It was becoming obvious to Crespo what was happening, and he had to admire the Gauls for their thinking. There was only one room in the fort that the Romans really needed, the food store. They could manage without everything else the fort could offer, but without food and water they were as good as dead.
“Come back outside,” he ordered his men. The five legionaries in the corridor followed him into the sunshine. Crespo called up to the sixth man who was still watching on the wall.
“What news?”
“Sir, the bastards are actually having a party out there!” The guard, Lepidus, said with disgust in his voice. “They’re drinking and eating. I’m fairly sure they were singing a minute ago, but it’s hard to tell in that grunting language of theirs.”
Crespo nodded. He had to admit, he wasn’t shocked. The bitterness that had been growing in the tribes since that first Risen attack was bound to have spilled over eventually. They were hard men with a lot of pride. If they couldn’t destroy the Risen, it stood to reason that they would try to destroy the Romans and take back a little of their dignity.
“It’s the food store. That’s where they all are, I would bet my year's wages on it. We have a hard choice to make now, and I don’t know the correct answer. Do we carry on the way we have been going, or do we try to fight in the open?”
There was murmuring amongst the men before Julius asked. “How many do you think are in there, sir?”
Crespo thought out loud, “We have a century stationed here, that’s eighty men. We just cut twelve off the walls and the Tribune of course, that leaves sixty seven. There are eight of us.”
Actually, there are seven he thought, but didn’t turn to look at the shape of Galba under the blanket.
“I don’t know how many men were outside the fort when those fuckers attacked but we have to assume we were the only ones. We could be facing fifty to sixty Risen in there boys.”
“Fuck!” Said Julius, it came out in a long slow sigh.
Balbus, a grizzled and scarred veteran, spoke up. “We can’t fight that many in the corridors. The sheer weight of them will make holding the shields impossible.”
The men nodded at this, and Crespo knew they were right, “Outside it is,” he said. “Any ideas how to even the odds?”
It was Balbus who spoke next. His answer was, at the same time, simple and obvious. So obvious that Crespo was a little ashamed not to have thought of it himself. The men actually seemed to lift their spirits as the old man spoke.
The seven men discussed the plan, but in the end there really wasn’t much to discuss, the flesh was already on the bones. After the talk, the legionaries passed around the last of the rations they had taken on patrol and drank the last of their water.
It was as the last light still hung in the sky that Crespo stood on the wall, looking out over the grass plain in front of the fort. The Gauls were in full voice, singing drunkenly and enjoying their food. It occurred to Crespo that there was a good chance they could slip out of the fort under the cover of darkness but the Gauls must have guards stationed around the perimeter. No, this plan would work and it would give the Romans a little satisfaction in the bargain.
He turned to his men, who were resting, readying themselves for what was to come. He had told them they wouldn’t need to draw lots to decide who would undertake the most vital role in the plan, an almost certain suicide mission.
There wasn’t a man among them who wouldn’t give his life to save his brothers, but he wouldn’t ask them to do that. He was their leader and he would be the one to risk his life. It wasn’t heroics, it was the right thing to do.
He stood before his men, some he had known for over a decade, others not so long. He looked down at them and smiled. “I’m going to do it,” he said simply.
Julius spoke up from his place on the wall. “We knew you would, sir.”
It was a simple confirmation that his order had been accepted and a statement of thanks, wrapped up in five words.
Crespo turned to Balbus. He wasn’t just the oldest but also the most experienced of the legionaries in front of him. Crespo had never asked the man why he had never advanced through the ranks. It wasn’t a question most veterans cared to answer. There were a thousand reasons why he might have been passed over and not all of them were bad.
“If I fall, you take over,” Crespo said. Balbus nodded his agreement, and the group lapsed into sullen silence.
“Fuck this,” said Julius from the wall as reached to the back of his belt. He produced a water flask and opened it.
“I usually keep this for special occasions, injuries and such, but I figure this is one of those times. He took a mouthful of the drink, put the lid back and threw it to Crespo. The Decanus took a drink of a bitter tasting, hot spirit. It hit the back of his throat and burned like a glowing ember. He passed the bottle to Balbus and turned to look at Julius.
“Fuck me, that’s got a kick, where did you get that?” He asked.
“Actually, sir, I bought it from those guys out there a couple of months ago. You get used to it after a while.” The legionary smiled but there was sadness in his eyes.
The rest of the men took a drink before Crespo gave the order and everyone took their places. After a few seconds to settle, Crespo turned to look at the yard. No-one could be seen but everyone was in their places. Some had jobs and others were there as back up, if this failed, they would all die.
He walked down the corridor towards the food store. The room on the other side of this plain wooden door was easily big enough to hold sixty men. Crespo felt his legs get heavy as he approached it.
His armour was lying outside under the table on which Galba grew cold. No need for it now, it would only slow him down. His sword was with his armour, if it came to a fight, they had already lost.
He lifted a hand and banged hard on the door, there was the sound of movement behind it. A lot of bodies were shuffling in the room beyond and they wore Roman armour. Anyone who had spent time on a battlefield knew what legionaries sounded like when they were packed together.
He braced himself and took hold of the door. One last prayer to any gods that might be listening passed his lips and he turned the door handle.
The door crashed against the corridor wall and Crespo saw a solitary, grey-skinned, face before he turned and ran like the Hounds of Hades were behind him.
He heard the clash of armour and sandaled feet on the stone floor as the Risen gave pursuit.
He was out of the door at the end of the corridor and heading towards the gate with his hot breath drying his throat. He saw the two ropes attached to the gates draw tight and just as he reached the entrance, they were pulled inwards to allow him out.
He dared not turn to look behind him as he left the fort. He imagined the ragged breath of his pursuers on the back of his neck, but they didn’t breathe. One of them must have lost its footing in the chase because he heard it fall, a crash of armour in the growing dark.
He kept his eyes on the Gauls up ahead. Drunk as they were, they were slow to react, so slow. No-one seemed to have seen his sprint towards them. Surely the sound of sixty running undead, in heavy armour, must alert them. It sounded like a cacophony in his own ears.
He counted his steps, a trick he had been taught by a man called Kane, it focused his mind and stopped his panic. Fifty long strides from the fort and the Gauls had no idea he was there. One hundred strides, and he was more than half way to the drunken tribesmen, still the merriment and drunkenness masked the approach of one tiring Roman and sixty undead.
Crespo felt his legs turning to lead. Maybe he should have let one of the younger men do this thing. He forced every last part of his will into keeping his feet moving, the sound of Hades coming up behind him gave him the strength to push on.
He was so close to the Gauls when one of them finally saw what was happening, that they barely had time to react. Men sprang to their feet and grabbed at swords, shouting to those who were slower than they were. Th
e drunken good cheer was ripped from them like flesh from a bone.
Crespo knew this was the moment of his death and met it gladly. The plan had worked, the men in the fort would be safe and the Gauls would feel the full revenge for the Romans they had slaughtered. To be cut down by a tribesman while bringing them death would be enough.
He slid into the feet of the nearest warrior as he reached him. A sword whipped over the top of his head, close enough to feel the wind as it passed. He caught the tribesman low on his legs, and felt the weight of the man pass over him.
There was the sound of bodies crashing together, almost at the same instant that Crespo passed underneath the tribesman’s body. Had they really been that close?
He glanced around him, there were indeed children, but no women in the group. The children were young boys, probably brought along to give them a taste for Roman blood. Let them see the tribal warriors killing the Roman invaders, it would make them men. Well, now it would make them food for the undead.
Crespo thought back to Galba, lying on the table back at the fort and his heart hardened.
He got to his feet, and for the first time risked a glance behind him. The tribesmen were in a fight to the death with, what seemed to be, all sixty Risen. The undead were all over the sword-wielding, painted warriors. Crespo saw one man dragged out of sight by a pair of rotting, grey hands that grabbed at his ankles and pulled him to the ground.
Crespo had no intention of fighting and dying with these savages. They had killed his friends and made sport of doing it. He pushed past a young warrior who had eyes only for the fight happening behind Crespo. Chaos aided his escape from the Gaulish camp and he made his way into the almost total darkness beyond the camp fire.
As he circled the fight, lost to both sides in the darkness, he watched the massacre unfold. The Gauls were dying in rivers of blood. The undead tore flesh from living bodies and died in turn with tribal iron buried in their skulls. He breathed hard as he made his way back to the fort and his waiting men, the sounds of screaming men filling his ears.
Julius was the first to see him as he reached he bottom of the fort’s wall.
“If you cheer, I will throttle you,” he called up as loudly as he dared. “Did they all follow me out?”
“Every one of them, sir. Like water out of a bottle,” the young legionary replied.
“Are you going to throw down a ladder, or do I have to scale the walls?” Crespo asked.
“I’m pretty sure you could if you tried, sir,” came the reply, followed by a ladder.
As he climbed, Crespo took one more look back to the now smaller battle, the fighting continued, but in the firelight it was impossible to see who was coming out on top. The Romans would watch, wait, and be ready for whoever walked away from the fight.
By this author
Legion of the Undead
Legion of the Undead – Book Two – Rise and Fall
Legion of the undead – Book Three – Ruin and Rebirth
Also
Seas of Blood
Mersey Dark – The Templeton Novels – Book One
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