There was no time to bandage his wound, however. As William and Dahmus fanned out, each taking charge of entering burning homes in the hopes of rescuing people trapped inside, more villagers began to file out of the homes which had escaped the flames. They glanced around nervously, as if trying to assess the newcomers to their village. As the crowd of people gathering began to swell into the village square, one villager strode forward to stand before Marcus.
"Good day, newcomers. You will forgive me, I hope, if I do not hail you as our saviours just yet, but I would like to know your names and your purpose here."
"I am Marcus Ulpius," Marcus said. "This lady here is Alexandra, Cologne's Oracle of Mars. Those gentlemen over there are William Ilona and Dahmus Constantine. We are here representing the interests of the province of Germania Inferior on behalf of its rightful governor, Antonius Ceresius."
"Antonius Ceresius is dead," the villager said with a hint of distrust in his voice.
"That is a common misconception," Marcus said. "In reality, he was merely misplaced. If you require proof, I have a copy of a letter signed and sealed by Ceresius himself back in our cart. I'd be more than happy to show it to you, though I would ask that you give Alexandra a chance to take care of this rather gaping gash in my arm first."
"Fair enough," the villager said with a smile. "My name is Tamanash Vaeldos. I am the leader of this village, if indeed any of us could be termed the leader."
Alexandra took Marcus by his uninjured arm and lead him to the nearby spot where William had pulled their horses to a stop. Marcus peeled his shirt off, wincing as the cloth brushed against the tender wound. While Alexandra set to work cleaning and bandaging the deep cut, Marcus rummaged through his possessions with his free hand until he found the scroll case which Domitian had given him back in Cologne. Reaching inside the case, he pulled out one of Antonius Ceresius' official letters and handed it to Tamanash, who perused the document with great interest. When he had finished with the letter, he handed it back to Marcus.
"Let Pluto strike me down and carry me to the furthest reaches of Hades if I am wrong, but the letter does appear to be genuine. So the Governor is alive, after all. Please forgive our lack of trust...there are many who seek nothing more than to plunder us of what few resources remain here. Strangers are viewed with skepticism."
"That is hardly surprising," Marcus said. "If I were in your position, I cannot say that I would do differently. I hope you understand that we are only here to help."
"And what kind of help do you offer, I wonder? Your display in the square was impressive, I'll grant you that - but I have a suspicion that a man who can fight like that has little purpose in life beyond mere combat."
"You are correct, in a manner of speaking," Marcus said. "Combat is what drives me, and it is a great part of what brings me here. But it is not my only purpose - fighting is nothing more than a means to an end; it is a poor man who uses fighting as the end itself."
"Then what is the end which you seek to bring about through fighting?"
"That," Marcus said, "is something which should be discussed in private. You said that you are the leader of this village; if there are any others who hold some degree of power or importance in your community, I suggest you gather them and arrange somewhere for us to meet."
"We can meet in my home," Tamanash said. "It doubles as a town hall when necessary. I'll gather the appropriate people and meet you there in two hours. It's the large house on the west side of the village square. You can't miss it."
"Good."
"What shall we do about the homes which are ablaze?"
"Let them burn," Marcus said bitterly. "And let the ruins stand. They will be a reminder of what we all need to fight against."
***
Before attending his meeting with Tamanash, Marcus gathered his companions around their horses.
"This," Marcus said to them, "is the situation: I have arranged a meeting with the leaders of this village in two hours. I would like you all to come with me, and we need to make an impressive showing if we hope to convince them to join us in our fight against the Sicambrii. Dahmus, William, and I will all dress in full battle uniforms. Alexandra, please wear your most official-looking robes. Once inside, none of you are to speak unless I or one of the villagers addresses you directly. Are there any questions?"
"Do you want us to carry weapons?" William asked. "I understand, of course, the need for proper armour and accoutrements, but would bearing arms not be considered to imply hostility?"
"Yes, I want you to carry weapons - Dahmus, you bring your sword and shield, William, your vinewood staff, and I will bring my sword and a short spear. Nobody draw weapons unless I command it. Do not concern yourself with whether or not the villagers will perceive us as hostile. They have seen that we are their allies - tell me, William, would you rather see allies who are capable of a show of tremendous force, or allies who are impotent and weaponless?"
"I understand," William said with a smile.
It took the group nearly an hour to dress fully, but the time was well spent. By the time the men had finished fiddling with the complex systems of belts, loops, and buckles which held their armour together, Alexandra had been completely dressed and ready for nearly half an hour. The sight of the four of them was awe-inspiring; Dahmus and William wore similar sets of banded iron armour, red-crested helmets. Marcus wore similar armour, though his was as much a work of art as it was a protective device. Complex designs were inscribed up and down the interlocking iron plates; everything from Mars' blessings to depictions of battle campaigns which Marcus had been involved in were represented. A thick black and purple cloak flowed around the armour, signifying his rank as a general. He gripping a short spear in his right hand much like a walking staff, with the spear's tip pointed at the sky. His sheathed sword hung from above his left hip, and his dagger was placed in a similar position on his right hip. A dazzling golden helmet covered most of his head, designed in the shape of a demonic visage. The helmet shielded nearly all of Marcus' face; all that was visible were his eyes, nose and mouth, each visible under slits which had been cut specifically to accommodate Marcus' facial features. Alexandra was dressed in flowing white robes trimmed with black cloth. The black trim was decorated with bright red lettering which formed prayers and invocations to Mars which ran up and down the robes. Once he was sure that everyone was fully dressed, Marcus inspected each of them individually.
"Perfect," he said with a grin as he circled around each of them. "If this doesn't convince our friends here that the might of the Roman Empire still extends into our fair province, nothing will. Come, let us go to to the home of this Tamanash Vaeldos. Do not rush; I want to make sure that we arrive on time for the meeting, but not before the village leaders are all assembled."
True to his word, Tamanash's home was hard to miss. It was easily twice the size of the surrounding village, and its profile dominated the west side of the village square. Unlike domiciles of similar size in larger cities, no visible security force was present; no fence surrounded the property, and no guards were patrolling the grounds around the building. I suppose that is just a part of living in a village,Marcus thought with a combination of disgust and intruige, but it is a part of life we shall have to rid them of. If this village, or even a single home in this village, were properly fortified, it would help discourage raids like the one we rode into earlier..in the worst case scenario, it would at least help save a life or two.
Marcus strode confidently into the home, pushing the front doors open forcefully. His cloak billowed around him, swirling around his legs and spear as if it had a life of its own. Dahmus, William, and Alexandra walked behind him in a triangular formation. As the group strode into the room, four men whirled around to face them. Tamanash and his fellow village leaders had already arrived, and had been standing in the home's foyer waiting for the newcomers. All four men's faces drained of colour as they saw Marcus and his companions enter the room; just as Marcus had i
ntended, their appearance in full battle regalia had produced the perfect combination of shock and awe.
"G-gentlemen," Tamanash stammered. "Is there something we have done to deserve this sort of entrance? Forgive me for saying so, but we are not accustomed to outsiders storming around with weapons and armour as if they own everything they see."
"You could have fooled me," Marcus said with a sly smile, "or were those not armed raiders that I defended your village from just a few hours ago?"
"Point taken," Tamanash said with a nervous laugh. "Please, allow me to introduce these gentlemen: this is Varan Brijae," he said, gesturing to a tall, lanky man. "And this is Tallur Vanda," he gestured to a short, stocky, balding man. "And this is Dionnus Mandagal," he gestured to the remaining man, who was thoroughly average in height, stature, and looks. The three men bowed their heads to Marcus deferentially. "Gentlemen, this is Marcus Ulpius, a representative of Antonius Ceresius, the former governor of this province. He is accompanied by Cologne's Oracle of Mars, William Ilona, and Dahmus Constantine - both fine soldiers, I have been assured. Now that we have been introduced, shall we get down to business?"
Marcus nodded.
"Very well. May I ask you gentlemen to leave your arms in here? My apologies, but I do not believe that weapons of war belong in my home."
"No," Marcus said, gesturing to his companions to indicate that they should not surrender their weapons. "We will not leave our weapons behind. Rest assured that they shall not be put to use," he said, "but neither shall they be abandoned. We are soldiers, and soldiers need to be prepared for battle at any moment."
"Of course," Tamanash said. "Please come with me."
Tamanash lead the assembled group through the halls of his home and into a large meeting room. A table was already set up and waiting for them, with eight chairs seated around it. Everyone took a seat except for Marcus, who stood looking over the group with a pensive expression.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, gentlemen," Marcus said. "I'll try to keep this meeting short and make my purpose clear without any unnecessary small talk. After today, I think it should be clear to everyone in this village that we have a common enemy: the Sicambrii." The village leaders shot glances between themselves, but kept silent. Marcus continued: "For too long, the Sicambrii have pillaged the cities of this province. For too long, they have killed our fellow men, raped our women, and robbed our treasuries. For too long have we stood idly by and watched these barbarians, lead by Julianus Vestatian, destroy our lives. It is time for us to take our province back."
"Time for us to commit suicide, you mean," Tallur muttered under his breath.
"What was that?" Marcus asked sharply. Nobody spoke up. "Please, don't be shy, gentlemen. If you have a thought or question, let me address it."
"Fine," Tallur said. "I said that opposing the Sicambrii is suicide. They are simply too powerful for us to defeat - even the Emperor's legions would be hard pressed to battle them and win."
"Is that so?" Marcus asked. "I don't agree. I think that we can defeat them if we are willing to take the risk - I wouldn't be here if I thought otherwise. You all saw me slaughter the Sicambrii who raided your village today. They are not gods; they are men. Men bleed, and men die."
"We are men, too," Tallur said. "And we are not warriors. The Sicambrii spend every minute of every day fighting. They fight each other, they fight animals, and they fight us. We simply cannot compare to them."
"Indeed," Marcus said, "they are experienced warriors. They are fearsome foes, I'll grant you that. Many of them have seen battle, and those who have not spend most of their time preparing for the moment when they do face foes on the field of war. They are not invincible, however; in fact, they do not even wear armour. An untrained boy in a suit of armour can survive an axe blow. Without armour, that same axe blow will sever bones and flesh. That means that the only failing of any of you on the field of battle is lack of training; there is an easy solution for that."
"What would you have us do," Varan asked, "set up a training camp in the middle of the village?"
"That is exactly what I would have you do," Marcus said. "We would be more than happy to help you set it up, and instruct you in the proper techniques of battle. One of my men will stay behind and act as a permanent instructor; more recruits would be sent here to train as we found them."
"Such a training camp would not survive long," Dionnus said. "You're a military man, Marcus. You know full well that the Sicambrii do not send out small raiding parties over long distances; there is a settlement not ten miles northwest of here where over two hundred Sicambrii men, women, and children live. More than half of that number are warriors; if a training camp is set up, they will learn about it and our village will be razed to the ground in a matter of days."
"I see no problem," Marcus said. "Just an obstacle. They would kill innocent Romans for maintaining a militia training facilty which is perfectly legal in the Roman Empire? Then we do to them what they would do to us. Tonight, myself, Dahmus, and William will ride to this Sicambrii settlement - by the morning, the settlement will no longer be a problem."
"You'll be killed!" Tamanash exclaimed. "I have no doubts about your abilities, Marcus, but you don't seem to grasp the sheer number of warriors involved."
"Don't I?" Marcus asked. "I'll tell you what. My men and I will ride out this evening. If we are successful in slaughtering the Sicambrii in question, will you agree to setting up the training camp?"
"You won't succeed," Tallur said defiantly.
"That wasn't what I asked," Marcus said. "Will you agree?"
The villager leaders leaned in toward each other, whispering quietly. After a moment's discussion, Tamanash nodded his assent. "Very well," he said. "We have an agreement."
"Good," Marcus said with a smile.
The villager leaders stood, pushing their chairs back from the table. Marcus watched them leave the room, then turned to his companions.
"Marcus," Alexandra said, "I think we need to talk. I have some reservations about this plan."
"I thought you would," Marcus said. "But I need a moment first. Dahmus," he said, leaning down to address Dahmus directly, "I have a mission for you. Follow Tallur. Make sure he does not leave the village, and let me know if he does anything suspicious. I don't entirely trust him, and I don't want to risk him warning the Sicambrii."
"Of course," Dahmus said. "But do you really think he's a Sicambrii loyalist? I wouldn't have thought such a thing would be possible amongst Roman citizens."
"I don't like the thought of it either," Marcus said with a sigh. "But something about him just doesn't ring true. Keep an eye on him; be subtle, but don't let him leave the village. If he tries, kill him."
"Understood," Dahmus said. He pushed his chair back, stood, and left the room as hastily as discretion would allow.
"William," Marcus said.
"Yes?"
"Prepare our horses and supplies. We'll need oil, flint, my bow and arrows, and whatever else you think is appropriate for the sort of siege we are going to undertake."
"Yes, sir." William stood up and left in the same manner as Dahmus.
"Now, Alexandra," Marcus said, "how can I allay your concerns?"
"I'm not certain that you can," she said. "Marcus, you're not just talking about killing enemy combatants. If that were your only goal, then I would have no objection at all. But you're talking about killing women and children. I don't think I can condone that."
"You serve the God of War, Alexandra. More than that, you're his voice in this part of the world. What does he tell you?"
"Nothing at all," she said fearfully. "That's part of what concerns me. I have no idea what the divine will of Mars is on this subject."
Marcus sighed heavily. "This is one of the aspects of war which nobody likes, Alexandra. Most of the time it is never spoken about; soldiers do not like telling tales of innocents who fall under our blades. Normally I would despise the thought of killing an innocent
, but sometimes certain situations arise where there is no choice. I believe this is one of those situations."
"But -"
"Let me put a situation before you," Marcus said, interrupting Alexandra. "Suppose that we managed to conduct this mission and kill every Sicambrii warrior without killing a single noncombatant. What do you think would happen to the women and children who survive? Five years from now, or ten, or twenty...would the children whose fathers we kill simple let that offense pass, or would they exact retribution?"
"They would seek retribution," Alexandra said.
"Indeed. Not only that, they would recruit everyone they could find to help them. They would march on Rome, killing every Roman citizen in their path."
"But," Alexandra said, "aren't you just perpetuating a circle of violence? You - and I, for that matter - are acting out of our own desire for revenge. When will it stop?"
"I don't know," Marcus said with a shrug. "I'm not a philosopher, Alexandra. I don't have the answer to those questions. All I can think of is what needs to be done now...and what needs to be done now is what we are going to do this evening."
"It just seems wrong," Alexandra said, her eyes reddening with restrained tears.
"I know," Marcus said, embracing Alexandra. "I know. This is the price we must all pay in war."
Chapter VIII
Pulling his horse back from a thundering gallop to a near-stop, Marcus signalled for William and Dahmus to do the same. The three men were still dressed in their battle gear, though William and Dahmus had discarded their helmets; Marcus had rightfully pointed out that the bright red plumes would be visible from a great distance, even in twilight. The horses they rode were burdened down with an almost comical abundance of weaponry, from spears and axes to Marcus' bow and arrows. Grasping his horse's reigns in one hand, Marcus gestured for his companions to stop. He surveyed the land around them with a careful eye. Nearly a mile back, the thick woods which had surrounded the road gave way to a sprawling landscape overgrown with brush and foliage. Trees still dotted the roadside, but with less and less frequency as the road marched on.
Fallen Legion Page 11
