Legion of the Undead

by Michael Whitehead

  “There speaks a soldier. Protus, the Roman senate is nothing if not unpredictable. There are a lot of powerful men who all have their own reasons for seeing things done a certain way. I’m not to judge, if I were there, mine would be one of the voices in the discussion.

  “You also have to understand that men, hundreds of miles away, will read my words and not believe them. Even if they say they believe that the dead have come to life, I’m not sure they actually will. That is why I need you and Praetor Domitius. He will find a way to make your voice heard and I want you to convince the members of the senate, the military, even the emperor himself if needs be, that the danger is real.”

  He looked Vitus in the eyes, “I would go myself but this situation requires leadership if we are to keep the region at all.

  “I have secretaries making copies of the maps you will need for your journey. Take anything else you require, horses, tents and weapons. I’ve ordered a set of my armour to be added to your kit. There is no point turning up in Rome and not looking the part. It isn’t too ornamental, don’t worry.” He managed a smile. Vitus looked at his face and saw that, despite his attempts to hide it, the governor was suffering the same as the rest of them.

  “We are restructuring the centuries as we speak. Your men will be rolled into a new century.” He held his hand up as Vitus started to open his mouth. “You’ve done a good job centurion, and when you return, I assure you the new century will be yours. In the meantime, I will make sure they are well led.

  “Take that big optio of yours with you and three or four other men. We can’t spare too many and I think you will move quicker if it's just a few men and Lucia.”

  Lucia spoke up at this, “Rosa and the baby, as well.” It wasn’t a question.

  “No, I'm sorry, I can’t allow it. This is a military mission, you are a vital part or I’m afraid I wouldn’t be allowing you to go either. Anyone you want to follow you to Rome can be escorted at a later date, when we have been reinforced.”

  Lucia looked stricken and turned to Vitus for support. Vitus stared at the governor, refusing to be drawn into an argument that shouldn’t be had. He agreed with Governor Clemens, this wasn’t a time for sentiment. Lucia slumped back in her chair, obviously disappointed, but once again showed a maturity of which her father would be proud.

  “Very well, governor. Thank you for your trust in this matter. I won’t let you down,” she said.

  They left the tent and headed back to pack their kit. Vitus could feel anger seething off Lucia. She walked in silence, parting from him without another word. He let her go, there were more important things to do than think about the feelings of a sixteen year old girl.

  In a way it was a relief to see her show some emotions he could attribute to a girl of her age. She had been impressively grown up over all of this but sometimes a little anger could be cathartic.

  He reached his own men and explained to them that they were to be rolled into a new century. After the losses of the last week, it was a hard pill to swallow. The centuries all had their own identities and hierarchy, and this would throw the balance of the group off for a while. He also explained that they were to be lead, temporarily, by a new centurion as he was heading to Rome.

  Most of the men had never even seen Rome, and there were looks of friendly jealousy and envy. Vitus had only been twice and both of those times were before his father had died.

  It was a city that overwhelmed a man. Buildings towered above you and the amount of people was staggering. Vitus remembered thinking that more people must live in Rome than he had seen in his whole life.

  Antonius was outside tending his weapons and kit when Vitus found him. He explained the plan to the big man, who nodded without comment. Only after Vitus had finished did he ask a question.

  “Who else is going?”

  “I really don’t think we have much of a choice, do you? Where is he?”

  “I believe he is playing nanny again. You must have walked straight past him when you left the girl. He was at her tent cooing over the baby.”

  “Go and fetch him. I’ll have a word with Bactus and get him to lend us three legionaries. Pack yourself up for riding, we are being given horses.”

  “Yes, sir,” the big man said, as he turned and set off to find Regulus. Vitus headed off in the direction of Bactus' tent.

  Over the next few hours, they spent their time preparing to set off at first light. Weapons were sharpened, kit was checked and packed into saddlebags, and the animals were readied for the journey.

  The following morning saw a very emotional goodbye between Lucia and her matron. The men kept a respectful distance but Vitus still had to cuff Regulus round the back of the head to stop the boy from staring at the crying women. For all his skill with a bow and blade, he was still such a young boy at times.

  They set off into a mist covered world of silvers and greys, passing groups of refugees heading in the other direction. The Risen were, thankfully, nowhere to be seen. No doubt they were making more people fatherless and homeless, elsewhere.

  The group headed south with a mind to the fact that time was of the essence. Every delay could cost lives and every detour would cost time. Still, the important part in all this was getting to Rome in one piece. To fail in delivering this message could be fatal to the legions in Germania, and that could be disastrous to the empire as a whole.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Servilia Ventula heard the sound of breaking glass and a shudder of anger spread through her in a wave. The house slaves here in Mutina were just the worst. She had asked her husband if she could bring the slaves from Rome with her when she came away with him.

  All he said, was that it was cheaper to buy them here, than to keep carting them across Italy every time she wanted time away from the city. Ha! As if it was her that wanted to be travel. Every time he came here, buying his stock, he dragged her along with him.

  All he would say was that he found it easier to get a good price from the provincials, if he could bring a little of Rome with him. So every time he came, she was expected to find new and interesting ways to shock the local ladies with her parties. What had it been last time? Oh yes, food served by naked barbarians, which was always going to become an orgy. Gods, but these women were just so easily pleased. They thought they were so sophisticated but they were just so...provincial.

  The women in Rome would eat them alive. Not one of them would last more than a week. Well, maybe Fulvia, but then she spent half of the year in Rome herself. Thankfully not in the same circles as Servilia.

  The woman had a competitive streak a mile wide. Normally, Servilia would welcome a little competition but Fulvia just came across as desperate. The trouble was that Fulvia was the wife of her husband's biggest client, so it was up to Servilia to be as friendly as possible to the bitch.

  She turned towards the sound of the broken glass, and began to shout at the girl who stood over a smashed bowl. She had her hands on her cheeks and tears in her eyes. Like she thought someone would clear the mess away if she could just look useless enough.

  It wasn’t expensive, in fact it may have been a present, she couldn’t remember. The point wasn’t the cost, it was the principle of the thing. The girls up here in Mutina had to learn to be really scared of her. Not just nervous when she walked into a room, that was only a start. No, she wanted them to be terrified every time they heard her voice.

  If this girl wasn’t at least crying by the time she was finished with her, then she just wasn’t being the mistress she knew she could be. Plus, it was fun, and that always helped.

  After a few well-spent minutes berating the girl, she turned to take in the whole room. The place was, of course, all wrong. These girls had about as much style as they had money, none.

  She called for the housekeeper and gave her instructions for just about all the preparations that were wrong, which was just about everything. Some days it just felt far too much like hard work, keeping slaves.

  A
s she was heading back out into the courtyard to take some fresh air and wine, one of the house boys ran up to her. Actually, he stopped running as he came into her sight, which was lucky for him. If there was one thing she couldn’t abide, it was slaves running inside.

  “Mistress, there are men at the door, they are delivering a large crate. I told them to take it to the back, but they said I was to call you. They said that was the instructions they’d been given.” He stood and stared at her, waiting for a reply.

  The boy was no more than fifteen years old, about half her age. The look in his eyes was pure hunger for her but she was almost certain he didn’t know it was there. She spent a lot of time and money to look this good, not that her husband ever noticed. He was fat and balding and far more interested in business than her body these days.

  When they had first been married and she was fourteen, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of her. Flat chested as a boy, yet, as she had grown into a woman with curves in all the right places his ardour had vanished.

  She wondered if it was children or men that really interested him, either way, she was free to do as she pleased because his mind was elsewhere.

  “Do you like what you see?” She asked the young man before her.

  “Mistress...I...I mean.” He stammered and she couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe this one was still a little young for the plucking but she liked the look of him and he would be eager when the time came.

  “Go, tell the men I will be there shortly.” She laughed again as he scuttled off and out of her sight.

  Scribonius, her man who found her new and exotic toys to play with, had sent her a letter a few days ago and told her that he had something unique for her to see. He had been most enthusiastic and she had been intrigued enough for him to come straight to the house. If this thing, whatever it was, really was as good as he said, then it might just do for her guests tonight.

  She made her way through the villa and out to the front. It was late afternoon and the city far below them was all sand coloured buildings and people who looked like insects in a hive.

  Her husband had wanted to buy a place closer to the center of Mutina, but she had put her foot down. If he wanted her to spend time in this backwater cesspit, then he would have to go to the expense of a villa fashionably far enough out of the city. He had balked at the cost as always, the old skinflint, but she had gotten her way.

  Scribonius was outside with the delivery men. This was unusual and it peaked Servilia’s interest. He had four men with him and a large crate on the back of a flat cart.

  “Are you delivering your own wares now, Scribonius?” She teased.

  “Only this once, and only to you, my darling Servilia.” He leaned forward and kissed the air besides beside both of her cheeks. She found the man irritatingly camp and cuttingly funny and the later latter always won out.

  “What have you got that's so exotic, you deliver it personally? I have to admit, you’ve got me intrigued.”

  “I'm warning you, this isn't my usual fair. You're going to be shocked. But I thought to myself, who do I know that likes to really amaze people?”

  Scribonius gave instructions to his men, who lowered the crate off the cart and stood it up on one end. They took ropes and secured it, using pegs that they drove into the ground.

  Scribonius took Servilia by the shoulders and guided her away from the crate. The men took out their swords while one of them used a metal bar to prise open the front. Servilia felt her breath stop in her throat as the wooden panel fell to the floor and she saw what was inside.

  The man was grey and looked like his skin was rotting on his bones. His red rimmed eyes were bloodshot and dead looking. A large flap of flesh fell hung across his chest from a wound but it was not blood that fell, instead a thick black fluid dripped thickly down his front.

  He was chained to the inside of the crate by his hands and throat. His feet had been nailed to the base of the crate using large, flat-backed nails. He strained against his bonds, snarling and biting at her. His hands twisted into claws and she was filled with a hollow, sick feeling.

  “What is it?” She heard herself asking.

  “They are calling them the Risen, apparently. They are saying that he is one of the living dead,” Scribonius said, with lust in his voice. "Magnificent, isn't he?"

  “Living dead? Really Scribonius, I wasn’t born yesterday. What is it, some sort of disease? It’s not catching, is it?”

  “As far as I can tell, he is actually dead, dearest. Here, let me show you.” He motioned to one of the men, who handed over his sword. He took the hilt with all the familiarity of a man who had never held a sword in his life. He hesitated for a moment and then drove the blade into the dead thing's stomach. The creature didn’t even blink. It was as if it had no idea that it had just been dealt a fatal blow.

  “He’s...he’s...amazing. How much do you want for him?”

  “Don't be vulgar, darling,” he chided her. “We can talk about money later. Right now, let my boys get the thing inside, and we can enjoy a drink.”

  They sat on the veranda looking out over Mutina. The sun was sinking behind the tallest buildings, and for once the place looked quite appealing. Behind them, the slaves were putting the finishing touches to the party preparations.

  “I have to say, you've surpassed yourself, Scribonius. Tell me, is he the only one, or do you have more?”

  The man slid a loose fold of his toga out of the way as he reached for his drink on the table. “I hear there are more of them. The man I got it from says this is the only one they have managed to catch alive, as it were. He’s trying to get me more, I have people in Rome who would sell their grandmothers for something like this.”

  She held her glass out to him, and he returned the toast. “To you, Scribonius. For thinking of me first and bringing me play things,” she took a sip from her glass.

  Scribonius turned serious. “There are rules, I’ve been told to pass on. If he bites anyone, they become like him. It takes a few hours by all accounts. I haven’t tried it yet, but I don’t think the man who got him for me would get that wrong. If he kills anyone, they will come back like him almost instantly.”

  He looked at her and saw that she was staring off towards the sunset.

  “You are listening, aren’t you, Servilia?”

  “Of course darling, keep away from the teeth.” She smiled and gave him back her full attention.

  “Last one, if you tire of him, just damage his brain. A blow to the head or a stab with a knife will do it. It's the only way to stop them. Probably best to get one of your boys to do it. Don’t want to risk getting near the sharp end, unless you have to.” He smiled at her, “So what do you think your ladies will think of this little treat?

  “Oh, I’m sure they will think exactly what I tell them to think about it, Scribonius. They always do.”

  “You are wicked, my dear Servilia and that's why I love you.”

  The men had installed the crate in the main living area, against one wall. She had even agreed to let them put a couple of hooks and chains in the wall to secure it in place. It wouldn’t do, she supposed, to have a dead man running around your party eating your guests.

  It had looked tired and dirty from the road, so she had ordered a couple of her slaves decorate it. With any luck, the ladies would kill themselves with curiosity, so that the big reveal could have as big an impact as possible.

  She had agreed on a price with Scribonius, and he had left her to get ready for her guests arrival. She lay in the bath, tendrils of sweet smelling steam rising around her. A couple of female slaves and one very well-proportioned male stood, as naked as she was, ready for her orders. She looked over at the male and decided with a sigh that the afternoon’s business with Scribonius hadn’t left enough time for a little fun. Maybe she would send for him later, maybe.

  After a soak in the hot water, she allowed the slaves to clean her. Then, after a dip in an ice bath, she was oiled. The col
d made her skin tingle as the girls applied the oil, and she thought about calling for one of them when she sent for the male slave later.

  She slipped into a simple but extremely expensive silk dress, and one of the girls began to brush her hair. A lot of the women favoured having their hair braided or cut into whatever fashion dictated this month. Servilia, however, thought that the gods had been very kind with the hair they had given her and that it was a shame to do anything but show it off.

  She sat and watched day turn to night and waited for the first of her guests to arrive. Provincial as they were, they had finally realised that an invite for seven, meant arriving at nine. They might even manage to not enquire what was in the case for a little while but eventually one of them would simply have to ask. They were almost like children in their simplicity.

  Somewhere inside the villa came the sound of more glass breaking, and she felt another surge of anger flash through her. Maybe these poor excuses for slaves could do with meeting her new pet, it might encourage them to work a little better.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The road through the Alps had been tough on all of them. None of them had much experience of the terrain, or the weather, in the high places. Spring hadn’t even begun to show its face up there in the mountains, and the pace of their journey had slowed to a crawl in places.

  The horses were good, solid beasts but were little better than the people who rode them, up in the high passes. With patience and luck, Vitus and his party had managed to travel through without injury or accident.

  The journey down onto the flat lands on the other side of the range had been almost pleasant in comparison to the highest parts of the Alps, but had brought its own brand of trouble.

  Regulus had spotted the danger just before it was too late. He had seen a glint of sunlight off a metal surface up in the rocks above a steep walled valley. He had called out an instant before one of the legionaries, Gallus, had fallen from his horse with an arrow in his thigh. The man had dropped almost silently and had scrabbled to the relative safety of a rocky outcrop. The rest of the party were off their horses in a flash, and split up among the rocks moments later.