Fallen Legion

by David Thompson

  “What I think Vito is trying to say,” Domitian interjected, playing the role of diplomat once again, “is that we feel it would be safest for all concerned if this entire operation was to be carried out with a certain level of discretion. The time will obviously come when Ceresius’ absence is discovered, but if we have done our job properly then his disappearance from the prison will not be connected to us or any other Roman citizen.”

  “So we leave the barbarians to puzzle out what happened…” Marcus’ voice trailed off into silence.

  “While we get Ceresius safely stowed away in a secure location,” said Vito, finishing off Marcus’ sentence.

  “I like it. It’s simple. Granted,” Marcus said with a morbid chuckle, “it lacks the satisfaction of a brutal bloodbath which leaves piles of corpses in our wake, but I suppose it shall have to suffice.”

  “Now,” Vito said, “let us finalize some concrete details…” He began to spell out the plan’s minutiae, causing the assemble figures to huddle closer around the maps and documents in a manner which dragged the more mundane part of the meeting to drag out for a further hour.

  * * *

  The next evening, Marcus found himself once again being ushered into Alexandra’s private consulting chamber. This time, however, she was prepared for his arrival and was waiting for him with a patient smile. As the acolyte escorting Marcus bowed and left the room, Alexandra rose to greet him.

  “Good evening, Marcus,” she said. “I must admit I was pleased to hear that you would be coming by this evening, though I confess that I am slightly confused. Did we not agree that we should keep a low profile for the next two days? We cannot risk somebody seeing us together just yet.”

  “Indeed we did agree to that,” Marcus replied. “However, I felt that the risk was necessary. I need to talk to you, and I wanted to make sure that we spoke in private before our … mission.”

  “I see. Please, sit and make yourself comfortable.” Alexandra guided Marcus to a seat, then sat in the chair beside him. “Now, what is this all about? I can’t imagine that you are having difficulty acquiring a guard’s uniform.”

  “No, no,” Marcus said, stifling a laugh. “I picked that up shortly after our meeting adjourned last night.”

  “Really? How did you find one so quickly?”

  “Through the most direct means possible. I walked around the city until I spotted a sentry of roughly my size, and then I lured him into an alley and slit his throat. It took some time to clean the blood off the armour, but I believe it will now pass at least a cursory visual inspection.”

  “You… you did what?” Alexandra was incredulous at Marcus’ admission.

  “I did what needed to be done,” Marcus said. He sounded almost dismissive of Alexandra's shock. “While it pains me to be responsible for the death of a Roman citizen, I take solace in the knowledge that he was far from an innocent civilian. He was acting in an active paramilitary role, directly supporting our avowed enemies.”

  “Your reasoning is flawed, Marcus. You make the assumption that this man had a choice in his service. How do you know that he was not a citizen loyal to the Empire who was forced into service by the invading Sicambrii?”

  “I do not deny,” said Marcus with a sigh, “that many innocent civilians have been forced into service by those barbarous creatures which now pollute our lives. However, while it is obvious that some basic civil positions are being forcibly filled, there is no reason for any loyal Roman citizen to take up arms in support of the Sicambrii. Please keep in mind that this man is amongst those responsible for jailing and even executing those citizens who have dared voice their opposition to the Sicambrii. Even if he did not personally chain dissenters or heft the executioner’s axe in his own hands, he is still morally and legally guilty of treason. Once the Sicambrii invaded he could have assumed a post which did not involve the use of force against his fellow citizens, but he did not. Consequently his execution was a just act, as was stripping him of his uniform – a uniform which he had disgraced.”

  “I am pleased to see,” Alexandra said, smiling, “that you are eloquent as well as strong. I had been told that was the case, but it is always pleasant to see such a combination in any man. As it happens, I agree with you. I just wanted to be sure that you could justify your actions.”

  “Why? I’m afraid that I don’t see why that matters. If my actions are just, then why should I be required to justify them? More to the point, why would you feign moral outrage at my actions?”

  “Whether you like it or not, Marcus, you have been chosen by the Gods for a very important role. That role will entail many responsibilities … many burdens. I wanted to provide a small test of your abilities; that is why we asked you to obtain the uniform on your own. Surely it has occurred to you that such a task would be well within our enclave’s scope of power.”

  “Yes, the thought had occurred to me. I simply dismissed it, however, because the task was so trivial that I never believed it would be used as a test of my abilities. At any rate, this issue is neither here nor there.”

  “Of course. What is it that you have come here to discuss?”

  “I have a request to make of you, Alexandra.”

  “There is no need to dance around the issue,” Alexandra said with a warm smile. “Whatever you need, just ask. I cannot guarantee that I will grant your request, but I will certainly take it under advisement. You have earned that much confidence from me.”

  “Very well.” Marcus took a deep breath before jumping straight into a speech he had obviously prepared in advance. “When the time comes for us to infiltrate the city prison and liberate Ceresius, I would prefer it if you remained here. While I understand that you are an integral part of our cover story, I am sure we could concoct a new story which did not require you. My concern –”

  “You think I would be more of a liability than an asset,” Alexandra interrupted.

  “Well, to be perfectly honest, yes. Although I have no doubts about how well your beauty will distract our enemies, it is my understanding that you have no combat experience. It will be difficult making our escape protecting Ceresius – it will be doubly so if we have to protect you as well.”

  Alexandra mulled over Marcus’ statements, carefully weighing her response. “I understand your concerns, and perhaps I can allay some of your fears. It is true that I have no combat experience, but I am a highly trained healer – not to mention that I am a channel for the divine Lord Mars. My function in our mission goes far beyond being a simple distraction.”

  “Even so, please consider my proposition. I am certain that we can find a more effective means of deploying your skills.”

  “Marcus, why does my role concern you so much?”

  Marcus sighed heavily. “How much of my history are you aware of?”

  “Probably more than you think,” Alexandra said. “Between visions sent to me from Mars and Vito’s own extensive file on you, I probably know you better than even your closest confidantes.”

  “That is what I expected,” Marcus said with a nod. “So I assume that you know the details of how I lost my wife?”

  “I am.”

  “Alexandra, I cannot bear the thought that I might bring death to another… particularly another who shares so many qualities in common with Lucia. If a fellow combatant dies, then that is simply the cost of being a warrior. If I must give my life for our cause, then that is the price I will pay. But if a beautiful, intelligent young woman is cut down in the prime of her life, then I will bear the guilt of causing not only the loss of an innocent non-combatant, but also the guilt of causing an affront to the gods themselves. Mars would not, I imagine, take kindly to me being directly responsible for the death of one of his servants.”

  “Ah, Marcus, I am sorry. I should have anticipated this,” Alexandra said. She reached out and took his hands in hers, her smooth hands gently encompassing his own larger callus ridden fingers. “I promise you this, “she whispered, her gentle green
eyes meeting Marcus’ world weary blue eyes, “ I shall take no action which will needlessly endanger my life. Although my role may require me to be in or near combat, any injury I may sustain will be nobody’s fault by my own. I will stand by your side, secure in your ability to protect me, and if you fall in battle I will fall with you. You are the champion of Mars now, Marcus, and the honour of the God of War’s esteem is not placed upon your shoulders lightly.”

  Nodding, Marcus rose from his seat. “Thank you, Alexandra. I held no misconceptions about my chances of dissuading you from this venture, but you have certainly allayed the worst of my fears. It would probably be best if I made a hasty departure now, lest my lingering presence draws too much attention. I shall see you two nights hence, then, at the appointed location?”

  “You shall.”

  Marcus bowed, then left the temple as swiftly as discretion allowed.

  * * *

  Two nights later Marcus found himself creeping through the streets of Cologne, solemnly decked out in the armour of a city guard. He kept mostly to the shadows –a simple enough task, given how few homes in that area of the city maintained torches along the street. It didn’t take very long for him to arrive at his destination, a darkened alley facing the rear of the city prison. Alexandra was already waiting, crouched behind an empty barrel. She perked up as soon as she saw him approach.

  “Marcus,” she said a sigh of relief. “I was starting to worry that you wouldn’t make it.”

  “I would not miss this for the world,” he replied with a grim smile. “And I must confess that it feels good to be able to carry weapons openly again, without fear of reprisal from the Sicambrii.”

  “The look does suit you,” Alexandra said with an admiring half-smile. “I can only imagine the fear you must strike into the hearts of your enemies when adorned in your full battle armour.”

  Marcus’ smile twisted cruelly. “Before this evening is over I will strike terror into the hearts of our enemies even without my old uniform.”

  “So you shall. There will be a great deal of heathen blood spilled tonight.”

  “Indeed. Now,” Marcus said, “where is Vincenzo? Our window of opportunity will open soon, and I will not have us lose it.”

  “I am here,” Vincenzo’s voice came from the darkness. Both Marcus and Alexandra turned to see Vincenzo standing in the alley, cloaked so deeply in the shadows that he was scarcely visible even when they stared straight at him. “Domitian and Vito are preparing their little uprising. It should be ready any minute –”

  Sure enough, Vincenzo was interrupted by the faint sounds of shouting several blocks away, followed by the unmistakeable clanging of metal on metal. Within moments a dozen Sicambrii dashed out of the prison, running towards the noise. Only two guards were left standing outside the building’s rear entrance. Marcus gestured for Alexandra to remain where she was and for Vincenzo to follow him in the darkness. Vincenzo vanished into the shadows while Marcus strode up to the prison’s entrance confidently. As he walked into the flickering torchlight surrounding the door, the two Sicambrii guards confronted him.

  “Hey, you!” The first guard’s Latin was heavily accented and broken. “Why you here? Go fix noise! That way! Go!”

  “I would,” Marcus said slyly, “but don’t you think you two would be better suited to such a task? You are so mighty, while I am merely tiny.”

  “You are truly weak,” The second guard said sagely, “but no. We guard door. You go help fix noise.”

  “As you command,” Marcus bowed deeply, slipping his hand over the hilt of his sword unnoticed. As he rose up from the bow, he drew his sword with tremendous speed, lashing the blade outward at the first Sicambrii guard. The sword bit deeply into his neck, severing flesh and bone with ease. Before the second guard could react to his comrade’s sudden death, a dagger slipped out of the darkness behind him and was thrust downward between his collar bones. The blade tore through the guard’s carotid artery, causing the man to topple over lifelessly. Moving quickly, Marcus and Vincenzo dragged the corpses back into the shadows of the alleyway.

  “It looks like we’re set,” Marcus said, motioning for Alexandra to join him again. “Alexandra, I shall trust you to guide us to where Ceresius is being held – let us hope that Mars’ guidance does not fail us now. Vincenzo, follow hidden behind us. We may need you watching our back. Remember our cover story: I am escorting the Oracle to see the prison warden. It’s a flimsy cover, but it should hold up long enough for us to get close to any guards who would challenge it. If and when that happens, kill without hesitation. I will protect you, Alexandra, but please try to keep out of the way if fighting erupts. We get in, find Ceresius, and get out. Are we all clear on what our roles are?”

  Both Alexandra and Vincenzo nodded in affirmation. Marcus exhaled deeply, then motioned for Alexandra to follow him. Vincenzo disappeared into the shadows once again while Marcus and Alexandra approached the door. Opening the portal cautiously, Marcus peeked around the corner to make sure that no unexpected company waited inside. Apparently satisfied, he flung the door open wide and guided Alexandra inside.

  The air inside the prison was cold and clammy. Every facet of the building was oppressive, from the dark grey stone walls to the flickering torches which never seemed to provide quite enough illumination. Marcus suppressed a shudder at the sight of the narrow corridors which stretched out before him; it had been almost six years since he had last been in the prison, and no detail of the building had changed. Of course, his last visit had been under considerably different circumstances; he had been there to interrogate a soldier accused of desertion.

  Closing her eyes, Alexandra lifted her right hand palm up out in front of her. She uttered a prayer to Mars under her breath. As she recited the holy words her hand began to shudder and shake, and her entire body jerked to the right.

  “This way,” she said to Marcus, gesturing to the hallway to his right. Marcus nodded, following by her side. The prison was a complex system of corridors, staircases, and dead ends, but Alexandra strode confidently through the hallways, allowing herself to be guided by Mars every time they came to an intersection. The building was eerily quiet; Marcus had half-expected an aural assault from wailing prisoners and screaming guards, but instead found that only the rise and fall of his footsteps and soft swishing of Alexandra’s robes broke the silence. “Why is this place so abandoned?” Alexandra asked, finally shattering the tense quiet which had fallen between them. When Marcus did not reply, she continued talking nervously. “It’s not that I want to meet any Sicambrii down here, of course… I mean, obviously if we did see any you would be able to handle them, but we didn’t see many leave the building when the riot started, and I don’t see or hear any other prisoners –”

  “I doubt we will see any prisoners in here besides Ceresius,” Marcus interrupted. “I’ve been thinking about it since we got in here, and I’ve never seen one of the Sicambrii take a prisoner. And if Antonius Ceresius is the only prisoner being held here, there would be no need for any more guards than those we’ve already seen. Now, I don’t want to seem rude, but I believe silence would be the better part of discretion for the time being.”

  The two continued in silence for several minutes before Alexandra spoke up again. “So the Sicambrii don’t take prisoners? You don’t mean that they … they kill everyone? Even criminals or soldiers that surrender to them? That’s absolutely barbarous!”

  Marcus held up a finger to his lips, hoping the gesture would silence Alexandra. He was growing more fond of her with every passing hour, but he did not wish to endanger their mission by making too much noise. Unfortunately, precisely the opposite of his intended effect occurred. Alexandra let out a blood curdling scream and collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Marcus immediately dropped to one knee and grabbed hold of her, desperately trying to figure out what had happened. The shaking quickly subsided, however, and aside from a pallid white colouring and a small trickle of blood dribbling
out of her left nostril seemed recovered.

  “I… I am fine. It was just… an unimaginable terror shot through my mind… Something is terribly wrong, Marcus. We must move quickly.” Her voice quaked as she spoke, betraying her protestations that she was fine.

  “Are you certain that you can move?” Marcus asked, gently wiping the blood from her upper lip. “We can rest for a minute if you require.”

  “No, we cannot rest. I’ll be fine. Ceresius is near here… through the door at the end of this hallway, actually. Let’s go.” Alexandra struggled to her feet, holding on to Marcus’ arm for support. When she was able to steady herself and stand on her own again, they continued on their way. Because of Alexandra’s advice that Ceresius was so close, Marcus was on his guard more than ever before. His caution seemed unnecessary, however – the last few dozen feet of the corridor were as abandoned as their entire path had been. The corridor ended in a small closed wooden door. Gesturing for Alexandra to stand back, Marcus drew his sword and pushed the door open, then stepped inside the room cautiously.

  The visual and aural assault which Marcus had been expecting finally presented itself. Inside the small stone room was little more than a table. Strapped to the top of the table was Antonius Ceresius. He was much the same man he had been the last time Marcus had seen him – tall, thin, and grey haired. Antonius had obviously seen better days; he was haggard and only semi-conscious, though wailing horribly, and freshly inflicted wounds covered nearly every inch of his body. A short, bald, fat Roman man stood by the table holding a vicious looking blood splattered hooked dagger in his hand. His head snapped up as Marcus entered the room, obviously annoyed that his torture session had been interrupted.

  “Who in Hades are you,” he sneered, “and what are you doing here?”

  Striding into the room until he was standing across the table from the torturer. Glancing down at Ceresius’ body, Marcus addressed the man. “This is a Roman citizen. You do know that torture of Roman citizens is strictly forbidden, do you not?”