Rise and Fall
Page 13
“Excellent. This visit has been very much worth my time.”
As he was saying this one of Otho’s aides, a slim effeminate looking man, stepped up to the pair and saluted. He waited patiently to be allowed to speak but impatience showed in every fibre of his being. Otho made the man wait while he finished talking to Ursus before signalling the man to begin.
“Sir, we have news from our scouts. The traitor Titus is on the move. He has broken his camp and is heading toward Rome. We estimate he will be in sight within three or four days.” The man fell silent and stood to attention.
“Good!” he almost shouted. The sound echoed inside the trench, bouncing down the tunnel in waves. “I was beginning to chafe with the waiting. I’d almost begun to suspect our friend Titus of losing his nerve.”
Ursus let out a low chuckle. “All plans are in place, Caesar. I feel the only thing we can do now is wait for the traitor to show his face on the horizon. Unless, that is, there is anything else you wish me to do?”
“Just have the men ready, Ursus. We want nothing out of place when Titus arrives. I want to give him the welcome he deserves."
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Regulus looked up at the huge pillars that towered over him as he made his way up the Capitoline hill. The Temple of Jupiter loomed over him like a monolith. He made his way slowly toward it, leaning heavily on a wooden stick for support. As the weeks since his injury went by, he found his physical strength was failing him. He had taken to using the stick for longer walks. There was no injury to his legs, or any other part of his body, but since the blow to his head he had suffered pain and weakness that had grown worse.
He limped up the steps to the temple, overwhelmed by the size of the building. As he passed the columns he imagined the workmanship and labour that must have gone into erecting them. The blood and sweat of slaves and artisans that had built this place of worship.
An abundance of people passed him as he stood on the steps. An old woman nudged him and tutted, making it known that he was in the way. Regulus shuffled through the large doors of the temple and inside.
Not being religious, Regulus had never been one to visit temples, wherever in the world he found himself. Since being at Domitius’ house, he had prayed at the house altar, but if he did not get the chance he did not mind. He had thought that the gods might forsake him or strike him down for lack of piety. Stepping through the doors of this monument to the father of all gods, he felt a wave of pure emotion hit him. It was impossible to stand in this place and not feel the power of faith at work. People made sacrifices and prayed here every day. They built their daily routine around their visits to one temple or another but that wasn’t what Regulus felt, it was the pure faith of belief that overwhelmed him.
The noise of the place was overwhelming. He had expected a place of quiet reverence but the amount of people made it impossible for there not to be noise. The stone walls and wide chambers caused every footstep and muttered prayer to echo and increase in volume.
“You look lost, is it your first time in the temple of Jupiter?” a voice asked behind him. Regulus turned and saw a young man, not much older than himself, in a plain robe.
“Yes, is it that obvious?” Regulus asked, slightly abashed. He hadn’t realised he was being so conspicuous.
“We have many pilgrims to Rome, most come here to the temple. It isn’t hard to spot a first timer, if you have seen enough of them. We haven’t had so many in the last few weeks, not so many new faces in Rome since it all started.”
Regulus didn’t need the young priest to explain what he was referring to but was glad that the subject had been approached. It made what he had come to the temple to talk about that little bit easier.
“Is it possible for me to talk to you about a spiritual matter?” Regulus asked the priest.
“It’s why I’m here. Would you like to go somewhere a little quieter?” the priest asked.
Regulus nodded and followed the priest into a quieter corner, away from the crowds. They found a stone plinth and sat down, Regulus struggling to know where to begin.
“Take your time, there’s no rush,” said the priest.
“I’ve had visions,” Regulus said to the priest and waited to see his reaction. The priest leaned back a little, Regulus guessed he was trying to get a better view of his face to judge if he was being truthful.
“Tell me more,” the priest said after a few seconds, seemingly willing to at least hear Regulus out.
“I have this head injury,” Regulus said, pushing back his hair and revealing the wide pink scar near the back of his head.
“Okay?” the priest looked intrigued.
“Since I sustained it I’ve been having visions of a forest and a building and I’m fairly sure I’ve seen the start of the Undead Rising,” Regulus said and a wave of relief washed over him to have finally told someone, anyone, about his dreams.
“And you think these visions have been sent to you by the gods?” the priest asked.
“That’s just it, I don’t know what I’m seeing or why, and I certainly don’t know who is sending me the visions.”
“Explain to me what happens and don’t leave anything out,” the priest invited.
Regulus began to explain about the forest in the fog. He told the priest of the path and the hut. He told him about the voice and tried hard to remember everything the voice had told him and then he told of the legionaries and the patrol that had become undead. He did not explain about the second dream, the temple and the priest. Too much, too soon, he thought.
He also didn’t tell the priest that far from being a dream, he was sure that he had actually been to that forest. He was sure that he had travelled there in spirit, if not in body.
“Messages from the gods are not usually so lucid, my friend,” the priest began. “We are not in such direct communication with the deities that they speak to us. We learn to interpret the signs they send us. The flight of a bird, the blood and organs of a sacrifice. What you are telling me would be the most direct message from the gods man has ever had.” He looked at Regulus, searching his face. “Do you think the gods would choose to contact you just because you had a blow to the head?”
“I suppose not,” Regulus said. He had half expected this reaction, in fact he had been almost certain this would be what he heard. No priest would welcome him into the temple and tell him he had been touched by the gods. What reassured him was the fact that the young priest hadn’t reacted badly. No temple guards had been called to drag him way. He wasn’t to be tortured for profanity. “So you think it was just a dream?” he asked the young priest.
“All I can say for certain is that it was not Jupiter who called to you. I’m sure it was none of the gods of which we know.”
“Just a dream,” Regulus said, wanting this priest to continue talking, feeling there was more he needed to hear before he left.
“There is one thing you must consider, you may have been contacted by an evil spirit,” the priest said. Regulus was almost certain that was what had happened, but not in the way this man thought. He hadn’t been possessed or trespassed upon. In fact, Regulus was sure it was entirely the opposite. He was the trespasser, he was the one who had invaded the realm of another.
“I don’t feel like I’ve been touched by evil,” Regulus lied. “I guess it must have just been a bad dream.”
“I suggest you go and have a priest make a sacrifice for you,” the young priest said. Regulus had brought a few coins with him to pay for the ritual, knowing that whoever he spoke to would suggest such a thing. It was one of the relatively minor ways that the temple made money, having people buy animals in order for the priest to sacrifice them to the gods. Rich people were known to buy white bulls at huge cost, while poorer citizens would pay for goats or chickens.
“I think that would be a very good idea,” Regulus said.
“I suggest you come back t
o see me if you have any more dreams,” the priest said, a sad smile on his face.
“I would like that, too,” Regulus said but knew he had no intention of coming back to this temple. He already knew he was dealing with a power that these priests couldn’t understand.
The priest pointed Regulus in the direction of the sacrificial altars. A small line of people waited for their turn to send a gift to the gods. He joined them and waited for a priest to call him forward.
After a short wait in this part of the temple, that had the metallic smell of blood, Regulus stood before the augur whose role was to tell the will of the gods from the sacrifice of animals. A lamb was brought forward to the priest, panic in its eyes as it struggled to flee this place that reeked of death.
A short prayer was said over the lamb before, almost casually, the augur did as he had done hundreds of times before and slit the lamb's throat. The blood drained from the animal as the augur held it high over a stone altar. There was a shocked gasp as the blood turned black and thickened as it hit the altar. It was the same thick fluid that the Risen bled when injured.
The augur turned to Regulus and started chanting prayers that the boy couldn’t make out, they sounded Latin but of a type so old that he didn’t understand half of the words. The priests started to gather round the altar to see what had happened. There was a commotion and Regulus found himself backing away and hobbling on his stick toward the entrance of the temple.
There were shouts from behind him but he kept moving as quickly as he could manage toward the door. There was a moment of disorientation as he stepped from the relative darkness of the temple into the bright daylight of the midday sun. Still, the shouts sounded behind him and Regulus began to panic. If they tried to chase him, he couldn’t possibly outrun them, weak as he was.
A hand reached for his shoulder and Regulus turned to see a hooded figure in a plain brown cloak, beckoning him to one side. Regulus followed the figure out of desperation as a group of temple guards stepped out of the doorway and started to look around them. The hooded figure pushed Regulus to the floor against the wall and bent over, as if tending to a sandal. The cloak must have protected Regulus from being seen, as the guards lingered for a moment, then turned to go back into the temple.
After a moment to check that the way was clear the figure stood up and pulled Regulus to his feet. Without saying a word the figure gestured for him to follow, and the two of them moved away from the temple steps and into the streets. Neither stopped until they reached a shady alleyway.
“You were looking for answers in the wrong place,” the figure said in a rough voice.
“So it seems,” Regulus said. “Who are you and why did you help me?”
“I heard your explanation in the temple. I didn’t mean to hear but it is good for you that I did. You should come to the temple of Viddus, speak to me there,” the robed figure said and turned to leave.
Regulus stood and watched the figure go. His lessons in the gods had never been much more than what he had picked up on the streets as a child. He had never even heard of Viddus. The robed man turned out of the alleyway and was gone. Regulus felt his heart beating hard and a familiar laugh buzzed inside his head.
Chapter Fifteen
“You see, it’s as I told you,” Priscus said to Sergius. “The place is deserted.” The two men lay flat on the ground, staring over the crest of a small hill outside Ostia. The town was obviously unpopulated, the only people that could be seen moving around were wearing legionary uniforms. Priscus had been reluctant to make the journey back to his home town at first, even sounding like a spoiled child at times. A few days on the road and the realisation that it was his home town that they were heading to help had changed his attitude somewhat.
“Do we move in closer?” The older man asked Sergius.
“I think we are going to have to, we need to know how many Risen Otho has here. We should find out if he has any other surprises in store as well. I’d also like to know exactly how he plans on moving an army, that won’t take orders, across the country,” Sergius said. “Listen, I’ve asked you to come with us this far. I’ve got four men with me, we can take it from here.”
When they had set out from the village Priscus would certainly have stayed where he was, given a choice like this, now he shook his head and smiled.
“I think you’re going to need someone with local knowledge, if you’re going in there,” he said.
Sergius nodded. The two men turned back toward the waiting legionaries behind them. The four waited patiently for instructions and Sergius gathered them together.
“This is a scouting mission only, we are not to engage anyone unless we have to. We go in, we see what there is to see and we leave.” They had camped about ten miles outside the town last night, it had been a safe spot. “We split into pairs, I want as many eyes out there as possible, then back to last night’s camp. Whoever doesn’t make it back by this time tomorrow we will assume you are lost, that goes for me as well, understood?” The men around him looked serious and nodded. “The important thing is we find out exactly what is going on in Ostia and get back to tell Emperor Titus about it. A lot of our brother's lives might be at stake here.”
The men spent the next half an hour preparing their kit, dulling metal so that it wouldn’t reflect the sun, wrapping anything that might rattle with cloth strips and wrapping their sandals with cloth to dampen the noise of the iron nails.
Eventually they were all ready and separated off into pairs. The port of Ostia was wide and hugged the sea, Sergius pointed each pair to a different entry point in order to cover as much ground as possible. The town perimeter itself wasn’t guarded, instead the troops they could see were concentrated inside the town.
Sergius and Priscus slid down the low hill leaving trails of dust. Sergius just had to hope that no-one saw them or their mission might be over much sooner than anticipated. They reached the first building on the outskirts of town. Sergius stopped and watched the other two pairs make their entrance points and disappear out of sight.
“There is no rush, take your time and make sure every movement is one you’ve thought about first,” he whispered to Priscus. The bearded man nodded and turned to the corner of the building.
The first two streets were clear, they took each building one at a time, ducking behind walls or into alleyways as they could. Nothing moved except for a pair of stray dogs that fought over a scrap of food. Sergius didn’t want the dogs to give away their position so he signalled to Priscus to hold steady while the mutts moved past.
As soon as the dogs were gone Sergius turned to Priscus. “This is your town, where are we heading?”
“We keep on, in this direction. The warehouses we saw were near the water,” Priscus replied. Sergius risked a look round the corner and saw a sight that froze him for a second. Risen moving aimlessly up the middle of the street, coming toward them. He turned to Priscus. “That way, move,” he hissed at him.
The pair moved up the alleyway quickly and quietly but at the top end of the building they heard voices. It sounded like two guards shirking their duty to take a break.
“Seems to me that this job could be done by a couple of legionaries and a bunch of the new recruits. It’s not like we are actually keeping watch over those dead things,” said the voice of someone they couldn’t see. At the far end of the building the Risen were visible in the street. Priscus and Sergius flattened themselves against the side of the building, hoping not to be seen.
It almost worked, the three undead moved past the building but something behind them made the creature nearest Sergius turn around. As he did, his eyes lit on the two men cowering against the wall. All three Risen came to life as if shocked into action.
Priscus turned to run but Sergius grabbed him by the tunic. “Wait!” he whispered.
The three undead lurched up the side of the building and toward their prey. Sergius held on to Priscus, who stayed still despite the obvious need to run.
Sergius saw first one and then a second look of shock on both the guard’s faces as the two groups came into view. Sergius and Priscus caught the guards unaware and ran straight past them. The three Risen saw the two guards and immediately forgot about chasing the two running men. Instead, they turned their attention to the two immobile victims.
One of the guards was quick enough to roll sideways onto the floor as the three undead struck. He avoided the impact of the leaping attackers but his partner wasn’t so lucky. In the blink of an eye he went from having a mid-shift drink to being eaten by undead creatures. They landed on him and were eating him before he even had the chance to get his arms up to defend himself. The flask in his hand rolled away from dead fingers and the contents spilled to the floor.
The second guard scrambled to his feet and turned to face the writhing horror that had been his friend. The undead tore at his flesh and gouts of blood flowed between the crates, soaking into the hard packed sand on the ground.
Had he run at that moment he might have been able to escape, so absorbed were the Risen with their prey. He didn’t run, the piece of meat the monsters feasted on had been his friend. He drew his gladius and hacked at the neck of the nearest Risen. The creature slumped forward, head almost severed clean through.
The second creature was pushed away from its meal by the weight of its companion's corpse. It stopped its meal and looked up at and what had caused it to stop eating. Without warning it leapt at the guard like a kitten on a mouse. The legionary raised his sword and skewered the Risen in the stomach. The Risen slid part way down the blade before grabbing at the guard's face with its hands. It pulled itself along the blade with no sign that it felt pain. Its teeth sank into the guard's face and it pulled at the skin which stretched and snapped, leaving a screaming, living skull behind.