a round of applause and a laugh from those who saw it. Men further up the column turned to see what had caused the sudden m
erriment.
The dead woman was, however, just the beginning. Over the next hour the column was attacked from the west, first in ones and twos, and then in larger groups. Each time, the men nearest stepped out of line and dispatched the creatures in short order.
It became almost like a game to the men. Centuries who hadn’t had their chance to step out and fight started calling out and demanding the next turn. Vitus was himself amused and pleased that the men were getting the chance to exercise superiority over the dead.
As the afternoon turned towards evening the halt was called and an order to set up a ring of fire was given.
All men were to gather wood enough to build bonfires close enough together that the light would be unbroken around the camp. accustomed to walls and tents, the legions would have to make do with the protection of guards and fires. As the men were returning to make whatever food they had brought with them, Vitus was called to a meeting of officers.
The meeting was held near the center of camp beside a large fire, and as far as Vitus could see was attended by every centurion, acting or otherwise. Governor Clemens was at the meeting which was called to order by one of his secretaries.
“Gentlemen, welcome, and thank you for attending. We know it has been a long day, and we will keep you for as short a time as we can. As you know our scout network is severely diminished and our cavalry is none existent until we reach the standing camp. It is because of this fact that we have called this meeting.” He paused for a moment to raise a drink to his lips and then carried on.
“It would appear we have put the threat from the camp behind us. We were worried for a while that the failure to close the gates could spell disaster, but those fears have turned out to be unfounded.”
There was a wave of murmuring as each man passed a word of thanks to his favourite god, or expressed his relief to his neighbour.
“However, you cannot have failed to notice the activity from the west. Due to our numbers it is at the moment no more than a nuisance, but scouts are reporting a large number of the enemy in that direction. There is a Roman owned estate that takes up a huge area of land that appears to have been overrun. The scouts are unable to ascertain if any Roman citizens are still alive on the estate, but we are duty bound to find out.
“It is the very reason for keeping legions in the province, that we protect Roman lives and holdings.”
There was another round of muttering as each man made his feelings known to the man next to him.
“Our main objective still has to be to regroup at the base camp, but we intend to send out a small force to the estate to find and rescue any survivors. We will be sending one hundred men, this force will not be large enough to take on the enemy head to head, but should be big enough to escape most situations. We will be sending a force made up of legionaries and auxiliaries.
“Centurion Bactus, and Centurion Protus are your men fit and ready for action?”
“Vitus was so preoccupied with what was being said, that he missed his own name spoken against his unfamiliar rank. A nudge from his neighbour brought his attention back to the present and a laugh from his fellow officers.
“Good of you to join us Vitus.” Governor Clemens stepped forward. “Can the two of you have your men ready at first light?”
Both men were in agreement.
“Very well gentlemen,” the governor continued. “With that settled the rest of us will be moving out shortly after dawn. I will be pushing the pace as I did today. If Centurions Bactus, and Protus can wait behind, the rest of you are dismissed.”
Vitus and Bactus sat still while their fellow officers filed off to their meals and beds. Meanwhile Governor Clemens’ secretary was opening a map onto the grass.
“This is the estate we spoke about, I will be sending the scout with you in any case. The owner is a man called Marianus Lucius Scribonius. He is the biggest landowner in the region and his presence has done much to stabilise the peace we have here.
He provides imports and exports to the local tribes and has the favour of quite a few of the chiefs. We like him being here, so I’d like to find him alive when you arrive. Either way, you are to bring back any surviving Romans to the camp and, if Scribonius wishes, any other household and field slaves he has.
“The scout said he saw no signs of survivors, but if they had time they could have found sanctuary.”
Both Bactus and Vitus nodded.
“Any questions, gentlemen?” Neither man did.
Vitus passed the orders on to his men as he sat and ate. The news was greeted with enthusiasm. Most men thought that doing something positive was preferable to running back to camp with their tails between their legs.
After eating, he sat by a fire with Antonius and Regulus. They passed a wine skin between them that Antonius had rightly deemed worth the extra weight to carry. They drank to absent friends and the days to come. Regulus spoke of all the nubile young slaves that he would save from the undead, who would obviously be so grateful that they would throw themselves under him.
Antonius deemed it worth mentioning that this would be the only way a nubile young slave would throw herself anywhere near him. It was long dark before they settled down in the Germanian wilderness to pass the last hours of night in sleep.
The stars shone overhead and the moon had a wicked orange glow that brought with it bad dreams of endless, deathless life, and a hunger that could never be filled. These dreams would be forgotten in the morning light but now, in the darkest part of the night, they were so real that more than one man woke with sweat trickling down his back despite the cold air. Death was stalking them, and worse the promise of no death at all.
CHAPTER NINE
Lucius Valerius stared in mute horror as the gates to the villa fell, and knew all was lost. The men crushed beneath the weight of iron screamed as their bones were broken. More, they cried out in fear as waves of the invading monsters swarmed over them, gaining entry to the villa grounds.
Some of the creatures stopped, so tempted by the fresh meat that could not escape them, that they forgot the armed men in front of them. They bit into exposed flesh, tearing muscle and sinew from living hosts. Blood soaked into the earth of this little slice of Rome.
The archers on the wall fired into the monstrous horde as they charged into the defenders. Lucius saw one of the creatures drop, pierced through the top of the skull by an arrow. The beast that followed caught its feet against a flailing arm and fell. The unfortunate trapped man on to which it landed shrieked in terror, the noise was quelled in a spray of his own blood.
For a moment, the fallen creatures blocked the gateway, slowing those behind. The defenders took the chance to step forward and secure the breech. It was a valiant effort, but the number of undead was too great. Lucius watched the captain of the house guards dragged from his place, he disappeared into the crowd of rotting, grey-faced demons leaving nothing but the echo of his screams.
A hand grabbed Lucius’ arm. He turned, ready to swing his sword at whatever was attacking him. Instead he saw one of the field slaves with a scythe in his hand and terror in his eyes. The man was pulling gently at Lucius, trying to lead his master away.
“Come with me, sir. I will try to get you to safety,” the man pleaded. He was one of the older slaves, possibly in his forties. He was stripped to the waist, and a heavy scar ran across his chest. Lucius vaguely remembered that the man was an ex-gladiator, whose injuries had forced his owner to sell him. He had been a bargain, because when his wounds had healed, he had worked like an ox.
“My daughter is in the cellar, I won’t leave her,” Lucius said, pointing to the main door of the villa. As he did a guard was thrown back against the wall between the two men and the entrance. The big slave pulled at his master’s arm once more and shook his head.
“We must get away from this place, sir. We can come back for the women and children later, but only if we live now.”
Lucius looked back at the door to the villa, his heart heav
y with guilt, then allowed himself to be led away. One of the attackers stepped in front of them, her flesh hanging in strips from her chest, as if she had been mauled by an animal with huge claws. She lunged at Lucius, arms outstretched and mouth agape.
The ex-gladiator reacted instantly, he swung his scythe up and into the dead woman’s neck. There was a moment when it looked like the makeshift weapon had become lodged in the bone and flesh, then the head fell to the ground. They watched for a second as it rolled to a stop against the villa wall, its teeth still snapping at them.
As they reached the corner of the building, Lucius turned and took in the fight once more. The defenders were being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. The paid guards were mounting a ragged rear-guard action, but the fight was already lost. Here and there slaves fought as individuals, or pairs. They fought to save themselves, but the enemy was all around them and they were not skilled fighters.
“This way,” Lucius’ escort said, taking his elbow and drawing him away from the scene of destruction. He turned from everything he had spent his life building, knowing he would return, for his daughter at least, but that all he had was lost.
The side of the house away from the gate was quiet, Lucius followed the slave across the dirt and gravel yard. Here and there tufts of grass grew, making the place look untidy. On a normal day, he would have a word with the estate manager, telling him to have a few of the slaves tidy the place. Now, the idea of such trivial things shocked a chuckle out of him.
“Sir?” the slave asked, looking surprised at hearing the laugh.
“Nothing,” Lucius said. “What is your name?”
“Eneas, sir,” the slave answered, his eyes darting around the yard for a safe place.
“You saved my life, Eneas, Thank you,” Lucius said, glancing back toward the sounds of fighting. The side of the villa down which they had come was mercifully free of the creatures. Judging by the noises rising from the fight however, it wouldn’t be long before the monsters had free reign over the estate.
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