Vitus turned back towards the makeshift hospital, there seemed to be only half a dozen men trying to cope with a few hundred injured legionaries. Although he had no training Vitus found a medicus and asked what he could do to help. The medicus finished tending to a legionary with a large amount of blood leaking from a shoulder wound and stood up.
“If you really want to help, there is something we need doing. We are noticing a pattern with the men who’ve been bitten. They are all falling ill at almost the same rate. I don’t have a great feeling about where its leading. Even if there is a small chance that the bites are fatal, I don't want the other men watching them go through it. I’ve got some men erecting a couple of large tents,” he pointed towards the center of the camp.
“We need to find those with bite wounds and get them inside. Best case, at least we have them all in one place. Worst case…” he trailed off shrugging.
“Just don’t tell them how worried we are. Tell them it's so that we can treat them easier.” Vitus nodded and set about his work, asking each man in turn to list his wounds. After a while Regulus came to him and asked if he could help. Before long the tents were full and more were being erected. All the while he worked, Vitus worried about Vespas.
Antonius walked through the camp, head down and numb from the morning and all that had happened. He was looking for a drink so that he could find a corner and forget. He wasn’t picky, anything would do, wine, the local beer or spirit. As he walked through the camp a deep voice almost shouted.
“You, I need to talk to you.” The voice belonged to a legionary that Antonius had never seen before. The man was bigger and broader that Antonius himself, it was a rare thing.
“Can it wait? I’m in a rush to get to the bottom of a bottle,” Antonius asked.
Before he could walk on the man roughly thrust a jug of wine at Antonius’ chest. The archer looked up to see a stern look on the face of the big legionary. The man waved his arm at a group of roughly twenty legionaries who were sitting, or laying, on the earth of the camp. “We’ve all been watching to see if you came back. You saved our lives out there.”
Antonius looked into the man's face, then down at the group. He saw the same earnest look on every face.
“Those things, what did the young lad call them? Risen?” One of his friends nodded. “The Risen were all over us, our friends were falling, and we were next. I’d just buried my sword up to the hilt in the chest of a man who wouldn’t die, when I heard your voice. You, telling us to go for their heads. It’s because of you that we managed to hack our way out. Thank you.” Antonius saw that the man was serious, and took the jug of wine. He took a hearty drink of the contents and passed the jug back.
“No, that one's yours. We’d be honoured if you’d drink with us while we remember our brothers though.”
Antonius couldn’t bring himself to speak but he nodded and sat down, taking another large drink as he did.
“You have to tell me how you knew that.” The big man said.
Antonius replied, “I will, but only after I’m much drunker.”
He sat down among men all eager to shake his hand and thank him. The toasts to the dead went on for a while. They drank to Marcus, to Paulus and to dozens of men Antonius had never met, every name cut a scar in his heart.
By the time the dead found the camp the name Risen had firmly set itself in the minds of the men. Giving a name to your fears does not lessen those fears, but makes them a new shape. It gives them handholds so that you can get a grip and start to wrestle with them. This had been a wisdom that Vitus’ father had passed to him.
As a child Vitus had been bullied by a few of the local boys. He didn’t know why. It was probably one of those mindless things some boys think are funny. Vitus’ father had told him to find out their names. Vitus had objected, thinking that his father intended to find the boys’ fathers, and settle the business. He couldn’t bare the thought of having his battles fought for him. His father however had insisted, and so Vitus had done as he was asked.
That night Vitus had lay in bed, and instead of dreaming of the monsters who stalked him he had thought of boys instead. Just boys like him. The next day he had gone into town and asked a couple of local lads about the two bullies. To his joy they had told stories of the bullies, including one where the biggest had wet himself as a child when confronted by a barking dog.
Later that day Vitus had asked his father if he could walk into town with one of the farm dogs. A huge shaggy beast, with a bark like thunder. He was the gentlest of all their dogs, as bigger dogs always are, but barked at everything, including his own shadow.
His father had said yes without questioning why. The bullies had seen Vitus that day but had not come near, while the dog had made his monstrous noise. That night, Vitus had told his father about the dog and the bully, and his father had smiled. “All you needed was a name and the rest followed.”
Vitus doubted there would be anything so simple in the name Risen, but it gave the men a way of bringing the enemy down to normal size.
At first they had arrived one at a time, then small groups. An hour after the first Risen had arrived, the camp was under siege. At least a couple of thousand dead men circled the camp, with a mindless desire for the living flesh within.
The palisade walls were solid, and there seemed no danger that the Risen could breach them. At first, orders were given to fire arrows into the crowd, but the dead wore helmets and the amount of shafts being spent per kill was too high. The order was retracted, and the dead continued to surround the camp.
The legionaries began to head up the guard towers in order to see the Risen, but after a while more than one legionary saw a man he had known well and fought beside. After that, less and less men took the climb up the ladders.
The hospital tents were erected in quick order and slowly, without causing too much, fuss the bitten legionaries were taken into quarantine.
Vitus had been as discreet as he knew how. He hadn’t specifically asked about bites, but had asked the men to list all injuries no matter how small. By the time they were in the tents all of them were showing signs of fever and fast moving infection around the bite wounds. Vitus had tried to persuade Vespas to let the medicus look at his leg, but the centurion had refused.
“Look,” he had said, “I know this bite is making me sick, and if I get too bad I will get help. In the meantime there are a thousand things around here that need my attention. I’ve just had a copy of the loss numbers, and they are really bad.”
Vitus could have guessed this was the case. All it took was a look around the camp to see the VIIIth and XIth legions had taken a mauling, this morning.
“I didn’t realise just how bad it was though.” Said Vespas, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Between the two legions, we have lost eight and a half thousand men. That leaves us with a little under three thousand. We were short manned before, now we are deeply in the shit. The governor has called a meeting of officers this afternoon, and I’d like you to be there.”
Vitus looked puzzled. “Sir, with respect, I’m not an officer.”
“You are now. You're my optio.” Vespas winced as he spoke but Vitus did his best to pretend he didn’t notice.
“Sir….I...” was all Vitus could say.
“I know lad, it’s sudden and if I go down with this sickness you will need to cover for me. We are in a state of emergency, so a lot of the usual duties will be suspended, but you will have to lead the men and make sure they know what they are doing. I wouldn’t name you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”
“Sir, it’s an honour but lets just hope it doesn’t come to that.” replied Vitus.
On his way to the officers meeting Vitus watched the camp start to reassemble itself. Had it only been last night that they were taking everything down, preparing for battle? It seemed a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then. He saw other men heading towards the big tent that would hold the meeting. Most wore officer’s uni
forms, while some looked to be new promotions like himself. Vitus made his way to the door of the tent, took a deep breath and stepped inside.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Gentlemen, thank you for joining me.” Governor Gnaeus Pinarius Cornelius Clemens said in a hard, deep voice. “I’m sorry it has to be in such dire circumstances. It is a mark of the situation that we have so many new faces among us. You are all most welcome. I have the finest officers in the legions here in the VIIIth and XIth. If one of those officers has singled you out for promotion, then I now count you as deserving to be in their number.” Governor Clemens paused while there was a round of applause from the officers in the room.
“We have much to discuss and more to do, so we will try to make this meeting as brief as possible. However, I’m sure you will all agree that we have reached a point where the normal rules will have to be altered slightly. That is not to say discipline should suffer, more that we must become more flexible in order to survive.
Yes, I say survive because the numbers I have in front of me do not make good reading. Yesterday we faced a threat that no army of Rome has ever encountered. We adapted well in the field and now we must adapt in our attempt to retreat and regroup.
“The walls are under siege and we have a finite amount of food. The list of the dead is horrific. Just under a quarter of the three thousand men we have left are injured in some way, a quarter of those can’t march at all. We have some hard choices to make.” The governor paused to drink from a goblet on his desk. He looked like a man with the world balanced on his shoulders.
“Now, I have told you the worst of it. I have good news, also.” He paused and looked around the tent at all the faces. “WE ARE MEN OF ROME!” He shouted the words, and slammed his fist down on the desk in front of him. A cheer was shocked out of the officers in front of him.
“Never forget that one inalienable fact, gentlemen. We are men of Rome. We have faced tougher odds than this. We have fought greater enemies than these. We have conquered most of the known world. Yes, the odds may be stacked against us but that is when we are at our best. If the men in this tent can’t find a way out of this then no-one in the world can. I will give you the plan as I have it, and tell you what is required of you. However, if any man has any idea that he does not bring to the table right now, I will be severely disappointed. The rules have changed, and I will be the first to change with them. The floor is yours, gentlemen.”
The governor looked around the room. He was a tall man with no fat on his frame at all. He didn't have the muscles of a soldier, but Vitus could see he hadn’t wasted all of his time behind a desk either. He stood in embellished legionary armour and it did not look out of place on him.
“Firstly where are our engineers?” Clemens asked.
A centurion stood up. “Sir.” He saluted.
“Ah yes, how are your numbers?”
“Not good sir, we lost about half in the battle and retreat.” The man answered.
“If I was to ask you to dig us a tunnel big enough to get men on stretchers four hundred yards out of the camp with your current numbers how long would it take?
“Sir, a tunnel that tall and wide would require support and materials we don't have in camp.” The man looked embarrassed to admit he couldn’t do what was being asked of him. “We could dig a tunnel long enough if we were transporting crawling men only, sir.”
“How long.”
“With extra help we could dig it in a couple of days, sir” The man answered.
“That’s excellent, if I can leave it in your hands to start that as soon as the meeting is over?”
The engineer looked relieved, “yes, sir.”
Governor Clemens continued. “That still doesn't give us a solution to the injured men.”
Vitus stood up. He did it before he knew he was planning to do so. He looked around at the tent full of centurions, and other officers, and was almost tempted to sit back down. Before he could Governor Clemens said, “If you have an answer as to how to get my injured men out of camp I would be happy to hear it……..” He paused, waiting for Vitus to fill in the silence with his name.
“Protus sir, Optio Protus, at least I have been for the last ten minutes.” The room gave a gentle, kindly laugh and Vitus felt a little less like a fish out of water.
“Welcome Optio Protus. Do you have an idea for me?”
“Yes sir. I was just thinking. If we can’t get the injured men out through a tunnel, maybe we just invite the Risen in.” There was silence.
“The Risen? Yes, I’ve heard that name, and I have to say I like it.” He looked intrigued, “Tell me more of your thinking.”
The meeting carried on for another half an hour, and when it ended many of the men leaving were patting Vitus on the back. He was as stunned by his own idea as anything else that had happened in the last two days. It had come to him in a flash of inspiration, and like most good ideas it was as really quite simple.
The platform around the palisade wall would be reinforced to take more weight. That would be the job of the engineers. After that the men would all gather on top of the walls. Then, after opening the gates to let in the dead, the gates would be closed again and the men would climb down the outside of the walls.
The moment the meeting had finished the chief engineer had started barking orders to his men and anyone else he could commandeer to help.
Vespas had left the meeting at Vitus’ side. He was pale and sweating. He had the look of a man in the middle of a strong fever. As he stepped out of the tent he had staggered slightly into Vitus.
Vitus had been as stern as he dare to a man who was his commanding officer, and someone he admired greatly. Now it had reached a point where none of that mattered anymore, Vespas had to listen.
“Sir, no more, you're coming with me to the medicus. To his amazement Vespas nodded his head and agreed without further argument. He had even rested a hand on Vitus’ shoulder to aid his walking.
No more than two dozen steps from the tent Vespas doubled over with a howl of agony. He fell to the floor with his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. Vitus stood helpless as the centurion jerked and convulsed on the floor. He shouted for a medicus but nobody came from that direction. Regulus appeared behind him and Vitus sent the boy for help. He ran off into the medical tent.
Almost as soon as he entered the tent flap he came back out, moving if anything, faster than he had gone in. The next few seconds took on a surreal time of their own. Everything happened so fast, yet Vitus saw it all in perfect clarity.
Regulus came out of the tent flap and a split second later a Risen followed him, half lurching and half running to catch its prey. At the same time Vitus looked down to see Vespas had transformed into one of the dead.
Vitus lifted his right leg an instant before Vespas was able to grab it and sink his teeth into it. Vitus backed away as the grotesque parody of his mentor scrabbled after him.
The first Risen out of the medical tent was followed by more and more. They were like a parade of the damned.
Vitus turned and ran while shouting the alarm. From all sides, men saw what was happening and reacted. Swords, worn as a matter of course with an enemy at the gates, were drawn. Shields that had been laid within easy reach were taken up. The training and experience of years took hold instantly.
Not all reacted quickly enough. One of the engineers was hammering home a joist when he was seized from behind by a dead legionary and had his throat torn out before he could get free.
A medicus ran blindly from the tent with blood fountaining from a neck wound only to be dragged down and set upon once more.
Vitus drew his sword and backed up to where a line of men was forming. Someone tried to give him a shield but he shook his head and turned to fight. His training wasn’t in a shield wall and he would only be a hindrance if he tried to join one. He was better with space around him.
The men in the shield wall shouted and screamed to get the attention of the Risen. It wo
rked and soon the men in the wall were facing the bulk of the dead legionaries, outnumbered two to one.
Some were half dressed from being in a hospital bed and others were completely naked as they attacked. The weight of numbers was with the attackers but the defenders were armed.
The wall broke apart in a number of places as the Risen forced themselves up and over the shields. One legionary was lost as one of the dead men came over the top of him. He got his sword up to protect himself, but only pierced the creature in the stomach. He was drenched in black blood, covering his face and blinded him. The Risen fell behind him, still with the sword in his stomach. As he fell he latched onto the blind man's legs, tripping him and biting into his calf.
The men in the wall fought valiantly, but with no second line to protect them they were a weak force. It seemed like an age before more reinforcements arrived.
Some formed a second line giving the wall a chance to attack without fear of the Risen coming from above. Others came at the group of dead men from behind. Some with swords and some with shields. They took the creatures with single blows to the backs of their heads. Not once did a Risen react to his neighbour falling. So intent were they on the prey to the front that the attack from behind meant nothing to them.
Vitus turned to see Vespas was stumbling towards him. He stared, frozen for a second. His friend and mentor was dead, and something much worse. Now he had to put him down. He steeled himself for the blow he would have to deliver.
Before he could, a huge legionary came from the side of Vitus’ vision and slammed into Vespas, knocking him to the ground. He took hold of his throat and pinned him to the floor. His dagger was in his other hand, and he drove the point down through the top of Vespas’ skull.
Legion of the Undead Page 4
