Legion of the Undead

by Michael Whitehead

“Kidnappings, dearest. Absolutely loads of them by all accounts.”

  “Really? That's not what I thought you’d say.”

  “I know, odd isn’t it? Apparently It started a couple of weeks ago. No-one took much notice at first, because it was just a few plebs down by the docks. Then it got so that there were more and more disappearing every night. Then it was during the day.”

  “Sounds like a few more bodyguards might be in order when I go back.”

  “That's the thing. It’s not just the plebs now. I got word a couple of days ago that a couple of members of the top families have disappeared. No ransom, no note, nothing. Just gone.”

  “Who would do such a thing and to what end?” Servilia felt her interest genuinely piqued.

  “That’s the thing. The Praetorian guard have been put in charge of the city at night, and there are soldiers on the streets. People are still vanishing. There aren’t even any bodies.”

  “There is always something, isn’t there? Rome is never quiet.”

  “You can say that again, dearest Servilia.”

  The two women drifted into silence as the sounds of the party inside played out into the courtyard. A woman squealed, obviously enjoying herself with one of the slave boys, or girls. Servilia felt her mind drift pleasantly with narcotics as she ran her fingers through the water of the pond behind her.

  It was about an hour and a half later when Servilia decided the time was right for her unveiling. She gave a warning so that those women who were otherwise engaged could finish with whoever had taken their fancy that evening.

  She had the slaves clear the floor of furniture and gathered the women around her.

  “Ladies, I’m so glad you all came this evening. It’s been a delight, as always, to see you all.” She paused to allow the muttered responses to wash past her.

  “Now, I know you’ve all been wondering what I have for you tonight. It is, let me warn you, not for the faint of heart. This is not like anything I have shown you before. I do hope you’ve all had your fill of food...and other things.” As she said the last words she raised her eyebrows and put a conspiratorial look on her face.

  The ladies gathered around her laughed.

  “Because now, unusually for one of my parties, things are about to get serious.” She looked around them all and sipped her drink, building the tension.

  “What I’m about to show you has never been seen by people before. Not from any nation, or at any time in the past. I dare say we are about to upset the gods themselves with what I’m about to show you.” There was more laughter but this time it was nervous. There were questioning glances from some of the ladies to those standing next to them.

  “Do any of you believe that a dead man can walk?” She asked the question and scanned the room. Face after face looked puzzled and some looked shocked.

  “I have proof that they can, right here in this box. If any of you feel that you might not be able to cope with seeing such a thing, I suggest you leave now.”

  She paused again. The ladies looked left and right at each other, but nobody moved. She had judged the room perfectly. Not one of them would dare be the one that left, not while her friends stayed.

  Servilia signalled to the slaves, who extinguished all but a couple of lamps. In the dimness she stepped to one side while two of the biggest slaves brought in iron bars and removed the wooden side of the crate.

  As still as he had been while enclosed in the darkness, the moment the dead man inside felt his prison start to move he came to life. He thrashed at his chains and threw his weight against the crate. There was a moment when Servilia worried the fixings on the walls might not be strong enough, but they held.

  The women to that side of the room began to gasp and at least one let out a shriek. The ladies started to move around to see what was inside. Servilia motioned for them to be patient as the second side and then the front were removed.

  They stared. Gasps were followed by silence from the guests. The dead thing snapped his teeth and flailed his claw like hands against his restraints. He drooled oily liquid from his mouth and his eyes were staring, dead orbs.

  For a few seconds Servilia was filled with dread. Could she have so badly judged her audience? She had visions of them all filing out into the night, never to speak to her again. However, it was Fulvia who saved the night. Servilia had never been so pleased to hear her voice.

  “I have to say, Servilia, you’ve shown us some things over the years but never anything quite so exotic as this. Where on earth did you find it?”

  As she spoke, Fulvia walked close to the thing and reached out a hand to touch it, before thinking better of it and withdrawing it. The monster doubled its efforts at escape. The chance to assuage its hunger mere inches away.

  “Do mind its teeth, Fulvia.”

  Servilia struggled to calm her voice as she regained her composure. “I’ve been told it can be quite the biter. My man got it for me from Germania, apparently he’s the first one anyone in Italy has seen. Quite extraordinary, isn't it?”

  “It’s remarkable my dear. Is he really dead?”

  “I’m glad you ask.” She signalled a slave, who brought over a silver tray with an ornate sword on it. Fulvia raised her waxed and plucked eyebrows in question.

  “Go on, have a go. Anywhere but his head, we don’t want to spoil the fun before it’s started, do we?”

  Fulvia picked up the sword and looked at the hilt. It was silver with jewels set into it. Servilia’s husband had brought it back from one of his trips to Egypt. Apparently, it had belonged to some Pharaoh or other, but she just wondered what he thought she would want with a sword.

  “Really? I have always wanted to know what it feels like to stab a man like the gladiators do.”

  Fulvia was almost quivering with anticipation. Servilia, once again, congratulated herself on knowing her audience.

  “Feel free, it won’t kill him, he’s already dead.”

  Fulvia held the sword out in front of her in with both hands and placed the tip against the dead man’s chest. He writhed and thrashed at having his prey so close. His teeth snapped at the air. She pressed hard onto the sword and the blade sank into the rotting flesh.

  There was a second when Servilia thought she had over balanced and would allow herself to fall into the creature's grasp. No great loss, but it would certainly taint the mood of the party.

  Fulvia stepped back and stared at the blade sticking out of the monster's flesh and the total lack of reaction on his part.

  “Wonderful,” she almost sighed. “Ladies you simply have to have a go.”

  It was as if a spell had broken. The silent ranks of women broke into chatter. Some came up and stared into the creature's face while others gathered around Fulvia, asking her how it had felt to stab the sword into a man. The party continued, but now with an edge of fear and excitement Servilia had never felt before at one of her gatherings.

  She took a drink off a slave and sat, reclining on a sofa to watch the women giggle and chatter like birds. This would be the party that would cement her reputation for years to come. They would go away from here tonight and the name of Servilia would be on everyone’s lips.

  Fulvia joined her after a short while and shook her head.

  “I don’t know how you do it, Servilia. I have to hand it to you, you’ve outdone yourself this time. How have you got this creature in your house before the world has even heard of such a thing?”

  “I have a man, Fulvia. It always pays to have a man.”

  They looked at each other and after a second of sweet tension, they both burst out laughing.

  “I really must meet your man,” Fulvia said, after finishing laughing. “Imagine how easy it would be to keep the slaves in order, if you could threaten them with that thing.”

  “Maybe I could have a word with him.” Servilia said, but thought secretly that Hades would be a cold place before she allowed Fulvia within a hundred miles of Scribonius.

  The party
carried on late into the evening. The ladies continued to have their fun with her new toy. He now had so many holes in him that Servilia was surprised his insides hadn’t fallen out. Women drank and fucked any of the slaves to whom they took a fancy.

  She was fairly sure that a couple of them were in one of the rooms fucking each other. Good for them. Life in the provinces could be so dull, one had to take her entertainment where she found it.

  The sound of something valuable being broken shattered her mood. There was always something broken at these parties, it was part of the cost of popularity. She looked back over her shoulder to see the slave girl from earlier standing over a statue of one of her husband's ancestors with tears in her eyes.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. She didn’t care about the statue, or the ancestor, but appearances must be maintained. She took a deep breath and got up off the couch.

  She spoke to Fulvia out of the corner of her mouth, “Fancy a little more fun, darling?”

  Fulvia looked up, her eyes dull from the smoke she had been inhaling.

  Servilia walked over to the girl and took her by the arm.

  “Ladies, it appears the fun isn't over for the night. I think a little demonstration is in order. I was told, when I purchased this fine specimen, to be careful of the teeth. Apparently our new toy is a fond of biting people.”

  The slave girl looked up, wriggling on her knees, trying to get away from her mistress. Servilia didn’t try to keep hold, instead she ordered two of the male slaves to restrain her.

  “Is there anyone here who would like to see the pet fed?”

  There was pure lust in the eyes of some of the women. Those that didn’t look convinced were aware of the mood in the room and stayed prudently silent. They had, after all, taken their turn in using the sword and even if they were not in the mood to torture a slave, they also weren't rude enough to object. After all, the girl was Servilia’s property to do with as she wished.

  “Unchain his hands, but do be careful,” she said to a third male slave. He was a huge man with bulging arms. He was as stupid as a bag of rocks, but she liked to keep him around for aesthetic reasons.

  He reached in with fear in his eyes and detached first one, then another of the chains from the wall. The creature soon stood, tethered by his neck, with the two chains dangling from his wrists. He reached out towards them, straining against the single chain. Were he not dead, he certainly would be strangling himself.

  The girl struggled in the arms of the two male slaves. They knew better than to let her go, knowing it would only mean their own fate to replace her if they did. Servilia stood and watched the creature struggle at its remaining restraint for a moment longer, then she turned to the men and motioned for them to throw the girl into its reach.

  “Well, get on with it,” she said, with a touch of amusement in her voice.

  She stumbled as they threw her, but the monster caught her with ease. Its strength was enough that it lifted her off the ground as it sank its teeth into her throat.

  Blood sprayed over the walls, floor and the watching women, soaking them. They stepped back in shock at the fury with which the creature tore into her.

  He thrashed at her and she gurgled and struggled for no more than a second or two before the life drained out of her.

  The reaction in the room was immediate. Women screamed and backed away, covered in the life blood of the girl. Servilia felt a wave of shock hit her. What had she expected to happen? She didn’t know, now that the deed was done. She couldn’t be blamed for not knowing what would happen, could she?

  The chain holding the creature to the wall came away and the beast was free. It dropped its kill and attacked the women in a frenzy. Two fell to a sweep of its arm, caught across the face by the chain at its wrist. It pounced on one and tore at her breast, exposed by the flimsy dress she wore.

  Women ran in a panic, knocking each other down and pushing each other, in order to escape.

  The slave girl rose from the mosaicked floor and joined her killer in the hunt for flesh. She leapt at Fulvia, who fell as the weight hit her back. The girl tore at her hair hard enough to tear the scalp, biting into Fulvia’s face as her head was wrenched back.

  Within seconds the room was clearing of guests but each kill added another hunter to the pack.

  Servilia made her way to the front door of the villa and grabbed the key from its hook. She pushed through it, followed by one of the male slaves. Turning, she fumbled the key into the lock and turned it. She pulled at the man, her only protection in the dark night, and fled.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  An orange glow lit up the horizon in front of the travellers. The companions had camped for the night at the side of the road and two of the legionaries had been standing watch.

  In the early hours of the morning Tatius had woken Vitus to tell him there was something he should see. Now they stood with their backs to the campfire and watched Mutina burn.

  It was a conflagration that turned half of the night sky to day. Vitus thought he could even hear distant shouts and screams. They must have been five or more miles from the city, but the night brought the sounds to them over the distance.

  Regulus and Antonius joined them and soon they were all standing, watching the destruction of one of the most important cities in the empire. The silence was shocked out of them.

  Eventually Regulus spoke. “Do we go and help them?”

  “There is nothing we can do,” replied Antonius. “We can’t put out fires with our bare hands and we would only become part of the problem if we went there.”

  “Antonius is right,” said Lucia. “I want to go and help, but what could we do? Besides, we have a mission to complete and it’s an important one.’

  “It’s not right though, we should do something,” Regulus said, with resignation in his voice.

  Vitus put a hand on his shoulder. “Our road goes that way tomorrow. We will pass under the shadow of Mutina. We can see if we can help as we pass, but Lucia is right. We need to get to Rome and get help for the VIIIth and XIth.”

  So it was that in the early hours of the following morning, the group of six soldiers, and a sixteen year old merchant's daughter, found themselves riding towards the smoking ruin of Mutina.

  They began to pass people heading out of the city almost as soon as it started to grow light. At first it was couples and solo travellers, and then later families.

  Vitus tried to ask people what had happened in the city, but the evacuees walked past him as if in a daze. One man even tried to brush him aside before stumbling onto the road side. Vitus had helped him up and the man had continued without thanks.

  Finally, a family had stopped. They were huddled together on a small cart pulled by a bad tempered mule. Antonius had stepped out in front of them to halt their progress, and Vitus had called to the oldest male.

  “What happened in the city?”

  “Barbarians, my friend.” He shook his head and looked down at his feet as he spoke. “They were savages. They attacked in the night, hundreds of them. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  “They were everywhere, ripping people to pieces. I hid with my family and left as soon as we could. The city is burning to the ground.”

  “Where are you heading?” Vitus asked. “The north is not a good place right now.”

  “We don’t know, we just took the first gate we found that was open. I guess we will sleep in the cart for a few days, then try to go back if we can.”

  Vitus bade them farewell. After they were out of earshot of the other people on the road, they discussed the news. All agreed that the Risen had somehow found their way south and past them.

  It was the only reasonable explanation but before they could travel on to Rome, they would have to confirm it. Arriving in Rome without a full report would just make the job of the senate harder.

  They set off along the road to Mutina and after a while reached the city gates. They were open and unguarded. People were st
reaming out of the city, carrying belongings. Some looked panicked, while others looked dead-eyed and resigned.

  Before they reached the gate, they tied up the horses and Vitus left Gallus to guard them.

  The fire they had seen from the road was evidently from the far end of the city. The closest district seemed untouched. They pushed their way through the crowds at the gate, and nobody tried to stop them. After a struggle, they broke through into open space, surrounded by the buildings of the city. They could see no evidence of the Risen, or any other danger.

  More people headed towards the gates and Regulus tried to stop an old woman. She pointed back over her shoulder, towards the center of the city and was gone, tottering on ancient legs.

  The party made steady progress towards the center, the buildings looking cleaner and whiter than the fire last night gave them any right to be. The wind was at their backs and would be blowing smoke and flame away from them.

  It was after a quarter of an hour of walking into the city that they saw the first Risen. An old man, made ancient by his rotten skin and reddened eyes, looked up at them from a body he was eating. The blood and entrails still trailed from his mouth as Antonius drove a sword into his forehead.

  It should have been enough for them to turn and join the exodus from the city. They had their proof and Rome was more important than a city that was already lost.

  Vitus wondered later, whether it was curiosity or a sense of duty that kept them there. However these things were balanced out, the deficit would always be weighed against his soul. He was the leader and everything that happened to them in Mutina would be held against him for eternity. When death found them it was him, as leader, who had held open the door and let it in.

  They rounded the next corner and were rushed by a small crowd. At first Vitus was sure they were Risen and was ready to give the order for his party to use the blades they were carrying. It was close but at the last second he realised they were survivors, made filthy with smoke and blood.