Legion of the Undead

by Michael Whitehead

  “Tomorrow we will stand as legionaries of the 8th and 11th, and we will be proud. We will stand sword in hand as the gates are opened, and we will unleash fury on the enemies of Rome until not one of us stands. It is our honour to be your brothers. To die with that honour in our hearts is all we could ever have asked for. We salute you.”

  Every man stood with him raised themselves to salute their brothers. Every man who faced them responded with the same salute.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The cellar floor was cold but mercifully not damp. Lucia sat with her back against the wall, her arms around her knees, and her head on her arms. The sounds of battle had emanated from above for hours, but the silence that had replaced them was deafening.

  Rosa had tried to reassure her that she needed to be patient. The men, she said, had managed to drive back the invaders, and were finishing the job in the fields and grounds of the estate. The reason the fighting could no longer be heard was simply because it was now too far away.

  Lucia had tried to go to the cellar door to see if this was true, but Rosa had stopped her, saying that her father would surely come to get her when the time was right. Lucia knew that, were he still alive, he would have sent a messenger to tell them what was happening.

  The children had been in a state of panic while the fight had been raging outside the cellars door. At times, the screams and yells had been so close that the combatants had seemed to be in the cellar with them. Since then, the mothers and elderly slaves had managed to settle the children. Now many were asleep, or cuddled in their mother's arms.

  It was not a position Lucia was familiar with, and she found herself envying them. They were children born into slavery, but the touch and care of a mother made them infinitely richer than she would ever be.

  She chided herself for being so selfish, but the thought that her father may have followed her mother into death scared her greatly.

  Childbirth had killed her mother. Joyous thoughts of a younger sibling had turned to a nightmare for the five year old Lucia, as her mother had lost the baby, and then her own life. Dreams of a family of four had turned to ash, and they had become two.

  Her father had given her so much, but watching those children and the security they felt in their mother's embrace tore at her insides. She sometimes tried to remember what her mother had looked like, but even that had faded from her.

  Rosa came to her with some food wrapped in a cloth napkin. She looked worn out, but Lucia knew she would rather be caring for others than letting her mind think about why they were down in the cellar.

  “Try to eat a little food please, child,” she said kindly but Lucia shook her head. She had a feeling of emptiness in which food would sour and spoil.

  “I can’t, Rosa. You are so kind, but I don’t think I could even swallow it.”

  A look of concern crossed the elderly matron’s face. She put her hand against Lucia's forehead.

  “I’m not sick, Rosa. Unless you count being sick with worry.”

  “I know you are concerned child, but there could be any number of reasons why they haven't come for us yet. We have food and we are safe, so try not thinking about it.”

  “How can I not? My father is out there, and all the other men, you didn’t see those things, Rosa. They were like demons from Hades, not even human.”

  “Shhhh, child! You don’t want to worry all these children do you? I’m sure you’re just let your imagination get the better of you. They were just runaway slaves, normal men, what else would they be?”

  Lucia looked her in the eye, “The slaves were talking about monsters. I need to know what they meant.” She let go of her knees and got to her feet. Rosa tried to stop her, but Lucia made her way across the cellar to where a slave woman sat by herself looking tired.

  “Hello, I’m Lucia, may I talk to you.”

  The woman looked up at her, and a weak smile crossed her lips, but didn’t really make it to her eyes.

  “I know who you are, you are the master’s daughter. I’ve seen you many times. You are very beautiful. Sit down if you wish.”

  The woman was about sixty years old, if Lucia guessed right. She had dark golden skin, and a strange accent that Lucia had heard in the voices of a few of the slaves.

  “What is your name?” Asked Lucia. “Where do you come from?”

  “My name is Maria and I was born a slave. My mother came from Hispania.” The woman looked at Lucia kindly and shrugged. She seemed to be asking if this was what Lucia wanted to know.

  “I need to ask you a question about what is happening upstairs.”

  Maria nodded but said, “I don’t think I know any more than you do but of course, ask your question, and I will answer if I can.”

  “What were the men saying about the things that are out there?”

  “I don’t know if I believe them, but I heard what they were saying. Apparently a couple of the men were in the fields and saw them coming. They say they got a good look at them, they said they were Demons.” She thought for a moment, “Evil spirits have invaded their bodies.” She shrugged once more, “Does that make sense to you?”

  “The men thought that these invaders are not natural? Not real people?” Lucia was horrified at the thought.

  “Oh, I think they were once, but now they have been taken over by things from the other side, I believe Romans call it Hades.” Maria looked doubtful, even as she said it. “Men talk a lot of nonsense, especially if they are scared. They probably saw those men coming, and ran away to hide. When their friends asked why, they made up a story.

  Lucia shook her head, “I saw those things out there, and I don’t think they were just men either. They looked…rotten.” She took her time looking for the right word. “They moved like puppets, like their bodies were controlled, but not by the people who lived in them.”

  “It sounds like you saw the same thing as the men. I don’t know what to think, but I’m worried that the fight has taken so long. I would have thought that somebody would have come back to us by now.” Maria rubbed her face with both of her hands. When she put them back into her lap her face looked even more tired and careworn than it had.

  “Do you have family out there fighting?” Lucia asked.

  “My son is up there. He is such a good boy, I don’t think he is much of a warrior. I am so scared for him.” Maria steeled herself and began to get up, “I’m going to see what is happening.”

  “Not by yourself you're not, Maria. I’m coming too.” Lucia helped her up, and strode back to Rosa. The old matron was fussing over a small child who was agitated. Lucia caught her attention.

  “I’m going to find out what has happened up there, Rosa. Maria is coming with me.”

  “No child, you can’t your father would never allow it.”

  “My father is not here, Rosa. You are a sweet thing to worry about me, but it needs to be done, and I’m the best person to do it.”

  Rosa looked stern. It was a look that always sat on her face like a bird on a tree branch, it wasn’t out of place, but it would never stay long.

  “You go, you look, and you come back. Do you hear me child? You go, and come back to me as quickly as you can.’

  Lucia smiled at her. “I heard you, sweet Rosa. I’ll come back to you, I promise.”

  The girl, and the older woman gathered themselves inside the cellar door. They had armed themselves with a kitchen knife and a length of wood that had been in the corner of the cellar. Both women were sure that if it came to using either weapon then they were probably in more trouble than they could handle.

  The group of elderly slaves, and mothers, crowded around the bottom of the wooden stairs waiting for them to open the door. Lucia braced herself and turned the iron handle.

  The hallway outside the cellar was quiet as she opened the door a crack. No sign of a fight could be seen, and she pushed it open further, slipping out with Maria behind her.

  The villa was silent as they slid along the wall towards the f
ar corner and the hallway that lead to the front door. On a table halfway along the hall stood a plate and on it was a small silver plate. The front was carved and worked metal, but Lucia turned it over and the back was polished enough to give a reflection. She looked warped to herself as she looked into the smooth metal, but it would show enough for them to see danger around the corner.

  Both women had lived in the villa long enough to know by the shadows that afternoon was well underway.

  They checked the corner with the plate, and made their way towards the front door. Lucia stopped for a moment to check the window at which she had seen the fighting start. The carnage that greeted them was horrific.

  Bodies lay twisted and bloody where they had fallen. Lucia could not see the body of her father but saw slaves and, she thought, men in legionary armour. Had the legions been here? Were they following the attackers before they had gotten to the villa?

  Lucia turned to Maria and saw from her face that she hadn’t seen her son among the dead. She motioned for her to follow and made her way past the front door. She thought it would be wiser to see how much they could see through the windows before they dared to open the door.

  All around the house, bodies lay sprawled and bloody. The fight had not found its way into the villa, as far as the two women could see. It gave them hope. Maybe, just maybe, the defenders had beaten back the mob and were now finishing them off in the fields.

  They checked the corners as they came to them, but room after room was empty. It was as they rounded the last corner, and were heading towards the culina, that they heard the noise.

  It wasn’t loud. It was the sound of a soft moaning, but being made by a lot of voices. As if a hundred voices had sighed at the same time. On top of this was the sobbing of a man in pain.

  The two women edged to the door and turned the handle. Maria held the kitchen knife high as Lucia slid the door towards her.

  Three men lay on the culina floor hiding from a crowd at the window. Faces of hideously rotten and disfigured men crowded at the broken glass. The edges sliced into the flesh of their necks and hands, but they didn't seem to feel it. Lucia was sure that if one of them were to try to climb in, they would manage it, but by crowding in all at once they were blocking the hole.

  She looked to the men on the floor. One was badly injured, he held his arm across a terrible looking wound in his stomach. The other two looked cut and bruised, but were well enough to help the first.

  They looked up as Lucia opened the door. Panic laced their eyes, but Maria ran across, taking the face of one of the men in her hands and kissing him. She spoke to him softly in a language Lucia had heard the slaves use. This was evidently her son.

  The things at the window became very agitated as they crossed the room, scrabbling to force their way in.

  Lucia asked one of the men, “Are there any more men in the villa? Have you seen my father?”

  He shook his head, “I know nothing of the master, but as far as I am aware we are the only ones still alive, I'm sorry.”

  Lucia refused to hear that her father could be dead, though she had known as much while sat in the cellar.

  “Come, we must get your friend to a safe place then we can look at him.”

  The man looked at her, and said, “I don't think he can move. He is badly injured.”

  “If he stays here he will die, we have to try.”

  The man nodded, and taking his shoulders and feet, they lifted him and headed towards the culina door. The injured man screamed as they carried him. The creatures at the window were enraged at their prey escaping, and as the group left the culina they heard the frame of the window creaking.

  They hurried almost blindly along the hallways and past the front door, all the while hearing the creatures just behind them.

  As they neared the cellar door Maria started yelling, “Open the door! Open the door!”

  The cellar door opened, and Rosa stood at the top of the steps. She looked out to see the four of them carrying the injured man and quickly backed down.

  The two men took the weight, and carried him down the stairs, while the injured man screamed in pain. Maria followed them, and Lucia turned to close the cellar door. As she did she looked down the hallway. A ragged man with a large chunk of his neck and jaw missing rounded the corner. He saw and lurched towards her as she backed into the cellar and closed the door. She used the length of wood to jam under the handle as the creature hit the other side.

  The cellar was in chaos. A cacophony of noise erupted as soon as they entered. The injured man was screaming at his rough treatment. He lay with his arms folded across his stomach in obvious agony. The children had woken, and were now crying, a noise that grew by the second as each voice tried to drown out its neighbour.

  The slaves were bustling about trying to be of aid to the injured man, and the door kept shuddering with blows from the other side that seemed to rock the frame.

  Lucia took Maria's arm, “Get anyone who can’t help this man to try to quiet a child. The things up there are listening to us and we are making them angrier.”

  Maria nodded, and Lucia knelt down next to the injured man.

  “What is your name?” She asked him.

  The man was quiet for a moment, the sweat shone on his forehead in the lamplight and his face was ashen white. “My name is Marcus,” He gasped through gritted teeth.

  “Marcus, my name is Lucia. I need you to be quiet. Your shouting is scaring the children, and their cries are attracting those things out there. Can you do that for me?”

  Marcus nodded and stared up at her with panic in his eyes. Lucia smiled at him.

  “Marcus, I need to see your wound.” she tried to gently prise his arms from his stomach, he shook his head and tried to swipe her arms away. She carefully tried again, looking him in the eyes as she did. He relented and allowed her to move his arms.

  The tunic he wore was soaked with blood that stuck to the wound. She slowly peeled the cloth away from his flesh, and a fresh grunt of pain escaped through his clamped teeth.

  The wound underneath was horrific, the flesh was ragged and torn. It was deep enough that Lucia thought sitting up might cause his innards to spill from him.

  She was not upset by blood after years of hunting, but this was horrendous. She gently lowered the tunic so that he wouldn’t see how serious his condition was.

  “You're doing great, Marcus. Can you tell me what happened?” Lucia asked, trying to take his mind off the pain.

  “One of those things bit me when I tripped, fighting. They are like animals. They claw and bite instead of fighting like real men.” He let his head fall back as another wave of pain struck him.

  The children were still wailing, but Lucia thought it might not be long before they cried themselves out. She asked Rosa to make wide bandages out of any cloth she could find. To start with she told her to begin with the cloth the food had been wrapped in.

  After a while they had enough to begin. She had wine crates brought to her and arranged them so that they made a rough bed. She left enough space in the middle so that she could pass the bandages around the injured man in order to strap his stomach.

  When the bed was ready, she asked the two men who had carried Marcus in to lift him on. He bore this with no sound, but as they laid him down Lucia saw that he had passed out. A blessing that meant she could strap his wound without causing him further discomfort.

  When the job was done, and the wound was strapped tight, she turned to Maria.

  “Maria, were you hurt at all? How is your son?” The older woman beamed with pride and joy. He is fine, lady. He has a small bite mark on his arm, but it really is nothing. I’m so blessed to have him back with me. I can’t thank you enough. If you hadn't gone out with me, he might have been lost.” She kissed Lucia on the cheek and made the girl blush with her happiness.

  “I’m glad to hear it Maria, and his friend? How is he?”

  “Not a scratch, gods be praised. Today may tur
n out to be a lucky one after all. They say they lost sight of the other men during the fight. They don’t know if they lived or died, but if my son can come back to me, then I’m sure your father can return too.”

  Lucia managed a weak smile but in her heart she had nothing but resignation and fear.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The remaining soldiers of the VIIIth and XIth legions lined up on the platform inside the palisade walls of the camp. They stood in rank, and lined up in what remained of their centuries. The plan had been explained to them as much as was needed to make the operation go smoothly. No orders would be given during the operation. The noise would be liable to attract the attention of the Risen.

  The injured men had been armed and armoured. They stood in formation in the center of the camp facing the north gate. A pulley system had been rigged so that the gate could be opened from the platform, and closed by cutting ropes holding sandbags. If all went well, the men in the center would prove enough of a draw to attract the Risen into the camp. Then ladders would be lowered over the walls and the legions would climb down.

  Five hundred legionaries, followed by the auxiliaries, and finally the remaining legionaries, thus offering the maximum protection from an unexpected attack. This, it was hoped, would leave the legions free to make their way to the standing camp in the South of Germania.

  It would be a hundred mile journey, but with the majority of the Risen trapped inside the camp it should be done in relative safety. No scouts had been able to leave camp in the time since the retreat. No current information existed about the state of the country between the two bases. There was no way of knowing how many Risen existed that weren't currently surrounding the legions.

  Vitus watched as Governor Clemens gave the signal to begin. The gates slowly opened, and the crowd of dead men surrounding it made their way into the camp. They saw the injured men, and heard them too, as they began to shout and bang their shields with the flat of their swords.