Scouts had arrived two days ago, having been put ashore and ridden hard along the coast. They had warned the governor a man named Glabrio - that they were to expect Otho in the next few days. The Emperor had remained at sea, the ships hugging the coast, in order to avoid the Risen. The southern coast of Gaul and the North of Spain were not as rife with the undead as Italy or the more northern parts of the empire but with only a depleted force to defend him, Otho could not risk putting himself in danger.
With the ship secured, Otho turned to Ursus and nodded.
“When you’re ready, my friend,” he said.
The praetorian prefect shouted orders and twenty men stepped onto the jetty, forming an honour guard. Otho waited a suitable time before stepping onto dry land for the first time since leaving Ostia, weeks before.
With only three quarters of a crew, most of whom were legionaries and not sailors, it had been a hard journey. They had managed to find a captain who was capable enough with an experienced crew, and the legionaries had learned fast. A mixture of praetorian guards and men from the legions who had supported Titus, they had found themselves sitting beside men who had been trying to kill them only hours before. Hard work and discipline had formed them into a single force once more.
At first Otho had been weary of a knife in the dark. Too many of the men around him had been loyal to Titus. The man had ordered his legions to follow Otho as Emperor but Otho still spent the first nights waiting to be attacked.
The dying wish of Titus had been respected, and the men who had fought for Otho’s bitterest enemy had stayed their hands. These were above all else men of Rome, and Emperor Otho was now their ruler. No matter their previous loyalty, they would die for him, and for Rome.
Two men approached Otho, stepping between the two lines of centurions, and saluted their emperor. Further off the jetty Otho could see a single line of eager looking men whom he assumed were minor local dignitaries. After weeks at sea and all the discomfort such a journey entailed, Otho was in no mood for a parade of self-important petty officials.
The two men stopped and the taller, thinner of the two stepped forward. His hair was a birds-nest of red that stood straight up as if the man had been given a shock.
“Caesar, welcome to Spain. I am Governor Glabrio, and this is magistrate Estartus. I trust your journey was pleasant enough?” Glabrio wore his military uniform and looked like he might be slowly cooking under the Spanish sun. The man next him was a head shorter and dressed in a toga that hung untidily on his round frame. His skin was olive coloured and when he spoke it was with a thick accent.
“Welcome Caesar, we have awaited your arrival with eagerness, we are honoured.”
Otho found himself caught between the need to accede to formality and politeness and his desire to sink into a hot bath and rid himself of weeks at sea. In the end, he reminded himself that these men could make his time in Spain both easier and shorter than it might otherwise be, if he had their full cooperation.
“The honour is all mine, gentlemen. It is my pleasure to be here, I only wish the circumstances were better. It has been a long journey and I am eager to get back to some of the comforts of civilised life, as soon as possible.” He found his eyes straying to the line of men that waited at the bottom of the jetty. He was amused to see Magistrate Estartus make a quick signal with his hand as he spoke, and the saw the men begin to shuffle away looking disappointed. At least the local politicians were subtle enough to take a hint when they heard one.
“We have somewhere for you to freshen up in private and food laid out for you, as soon as you are ready Caesar,” Glabrio said with a slight bow of his head. Turning to Ursus he asked, “May I assume the same for you, Prefect?”
Ursus nodded, “You’re most kind, governor.”
Governor Glabrio motioned for the two men to follow him off the jetty and began walking toward the town. The small group of dignitaries were standing to one side, forgotten, as the Emperor of Rome walked within hailing distance. Their chance to speak to the most powerful man in the world was gone.
Otho spoke to Glabrio as they entered the lower part of the town, flanked on both sides by a line of legionaries. The smell of fish was overwhelming, but Otho understood that ports like this one were just one of the ways the empire stayed fed. The smell of salt and fish guts was as good as gold in the imperial coffers. Of course, now the Eternal City had fallen, that was an outdated way of thinking. This town was as independent now as it had ever been, while Rome was no more capable of demanding taxes than it was of defending itself.
Otho dragged his mind back to the matter at hand.
“I presume my legions are in good shape and ready to move out?” Otho deliberately referred to them as his legions, wanting to leave the governor in no doubt that he was now in command of the Spanish forces. He intended to leave the man a small garrison in order that he might protect the town and the area around it from the undead, but Otho would be leaving Spain with the bulk of the army.
“They are camped about a mile outside town, Caesar,” Glabrio said, nodding. “The local fishermen become nervous when the legionaries come into town, so we thought it best to give them some space. Not that they complained last week when my men saw off a swarm of Risen that had been attacking villages in the area.”
“What is the undead situation, governor?” Ursus asked from his place a step behind Otho.
“Not as bad as it is in Rome, I’m pleased to say. We were horrified when we heard the city had fallen. The loss of life must have been horrific. I’m just grateful that the threat has been fairly subdued in this part of the world, at least so far. I have done everything in my power to ensure that you are as safe as you can be, Caesar.”
The governor had a way of nodding as he spoke that gave Otho the impression that he was constantly bowing. It was at both distracting and overly subservient.
“That is good to hear, Glabrio. As we begin rebuilding the empire we will need the areas that are least affected to shoulder some of the burden. Take in refugees and such.” Otho said.
The town was small and tight as the four men made their way through the streets. The magistrate brought up the rear and said nothing, leaving the talk to Glabrio.
Olive skinned fishermen went about their work, oblivious to the fact that the emperor was among them, until they saw the four togate men escorted by twenty legionaries. As the party turned on to each new avenue, the men and women stopped their chores and watched the procession pass, mouths agape.
Eventually the group approached the outer limits of the town and began to climb a shallow hill, reaching the top and seeing a far more spacious and modern second town, out of sight of the first. The houses here were larger and more opulent, compared with the old Greek built town below.
The roads here were obviously built by the army, and gave the escorting legionaries the room to march as a unit instead of being spread thin by the lack of room as they had been in the town below.
Glabrio walked slowly up the main street, pointing out the new gymnasium and the public baths, both of which were laughably small compared to any in Rome. Otho and Ursus nodded appreciatively, trying to be good guests in what was, after all, their hour of need.
Eventually the party reached the largest of the houses they had seen so far. Clean white stuccoed walls reached up to a red tiled roof that almost glowed in the Spanish sun.
Glabrio stopped in the street outside and nodded to Otho. “Caesar, if you would use my home for the duration of your visit, it would be an honour.”
Otho turned to Ursus, who in turn strode back to one of the escorts and said a few words quietly enough that the governor could not hear him. Three of the legionaries stepped into the house, without a word to Glabrio. Though it was obvious to everybody that the men were checking the house before Otho would set foot inside, nobody acknowledged the fact.
“That is exceptionally kind of you, Governor. I assume you will have your slaves ready a meal large enough that we may all
dine together this evening? I have much I would discuss with you, and would be grateful if you could grace us with your presence.” Otho said.
“I would be honoured, Caesar. I will make arrangements and have already instructed my men to ready everything you will need to make you as comfortable as my humble home will allow.” The man looked pleased at the invitation, but Otho couldn’t help thinking there was more than just pleasure. Strangely a look of relief seemed to cross his face, though it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
The three legionaries stepped back out of the house, saluted Ursus and nodded without a word. Ursus motioned to Otho and with a word of thanks left the two local men in the street.
The meal was laid out before the four men later that evening. The low couches were set before an open double door that allowed them a view of the clear night sky beyond. The crickets performed their nightly serenade as the discussion turned to the legions.
“I plan to recover from my journey for a few days, that should allow my men to ready themselves for a land march.” Otho explained to Glabrio and Magistrate Estartus. The governor swallowed the grape he was eating, looking interested.
“You don’t intend to return to Rome by sea, Caesar?” He asked.
“No, I have allowed the undead to take too much of a foothold in the Empire. I will travel by land and wipe the Risen out at every opportunity.’ Otho answered, taking a slice of local spiced meat that he found he had taken a liking to, folding it into his mouth.
“Apologies, I simply assumed you would want to take back the capital as soon as you could.” Glabrio commented.
This point had been the source of a lot of discussion between Otho and Ursus while on the journey to Spain. There was merit in both courses of action. To travel by sea would mean they could begin taking back the city as early as possible but it had its drawbacks. The Spanish legions were woefully inexperienced when it came to fighting the Risen. From the accounts of Governor Glabrio the largest group of undead they had faced had been little more than two hundred strong. To land the men in the middle of a city amidst almost half a million undead would be suicide.
The land march would give the men the chance to face the enemy and gain experience. It might also mean the loss of good men, but this was war and such was to be expected. It would also give the survivors in the cities the chance to see the legions finally coming to their aid. Lastly, and to Otho’s thinking the most important point, was that they would be able to face their enemy in a manner of their own choosing. An arrival by river via Ostia would give the men only one access point into the city, arriving by land would give them the chance to draw the Risen out of Rome, if that was what they needed to do.
Glabrio held his hand up to a slave and allowed the girl to wipe his fingers before plunging his thick fingers back into the bowls of food that were laid out before him.
Otho scratched the back of his neck and for the first time in weeks he didn’t feel grubby. The time on board the ship had been relaxing in many ways, after the previous weeks. To be denied the comforts of life in the palace had chaffed, however. He had spent an hour in the bath earlier and now felt almost human again. A good nights sleep would take care of the remaining aches and pains.
“I will, of course, leave a couple of centuries at your disposal,” he said to Glabrio. “I would not leave you totally defenceless. Though, from what I’ve seen the locals could do with raising themselves to the task a little.” As he said this he looked at Estartus. The Spaniard had the good grace to nod, even if his eyes betrayed his dislike of Otho’s words.
Glabrio smiled, “The local fishermen are second to none at what they do, but they are no fighters. I’m afraid they have grown used to the legions and a few are less than happy at the idea that they must leave.”
Otho’s shoulders danced up and down as he chuckled, almost silently. “The local fishermen will have to come to terms with the truth soon enough. The world has changed and they will have to change with it. They have lived under Rome’s gaze for too long, we have given all we can give for a time.”
“We are most grateful for your generosity, Caesar,” Estartus said. As he spoke he signalled to a slave to pour him more wine and motioned to the two men from Rome. Ursus took Otho’s goblet and let the slave fill both his emperor’s and then his own. Estartus put his goblet to his lips and then lowered it again and spoke.
“May I ask about the fight for the capital? Did the men fight well?” He asked, putting his untouched drink back on the table.
Ursus took the conversation, deflecting a difficult topic from his emperor. “They fought to the last man, it was one of Rome’s finest moments, even if it did end in retreat. The numbers were overwhelming but each man did his duty.”
“I’m sure they did, it must have been a fight worthy of the gods,” Estartus said, leaning forward and taking a slice meat from a plate.
Ursus saw the magistrate glance at Otho as the emperor first smelled the wine in his goblet and then raised it to his lips to taste it. In a flash of pure inspiration the prefect realised why the magistrate had lowered his goblet without drinking. He whipped out a foot and in an action that might end with his death, if he was wrong, he kicked the drink from the emperor’s hand.
Otho almost rolled backward of the couch in shock at the unprovoked attack from Ursus but the prefect held up his hand in supplication.
“I’m sorry, Caesar,” Ursus said, hurriedly.
“I presume you have a good reason for doing that, my friend?” Otho asked but was already turning to the two men on the far side of the table as he spoke. Glabrio was frozen in a crouched, almost standing position with a shocked look on his face. Estartus had a more pained, resigned expression.
Ursus turned to Estartus without answering Otho. “Pick up your goblet,” he said to the magistrate. Doubt was already creeping into his mind, even though he had been so sure of himself only a moment before. The Spaniard looked scared at what was happening and Glabrio was raising himself to his feet but Ursus motioned for him to sit back down.
“I beg your pardon, prefect, is there a problem?” Estartus asked, a slight shake in his voice. Ursus could see from the corner of his eye that Otho had recovered from the shock of his actions and was now concentrating hard on the magistrate.
“I told you to pick up your goblet, do it now,” Ursus repeated, hard iron in his voice.
“Caesar, I..” Estartus began but Otho cut him off with a shout.
“Do as he tells you now!” The emperor demanded in a voice that had commanded legionaries across the empire.
The short, fat man reached out a hand toward the table and gripped the goblet, lifting it with a slight shake. He stood up and raised it to Otho but did not put it to his mouth.
“Now, drink the wine,” Ursus growled.
“Caesar, please,” Glabrio pleaded, “this is unnecessary, I assure you.”
“Drink the wine, now.” Ursus demanded again, “or I will cut you open and spill your guts on the floor.”
The Spaniard looked at the contents of his goblet for a moment and raised it to his lips. For a moment Ursus thought the man would drink, that the wine was not poisoned, then the magistrate spoke without tasting the drink.
“You will take the legions and leave my people defenceless.” He spoke in a resigned and defeated voice and dropped the goblet to the floor. Dark red wine splashed up against the man’s toga, like blood. Ursus was up on his feet in a flash, gripping the magistrate by his throat and forcing him back against the couch, Estartus let out a weak, choked noise but put up little fight.
Otho watched the scene in fascination, then looked down at the wine on the floor that might have ended his life.
“I do hope you knew nothing of this,” he said to Glabrio. The governor was sitting on the edge of his own couch, his hands were shaking with the shock of it all, he could not take his eyes off the magistrate, as the life was throttled out of him.
“No, Caesar. I assure you I knew nothing. I thou
ght this man was loyal.”
“Stop, Ursus,” Otho said almost lazily as Estartus looked to be at the point of death. Ursus released the Spaniard without a second thought, turning to his emperor. “Once more it seems I owe you my life, Ursus. Thank you. Have this man locked up, I will decide how he is to die later.”
Estartus was gasping, lying on the floor, clutching at his painful throat. Ursus stood over him and called for legionaries. Two soldiers stepped into the room and dragged the struggling magistrate away.
Otho turned back to the shocked and silent figure of Glabrio. He stared at the man’s white face, the red hair looked comical atop the stunned features and Otho decided he could afford to take his time before deciding if he believed the man’s innocence.
“Take this one too, but take care, I am yet to decide if I trust him,” Otho said.
Chapter Three
The farmhouse was cold as the friends woke. Shafts of early morning sun cut across the room catching dust as it danced in the air. One by one, eyes opened and took in their unfamiliar surroundings. Exhaustion had taken them down into sleep with haste the night before and now they found themselves looking around and wondering where they were.
Lucia sat against the door, her arms wrapped around her knees, as she watched the rest of the party come to life. She had always been an early riser on the estate, and now she often volunteered for the final watch before dawn.
“What’s happening outside?” Vitus asked in a low voice, as he attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes.
“They gave up early this morning, I’m not sure if they have all gone, but most seem to have wandered away.” Lucia answered, standing up from the floor and straightening her back.
“Any sign of our friends with the horses?” Vitus asked.
“Not so far,” Lucia said stifling a yawn.
The party had learned not to spend too much time on the roads, preferring to walk across country when possible. Like all predators the Risen seemed to be drawn to the places where there was the most prey, and that meant that the safest place was away from other travellers.
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