Garic took a second to find his feet and stared around him. They were in some kind of military parade ground, surrounded by high walls. The legionaries standing around looking at them were surly and gave the appearance of being as unhappy about the new arrivals as Garic was to be there.
“Right, straighten yourselves up and form a line. Let's see what we have to work with,” a man, who looked from his uniform to be an officer, said to them. Garic followed the rest of the men from the cart into a ragged line. “Okay, I don’t suppose you’ve been told why you are here. That’s my job, so listen up because I will tell you this once. My name is Centurion Horatius. You will call me centurion. I will answer to nothing else and I will only put up with you getting that wrong once,” the centurion said as he paced up and down the line of weary looking men.
“You are here because my men and I are tired of protecting your sorry backsides and we think it’s about time that you men took your turn on the walls.” There were low moans from one or two of the men in the line. Horatius ignored the sounds and continued, “I do not care what you think of this arrangement. It is none of my concern who you were this morning, now you are wall guards. How long you remain wall guards will be decided by two things, how quickly you learn to kill the undead and how long you can stop the undead from killing you.”
The centurion continued to pace up and down for a moment and then stopped in front of the dark skinned man who was standing next to Garic.
“Have any of you men seen a Risen before?” Horatius asked.
Garic looked down the line and saw that two men had raised a hand, slowly he put up his own. The centurion nodded.
“It’s a start,” he said. “Next question, have any of you killed a Risen?” The other two men lowered their hands and Garic kept his in the air. He remembered all to well leaving his home to join a band of men and women toward the end of the siege. They had fought hard to do their duty in freeing the city of the undead menace. In the end, it had cost more than half of them their lives but they had destroyed more of the creatures than they had lost of their own.
The centurion looked up the line and raised an eyebrow as he saw Garic still had his hand raised. “You have fought the undead, have you?” he asked, looking Garic up and down. The butcher felt very aware of his round stomach as the armoured officer stood before him with muscles seeming to grow on top of muscles.
“Yes,” Garic said and then remembered himself quickly, “Yes, centurion. During the siege, I joined a group led by a couple of legionaries. We fought the Risen and I killed a few.” He looked down at his feet as he finished speaking, unable to keep eye contact with the much bigger man.
“What’s you name, soldier?” Horatius asked him and Garic lifted his head at the use of the word soldier.
“Garic, centurion,” Garic said with more confidence in his voice.
“What did you do for a living before you came to my unit, Garic?”
“I was a butcher, centurion,” Garic answered.
“I like you Garic. You see these men in this line? If none of my men are around then you are in charge of these men. I’m not making you an officer, let's not get ahead of ourselves.” He paused to let the men behind him laugh. “If they need someone to make a decision then I want you to be there to do it. Do you think you can do that Garic?” Horatius asked and Garic felt his chest swell.
“Yes, centurion,” he replied.
The centurion dropped a heavy hand onto Garic’s shoulder, almost buckling the butcher's knees with the force. “I like you, soldier. Good man,” he said and continued down the line. It was on the tip of Garic’s tongue to ask a question but was grateful to find out that the centurion was ready to answer without it being asked.
“I know some of you have families at home. I’m sure you will be worried about them. All I can say to you is that you will be keeping them as safe as you can by being here and defending the city walls. You will live in the barrack house and eat with the guards.”
“When will we go home?” asked a voice from further down the line. The legionary who had hit Lee on the street stepped forward and punched whoever had spoken in the stomach.
“You will show the centurion respect, recruit,” the legionary said to the man as he huddled over his wounded midriff.
The centurion carried on as if the legionary hadn’t moved. “You will not get to go home. This is your home now. You have joined the city guard and until the threat from the Risen is over, that is where you will remain.”
Garic felt his heart sink at the words. He thought of his family at home. His wife and infant son, Tulius. How would they feel after they found out he was not coming home? He felt a hollow sick feeling inside and fought hard not to let his feelings show to the men around him. He would have to bide his time and wait for Domitius to get him out of this. Garic just hoped that Lee had managed to get the message to the praetor or Vitus. If something happened to the boy before he got to the house, then he could be stuck here forever.
He came out of his thoughts to find the centurion had finished talking. The new recruits were being led toward what Garic assumed were the living quarters. He turned and followed the dark skinned man. The barracks must be on the very outskirts of the city because the back wall of the barracks rose up to become the city wall. Garic looked up and high above his head could see men fighting off an unseen force as it tried to climb the walls. The sounds of shouting and fighting drifted down to him as he stepped through the door and into another life.
Inside were rows of beds and Garic took the first unoccupied one he could find. He sat down on the lumpy straw-filled mattress and stared at his feet for the longest time. What had been the last thing he had said to his wife? He couldn’t be sure but he thought it may have been “I love you.” He hoped it was.
Chapter Eight
Manius Sergius stood to attention in front of the staff officer who sat behind the dark wood desk. A scribe sat behind the officer, in the corner of the large square tent. The tent wall behind the desk was decorated with banners showing the legion motto and eagle. Lamps provided the only light, as the sun did not penetrate through the think tent material.
“Manius Sergius?” the officer asked. He didn’t wait for a verbal reply but looked up to see Sergius nod. “You’ve been assigned the rank of benefiarius. The emperor and tribune both felt that a man who has displayed the skills you posses should have a little freedom to aid and benefit the legion as we see fit to use you.” He looked Sergius in the face to see the understanding of his words.
“You will be told your duties in the fullness of time . There is, however, a special assignment I have been ordered to give you immediately.” Sergius was surprised at the appointment. It was a special rank that was usually only given to military police but in rare circumstances was awarded to men on special assignment. It probably meant the freedom from day to day routine and more danger when he was called on.
The officer had a stylus in his hand but he pushed it through his fingers in a fidgeting motion rather than write with it. The scribe in the corner was taking notes at a furious pace. Sergius assumed the man was keeping track of the orders as they were given.
“We are short of men with real experience in dealing with the undead. It is the Tribune’s wish that we scout food sources in the area and he would like you to lead one of the parties. You are to take twenty men and head out this afternoon. We will give you the details of your destination in due course. We are hoping that the village is still intact, we have had no information to the contrary.” The officer leaned back in his chair and asked, “Do you have any questions?”
Sergius stood a little taller as he answered, “No, sir. Thank you, sir.”
The officer nodded and smiled. “Very good Sergius. Best of luck and report when you return. See my scribe before you leave and he will give you the details.”
Sergius saluted the officer and stepped out of the tent. For a moment the light outside dazzled him before his eyes adjusted. He
stood for a moment before the tent flap opened a second time and the scribe stepped out behind him. “Follow me, please,” the scribe said in a reedy voice and set off across the camp.
The usual camp activity was going on around him and Sergius followed the small man in front of him. Repairs to kit and tents were being carried out while other men slept in the sun, obviously not on active shift. The two of them finally reached a smaller tent than the one the officer had spoken to Sergius in. They stepped inside and the scribe began rummaging in a box of scrolls until he straightened up with an audible, “Ah.”
“Here, this is what we need.” He unrolled a map onto a rough looking table. It showed the East coast of Italy and included the approximate area that Sergius believed the legions to be in.
“We are here,” the scribe pointed to a flat plain twenty miles in from the sea, “the village we wish you to investigate is here.” He further indicated a point twenty five or so miles inland. “You are to ascertain the status of the settlement and find out what stores of food they have there. They are a farming community and grain should be in abundance. We will not be sending carts with you as the village lies close to the path the legions are to take. Just secure the supplies and report back. It really shouldn’t be of any particular difficulty but the Tribune feels it is wise to use men with as much experience as possible to lead these scouting missions. Leave this afternoon, camp before you reach the town, which should mean you have enough time to reach the village and return before dark tomorrow night.” Sergius nodded and wondered how difficult the scribe would feel the mission to be if it were him being asked to go head out of camp and into unknowable numbers of Risen.
Sergius left the tent and headed to his own quarters. His usual choice of tunic was still dirty from the journey with Emperor Titus but his spare was in good shape. He would take the time to sharpen his weapons before leaving. The skull of an enemy was not the ideal place to attack with an iron blade and the nicks could cause the weapon to stick on impact.
He sat on his bunk and took a second to gather his thoughts. Everything had happened to him so fast. He had fought undead creatures, protected the Emperor, been honoured by the legions and was now being given command of a twenty. Only temporarily in the last case but still.
With his kit sorted and his pack ready, he headed back out to meet his men. They were it was a step up for a cavalryman with fewer than two years in the legions formed up and ready to go as he stepped out onto one of the parade squares. Twenty men ready to go and looking eager. The thought of commanding even a small unit such as this was daunting. Most men got the chance to work up through fours and eights before taking a step like this but by his actions on the road he had opened himself up for failure. He would not allow that to happen. Success would not turn out to be his downfall, he swore it to himself.
“Okay men, My name is Sergius. I don’t know how much you have been told about our plan for today. We are heading out to find out the status of a town on the legion's route. We will be scouting for grain supplies. I expect us to cross paths with the Risen while we are out. I’m aware you all fought against a large number of them as you landed. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for that. Fighting them out in the open is a different prospect. Listen to what I tell you and watch each other's backs and I see no reason this shouldn’t be like any other scouting mission. Any questions?” Sergius paused to give the men time to speak up but none did. “Very good, let's march out of camp and give the brass something to look at, keep it sharp at least until we are out of sight of the walls.” One or two men chuckled as they turned and marched toward the opening gates. The road and fields beyond looked green and inviting as they passed out of the safety of the walls.
After some time on the road Sergius decided to let the men walk at their ease. They would have to set marching pace but the tight formation of the legions seemed unnecessary for such a small unit. They trudged through the beautiful Italian countryside and the world felt like a wonderful place to be. If you didn’t let yourself remember that the empire was on the verge of civil war and being overrun by the undead.
That night they camped close to the road and built small fires. Guards were set and rotated regularly so as to keep the men fresh. The sky was an open vista of millions of stars and those men that didn’t stand watch, slept without incident. Sergius tried to keep himself slightly apart from the other men, wanting to keep a formality that would help him command respect and obedience when the time came. However, an hour after they camped one of the men spoke to him.
“Sir, can we ask you what happened with Emperor Titus on the road?” The legionary was no more than thirty and grizzled looking, with facial scars that looked like burns. The men around him looked up eagerly, Sergius wondered if this man had been nominated to ask.
“We were set on by Otho’s men on the road and took up shelter in a roadside inn,” Sergius began. The men shuffled round to face him as they realised the new officer was going to be forthcoming. Sergius told the story without bragging or embellishment. These men would all have stories of their own and trying to impress them would get him nowhere.
He reached the point in the story where he jumped off the roof, onto the Risen below and one of the men exclaimed, “Nice!” in a low voice. Sergius smiled at the man and felt the acceptance of his new position in the returned smile. The story carried them into the dark hours before Sergius told of escorting Titus to the century of cavalry, as they reached the camp gates.
The listening men nodded their thanks and turned away to sleep or talk amongst themselves. The legionary who had made the request for the story leaned in and said, “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome, what’s your name soldier?” Sergius asked.
“ Alba, sir,” the scarred man answered.
“Tell me, Alba, what did you men do to end up out here instead of in your beds?” Sergius asked jokingly.
“We all volunteered, sir. We wanted the chance to face more of the Risen and we wanted to hear what leads an emperor to have the legions honour a lowly cavalryman. No offence intended.” Alba smiled.
“I hope the story didn’t disappoint,” Sergius said with a smile. “Though I have to say, I wouldn’t have been standing up to face more of those undead bastards unless they had told me to. “
“I lost a couple of good friends on the beach. I’d like the chance to pay those things back a little,” Alba said. His face was lit on one side by the fire and it softened the scars on his face a little, though he would always be a hard man to look at.
“I hear it was hard fighting,” Sergius said.
“The cavalry had it hardest. The horses were okay until they were inside the Risen ranks and then they lost it. It bought us enough time to push back at them but the cost was high.”
Sergius winced at the thought that he may have been in those cavalry ranks had he not been protecting the emperor. He had only been on that duty because a man fell ill at the last moment. They had spent weeks waiting for the word to come to ride to Titus and escort him. It had been slow, boring time.
“So, I think we are all here hoping to cross paths with one or two Risen,” Alba continued.
“I have to say, Alba. I hope you’re wrong. I’d be happy never to see another one again.” Alba laughed and the two men fell into a comfortable silence as they stared into the deep red embers of the fire.
The following morning was clear blue from horizon to horizon. Not a single wisp of cloud blemished the sky. The legionaries woke as the sun sat looking over the low hills to the East. Fires were relit for morning food and drinks and before long the unit was back on the road. According to the map, the village they were looking for would be no more than an hour's march ahead and half an hour off the road.
Sergius set a good pace, wanting to be on the way back to camp in time to avoid another uncomfortable night in the open. So far, they had avoided any unwanted attention but time would always increase the odds of them running into trouble. The sound of twenty-one
pairs of iron nailed sandals on the hard surface of the road sounded unbearably loud in the quiet of the morning.
As the sun was starting to burn away the last moisture of the night, creating a thin ground mist, the village came into sight. It looked more like a small town to Sergius’ eyes. Most buildings were single story but a few looked bigger and more important than dwellings. Grain stores were easy to spot, even from this distance. The large barns stood out on the edge of town.
“No smoke, sir,” Alba said at his shoulder.
Sergius examined the town in more detail and found he couldn’t see any signs of life from this distance. “Let’s get in closer before we decide what we are walking into,” he said to the hard-faced legionary.
They moved in slowly, keeping formation, weapons ready. As they came around a bend in the road, they saw a barrier had been built across it, joining the two nearest buildings. Carts and an abundance of other wood had been built up in a haphazard but effective defence.
Two men could clearly be seen walking on the barrier with bows in their hands. Sergius drew his men up short of the range the bows could draw. They could plainly be seen from the barriers but neither man made an attempt to communicate with them. Sergius turned to his men. “I need four volunteers,” he said.
Every man in the unit stepped forward at the same time, in a move that would have been comical in other circumstances. Sergius smiled and turned to Alba. “Pick three men, I need two of you circling one way and the other two the other way around the outskirts. Do not attempt to enter the town and don’t engage unless you are attacked. All I want at this point is information. Find out if there is a way in and report back.”
Legion Of The Undead_Rise and Fall Page 7