by C J Brown
If only they could cheer, the ground would have thundered in reverberation. Still, they kept an eye on the ignorant masses before them—the army that was not deployed in the day’s campaign. The Huns remained focused on setting up their camp and preparing for the next campaign where they would be the hammer that fell on unsuspecting villagers.
The line of trebuchets had halted the launch of fireballs. Their job was to set the forest in the southeast ablaze, which they had accomplished perfectly. The forest between the town and the garrison now burned, spewing amber into the air as barks erupted and twigs raged. The tar flame that spread across the forest spread rapidly and made escaping from the city impossible. If the men from the fortress had tried to help, they would have been caught in the inferno that ensued. Arthur had decidedly wisely.
The flagmen had already conveyed the command to cease the launches, and the men operating the catapults now returned to camp so that the men in the garrison could not come to the villagers’ aid.
Up on the ridge where Arthur battled the Hun general, the flagmen watched in shock as their commander struggled with the Roman, they did not see the six archers on horseback that had tailed Arthur. By the time the flagmen could react to Arthur’s presence, six arrows found their way through their backs. One by one they fell, leaving Adolphus to face the youthful power of General Arthur Pendragon.
Getting up off the mud, with the rain still pouring on his face, Arthur surveyed the land for his sword. It was farther than he had hoped it would be, and reaching for it might be a tactical error. On his left, the Hun general was moving toward his blade and would reach it in less time than it would take Arthur to get to where he needed to be. Instead of relying on metal, Arthur decided to rely on muscle and sinew. Once again, Arthur launched and landed on the general who was beginning to regain his wits, clarity, and balance. This time the pounce was effective as he landed on the barbarian’s back.
Placing his arm around the man’s neck, Arthur gripped it tightly, causing Adolphus to struggle. But the struggle was futile. The Roman’s grip was beyond reproach. The struggle between the two men continued, both still full of energy. Both unwilling to yield. But in time, the weight of the Roman began to overpower the Hun. And, coupled with the pressure on his neck, Adolphus began to suffocate.
Rather than the lack of energy required to do battle, it was the weight of a full-grown man and his armor that vanquished the older general. As his sight began to fade, he struggled even more. Arthur hung on tirelessly, tightening his grip around the man’s neck. His goal was to let the life of the older general slip into the underworld.
6
Palatine Hill
The marble pillars of the Imperial Palace stretched skyward, capped by an intricately ornate roof. Artistry adorned the roofs to symbolize the heavens and the sanctity of the emperor’s rule over the land. Ever since Augustus Caesar, every emperor for five hundred years had claimed that they were the son of the divine and the carvings in the ceiling and pillars attempted to symbolize that.
The marble that was used in each of those pillars had come from quarries in Italy and the furthest extent of the provinces. No expense had been spared over time to upgrade the palace. Only one other palace existed, and that was Emperor Nero’s. Nero’s palace had been buried in mud after he committed suicide. All that was left now to symbolize the might of the empire was the Imperial Palace.
“Why is he here?” the emperor demanded. A stocky man with a receding hairline, Emperor Lucius believed himself to be valiant and brave, but as far from it. His arms were filled with flab where men of better mettle stored muscle.
“He says that he has news of the northern garrisons and wishes to seek your approval to proceed with the expansion,” Titus, the emperor’s aid, answered.
“It is not the emperor’s job to maintain his garrison. Is this a threat on his part?”
“I am not certain as to his objectives. I am only guessing what they could be. But if you ask me, I would not trust him. After all, I am certain that he is still desirous of your throne. If he had usurped it from you, wouldn’t you be desirous of the throne, sire?”
Emperor Lucius was incensed at the response. But it made sense. Of course, Lucius would be upset if such a situation happened to him, and find every way possible to grab the throne from the usurper.
“Is that what he’s here to do?” Lucius whispered aloud, asking himself.
“I—”
“Silence,” Lucius cut off the aid who attempted to answer the question.
“Have the Praetorian Guard enter the outer chamber after Uther enters my court. They are to enter silently. I do not want that man to know that I have risen to the occasion and wised up to his nefarious plan. He thinks he is smarter than me. Who does he think I am? I am after all the man who outsmarted him and took the throne from his hands. I am indeed smarter than him.”
“Yes, sire. Your Highness is indeed the smartest monarch in all the world. Uther Pendragon has nothing to offer in comparison to you. “
“How many men does he have in the city?”
“Spies tell us that he has none.”
“Your spies are either incompetent or are loyal to him.”
“No, sire. These spies have a vested interest in seeing you remain as emperor.”
“Yet they say that Uther has no forces in the city. Where are the bulk of his forces then?”
“They are split in two, just as it has always been. He has one legion at the garrison in Verona—just over five thousand men. It is commanded by his son, Arthur. He also has a second legion in Genua. The rumor is that he is raising a third.”
“We cannot allow him to raise a third. How many men do we have?”
“We have no legions in the north aside from Uther’s. The legion in Florentia now resides just outside Rome.”
“How many men do we have there?”
“Less than five thousand, sire.”
“In the south?”
“In the south, we have none, but we have another five thousand men in Ostia. All the other garrisons had been vacated and the men returned to Rome. Half of them have been elevated to the Praetorian Guard and the rest have been placed in Neapolis together with the naval force.”
“How many men in total?”
“Including the Guard, we have no more than fifteen thousand men.”
“And Uther has just over ten thousand?”
“Yes, sire. But that is not an advantage. Uther’s men, the ones under his son Arthur and the ones under his best friend, Cassius, are highly trained. Five thousand men under Arthur carry the weight of ten thousand men under one of our generals.”
“Rubbish. I have seen our men fight. I sit on this throne because of the way our men fought.”
“No, sire. You sit on the throne, with all due respect, because Uther decided not to contest your challenge. If he had commanded his forces in Genua and Verona to descend on Rome, we would have lost.”
“I do not believe that, Titus. And you would be a fool to believe it yourself. I won because I combined intelligence with strength and bravery. He lost because he was weak. Enough of this talk. If you think he is such a threat then the way to protect the throne, in addition to fortifying the city with more troops, is to cut off the head of the troops in the north.”
Titus shuddered at the thought of what his emperor was suggesting. Titus was a smart man, having once been in the employ of Uther Pendragon himself. He had learned much from his old master and learned nothing from his current employer. He was in the best place to compare the two men and found the latter wanting.
“Sire, killing him would only enrage his son who may not be as wise as his father, but makes up for it in ferocity. The legions are loyal to the son as much as they are to the father. You cannot kill Uther. Uther knows this. That is why he walks into the palace without bodyguards to protect him.”
; “The insolence,” Lucius sneered.
“Sire, killing him will also turn the tide of loyalty in many of the men in our ranks. He holds great respect with them.”
“But they’re loyal to me!” Lucius shouted.
“Only because Uther yielded. They would have fought for you to the death, but over time they would not have loved you the same way Uther’s men love him.”
“If I can’t kill him, then I will lock him up in the dungeons.”
“Under what charge, sire?”
“You sound as if you are against me, Titus.”
“I am not against you, sire.”
“If you are not with me—not enthusiastic about every move I make—that means you are against me,” the usurper snarled as he poured the wine from the goblet into his gullet, unsightly in his execution.
Titus sighed softly, knowing that his emperor’s actions were about to put in motion a chain of events that he could not anticipate, and his emperor did not even consider. If only Uther were here, he would be able to see down the chain of consequences and tell the idiot on the throne what would happen next, Titus thought.
“Send him in, and once I find him guilty, have the guards take him into custody and take that wife of his into custody as well.”
“No, sire. You must not do that. If you take his wife into custody, nothing would stop Arthur from raining down on Rome with fire and fury.”
Lucius grew more impatient than he had already been. He just could not shake the Pendragon family no matter how hard he tried. There was always something forcing him into taking a different action.
“No. My orders stand. Send a dozen Praetorian Guards to Uther’s house. Tell them to wait for the signal. Once they see a flaming arrow launched from the northern spire, they are to arrest her and take her to Ostia. Hold her there without anyone’s knowledge. No one will dare attack while I have Uther and Igraine in my clutches.”
“Very well, sire,” Titus replied, sad on the inside at how the events of the morning had transpired. He had supported Lucius because he wanted more power and wealth, something that Uther was not interested in and didn’t appreciate. That was the only reason Titus left Uther’s side. His reward had been considerable. But by taking the land in the south of Italy, and the palatial home inside Rome, he had signed away his soul to the devil.
As he walked away from the emperor, each clap the sole of his sandals made on the granite floor sent a bolt of lightning through him. Each marked a moment closer to the perilous sequence of events that would soon unfold if this plan were to be executed.
7
Krampus Rerouted
Just before the remaining life slipped out with the last of Adolphus’ breath, Arthur realized that there were better uses for the barbarian general than his death could ever accomplish. Arthur released his pressure off of Adolphus’ neck as he slipped into unconsciousness. Arthur got up and looked around to see if any Hun had noticed. None had. He looked to the leeward side as the massive horde hurtled to the village below. The expendables had already reached the city and so had the commander and the captains that had chased them from behind. The bulk of the barbarian army, led by the evil Krampus, had almost reached the foothills. There was no way they could make it back up anytime soon.
With that, Arthur gave the order to his men in the shade of the trees. At once the soldiers on foot began their charge as the Huns in the plains were taken by shock. But these were no daffodils. They were hardened men of war. Whatever shock and awe that overcame them, did so only for a fleeting moment. It didn’t take long for them to collect their wits and their axes and respond to the attacking Romans.
As the Huns in the clearing turned to the Roman footsoldiers in the east, Arthur’s archers and cavalry waited behind the western treeline until the full might of the Huns committed themselves to the incoming attack. Once they had, the archers hidden in the trees let loose their arrows. From a distance, Arthur could see it rain down on the rear ranks of the Huns, now focused ahead on the eastern assault.
Row by row, the Huns fell with arrows in their backs until they thinned out in number. When enough barbarians had fallen, the arrows ceased their assault. The soldiers in the east continued to slay the Huns with their swords, now with significantly lesser repercussions as the Hun ranks collapsed. With no more arrows falling from the heavens, Arthur’s cavalry began its charge from the southwest treeline. Pinned in between and with no help from their comrades on the leeward side, the Huns realized they were trapped. What’s worse, they had no one to lead them out of trouble.
The cavalry plowed through, thundering across the field, coming up on the backs of the Huns confused by the sudden turn of events. Each Roman blade landed on the neck of a Hun, and then another, and then another. Each swing connected with the intended target and separated every man from his head with great prejudice. Before long, the muddy soil turned crimson and the field on the backward slope was rid of every last barbarian.
Arthur still had one more part of the plan to execute. Leaping onto his horse, he flung his hand in the direction of the catapults as his men watched him, anticipating his next command. The six archers who had expertly brought down the flagmen joined his heels and together they took flight toward the two dozen trebuchets just behind the ridge. Another two dozen horsemen ascended the backward slope to join him, and together they recalibrated the catapults.
Arthur knew the exact distances he needed the fireballs to fly and guided his men on what to do.
On the slope, almost reaching the plains, the advancing horde, a hundred paces behind the expendables, growled with glee at the prospect of sacking the city. Instead, they began to witness fireballs descend in front of them, cutting off their advance and separating them from the expendables.
Krampus growled in anger as he came to a grinding halt and turned to look at the hill. The rain had all but stopped and the sun on the eastern ridge began to illuminate the land below with greater luminosity. He looked up to find that Adolphus was not where he was supposed to be. The fireballs had stopped but the attack had dealt a severe blow. Their path to Verona had been blocked and going around it would put them face to face with the garrison. But to Krampus, it did not matter. He just wanted his blood for the day. If the fools at the catapults had made a mistake, he thought, he was not about to be the beneficiary of that error. He would still have his blood for the day. Looking to his left and to his right, he contemplated the shorter route around the blazing plains.
Determining that the eastern route was better off, he charged with his men in tow and they rounded the edge of the burning fields and straight toward the quiet fortress.
8
Cowardice in
the Flesh
“The emperor will see you now, Uther,” Titus uttered with the necessary firmness in his voice.
“Greetings, Titus. How are you, old friend?” Uther responded, knowing full well, from the look in Titus’ eyes, that something was afoot. Uther, a silent man, would not ordinarily have extended a greeting to a man like Titus, but he needed to hear the secrets that would be contained in the timber of his voice, to ascertain the man’s true thoughts.
Silence was the only response Titus could muster.
The demeanor of the response spoke volumes, even if the words were not enough to say anything of importance. Uther studied the man but also knew that there was nothing he could do about it. His own spies had already alerted him to the increasing disdain the emperor had—all fueled by the usurper’s own fear and cowardice.
So be it, Uther thought. He was already prepared for all that could take place. The doors to the emperor’s receiving court were just as Uther remembered them. He had grown up amongst these walls and arches which he now passed as a stranger.
“Hail Caesar,” Uther said as he presented himself in front of Lucius. “May the gods shower their blessings over your empire.”
“Welcom
e, Uther. How goes it?”
“All is well, sire, I am happy to report.”
“And how is that pretty wife of yours?”
“You are too kind, sire. My wife is well. She sends her blessings and well-wishes.”
“It is received well, Uther. You may tell her that I wish her well. And, your son, Arthur. How is that young man of yours?”
“Arthur is well. It has been an entire season since I last saw him. But I get word often that he is doing well as he serves in the garrison that protects your empire, sire.”
“We are pleased, Uther. Now, to what do we owe this visit?”
“Sire, the northern garrisons need to be supplemented. My plan is to raise two more legions. One will be located with our existing forces in Verona. The other will be placed in Mediolanum.”
“Four legions, Uther. That is a powerful force, and all under one man. I am sure some of the senators might be disturbed by the amount of power that they may feel you are amassing.”
“Those senators are not warriors like you and me, sire. They do not understand what it takes to defend an empire.”
“This is true, Uther. This is true,” Lucius repeated.
“My spies tell me—”
“You have spies, Uther?”
“Indeed, sire. All in service of the empire.”
“Tell me, Uther, where are your spies located?”
“Primarily in Germania, sire.”
“You do not have any in Rome? Within the walls of the palace? In my court?” Lucius posed, with sarcasm thick in his voice.
Uther could see that the emperor was now looking for an excuse to execute his plan.
“No, sire. My spies, my armies, and my breath are all in service of Rome and whoever sits on the throne.”