These men were the legion. They were its beating heart, and though, for a moment, it had stuttered to a stop, he would restart it.
Karus took another deep breath of fresh air, tasting that strange foreign tang. It was time to restore order.
“Fall in!” Karus shouted in his best parade-ground voice, which only a centurion could develop over years of service. He poured his irritation and anger into it. It cut over the cries and lamentations that filled the air.
“Centurions,” Karus roared as all eyes swung his way, “optios, have your men fall in!”
Almost immediately, the cry was taken up by the surviving officers of the legion and those from the auxiliary cohorts. Standards that had been lying discarded on the ground were picked up by their bearers, brushed off, and hoisted proudly up into the air. It cheered Karus’s spirit to see them, almost as if the legion had been reborn.
Perhaps, it had been?
Men trained to respond to orders moved to comply. At first it was a scene of great confusion as men sought their individual sections, centuries, and cohorts. There were repeated shouts as centurions and optios called out for their men. In short order, the legion and her attached auxiliary cohorts began to take shape on the hilltop.
Karus was pleased to see the centurions from his own cohort forming his men up, Pammon and Ajax amongst them. There was something calming about being given direction, and Karus sensed it in the air. This was only the first step to restoring order. To reinforce it, he would project a sense of control and confidence. Karus watched in silence, his face a schooled, unreadable mask as the legion organized herself. The legion needed strength right now, and Karus would lend it some.
As the legion came together, Karus noticed a set of large stones that could not be natural to the hill. Each had been placed about twenty feet apart from one another. From what he could see, the stones stretched out in a rough semicircle, disappearing around the other side of the cohorts that were forming.
The stones themselves stood only about four feet in height and were nearly uniform in shape. They likely ran around to the other side of the hill and formed a perfect circle. They were very different from the vague memory he had of the stone circle that stood upon the hill he had chosen for his defensive position. These appeared older. They had an aged look, as if the weather of countless years had slowly worn them down to the size they were now.
Karus moved over to the nearest stone and reached out to feel its cold surface. He almost immediately snatched his hand away, having felt not the cool touch of stone, but warmth. Tentatively, he placed his hand back upon its surface, which was warm, but not uncomfortably so. He stood transfixed, marveling, running his hand along the smoothed surface. The temperature in the air was that of a comfortable spring day, and yet the stone felt as if it had been heated by a hot summer sun.
The cacophony around him began to settle, drawing his attention away from the miraculous stone and back to the legion. Soon, only the camp followers were making any noise, and even they began to fall silent as the legion formed up. Karus reluctantly removed his hand from the stone. He had his duty to attend to.
Somewhere, a baby began to wail.
Karus calmly surveyed the scene before him. Three cohorts—the First, Fourth, and Fifth—were formed up to his immediate front. Behind them, in neat, orderly blocks, he could make out additional cohorts. Interspersed between the formations in untidy bunches were civilian camp followers.
They too would have to be organized, Karus thought sourly. If he ignored them, Karus would face an immediate mutiny. So, he would work to protect them as well. It was a complication, but one he was accustomed to dealing with.
Karus saw a centurion approaching him.
“Felix,” Karus drawled, resting a hand upon the pommel of his sword, acting as if nothing were even remotely wrong. Karus, like most other centurions, had long since learned how to project a sense of strength and calmness when he felt anything but. He well knew that Felix would understand this.
“What is going on?” Felix said in a low tone, stepping nearer so that they could not be overheard.
Karus was silent as he considered his answer.
“It seems,” Karus blew out a breath, “the gods have delivered us from certain destruction.”
Felix mulled on that before looking off into the distance. He turned back to Karus. “You think so? Truly?”
“Do you doubt it?” Karus asked him. “Last night our position was hopeless. We were surrounded and outnumbered by thousands of the enemy.” Karus gave a shrug. “The legate is dead, and the senior tribune legged it and took one of Valens’s squadrons with him.” Karus paused and took a breath, calming himself. Saturninus’s cowardice bothered him intensely, even if the tribune had gotten what he deserved in the end. But Karus had to project calm before the men, so he forced himself to let the anger go.
“Those barbarians,” Karus continued, “would have started in on us just as soon as it was light enough to see. Yes, I think our current position is much improved.”
Felix said nothing as he considered this.
Karus glanced over the ranks of men. All eyes were on the two officers as they spoke. Karus knew he had to immediately establish that things were not as bad as they seemed. The alternative was a mutiny or, worse, dissolution of the legion. He did not much care for that. To keep such a thing from happening, he had to get the officers on his side, and he would start with Felix, a respected leader.
“Do you have a better explanation?” Karus demanded quietly, turning to fully face his old friend.
Felix gave Karus a hard look, then lowered his eyes and gave a shake of his head. “I cannot explain this. It must be as you say.”
“Good,” Karus said, sucking in a breath. “Together, we must convince the other officers. We do that, and they can then explain to their men that the gods, in their wisdom and mercy, have saved us from destruction.”
Felix gave a curt nod of agreement.
“The Ninth Legion,” Karus continued, “and her auxiliary cohorts have been blessed by the gods. We have been delivered from certain annihilation.”
“I agree.” Felix nodded solemnly, with a quick look behind him at the assembled ranks of the legion. He turned back to Karus. “We are gods blessed.”
Karus was pleased by the response. It was a start.
“Karus,” Felix said, “if the gods did save us, what price do you think they will extract from us in return?”
Karus looked sharply at Felix, suddenly going cold. His friend had a point.
“I don’t know,” Karus said. “Besides, we can’t worry about that now.”
“I suppose you are right,” Felix said. “We focus on the now.”
“We must ascertain where exactly we are,” Karus said. He looked out at the vast forest that spread outward from the hill.
“It kind of looks like Gaul,” Felix said with a distasteful glance at the dense forest, which spread out as far as the eye could see.
“It does,” Karus admitted, then gestured. “What about the second sun?”
“A sign from the gods perhaps?” Felix postulated. “An omen?”
Karus nodded, considering the idea. If they were in Gaul, that could present problems. Many of the occupied tribes were less than friendly and, given the chance, would happily turn on Rome.
“We must be on guard,” Felix said. “If this is Gaul, we could be beyond the frontier, maybe even in Germania, or worse, somewhere farther afield.”
“I hope not. Once we know for certain, we can reestablish contact with the empire.”
Karus saw another large bird in the far distance, this one red in color, gracefully skimming over the treetops. It was heading lazily in their direction.
As a fresh-faced legionary, Karus had served in Gaul. He had seen his first combat there. It had not been a pleasant experience.
His eyes tracked the bird’s graceful flight. Karus could not recall seeing such large birds in Gaul. All he remembered
were the mean-spirited black ravens that worried the flesh of the dead.
“Contact with the empire should be a priority,” Felix said.
“Though,” Karus said, “once we do reestablish contact, I will be hard-pressed to explain how we ended up here.”
“I think you are right,” Felix said with a slow smile, followed by a chuckle. “Better to be here than where we were.”
“Though the gods seem to have smiled upon us,” Karus said, “I fear the emperor may not be so pleased as we are.”
“It wasn’t you that gave the order for the legion to march north.” Felix cocked his head slightly, an angry expression coming across his face. “Julionus gave that order, and it was a stupid one at that.”
“He is beyond answering for his actions,” Karus said, and ran a hand through his matted hair. “I, on the other hand, may provide a suitable scapegoat. Without us, the tribes will surely be emboldened and will push south, causing all kinds of trouble for the province and the rest of the garrison.”
“Your actions last night saved this legion,” Felix countered. “Had you not taken command and led us up that hill, we would be nothing more than a feast for the crows. Face it, Karus, you saved the legion … with the gods’ help, of course.”
Karus nodded, but said nothing. His eyes swept the dense forest again. Why did it have to be Gaul? Why could it not have been somewhere settled, civilized? Why not Greece, or even Egypt? Karus supposed he should be grateful, and truly he was. He just had no idea which way to go other than to the west. If they were too far beyond the frontier, and indeed in Germania, moving south would not work. So west it was, back to a friendly Roman province.
Glancing up at the suns, he wondered which way was west.
The forest looked deep and impenetrable. Moving through it would be difficult, perhaps even worse than the march along the muddy road. That was the least of their problems, Karus realized with a quick glance back at the assembled legion. They had lost most of the supply train, and in the fighting retreat up the hill, Karus had only managed to bring the mule train with them. He had to find a way to feed several thousand mouths, and quickly, before the little supply they did have ran out. Discipline alone would only carry the legion so far.
The flight of the large reddish bird once again drew his attention. It was gliding toward them, riding on a current of air. Occasionally it gave a flap of the wings. The bird was incredibly graceful. Felix also turned to watch, and Karus felt his friend suddenly stiffen.
Karus’s eyes narrowed. There was something odd about this bird, though he could not quite put his finger on what was off. The bird, he judged, was still around a quarter mile distant. It suddenly banked to the right and began to actively flap its wings, climbing up into the air with astonishing speed.
Karus’s eyes widened.
“I don’t believe we are in Gaul,” Felix breathed as a distant roar reached them.
Karus agreed. They were most definitely not in Gaul. They must be very far from the frontier indeed, for they were in a place where dragons roamed the skies.
PART TWO
CHAPTER SEVEN
Karus dragged his gaze from face to face. Most of the senior officers of the legion and prefects of the auxiliary cohorts were gathered around him in a rough semicircle. Karus could see Otho and Pactus making their way over to them, and so he waited. The officers wore only their gray service tunics. Dio and Felix stood off to the right with Flaccus, who shifted impatiently from one foot to the other. It had been at least six hours since Karus and the others had woken on this hilltop. Karus could read the stress and exhaustion etched in each face. He knew his was no different.
The two strange suns had climbed high into the cloudless sky above. One was smaller than its partner and yellow, while the other had an orange tinge to it. The sight of the unfamiliar suns was unsettling. A light breeze blew by and around the officers, ruffling tunics and gently disturbing hair.
The temperature was comfortable, perhaps a tad warm, but not unbearably so. Karus found the wind pleasant, even relaxing. He decided that, despite the legion’s strange predicament, anywhere else it would have been nearly the perfect day. The weather here was certainly an improvement over what they had had in Britannia.
This was their second meeting of the day. Karus had seen to it that this gathering occurred near the edge of the hilltop. The closest legionaries had been ordered back twenty yards, thereby creating a bit of space so that their conversation would remain private. Each cohort was busily working away at cleaning the mud, grime, and blood off of their kit. Karus had put them to the task to bring about a sense of normalcy to this unusual situation. He had then spent the next hour speaking with his senior centurions. Karus had then cleaned his own gear. It was always good to set an example. Besides, he had needed time to think.
It had been a relief to shrug out of the heavy armor. Cleaning the grime and dried blood out of every little recess had been a chore, not to mention a near exercise in futility without the proper cleaning tools. Still, the process had afforded him time to think through what needed doing. Upon finishing, Karus had toured the hilltop, checking in on each cohort before returning to where he had left his kit, which was where the senior officers were now assembling. Karus glanced down at his armor a few feet away. He was not looking forward to putting it back on. His leg ached abominably, not to mention his bruised side and back where he had been struck blows in battle.
Karus returned his gaze to his officers. Titus from Third Cohort and Fadenus from the Eighth were the only two senior officers that had not made it. Both had fallen in battle during the retreat. Centurions Macrinus and Arrens had come in their stead to represent their respective cohorts. Of the prefects, only Valens was absent. A road had been discovered leading off the hill. Karus had dispatched his cavalry to scout it.
Otho and Pactus arrived and fell in next to the others. It was time to begin. Though under normal conditions it might not have been necessary, Karus was mindful that this was anything but. He needed to cement his authority.
“Macrinus,” Karus said, getting down to business. “You will assume command of the Third. Arrens, effective immediately, you have the Eighth.”
Though there were likely other officers who were more senior and experienced, Karus felt a need to get his cohorts in order sooner rather than later. Besides, he reasoned, it was likely the centurions of those two cohorts had nominated these two to represent them, which meant both almost assuredly commanded the respect of their fellow officers. Still, each would bear watching and need his personal attention to help them grow into their positions as senior officers.
“Thank you, sir,” Macrinus said, a slight trace of a grin showing.
“Yes, sir.” Arrens gave a curt nod that was filled with a personal confidence born through years of hard service and leadership.
“I know you both will do the legion proud,” Karus said.
“Congratulations,” Frontinus said, which was immediately followed by the other senior officers chiming in.
All centurions were part of a brotherhood, but the senior centurions of a legion were something altogether special. These two were now part of that fold that usually, but not always, transcended any personal animosities or feelings. These men relied upon each other, especially in battle. Old grudges and hard feelings had to be put aside. If they weren’t, Karus would see that they were.
Of all the senior officers, only Flaccus remained silent, offering nothing to the two newly promoted men. Instead, he simply crossed his arms, jaw flexing, and stewed. Karus was not pleased by the display of overt displeasure. He decided that later, when he had the time, he would speak with Flaccus in private.
“Ampelius,” Karus said, turning to their surgeon, who was standing off to his left, slightly apart from the officers. “Let’s have your report.”
The surgeon straightened his posture from a near slouch and cast a quick look at the other officers.
“I have treated one hundred fo
rty-one that I deem walking wounded and another twenty-four non-ambulatory.” Ampelius’s tone was laced with a heavy weariness. His eyes were bloodshot. Karus knew that the surgeon had been working days on end without a break. He and his small staff had been stretched thin. When others turned in for the night, Ampelius frequently kept working, stitching up wounds and treating patients. The life of a legion surgeon on campaign was a hard one, and Karus respected him for his dedication to his craft.
“Two men,” Ampelius continued, his voice deadened by the exhaustion, “will not make it through the day. Of the walking wounded, I have sent the majority back to their cohorts, with orders for light duty only until I say otherwise.” Ampelius paused and glanced around at the senior officers sourly. “I would greatly appreciate your cooperation. I do not enjoy treating the same man twice, much as you don’t like to take the same ground twice.”
“Don’t worry Ampe,” Dio said with a sly grin. “You can trust us.”
“That is precisely what I am afraid of,” the surgeon replied caustically, exhibiting emotion for the first time.
“Thank you, Ampelius, for your report,” Karus said before things could get out of hand. The last thing Karus needed was an argument to break out. It was important that he maintain firm control of this meeting. The surgeon’s shoulders slumped back to a slouch as the eyes of the officers traveled back to Karus. “Ampelius and his staff have been greatly overworked. I would ask that you respect his order concerning light duties to the maximum extent possible.”
The surgeon nodded his thanks.
Karus cleared his throat and scratched at an itch. Gods, he thought, I could use a proper bath.
“Dio,” Karus said, moving the meeting along. “Give us the strength tally.”
“I took a census of each cohort as ordered. Of the ten cohorts,” Dio said, glancing down at a small wax tablet he had been holding, “the legion’s current strength, including the walking wounded, is four thousand two hundred and two men. Of the auxiliary cohorts, there are an additional five thousand three hundred twenty-one effectives. That gives us a total strength of nine thousand five hundred and twenty-three men under arms. Do you wish a cohort-by-cohort breakdown? Some,” there was a quick glance toward Flaccus, “got hit harder than others.”
Lost Legio IX: The Karus Saga Page 15