“Anyone escape?” I asked Minicius.
“No, Legate,” he answered quickly. “The village is contained. Most of these demons chose to burn within rather than risk escape. I will never understand the minds of these sorcerers.”
I smiled and took another bite, speaking my next statement around a mouthful of apple. “Don’t even bother, Minicius. I’ve been trying for years.”
He nodded and returned his attention to the blaze, biding his time for another potential escapee. I waited and watched as well, but not to intercept an escaping Druid hoping to reveal our secrets to the world, but because I was simply enthralled by the village as it slowly burned to nothing. As I stood there transfixed by the flames, I wondered if this was how those guys back in Vietnam had felt watching random Podunk villages reduced to ashes. Was there really a unique aroma to napalm that smelled better in the morning? Were there actual spirits dancing in the flames that entranced a man to the point where he no longer cared that there were people burning alive within the wall of fire?
I neither knew, nor cared. I simply waited for the tidal wave of screams to cease, a cessation I didn’t have to wait long for. From the moment Artie had awakened me in my tent to this moment right now, only eight minutes had passed, but the elapsed time had felt like hours as I stood with the silent sentinel, Minicius. When all the excitement seemed to die down completely, I felt a sudden emptiness in my chest, upset that it was over so soon.
I sighed and went for another bite of my apple but my teeth met nothing but core. I scowled at the depleted fruit angrily and hurled it into the flames. It seemed to catch fire the moment it interacted with the fire, bursting into an impressive and unanticipated fireball that left me wondering if the Druidic magic that apparently permeated this ground had somehow left me with some final warning or act of defiance.
But like much in this world, I hadn’t a clue, nor was it explained.
I placed a hand on Minicius’ shoulder and gave him a nod of approval when he turned to regard me. He dipped his head in acknowledgment but went back to his passive sentry duty around what was left of the village, too disciplined to assume the job was finished until I said it was. I dropped my hand, turned, and made my way back to my tent, passing and ignoring a dozen mixed expressions from the other people who had once traveled back in time as well, their disapproval, frustration, and anger meaningless to me. They didn’t have to understand let alone care what I was doing; all they needed to do was fall in line and follow.
This was my story.
I was their Moses, destined to lead them from the desert to the Promised Land. That was my job. Only I could get their sorry asses home and they either knew that now, or they’d better understand that soon. I was done playing nice and trying to fit in with the denizens of the past, and so, unlike Moses, I wasn’t about to give the Egyptians any chance of following me, Red Sea or no. I was going home, and I was prepared to burn the world down around me to ensure I got there.
No more Mr. Nice Hunter.
Part Three
IX
Northward
Northern Britannia
January, 48 A.D.
It was hard to believe that less than a year had gone by since I’d sent Bordeaux in search of Wang and Vincent, initiating my plan to kidnap Agrippina’s son Nero and place Vespasian on the throne. It seemed like a lifetime ago, two even, but with the passing of the New Year, I was reminded that it had only been a matter of months, nine to be exact.
Almost a term of pregnancy.
And it had all seemed so simple then. Stage a coup and put a competent ruler on the throne that was supposed to be there, albeit thirty years earlier than expected, although that part hadn’t concerned me. Rome was an empire ruled by emperors who were supposed to rule for a long time, and Vespasian would need all he could get to put his house back in order after Agrippina had spent the past four years dismantling it.
It was a tall order but I’d had complete faith in the man.
But the following nine months had been filled with failure after failure, something I wasn’t used to. Sure I’d failed with the ladies a number of times in my younger days and had bombed exams because I’d forgotten to – or had been distracted from – studying, but never had I outright failed so many times when I’d set out to succeed. Agrippina had outplayed me at every turn, and while I was happy to still be alive, I was sick of losing.
I wasn’t going to lose again, whether at Agrippina’s hands or anyone else’s.
Never again, and the past two weeks – maybe three –since leaving the Isle of Mona had given me plenty of time to prepare for the future.
We’d followed the western coast of modern day Northern England, keeping the soon-to-be-named Irish Sea on our left, possibly finding ourselves about as far north as modern day Carlisle, in a place Wang had called Cumbria. It had been a tedious trip, one filled with plenty of time to think alone, ponder our situation, and dream of the orb, which now seemed to invade my thoughts every minute of every day.
It was a divisive topic of thought in my mind. A part of me continued to fear its influence, but a growing sensation had taken hold of me that actively considered finding the orb and… experimenting with it. There had to be a way to use it more tactically than how it had already been used. It was just a matter of finding out how.
My only worry was that my former friends would try to stop me, as I was sure they plotted to do every day since leaving Anglesey. I could sense their future betrayal looming, but they dared not move against me when I had fifteen hundred legionnaires at my back. Even with all their advanced weaponry, they wouldn’t stand a chance against so many.
And I still had Penelope, the only person besides Felix who would never let me down.
I smiled as I glanced down at my trusty rifle, resting lazily in my lap, riding contentedly as she waited for her moment to be put to work. HK416s were particularly reliable rifles, but even Penelope was something special. While Santino’s had failed him on a handful of occasions since coming to Rome, Penelope had not once misfired or failed me. Her reliability was the result of all the care and love I’d shown her, having given her a name, a personality, and having dutifully cleaned and maintained her daily.
She’d never let me down, because I’d never let her down.
Like loyal Felix beneath me, we shared a connection, and neither of them would ever fail me. It didn’t matter who I trained Penelope on, whether friend or foe, she’d never let me down. Unlike the rest of them – Vincent, Santino, Helena, whoever – Penelope would always be there for me.
Always.
***
And then there were the grumblings beginning to circulate within the camp.
The pace I’d set since leaving Anglesey had been intense, even by the Romans’ already extreme standards. Their normal marching order called for a dawn wakeup call followed by breakfast, the breaking down of camp, and an all-day march that ended at sunset. Our current protocol, however, called for an even earlier wake up time and the end of the day came well after dusk now. It was an arduous pace, even for campaigning legionnaires. They weren’t accustomed to marching during the winter, especially not one as unforgiving as this one had become.
It was late January, and the days were naturally short, but I wasn’t about to lose time because nature had decided to hurl everything in its arsenal at us, from snow to ice and everything in between. It was tough going, but if our final destination was as far north as Scotland, which would be just my luck, I’d rather get there sooner rather than later. The Roman Empire was still fracturing, and my lack of involvement wasn’t helping. I’d promised Vespasian that I would help Galba settle the turbulent Britons, but I would do it on my terms. It seemed best to handle my own shit first before diving back into the political and military situation Rome now found itself in.
Only when I had my answers, would I get involved again.
And when that happened, things would be different this time.
But the le
gionnaires didn’t seem to understand that. All they understood was that their legate was working them far harder than any other legate had before, and they weren’t happy about it. Under my old first file Fabius’ professional and stalwart command, his subordinates would have been able to keep their underlings in check, but he was back with Galba. While Minicius was tough, and his men respected him, he was no first file centurion. He could keep dissident legionnaires in line for now, but I wasn’t sure how long his authority would last.
Only Boudicca seemed unperturbed by our pace. Nor was she hesitant about speaking with me, because as the days wore on, she only became more curious. She knew less about the orb than the others, and didn’t suspect my involvement in the slaughter of the Druids’ village, so she didn’t distrust me either. She was simply curious, a quirk I could appreciate, and her questions, while endless, had been appropriate.
She wanted to know more about me, the others, and most importantly, the nature of our quest. Her curiosity was quite endearing actually, and the fierceness she displayed when I would answer a question in a roundabout way or avoid it all together left quite an impression. It was not hard to see the defiant and charismatic queen she was destined to become in the young woman before me.
It left me feeling oddly attracted to her. All those muscles aside, I found myself growing giddy at the sight of her riding up from the marching column to ride by my side. I wasn’t sure if the emotions came from a growing sense of isolation, loneliness, or misplaced infatuation, but whatever the source, it was unfortunate that she didn’t seem to reciprocate that attraction. She’d ride and talk with me for most of any given day, but she was always business.
Wang, on the other hand, seemed to have her full attention. When she wasn’t with me, most of her time was spent with him. The small framed Brit looked like an ant next to the exceptionally built woman, and his lack of interest in her made the scene quite humorous. The two would often ride side by side, saying nothing, Wang doing everything in his power to avoid eye contact with her while she, on the other hand, would constantly sneak glances at him only to look pouty when he refused to return them.
Despite everything, it made for an amusing scene to draw some enjoyment from.
As for the rest of them, they continued to plot and scheme against me in private. While some were less overt about it and would occasionally ride in sight of me, the others would travel out of sight – but not out of mind. I hadn’t even seen Helena or Artie since linking back up with the rest of our legionnaires near the straight that separated mainland Wales from the Isle of Mona weeks ago. I also saw little of Santino or his new buddies, and Bordeaux and Vincent never came around anymore either. I no longer understood why the latter two didn’t just leave and go back to their families, since it was clear they didn’t want to be here, nor would I miss either one of them if they did.
They’d all created a distrustful cloud of apprehension around me, and I could feel in my gut that it was only a matter of time before they all turned on me. I’d spent the past two weeks trying to come up with a plan to ditch them somehow, but I couldn’t think of a way that kept everyone alive. I was certain my force of legionnaires could overwhelm them if necessary, but I couldn’t guarantee I’d even be left with a century at the end of the engagement.
And it may end with all of them dead as well.
It hadn’t yet come to that.
It was growing late in the day as I thought about this possible outcome.
There was too much at stake here to throw away lives senselessly, and it was with that thought in mind that I realized it was time to provide a show of good faith to the Romans. I glanced at my watch, still functional despite a large crack that ran through its center, but I could already tell by the dimming sky that dusk was settling in. Deciding to give the legionnaires a break tonight, I called for a scouting force to locate a suitable camp site instead of continuing our march for a few more hours, as had become the norm.
I caught Minicius’ eye and signaled with a hand gesture for him to assign a scouting party. He nodded and peeled off from his marching position and shouted orders. A timid cheer rang through the nearby legionnaires, but I returned my attention to the snowy path that had been our trail for the past five days – little more than a narrow gap between trees that twisted and bent sinisterly, each and every one a distant cousin of that creepy tree from Poltergeist.
No one had any idea where we were going, where we were, or who exactly the natives in the region were. We were in uncharted territory, and even Boudicca, who’d sent her contingent of troops home, had never ventured this far north before. Nary a soul had we seen since leaving the Isle of Mona, and the local wildlife had abandoned us as well. Not only had fresh game like rabbits and deer disappeared, which wasn’t necessarily a problem since the legionnaires were well provisioned for months, but also anything that creeped, crawled, swam, or flew. At night, the sounds of the wilderness were startling silent, with little more than the howling of wind through bare branches to keep us company.
It had more than just my former friends worried now, as some of the legionnaires began suspecting that the murdered Druids back on Holy Island had somehow cursed us, and that their vengeful spirits were harrying us in an attempt to lead us toward a grisly end. I was fairly certain such superstition was just that, but even I couldn’t completely shake the feeling that we were being watched, tracked, corralled… or worse. There was undoubtedly some form of energy in this winter wonderland that I couldn’t quite understand. At night it could be quite terrifying, especially alone and isolated inside my praetorium. Every time a horse neighed or a legionnaire swore loudly, cutting through the silence of night, I would jolt out of bed or up from my desk for fear of some ghastly spirit haunting us. Other random cries of fear or wails for comfort would come from the camp, either joining my own or in response to some other calamitous occurrence. It left the camp a ghostly, ominous place, and made it difficult to fall asleep at all for fear of the boogeyman.
Even thinking about it now had my heart racing, acting like a pump that continuously fed the growing reservoir of negative emotion in my chest. Always growing, never shrinking, and always on the verge of bursting, I forced myself to calm down when I noticed a pair of centurions pass by me at a quick trot with a handful of legionnaires and engineers behind them. As always, they would run ahead and get to work making camp wherever they saw fit before sending back a man or two to lead us to our final destination. While suitable terrain had grown more difficult to find the further north we travelled, the routine nature of their assigned task gave me a sense of calm and I felt immediately better.
I settled myself, both physically and mentally, and waited for their return, but then a centurion hit the dirt in a sprawl a few dozen meters in front of me, a pair of arrows lodged through his neck, crisscrossing each other at its center. There was a brief pause when his companions processed what had happened to him, but then they too were perforated by a barrage of arrows that came at them from all directions.
“Defensive formation!” Minicius yelled, understanding the situation before anyone else.
To their credit, the legionnaires were quick to respond. Raising shields and locking them into place, my legionnaires flawlessly shifted their marching order into their famous testudo formation. Acting like the shell of turtle, their overlapping shields created a defensive barrier that protected them from incoming missiles that approached from any direction. As long as the spirits who taunted us didn’t raise spears from below our feet, the Romans could withstand any missile barrage.
Unfortunately, Felix and I were significantly less protected, a fact Felix quickly discovered when an arrow found itself lodged in his rump. I wasn’t sure how or why the single arrow had missed me to bury itself into my horse’s ass instead, but it must have been some form of signal, because it wasn’t long before hundreds more joined it.
Arrows came at me from all directions except from ahead, but I was saved by Felix who wasn’t s
tupid enough to stick around and play the part of a stationary target dummy. He took off like a drag car gunning it off the line and galloped toward the clump of fallen legionnaires a few dozen meters ahead of me. I glanced behind me in time to see maybe three dozen arrows protruding from the ground Felix had just vacated, clustered in a neat little circle almost too accurate to believe.
My attention was directed forward again when Felix leapt over the bodies of my fallen men. He came down roughly and I was jerked forward, another random and inadvertent motion that saved my life when I felt a number of arrows whiz past the back of my neck and others, too many to count, plink off my body armor. It also allowed me to see the five men and two women who ran out in front of us, their spears held before them threateningly.
But like most horses, Felix was too smart to go blindly running into a clump of sharp sticks. He quickly veered to the left but his forward momentum kept him moving in his original direction, and he very nearly tripped over himself. To compensate, he dug his hoofs into the snow but started to slide toward the enemy on a patch of ice like a souped-up street racer performing a power slide. In that same moment, I instinctively drew my pistol, extended my arm, and with controlled squeezes of the trigger, fired off seven rounds in quick succession.
As I fired, the ice beneath Felix must have disappeared, because he suddenly jerked to a stop, nearly pitching me off of him again. He started hopping in place and spinning about in fear and pain, so without thinking, I reached back and snapped the arrow in his rump. I knew there wasn’t much of a point to the action, but it would at least shorten the length of the arrow to help it from snagging on something and causing further torment to poor Felix. He reared at the action but to my surprise, calmed down. I patted his mane and finally remembered the enemy combatants I had just shot.
Praetorian Series [3] A Hunter and His Legion Page 29