The Swedish Days Swindle
Page 10
Chapter Two
The next couple days were spent marching northwest to the walls. Magnus’s force of one hundred men were more than up to the task, having quelled barbaric rebellions in Gaul and in the hinterlands of the Germanic forests. The battles of their storied pasts would serve them well in the wilds of Caledonia among the Picts and other tribes that lay stubborn claim to the northern section of Britannia. They made camp at Hadrian’s Wall, about a day’s march south of the unmanned Antonine wall and the last built physical barrier between Roman Britain and Caledonia.
Magnus removed his helmet and rubbed his scalp. “Tiberius, I want to take three men over this wall and possibly the old Antonine wall. I will accompany them. I need to know what happened, and we mustn’t alarm the native tribes with a full century marching into their territory. You must stay with the rest of the legionaries here. I will need horses.”
“Very well, Magnus. How will you know where to look for the missing?” Tiberius asked.
“The governor mentioned a tribal leader who sought knowledge of the Christian god. Upon first light, I will ask the auxiliaries who the tribal leader is and find him.” Magnus sat on his blanket in the comfort of his tent.
“You speak of the Christian god as if he isn’t yours to worship, Magnus. It would be wise not to use such casual jargon when speaking of Yeshua. Constantinius II is quite the believer in his father’s converted belief. Many of the men believe, and I, myself, have grown quite fond of the message considering I have been digging ditches, building walls, bridges, aqueducts, and fighting for the empire the last twenty-four years with nary a sign from the gods that I am worthy of their dominion.”
“Tiberius, I am aware of the men’s predilection towards the Christian god. I must say I am unaware of your own thoughts of faith. I am Christian outwardly. We must be. It is our charge to be so. Privately, in my heart, I doubt that one man possessed such qualities to subsume and rule over the traditional Roman pantheon. My family gave tribute to the gods my whole life. I find it hard to break such tradition and belief at the request of the emperor.”
“Yet you are a centurion, a valued leader of the most powerful army the world has ever known.” Tiberius shook his head in frustration.
“I do and say what I must to maintain my position. Unlike you, I have five more years to go before I am granted citizenship. Now, if you would take your leave of my tent. I need rest. Who knows what awaits us beyond the wall?”
“Very well, Magnus. I shall see to it that you have your horses at first light. Any specific men you want on your sojourn?”
“No one specific. You pick. I need rest, Tiberius. Go.”
43
Chapter Three
The sun rose over the green land of Britannia. Magnus decided to wear his chest armor and carry Marius’s mule, his tool bag, but would leave the rest of the armor in camp. For this jaunt over the wall, he favored speed and stealth over the usual brute force. He left his tent and waited for Tiberius with his men and horses. They were a few meters away.
“Your full armor will not be necessary. I would suggest taking blankets from my tent and using them as robes. I prefer us to go in quickly and commence with the investigation with as little disruption and attention drawn to us,” Magnus barked.
“Meet your men, Magnus.” Tiberius pointed to the trio from left to right. “Brayden, Romanus, and Cassius, three of the finest legionaries our century offers, and four black horses per your request.”
The gray of Tiberius’s hair was accentuated in the dawn’s light. He looked older in the mornings. Magnus wondered if he looked as old to these young legionaries.
“Very well, men. I expect Tiberius has brought you up to speed. We must move with haste and stealth. Upon our exit through the gatehouse, we will ask the local auxiliaries where to find the tribal leader who asked to learn more of Yeshua.” Magnus mounted his horse.
The three soldiers grabbed blankets and twine from Magnus’s tent and made their shrouds from the dark blue blankets.
“Send Romanus back. He is the lightest on the horse with any news of emergency. The other two should be strong enough to provide substantial defense until the rest of the century can join you.” Tiberius patted the neck of Magnus’s horse.
“We shall hopefully return before the afternoon, Tiberius.” Magnus turned his horse and rode away to the gatehouse walls. The soldiers three followed suit, barely securing their makeshift robes over their chest armor.
The auxiliaries manning the wall looked disheveled and dirty. Not the ideal Roman soldier. The frontier and fringe units often didn’t utilize the level of discipline and care that the fighting legions did.
“Sir, how may we be of assistance?” a soldier yelled from above them on the earthen and stone wall’s gatehouse.
“We are requesting to get through to Caledonia. We have business to attend to. We also need to know the name of the chieftain, he who requested to know more of Yeshua.”
“Aye, not a he, sir. A she.”
“I beg your pardon.” Magnus kept his frustration invisible, hoping he didn’t hear him correctly.
“I said the chieftain is female, sir. A she, as it were. Her name is Michaela, and her tribe’s village lies just over the first hill you see to the southwest. She commands the respect of the other tribes and is trusted to guard from any Roman intrusion.”
“A woman?” Magnus pressed.
His horse neighed, urging him to move forward. Flashes of his near-death experience at the hands of a woman bothered him.
“Yes, a queen like Boudicca.”
“Very well. Open the gate. I shall request an audience with this Michaela.”
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