Lost Legio IX: The Karus Saga

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “That will be a welcome change,” Karus said, and meant it.

  “If the people in that city did pick up and leave,” Felix said, “perhaps they left more food.”

  “That is my thinking also,” Karus said, glancing over at the men who continued to march by, sandals crunching rhythmically. “Why do you suppose they left?”

  “I don’t know,” Felix said. “There could be many reasons.”

  “All of which,” Karus said, exhaling a long breath, “could be bad for us. Plague, war … ”

  “Dragons?” Felix cast a nervous glance skyward. “The beasties have flown over us several times this day already.”

  “They haven’t yet bothered us,” Karus said.

  “I wonder what they eat.”

  “I don’t want to find out,” Karus said with an involuntary look skyward, which only showed itself in blue patches through the thick green canopy high above them.

  “I need to get along,” Felix announced. “My cohort is well ahead and I will have a time of it catching up. It’s what I get for waiting to speak to you.”

  “See you this evening, in camp,” Karus said.

  With that, Felix started up the road. The pace he set was quicker than the men marching by Karus just feet away. Karus watched his friend for a moment, and then glanced upward again. The limbs, the larger ones, at least, were thick and wide enough to easily support several men. He wondered if there were indeed people up there, concealed, covertly watching the legion march by below. If there were, did they wish ill on him and his men? Or did they just want the legion to pass through and be on its way?

  Karus pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a strong need to check in with each cohort and speak with his senior centurions. Sending runners up and down the column was not a viable communication tool either. It simply took too long. Karus would have to requisition a squadron of cavalry from Valens and use them as messengers to help him keep in contact with the entire column of march, which was strung out over several miles. Brutus was some little ways to the rear with First Cohort, which was marching just ahead of the supply train. Karus decided to go in search of the horse—his horse.

  Karus walked back down the road, the legionaries marching by in the other direction in neat, orderly blocks, one row after another. Each cohort’s century was separated by a few feet of space. The officers saluted Karus as he passed them. Occasionally offering a word or two, Karus dutifully saluted them in return.

  Seventh Cohort rapidly gave way to Second, Dio marching at its front before the standard bearer. Sighting Karus, Dio stepped off the road, clearly intending to speak with him.

  “The gods have blessed us once again,” Dio said after Karus had explained about the abandoned city.

  “You think so?” The men of Dio’s cohort continued by one century after another, looking smart, sandals crunching the leaves of the previous season to dust.

  “You have your doubts, I take it?”

  “I do,” Karus said. “Whatever happened to the people who lived there cannot be good for us. Tell me I am wrong on this.”

  “Well, maybe not, but it will beat sleeping on our arms.” A sideways grin crept up Dio’s face. “I always knew you were a worrier, but now that you lead the legion, I think it suits you.”

  Karus had not expected this from Dio, and judging by the grin, he felt his leg was being pulled.

  Dio’s grin slipped from his face and he became serious. “Julionus didn’t give a denarius for the risks when he marched us from Eboracum. You,” Dio pointed a callused finger, which connected with Karus’s chest armor, “on the other hand, dwell on the perils that await us. Then you make your decision, having weighed what is best for the legion or your men.”

  Karus grunted.

  “I am serious,” Dio said. “I would rather have someone leading us who goes in with both eyes open and his sandals on. The other senior centurions feel as I do. Well, most of them anyway. Mind you, I have not spoken with all of them on this subject.”

  Karus was surprised by Dio’s admission. Though he expected nearly unconditional support from his close friends, he was not so sure about the rest of the senior leadership.

  “Really? The others feel so?”

  “A few of us talked it over last night,” Dio said, shrugging in his armor, “in camp after the men had turned in.”

  They had had a meeting without him. Karus found that he was even more shocked by this latest revelation than the previous one. He was even a little angered. He rocked back on his heels as he considered Dio, who clearly sensed Karus’s thoughts, for he held up both hands palms facing outward.

  “It was just a little talk,” Dio said. “Nothing formal, and I can assure you it wasn’t planned. More impromptu-like. We were sitting around a campfire and fell to talking.”

  Karus felt slightly better, but still he found that he was concerned.

  “You have to understand, Karus,” Dio said in friendly yet serious tone, “you are now the legion’s senior officer, as good as if Hadrian had appointed you the legate. Being a ranker, even though that is still what you are at heart … well, for you that life is over and done. It is time you accepted that. Karus, you are officially better than the rest of us … you and that pet tribune of yours. Where is he anyway?”

  “I sent him with Valens,” Karus replied. “They had a spare horse and he can ride.”

  “Well, I am sure Valens will look after him,” Dio said. “Face it, Karus, you are now a man apart from the rest of us.”

  Karus glanced down at the ground, thoughts racing, and took a deep breath. Dio was right. Karus silently cursed himself. He should have expected this. The legate and tribunes always stood apart from the rest of the legion. It was the natural order of things. Though he was still the legion’s camp prefect, Karus was solely in command. He was now, as Dio had so rightly pointed out, no different than the legate.

  “You are right, brother,” Karus said quietly, looking back up at his friend. “I wish I had seen it sooner.”

  “Can you say that again?” The grin was instantly back.

  “Which part?”

  “Where I am always right?”

  “I never said always.” Karus chuckled. He felt a lightening of his mood.

  “I take whatever I can get,” Dio said.

  “Not particular, are you?” Karus said.

  “Not at all,” Dio said with a loud laugh. A few of the men marching by glanced in their direction. He cocked is head to one side. “Honestly, Karus, you would have figured it out on your own soon enough.”

  Karus nodded in reply.

  “Have your men seen anything odd?” Karus said, changing the direction of the conversation.

  “Besides these massive trees and the dragons?” Dio asked, grin still plastered across his face.

  “Anything else?”

  “We’ve seen some strange-looking animals, and I got the message about the snakelike creature with legs,” Dio said. “My men have been warned to avoid them. I’ve seen a few birds that were familiar, crows and such. Beyond that, nothing yet. Why?”

  “Felix mentioned that some of his men had seen people up in the trees.” Karus gestured upward toward the tree tops. “Looking down upon us.”

  Karus felt a chill as his friend’s grin slipped from his face.

  “A few of my men have said the same,” Dio said. “I thought perhaps it was them seeing things. This forest has enough shadows to shake a vine cane at.”

  “It could be that,” Karus said. “Shadows.”

  “Some of Felix’s men might also have shared stories with mine in camp last night. You know how that stuff starts, usually at a dice game.” Dio paused. “How many times over the years have our men seen things that were not there and started the alarm?”

  “You are right. It is probably nothing,” Karus said with a nod. “Still, I think it best to keep an eye out.”

  “Aye,” Dio said and glanced over at his cohort. The last of his centuries were beginnin
g to march by. “I had best return to my men before they get too far ahead and I have to run to catch up. No telling what trouble they might get into without me.”

  Karus nodded and Dio stepped off. He waited a moment before turning and resuming his trek, thinking on what had just been said. His conversation with Dio had only reinforced his need to visit with each cohort and be seen by the men.

  First Cohort was following Second, with only a small gap between them, perhaps twenty yards of space. Pammon was marching just off to the side of the cohort. The men of the lead centuries cheered Karus as they neared one another. In the perpetual gloom of the forest, he was heartened by it.

  “Karus.” Pammon stepped aside, offering a salute. Karus waved the salute off.

  “How is the First?”

  “The boys are doing fine,” Pammon said with a proud glance over at the century moving past them. By the standard, Karus saw it was the Second Century. “Marching is good for them, especially here in this gods forsaken forest.”

  There was heat in Pammon’s voice. Karus sensed a tone of dislike.

  “I served some time in Gaul as a recruit,” Pammon said. “Never liked those forests much either.”

  “Have the men seen anything up in the canopy?” Karus asked, curious to see if the sightings had spread to his old cohort.

  “Aye,” Pammon scowled, “several saw a man up there just a few moments ago. I didn’t see it, though they swore left and right he was up there. I thought it must have been shadows is all. Why do you ask?”

  “Dio and Felix’s cohorts have reported similar sightings,” Karus said.

  “They have, have they?” Pammon looked up, eyes narrowing as he scanned the limbs above for any signs of movement.

  “It is probably nothing,” Karus said, “but best to keep a lookout, particularly tonight when we camp.”

  “I will,” Pammon said.

  Karus filled Pammon in on the city that had been discovered. Pammon asked a few questions but, beyond that, had no other comments.

  “Where is my horse?” Karus asked, intent on riding up and down the line. With the sightings of people above in the canopy, whether real or imagined, it would be good for his men to see him calm, collected, and in control. “I want to visit with the other cohorts, and it will be quicker riding.”

  “Sixth Century,” Pammon said, jerking a thumb toward the rear. “That was a lot of gold Saturninus was carrying. More than I’ve ever seen in one place. Got a mule carrying it now.”

  “Good,” Karus said. “Make sure none of it disappears. We may have need for it at some point.”

  “Aye,” Pammon said. “I’ve got an accounting and good men on it.”

  With that, Karus excused himself and went in search of Brutus. A short while later he had retrieved his new horse. Karus waited while Brutus was saddled and made ready. Ignoring the stained leather, he pulled himself up on the powerful animal and settled himself in the fine saddle. It was a comfortable seat and very unlike those issued to the cavalry. He considered for a moment how he wanted to proceed as the Sixth Century marched off.

  Seventh Century’s centurion saluted Karus.

  “Fine mount,” Centurion Daemon said. “You make the horse look good, sir.”

  The men of Seventh Century laughed at the joke.

  “Enjoy the march,” Karus called back to Daemon.

  “Real men march, sir,” Daemon said, and then the century was flashing past, the men chuckling at the joke, pleased with their officer. Karus did not mind being the butt of the joke if it improved morale.

  Pulling the horse around, he nudged the animal’s sides slightly and felt the powerful muscles rippling beneath him as Brutus started, eager to be off. Riding such a powerful and finely bred animal was an exhilarating feeling. Karus put it from his mind. He had business to attend to. He would first visit with the camp followers and then work his way back forward toward the lead cohorts, spending time with each.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Holding the reins, Karus dismounted. His lower tunic was still damp from crossing the river. He stretched, working out the kinks from a long day in the saddle. His butt was more than sore and, truth be told, somewhat numb. It had been several years since Karus had spent an extended period in the saddle. Despite the discomfort, riding Brutus had been an exhilarating experience. He reached over and patted the animal affectionately on the neck.

  “Good job, boy.”

  The horse cast a sideways glance in his direction and whinnied.

  Night was almost upon them. Dusk was nearing its end, limiting visibility. On the other side of the horse, the legion streamed by in seemingly endless succession, century by century. There was little talking, as the men had been marching all day and would continue until they reached the city hours after a normal day’s march would have ended.

  Karus handed over Brutus’s reins to the legionary who had been waiting for him.

  “Where is Pammon?”

  “In the woods, sir.” The legionary pointed. “Just over there, where that torchlight is.”

  Karus could see an orange glow out in the darkness, perhaps forty yards off. As he walked toward the light, the foul stench of death hung on the air. It was something that over the years he had become more than accustomed to. Feet crunching on last season’s leaves, Karus stepped past and around the giant trunks, making his way through the rapidly darkening forest. As he neared, he saw a small group gathered around several bodies on the ground. The surgeon was kneeling over one. A legionary was leaning in close with a makeshift torch that hissed and popped, providing Ampelius some light.

  “Are you an idiot? Closer, man,” the surgeon snapped. “I can’t see what I’m doing.”

  The legionary brought the torch nearer, though it was apparent he wanted to be as far as possible from the corpses. He craned his head back, even as he held the torch out nearly at arm’s length.

  “Ah, Karus,” Pammon said, sounding delighted as Karus stepped into the torchlight. Pammon gestured down at the corpses lying on the forest floor. “A couple of my men were out taking a piss and found them.”

  “I’m surprised anyone could miss the stench,” Karus said. “I could smell them all the way over by the road. Are you sure the boys were just taking a piss?”

  “Yes,” Pammon said, scratching at stubble turned prematurely white. “No one’s been really keen to wander too far off into these trees, if you know what I mean.”

  Karus did. He glanced down at the bodies. There were three of them, and they had been lined up one right next to the other. They wore black leather chest armor and brown pants with hard leather boots that had been well broken in. The exposed skin of the corpses was a dark purplish color and the bodies had begun to swell. The swelling made the leather armor and pants seem a size too small. Karus had seen the decomposition stage after this one and it was not a pretty sight.

  Each dead man had a single small chest wound, almost in the exact same place. Dried blood darkened the already black leather. Flies clustered thick around the wounds. Bugs both great and small crawled over the exposed skin. One man’s mouth was ajar, and Karus saw bugs crawling about inside.

  He was surprised that animals had not yet gotten to the bodies. It was damn odd, but what he found even more surprising were the fresh flowers that had been laid by the dead men’s feet.

  “We found them like this,” Pammon said. “Nothing was touched until Ampelius got here.”

  Karus knelt down next to the surgeon. “Well?”

  “Curious,” Ampelius said, looking up at Karus before returning to his work. He was probing one of the wounds with what looked like a small metal spike. “Very curious.”

  “Ampelius, a bit more than that would be helpful.”

  The surgeon leaned back and blinked, focusing on Karus, as if seeing him for the first time. He rapidly recovered.

  “Each was killed by a single arrow strike to their hearts,” Ampelius said. He touched the metal spike to the wound hole. “Dead four
days, if I am any judge. Someone removed the missiles post mortem. They were then carried to this spot and left for their bodies to rot.”

  “They weren’t killed here then?” Karus was surprised by this.

  “No,” the surgeon said, standing. Karus stood also. Ampelius wiped his probe clean with a soiled rag and then tucked both into a satchel he was carrying. “At least, I don’t believe so. If they had been, there would have been some evidence of a struggle or at least an indication of where each had fallen dead.” The surgeon paused a moment. “Well, I am done here. Others to see and tend to.”

  With that, Ampelius stepped off back toward the road, leaving Karus, Pammon, and the legionary with the torch standing there gazing down on the dead men.

  “Wasn’t that informative,” Karus said to himself, glancing at Ampelius’s back.

  “Are you surprised?” Pammon said. “Our surgeon is all personality.”

  Karus looked at Pammon and then back down at the dead. He had been serious, but Pammon had taken the statement as irony.

  “Thoughts?”

  “Definitely military,” Pammon said and knelt beside one of the bodies. “They still have their light packs, though their weapons are missing.” Taking out his dagger, he cut the straps on one of the packs, rolled the body slightly, and pulled it free. “Scouts perhaps, judging by the size of these.” He opened the pack, gazing in. “Looks like dried rations and a few personal possessions.”

  Karus rubbed his jaw as Pammon dumped out the contents of the pack. He picked out a small purse from amongst the food and shook it a little. The bag, though mostly empty, jingled.

  “Tell me, who kills three soldiers and then doesn’t bother to loot the bodies?” Pammon stood and tossed the purse to Karus.

  “I don’t know,” Karus said, emptying the coins into his palm. They looked to be made of bronze, but were unfamiliar in design. “And why the flowers?”

  “Must’a been friend,” Pammon said. “It’s the only reason I can see as to why they didn’t bother to take the food or coin.”

  “When a legionary dies, his mates usually split up his possessions,” Karus said. “Why not the same with these? The money alone is worth the effort.”