“Our lives are gone, mother,” he said a little unkindly. “My father is ashes,” he pointed over his shoulder to beyond the wall where the plumes of smoke still rose from the funeral pyre.” As he pointed he saw his sister’s eyes rest on something behind him.
He had turned to be faced with two centurions, both looking impossibly big in their armour, and Julius had to stop himself stepping backwards, away from them.
“The legate would like a word with you,” one of the legionaries said.
Julius recognised the man as one of the guards that had escorted him to see the emperor. The two men said no more, but simply waited for Julius to follow them.
Julius turned to his mother but she was weeping into a handkerchief and was not looking at him. His sister Rosa, shook her head at him as she put her arms around her mother. Julius turned to the legionaries and nodded his assent, and two soldiers marched from the forum with Julius following behind, feeling dwarfed by them.
They had entered the legionary camp and Julius had been overwhelmed by the activity going on around him. Men moved on all sides, seemingly at random, yet each man seemed to know exactly what his job was and where he was going. Julius followed his two-man escort through the apparent chaos until they had eventually come to a stop near the centre of the camp.
Numarius had been standing in a group of five men who looked like junior officers and clerks, and pointing to a scroll that was laid out on a desk in front of him. He seemed to be giving orders and just as Julius and his escort, arrived at the desk, the quintuple dispersed.
“Sir, the young man from the city.” The legionary came to attention as he spoke and then looked off into the distance. Julius watched him for a second before his attention was drawn back to the legate.
Julius had not really looked at the man last time they had met. It had been too soon after the battle, and he had been lost to the death around him. Now he saw a man who looked like every hero from every story he had ever heard. Broad shouldered, barrel-chested, and with a face that looked like it might have been carved from stone.
“Julius, it’s good to see you again,” Numarius said, taking his hand in a strong grip and shaking it warmly. “I’m sorry to drag you in here like this but I have a proposition for you.”
Julius must have looked confused or even worried because the legate laughed, though not unkindly.
“Relax, Julius. It really isn’t anything I don’t think you are capable of, or I wouldn’t asked you to join me.” Numarius put his arm around the young man’s shoulders, turning him toward a tent, standing not too far away. He allowed himself to be led, ducking under the tent flap as they reached it.
The air inside the canvas structure was warm and dry, and Numarius lowered himself into the wooden chair at the far side of desk, motioning for Julius to sit in the nearer one.
“Emperor Otho has a plan and I’d like you to be part of it, young man.” The legate spoke over steepled fingers on which he had rested his chin.
“A plan?” Julius asked, confused.
“It was you that gave it to him,” Numarius said. “You brought the people out of the city to fight, and by doing so you saved the legions. Now Otho wants the people with the legions as they march. The people are the only ones who can win the empire back from the undead.”
“You want people to fight for the legions?” he asked dumbfounded.
“We want the people to fight for themselves. We have two legions out there, Julius, but even at full strength that is not much more than ten thousand men. The city of Rome alone had over half a million people in it. We don’t have the numbers to fight our way to Rome and then take the city by ourselves, so we need the people to fight and to do whatever it is that they can do to help us. Then perhaps at the end of all this, we can take Rome and start building again. We will lose people on the way, maybe everyone, but those that win through will be in the safest place they can be - the greatest city in the world.” Numarius looked earnestly at him when he finished, waiting for the inevitable question.
“What do you want me for?” Julius asked.
“You talked these people into facing a horde of Risen, lad. I don’t know how you did it, I certainly couldn’t have! You have a gift and I want you to come and use it for me.”
Julius was stunned. He sat for what seemed a disrespectful amount of time, saying nothing. Numarius, however, sat patiently, waiting for a response.
“I don’t know what to say. I mean, what about my mother and sister,” Julius began but the general waved his hand in a gesture that said none of that mattered.
“I will make sure they are cared for, assuming they come along with the legions. Come out with me, Julius. Emperor Otho has ordered that I take a cohort out, visit as many settlements as I can, and bring him an army back. I could probably do it without you, but I get the feeling it will be easier with you by my side.”
The lad shook his head, “People won’t listen to me, I’m barely a man.” He had tried to sound exasperated but either the legate had not heard, or he chose to dismiss it.
“Yet you fought the undead, you turned the battle in our favour, and you led those people to war, son. If I can show the men in those towns and villages that you have become a hero, they will follow us to Rome.” he said, thumping his fist down on his desk in his excitement.
“They will follow us to certain death,” Julius said, having already decided to go with this man whose energy denied him the chance to turn down the opportunity. Even as he offered pain and death, he promised eternal glory.
“We all die, Julius. Let us make our exit from this world such that it will go down in history,” Numarius was grinning and held out his hand across the desk. Julius returned the smile and took the proffered hand and shaking it, sealing his fate.
Now, he looked back down the hill behind him, and the line of men was still a sight he was not used to. The eagle held high, caught the morning sun, showing the world that these were men of Rome. Behind the golden standard stood nearly five hundred men, waiting on the word of the man who rode beside him.
The power to order other men into battle, to die or to live, was beyond Julius’ understanding. Yet men like Numarius, Ursus, and Otho destroyed lives without a second thought. They saw the bigger picture but missed the smaller details that made life what it was.
They moved on down the hill toward the town. The sound of the men marching behind had become as soothing as a lullaby in the weeks Julius had been with them. The steady crump, crump of boots on stone or packed earth had the young man even dreaming to the rhythm of the marching men!
As they approached the town, he saw the gates open and four riders moved out onto the road. They stopped a respectful distance from the legions and waited for the legate to approach.
“Care to join me, Julius?” Numarius asked, a smile on his face. He rode forward, flanked by two mounted men from his personal escort, and Julius had to gee his horse to catch up as he brought up the rear.
The four from the town were unusual to behold. Two of them were obviously Roman judging by their dress and features, while the other two had all the trappings of the Gaulish tribesmen. Julius stayed back from the meeting, assuming Numarius would call him forward if he wanted him to talk.
It was one of the Romans that spoke to the general. He introduced himself as Proculus Vedius Casca, head of the town council, and he introduced one of the Gaulish looking men as Vestrix, chief of a small village about ten miles away. The other two men remained quiet and outside the group, much as Julius himself.
“You don’t appear to have suffered too much with the Risen,” Numarius commented.
“Gods be thanked,” Casca offered with his eyes to the sky. “Many of the neighbouring towns have been destroyed but we seem to have gotten off lightly. We have just been lucky I think, although we made the decision to ask our local friends inside our walls before we suffered too badly. Their strength has aided us greatly.”
“Glad to hear it, Casca. We have much to discuss, how
much room is there in town for my men?”
Julius noted a shadow fall over Casca’s expression. He assumed it was the thought of five hundred men falling on the town, eating the food and bedding their women. He turned to Vestrix who laughed at the man’s stricken look and turned to Numarius.
“Forgive Casca, Legate. He is far too polite to say that the town is almost full to bursting. We have many more people in town than we have houses for. When the invitation was sent to me to join the people in defending themselves, I moved my entire village inside the town limits. We spent many days building the defences you see, but the trouble is we also restricted the size of the town. It is entirely my fault, and that of my people. You are welcome to join us, as is your retinue but your men would be far more comfortable under canvas.” The Gaul spoke good Latin but with a heavy accent, making some of his words difficult to understand.
Julius watched Numarius, wondering what reaction this rebuttal might elicit, but the legate simply smiled, adjusting his weight as his horse shifted a little.
“Not to worry, my men will be happy to camp outside your defences. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind sending out some rations for them, Casca?”
“Well, of course, Legate. It would be an honour to feed your men. I hope you will join us for a meal this evening, then perhaps we can discuss the reason for your visit?” Casca said. Julius couldn’t help smiling at the anguished look the man tried so hard to hide from his face. These five hundred men could eat his town's grain and meat supplies in a matter of days.
“The honour would be mine, Casca,” Numarius said, holding out his hand to be shaken. “I will see my men settled and return to enjoy your hospitality this evening.”
The legate wheeled his horse away from the town, allowing his escort to lead the way. He turned his head slightly but did not quite look at Julius as he asked, “First impressions?”
Julius thought for a second, “He certainly wasn’t happy about feeding the men, sir.”
“There is more to it than that,” Numarius answered. “If I had to lay a wager on it. I would say that our friend Casca is a prisoner in his own town.”
The young man started to turn around in order to get another look at the four men from the town. He wanted to see for himself if he could see what the general was talking about.
“Face forward, don’t let them know we think anything is wrong,” Numarius said, laughing. Julius didn’t need to look at the legate to know the laugh was false. He turned to face the road ahead of them, managing a small chuckle of his own, despite his mouth turning dry.
Chapter Seventeen
Vitus killed two Risen, and Gallus a third as the travellers hunted for a place to camp for the night. Dusk was approaching and a chill was trying to close in around them.
The Alps were cold and hard. In the lowlands, autumn was only just trying to fight off the fist attack of winter. Up in the mountains the beginning of winter was already throwing spears of ice into the heart of anyone who dared her paths and ravines.
The most travelled routes were still open in all but the worst parts, Vitus and his friends were forced to climb over and in one case under rock falls and paths blocked by deep snow. The furs and layers of extra clothes Juliana and the people of the town had given them were welcome, but still they battled bitter cold while they travelled. It would not be many more weeks before the mountains became almost impassable by all but the most experienced travellers.
The southernmost parts of Germania brought with them a relief from the snow of the mountains but the cold still bit at their exposed flesh as they walked. They were five days off the mountains and night was closing in when Vitus asked Lucia a question she should really have been expecting.
They had all been sat around a low fire, hidden from the road by a natural bowl in the earth and surrounded by tall rocks. The bodies of the Risen were laying back in the high grass, at rest at last.
“Do you want to go back to you father's estate to see what has become of it?” Vitus had asked so casually that Lucia hadn’t understood the magnitude of the question. The question took her by surprise and brought back to her the life she had left behind, lost in the chaos of everything that had followed. Suddenly the weight of everything that she no longer had in her life came falling in on her, like the collapsing walls of a house that she had thought was safe.
“I...I don’t know, should I?” she asked, all at once unsure of herself. In the time she had spent away from the estate, she had grown from a girl into a young woman. Age had not done that to her, experience had. She had fallen in love, fought and killed, lost loved ones and learned that life could be so much harder than you can ever be ready for.
“It really is your choice, Lucia,” Vitus had said. “We have a couple of days of food left in our packs and water for a day or two more, but we will need to find supplies soon. The reason I ask is because we are a day’s walk from the edge of your father’s estate. I thought you might want to see what has happened to it.”
Vitus kept calling it her father’s estate, but in truth it was hers now. Her father was lost, she knew that beyond doubt. Once, in a life that felt so long ago that she could hardly remember it, she might have held out some hope for him. After everything she had seen, she now knew better. Her father was dead, or worse, undead. He had disappeared during the fight on the farm, and nothing she had seen in the months since told her that he was still alive, there really was no good reason to hope.
“I don’t know if I can,” she said. “Can I think about it for a while?”
“Take as long as you need,” Vitus said to her, kindly. He turned to the other members of their diminished group. Regulus was huddled against the cold, hood drawn over his head, Gallus was slowly turning a spit holding the rabbit that Vitus had shot with a lucky arrow as they crossed a grassy plain earlier that day.
“We need to talk,” he said. What he meant was that they needed to plan, there were choices to be made in the days ahead.
Gallus turned to him and raised his eyebrows. Since he had been separated from Tatius, a life long friend, he had been reduced to few words. Regulus dropped back his hood, and his eyes looked grey and sunken in the firelight. He could have been forty or even eighty, rather than the fourteen or fifteen years that he had actually seen.
“We know where we need to go, at least roughly,” he began. They all knew they were heading back into the forests near the site of their ill-fated battle with the tribes, followed by the Risen. Regulus had told them all that much. He had told Vitus a little more, Lucia had heard more still but he had told nobody the whole truth.
They all trusted that when the time came, he would know where he wanted to go. What he would do when he got there was, he said, no clearer to him than to any of the rest of them.
“I think it’s time for us all to hear your story, Regulus. I think if we are all willing to follow you, we should all know why we are doing it.”
The boy looked up from the fire, shadow and light danced on his face. For a moment Vitus thought he could have been two different people, each trying to gain control of the other. He looked around his remaining three friends and then back down at the flames.
“I have held this secret for so long, but now I’m afraid.” he fell silent once more.
It was Gallus who helped him begin. He leaned over from his place on a fallen log, still slowly cooking their small meal. He placed a heavy hand on Regulus’ shoulder, gently turning the boy toward him.
“I never believed in spirits or praying. Myths and legends meant nothing to me. A good hard sword and a shield were all I needed to believe in. Now, I’ve seen the dead walk, I’ve had my world destroyed by creatures I would have given my life to wager did not exist. I know your story has something to do with gods,” he laughed at Regulus's amazed surprise. “What, do you think I’m deaf. I’ve been with you all for months, I’ve heard things. I just don’t know why you felt the need to keep it a secret.”
It was the most the big legiona
ry had said in a long time. He had lost his friends and suffered injury on the journey to Rome, yet somehow he was the least diminished of them all. His spirit was seemingly unbreakable.
“Okay,” Regulus said. “Just give me a moment to start.”
The three friends watched the young boy struggle with his inner demons as the secrets he had held for so long were finally ready to come out. The stars above were abundant on this cold and clear night, and only the fire hid the travellers from their gaze. Beyond the light the world was an inferno, a blazing pyre to the dead.
“There is a god called Viddus,” Regulus began. “No, before that, there was a race so old that the Roman and Greek gods have never heard of them, nor any gods known to, or even forgotten by man. They are called the ancient ones and they are malevolent.”
The boy stopped and looked around at his friends. Each listened in his own way. Vitus had his eyes closed and he sat with his elbows on his knees. Lucia had turned away from him slightly, staring at the firelight as it played on the ground. Gallus looked straight at Regulus and there was nothing but concern on the legionary's face.
Regulus told his story about the temple and the god, the fights, the pain and suffering, first of his own and that of the god himself. He described how Viddus was getting weaker and more insane every time he went to the temple, and his friends listened without interruption.
Next he came to the part he had told nobody but Juliana about. He hesitated and all three of his friends looked up at him, he drew strength from them.
“There was a new presence the last time I went to the temple. Viddus was dying - he was being tortured - and I think one of the ancient ones has broken through, or at least is very close to doing so.”
Lucia sucked in a breath but his other two friends did not react at all. Regulus wasn’t sure which unnerved him more.
“This time it was different, he tortured us both.” He felt Lucia reach toward him, wanting to comfort, but she drew her hand away before she touched him. “I felt like I was trapped, as if I had always been trapped there. We were powerless against the ancient one. Against Viddus I felt like I could fight back with my mind. Against Zombie, I could do nothing.”
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