Arthur II; Artorius; The Legend and Myth Chapter 12 & 13

12. 

Master Augustus looked at the wood mashed prints with the charcoal sketches. They were well drawn with some resemblance of dimensions and measurements. He studied the details and then frowned. He looked to the figure who was the mason to build the castle. He had wanted a villa but the mason told him, they only build castles and cathedrals. 

“And the occasional church.”

“Go ahead.” Master Augustus nodded then. He then stepped away. The mason called on his apprentices to start away. He turned to look once more at the building that was to be his castle. It was not a complete build but a major repair over an older one. The main structures were still there; the four towers and the walls, the gates were a wreck, and so were the three building structures which were in state of derelict. The walls were made of stone and that will hold, but the flooring and ceiling with the roofs collapsed. Once all that was done, then the furnishings. He had arranged for the furniture from the homeland and the silverware from Gaul. He loved the design there and young Meleagant loved it.

“Master, we have send for the recruitment. That left us with twelve guards but we will be safe.” The leader of his guards reported to him. “I have the Centurion to stake on frequent patrols near our camp. We will be fine.”

“Have you contacted the one I asked for?”

“The Black Knight have declined your offer. I am looking at the others.” 

“It’s alright. We can do without the knight or whatever he called himself.” Master Augustus told the guard. “We can go ahead. Where is the mason? I want a higher wall than that he had proposed. If I am under siege, I want that.”

The siege on the young man’s mind was what prompted the journey to the nearby market place. Young Meleagant was then walking past the offerings at the nearby village’s market. He was never one to get involved in his father’s workings and held his own. He was not alone; his father forbidden him that and there was one guard with him. He looked handsome in his silk clothing and finery that he had adorned on his chest. He played along with the sellers there; flirting with the admiring ladies until the wares he was looking for was seen. He approached the blacksmith and looked at the iron manacles. He took drawings from his tunic and passed it to the skill master. 

“Make that for me.” Young Meleagant then handed over the coins. “Deliver it to …” 

“The wall? I know.” The blacksmith nodded. “Do you want swords and…” 

Young Meleagant had stepped off and approached a seated figure under the shed at the far corner. The figure was bearded like many others there and clothed in a torn tunic but he stood out with the runic designs on his limbs. 

“Are you a …” Young Meleagant question was challenged.

“Are you a Man or a noble with the coins and guards to accompany you?” The bearded man challenged back. “You may not be the Man for you would not walk alone. As for me I am just the old man seated here.” 

“Are you a druid?” Young Meleagant asked. 

“What is a ….druid? I am just an old man seated here.” The bearded man replied. “Are you ..”

“I am a Man. I am also a noble. I have a guard to…” 

“Well, he better be. There are three warriors that want to take your life.” The bearded one told him. He then motioned to the trio standing by the butcher. He reckoned the bearded man was wrong.

“Four, old man. There are four.” Young Meleagant signalled the guard. The other stepped up but then the butcher had stepped out with two of the three that was identified to kill him. The butcher was armed with the meat cleaver while the other two held the short sword named the gladius. Young Meleagant retreated back and stood before the guard. The market place was then in chaos with the patrons there clearing the area. 

“Noble one, you are not invited here. Leave now.” The butcher called out towards Young Meleagant. “Or we will drag you out in pieces. This is not your land.” 

“I ….” Young Meleagant was interrupted by the warrior. 

“Leave now!” The guard have pulled Young Meleagant to the rear. “I will handle them.” 

Young Meleagant turned to run and was on the way out of the area when he turned to see the guard then stabbed in the back by the butcher. The guard was dead then. The young noble ran pursued by the trio. He ran past the huts and then into the open land without looking back. He heard the sounds of the hoofs and ignored it. If those hoofs are the trio’s mount he will be dead soon. He stopped and turned to look once more. He saw the trio was confronted by Legionnaires. Three riders have attacked the killers. The Legionnaires were winning. The butcher was the last to fall. 

“Are you well, young noble?” Young Meleagant nodded. He recognized the Legionnaire. He was Galahad. 

“You are outside your boundary. You need to get back. We can offer you a ride.”

“It can’t be. We are in Britannica. It’s our land.” Young Meleagant replied. “Father told me so.” 

“Britannica is by name. It’s still their land.” Galahad reminded the younger man. “Rome had conquered theirs but we have not convinced them of it. Due to that, we are unwanted like invaders.”

13.

The elder Marcellus lady had her tent set up and covered up. She had the tent positioned next to the underbrush. It was a convenient for her friends to find her. She was seated cross legged with the scented candles around her and metal bowl in front of her. She had on her favourite tunic and round her neck was the string of bones. She had placed some powders in five different shades which she was then stirring it with her index fingers in opposite rotation to each other. She was chanting the verses known only to her own family and related ones. It was past the hour of midnight and the nocturnal creatures were out on the prowl. She felt the vibrations on her body. She was delighted then and maintained her chanting. 

It was soon time. 

Her friends appeared then.

The elderly lady removed her fingers from the bowl and then tapped the flooring. With each tap, she dropped the powder shades onto the flooring. It did not form any characters but the scent of the powder mixed soon overcame the other scents. The friends of her’ were three slithering creatures with the dark scaled body and a length of over three feet. Two of them slither up her arms and onto her shoulder. The one on the right slither up to back of the neck and then raised it head towards the left ear while the left one hung onto the left shoulder and lowered itself into the chest by the heart. The last creature stopped before her and stayed on the flooring. It was poised for the strike from that position and the target was the torso. 

The lady continued her tapping and then stopped. The message was relayed. 

The creatures slither off the same they came.

The lady then raised her arms and stopped the chanting. She then called out. 

“Adele, come on in.” The aide of her from her homeland stepped in. The aide bend down to clear the candles and the bowl. She then swept the flooring of the powder before she opened the flap. The moonlight filtered in past the flaps while the aide lit up the normal night candles. 

“Thank you, Adele. You may bring me my night shift and stored these away.” The elderly lady passed the bone to the aide. “And call my son in. He has waited long enough.” 

“Mother I am here. Are we done?” 

“Yes, we are. The friends of mine will maintained a boundary for us while we build the castle. How goes the castle?”

“There is no castle, Mother. I am building a villa. Like the one we have at our homeland. I have moved our wealth here to pay for it.” Lucius Marcellus told his mother. “It will hold a barrack for fifty warriors and we will have archers too. I will ….”

“I know you will, Son but who will lead them. I have not heard of a name I can relate to. Do tell me.” The elderly lady asked. “I…” 

“I invited Sir Bernlak….” 

“The Green Knight. I am glad. He will do fine.” The elderly lady recalled the Green Knight or his name Sir Bernlak of Haus. He was not any knight but on the mythical level, he was revelled as one with them. He was considered as a demi god and yet no one had seen his real face. He was always in his armour. Due to that, he was ostracised but he appeared on both sides. He worked for his own needs. 

“Mother, with him here, we may be …. Left alone.” 

“Ostracised? I am used to it.” The elderly lady smiled. 

“Mother, Bernadette was killed ….” 

“She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I have taken care of her daughters. My own granddaughters.” The elderly lady reminded her son. “

“And you have named them Heidi, Catlin and Madeline.” Antonio Marcellus chose to remind his mother. “They were …”

“Insignificant names but the ones I gave them will made them famous. Like their namesake, they will ruled the land.” The elderly lady then dismissed her son. She then looked at her aide.

“Attend to me, Adele. I want to rest. No one must disturb me.” 

None will disturb the Augustus family. They have resettled further back after the attack. They have decided to neighbours to the Marcellus. Enough distance to be seen but not to visit each other. Auric Augustus knew enough of the Marcellus but he also knew that they could be an ally in dire times. 

“Father, can I visit Gaheris?” Auric nodded to his daughter. He can’t hold her back for long. She was a big girl and her mother was not complaining. 

For the lovers, there was no boundary except those set by them. The lips of the lovers caressed each other before one set trailed to the chin and then lingered at the neck, nibbling at the cleft between the neck and the head. The lips trailed from there to the left shoulder leaving a trail of kisses while the prowling hand lowered the dress line to display the left bosom. It was the subject of the other with then lips making gentle pull at the soft flesh there till it hovered over the extended part where it widen over the flesh. 

The moan of the lady was sweetness to his ear and he took her hand over to him. She felt his hardness beneath the tunic and with his guide, she was caressing it with the coarse cloth that made the tunic. It could had been expectancy or misplaced desire he shuddered and her hand felt the wetness on the clothing. He was spent but was still able. He leaned up to kiss her lips with his body rolling onto her. 

“I have to stop…” Elaine pushed the other off her body She rolled over and then sat up before adjusting her dress. Gaheris sat up next to her on the grass. They were blocked from the wall by the low rise of the hill. It was the second visit then and it was getting steamy. She wanted to let her boundaries down but held on. It was not Gaheris in person but the journey had taught her caution and boundaries. 

“Was there …” Gaheris gave out what was his boyish smiles. 

“No, darling. It was just me. I am not ready.” Elaine smiled. “I …”

“No, Elaine. Let me take you do more than … this.” Gaheris told her. “I will show you the wall, my brothers and my Centurion. The whole family.”

“Would that be a mistake? I may be ..,,.:”

Elaine was not wrong. She was cautious. Sometimes when we are cautious, we drew boundaries and then we may make mistakes when we cross the boundary.

Arthur II; Artorius; The Legend and Myth Chapter 11

Boundaries and Intrusions

11.

Lord Pendragon felt his mount reared its head while its tail swung when they climbed the hill. The rider patted the mount and then spurred it on. In his mind then the smell of the home grasses was always fresher. He looked over the hill and saw the castle. It was not much but it was a formidable place with its three towers and the high walls. In its better days, the castle could hold over a hundred warriors; archers and swordsmen with the twenty five horses. During his return, he reckoned there were only about twenty with the household of servants of about ten allowing that the castle was without its Lord. He looked back to his troupe of followers; ten warriors and ten servants with his loved one in the wagon. He ha recruited ten more mercenaries; he needed the extra warriors. His land was intruded on by the neighbours and the invaders for the Lord was away. 

“My Lord, we have done our best.” The warrior reported to the Lord. “Welcome back.” 

“I know you tried. I am grateful, Ban. And to your brother too, Bors.” Ban and Bors are twins; tall and slender unlike the other warriors but they are great fighters with the spears and shield. They had on the mail coat and their legs were encased in the leather lashing on the sandal. 

“You may take a break. I am back. These are my new …. recruit. Get them into the barracks.” Lord Pendragon told the twins. “I got to take care of my love.” 

“With respect, Lord Pendragon but we are not staying.” The leader of the mercenaries stepped up. “Our task was to protect you on your journey and that is completed. We would like to part with our coins paid today.”

Lord Pendragon looked to the mercenaries he had with him on the journey. He knew that they were not used to working as warriors in a castle. They are more suited for the war. He was short of warriors and offered them a better remuneration.

“Extra coins? We live to fight and its out there on the land.” The mercenary pointed to the north. “Here we may end up being …. With the servants. More so, the Anglo Saxons are paying well.”

Lord Pendragon heard of the Anglo Saxons. They are from the North and have been invading the south for some years then. That was one reason he came back to his castle. He has to defend it or lose them all. 

“You will fight with the invaders?” Bors who was standing at the left side stepped up. “I will kill you now.” 

“I am not of your land. I cared not of your land. I only work for coins, and the killings. Spare me your threats. We may meet one day.” The other leader replied in anger. Bors had to restrained by the others to avoid a fight then but the former was giving up. He was a fighter and backing down was an insult. 

“Fight me in the duel by the clearing at the you sapling.” Bors called out the challenge. “Tomorrow after the sun has risen to our eye level.”The mercenary nodded and then took his men out. Lord Pendragon was to object but stopped when he saw his love alighted from the wagon by herself. She had waited too long on that. She refused his offered hand and made her inside. She walked past the servants and into the Hall. It was not huge but it held a high ceiling and there was the long table to seat twelve, with the high seat for the Lord at the end to the wall. Behind it was the castle crest; the double lion facing the crossed swords with the backdrop of the helmet that was the Lord’s. Below the crest was the words in Welsh; Y Llewod yr Amddiffynnydd Arglwy (The Lions the Protector The Lord of the Land).

“Do you like it? Lord Pendragon looked at her. She did not reply and moved on. She looked at the garish curtains that were draped over the walls or was it the other way around. She looked at the line up of sheilds missing the swords. She had stopped wondering for a long time on it. She took off on her way to the stairs that led upstairs and saw the signs. They were there to protect the households and the Lord in particular. She knew the Lord was obessed by the works. 

Lady Igraine reached the Lord’s chamber and stopped. She was reluctant to go in. She turned and moved to the chamber further down. It was her own designated chamber. There was where she will rest. If he wants he can come there like what he did years ago. He had caused her pain. Her Lord then which she was wedded to as the young age. And then her seduction. It was forced action on her; an intrusion on her. He had disguised himself as her Lord and cliumbed into her bedding. She was intoxicated by the herbs placed into her drink and recalled not much but the long night of pleasures. She was mystified by it but the news of her Lord’s death soon after killed her desire. She knew that her Lord was murdered by Pendragon. He came for her soon after but she ignored him. She ignored him when he captured her several times. She ran away to escape from him and he still came. She was his regardless but the desire did not exist anymore. She turned from him most times. 

“Take care of the Lady.” Pendragon told the maid servant. He then took leave. He will contact her family to assure them. It does not matter much for they don’t care for her.

Lord Pendragon went down to the Hall. He saw there were his trusted men; eight of them who had served him well and his father before. They are the elders. And they have failed him.

“None of you stopped the land grabbing.” Lord Pendragon looked at them. “You were my custodian. And yet you failed.” 

“We did not fail, Lord Pendragon. We tried but were outnumbered and we are old.” The one elected to speak voiced out. “We ….”

“You could had fought them, as one but all of you were selfish. You protected that is yours only.” Pendragon told them off. “From today, we are no more allies. We are on our own. I will protect my own and beware I will come for yours too for it was mine to begin with. Now leave.”

“Utter Pendragon”, The elected leader confronted the Lord by his given name. “I have tended to you since you were a babe. I will not …”

“As you would, Lord Amish. I am coming for you first. Now leave or surrender your land to me.” Pendragon was clear on his threat. All eight of them left him that day in the Hall. 

“My Lord, do you want us to double the sentries.” Ban had stepped in to ask the Lord. The later shook his head, and then told him to get more warriors. 

“After you kill the bastard who challenged your brother. Then take his coins and recruit the others. They will join us.” 

Everyone needed reinforcements then.

The Legion presence accounted for it. 

Arthur II; Artorius; The Legend and Myth Chapter 9 & 10

9.

The Optio on his rounds stood a distance away to watch the fight between the mercenaries. He had seen such fights and it was his instruction that none of the Legionnaire was to intervene. He held no love for the mercenaries whom he had fought many times on the battlefield. They knew no loyalty and love for each other except the coins in their purse. He had seen them do atrocious acts on the innocents and have sworn never to aid of them in battle. Lamorak was not of noble bloodline. He was the son of a butcher whose village was one day visited by a Centurion. He was Estrucian by citizenship but with Rome calling for recruits, he was obliged to comply. It was either him or his brother then, Lamont but his father sent the younger one to join.

“Lamont is needed here. He will take over my trade.” The older man told his son. “You will serve in the Legion.”

Lamorak having no other to consult on; his mother had died during his birth nodded to his father’s consent. He left the hut and was stopped by Lamont.

“I will join you soon.” Lamont told the younger brother. “Despair not. I will protect you.”

“Lamont, take care of father.” Lamorak had replied. “I will be fine.”\

“No, you are my brother. Not …. never mind. Take care. Your mother loves you.”

Lamorak could only nodded then. He held onto his pack and coat of fur with his hands hidden inside; trembling with fear. He was not the fighter in the family but it was his father’s decision. Lamorak spent four years in the Legion to fight and kill; he learned hard and harder when the instructor pushed him. He found the training tough initially and soon he was sent to the battlefield. His first kill was another warrior bearded and huge but the younger man had the better in skills. He recalled the gladius cut into the torso and the blood spurting out while he twisted the blade. He was not trembling then in fear but of anger. The other had slashed Lamorak’s face on the left cheek. A mark that he still held that day. Since that day, killing was not his fear but to die was. He fought hard and moved his ranking to his rank of Optio after twenty one years of service. He gripped the hilt of his gladius; not his first but of the few he was to owned. He knew that his next few years will be how he held it.

“Optio, we have …” The Legionnaire handed him the dagger found. Optio Lamorak was a collector of small weapons. He held a small collection from the campaign he was in.

“Good one.” Optio Lamorak weighed the dagger in his right hand. It rested comfortably on his palm. The dagger was a inwardly single edged blade decorated with the horse head design. It was Celtic in design. He had seen it when he was in Gaul. He had a few but not of that design.

“Thank you, Tristam.” Optio Lamorak smiled at the young Legionnaire. He had seen the young man raw in the service but he was diligent in his action. “I will remember you.”

Tristam smiled and then left for his duty. It was essential to be recognised by your officers for that was the way to move up the ranks. Tristam had joined in the Legion less than ten years but he had shown promising moves. He stepped away to his last duty which was to clear the dead barbarians. It was a dreary task but the reward was to do the pillage on the dead. He had seen seniors fighting for such task and then gloating over the findings. He was hoping then to get a signet ring or a valuable stone but the dagger caught his eye. He knew whom to give it to.

“Lamorak, you may not remember me but I do.” Tristam muttered to himself. “Cousin…”

If only bloodline run deeper.

“Gawain, I will not tolerate this …” Galahad was in anger at his brother.

“That I will be caught or was it you held no share of it?” Gawain looked up from the findings that he had retrieved from the dead. “They are dead and nothing of this matters to them.”

“They may be dead but those are not ours.” Galahad glared at his brother. He then turned towards Gaheris. “Spare no thoughts on your brother’s action. He is a …failure to the family.”

“I may be …that failure, but don’t you shrink from your duty as the head of the family. Punish me and get me to confess my sins, brother. Or do you have yours which is failing to guide your brother?” Gawain snapped in anger. “Do you fear me telling you this here? We have nothing to fear. There is no fireplace and we are alone. We are beyond the hearing of the others.”

The three brothers were at the boundary of the camp on the far wall, watching the lands at the north.   

“Gawain, we are part of the Legion. We are….” Galahad reminded his brother.

“We are brothers. Poor brothers with little food on the table.”: Gawain reminded his brother.

“No, we had food on the table….”

“Not when you were away. Gaheris was a poor hunter. I had to the hunting. And the farming.” Gawain glared at his brother. “You don’t get tired of it, huh?”

“I was enlisted not by choice. It was either me or you or you. Maybe not Gaheris.” Galahad looked at Gawain. “I send the coins back.”

“Mother used it all. What? To buy all of you another piece of land. Before you come back and Mother died and the two us went missing. What about the land? She did not buy it. She had paid for the land but the Lord cheated her. We had nothing,” Gaheris cut in. “We had no choice. It was the Legion or starvation.”

“Yes, you told me many times but does that mean you can steal.” Galahad voiced out his protest.

“You told me many times but then coins are not growing in my purse.”
 Gawain defended his action. “We …”

“This will be the last, Gawain., If this happens again, I am putting you in for punishment. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Decurio.” Gawain nodded to his brother.

“Remember that we are part of the Legion. We are not barbarians. We are…”

“We yet to be citizens of Rome. Till then we are what we are.” Galahad reminded the other. “But we are not barbarians. Not ever.”

It can’t be said for the Marcellus.

“Antonio, we can rebuild again.” The mother of the man voiced out. “None of us are hurt. Not even the girls.”

Antonio looked at the girls huddled there at the open field looking at then remains of their tent. They were unharmed in the attack but they looked traumatised. He had tried to take care of his family but it was only his own bloodline. His wife died some years back in a miserable mood; she was beheaded at the family altar at their home. He looked at his mother.

“Mother, we cannot be …”

“Son, we have to. Our ancestors will protect us.” The older lady assured the other. “We need to …”

“Mother, we were …. removed from our home because of …” Marcellus voice broke on that.

“What we believed in? My son, you are a Marcel. We are a …”

“Stop! Mother, we cannot go back…” Marcellus was close to tears. “I will have my other case of coins sent here.”

“You don’t have to. I will handle it. No one harm my family without our retributions.” The older lady replied while she reached for the bones in her tunic. “The Marcel will let others harmed their families.”

That family protection was not only in the Marcellus. It also ran among the ones considered as barbarians.

10.

Lancelot placed the sword he had inherited from his father. He knew his father until death separated them at the age of ten. It happened at their home in Normandy. There were mornings when he used to walk at the beach with his father. It was always peaceful with the tall grasses swaying to the breeze and the roar of the waves onto the sandy beaches. If you pay attention to the creatures there., you might get glimpses of the gulls and the occasional fishing boats. The fishermen could be from either side of the channel but then no one cared. It was not about boundary but of survival. Food was an essential part of the need to survive.

“Lance, you are mon fils.” The young lad then aged ten looked to the towering figure draped in the thick coat with his broad sword hung at the waist belt. He wore the fur lined footing which he had no trouble stepping on the sandy beach. They were not alone; there were followed by three guards. The elder man was cautious. He has a number of enemies.

“Lance, this is your land. When I am gone, you will inherit all of his.” The elderly man told him. “I am King Bon of Normandy. I held a kingdom that spanned the beach as far as you could see. This is the land I fought and won with this sword, Arondight.”

Arondight looked like any broad long sword in the design but the difference is the hilt. The design on the hilt is that of the creature known as the Dragon with its wings tucked and the flame spurted from the jaws was on the head of the hilt. The tail of the dragon formed the handle on the hilt spread from the left to the right. The blade itself was moulded from two pieces of metal melted and moulded into one before it was sharpened to its length of three feet. The blade was engraved with characters that were taken from the runic designs.

“Arondight was mine given by an old friend. He gave it to me as a gift before he left the land. He was not a warrior but he was more powerful than one. Before he left me, I was told that my legacy was only up to this stretch of the land but my son will take on more fame that I can envision.”

“Why are you telling me this, father?” Lancelot  then as a young lad asked him.

“See the boat there.” There was a man standing on it by the beach. “I want you to follow him. Here, take Arondight with you. Prove me right.”

The elderly man pushed his son towards the boat. The later was reluctant but the elderly man was insistent. The lad climbed into the boat holding the one item cherished. The boat pulled away with the lad. The lad kept on looking at the father of his. It was then the boatman told him to look away.

Lancelot saw then the three guards that followed his father drew their swords. His father was unarmed. What he saw next was the murder of his father by the ones that was to protect him. He was to jump off the boat but was restrained by the boatman.

“Did you come to see me or was I to see you?”  Lancelot heard the druid whom he was waiting for. They were by the pond and that time Lancelot held no sack of foods.

“You called me.” Lancelot replied. The druid nodded. He motioned to Lancelot to seat by the pond banks.

“I sensed trouble, Lancelot. It’s on the wall.” The druid voiced out. “It’s not the Legion. It’s something else. Something that may had followed me from the old days.”

“Merlin, you have a long history from what you told me.” Lancelot turned to pick up the sword.

“Arondight…. I can feel the vibrations. How does the sword feel on your hand?” Merlin motioned to the sword. “I gave it to your father.”

“Don’t ever mention my father, druid?” Lancelot did like to hear the memories. That was why he called himself the Ghost. He was already dead to the present.

“I rescued you from death. It was the trade your father arranged for you. He died so that you can live. He died because it was fated. One of my sad things that I do occasionally get to see before it happened. I ….”

“Druid., stopped talking. Tell me of the vibration.”

“Morgause is back.” The druid told him. “We need to stop her.”

“I have not the last time we … clashed.” Lancelot muttered in reply.

“Morgause is not one you will like to have dinner with.” The druid replied.

“She was mine but due to some misunderstanding we went our ways but journey that brought us together clashing on our roads with us bitter after each encounter.”

“Enough, druid. If its Morgause, what will she be doing now? Another army of undead perhaps? The last one was defeated by …us. With my sword and your….skills.” Lancelot snapped at the druid.

“It’s Merlin. That’s my name. Please don’t address me as the druid. I have the name.” The druid raised his protest.

“If we are not barbarians perhaps I would have.” Lancelot glared at the druid.

Arthur II; Artorius; The Legend and Myth Chapter 7 & 8

7.

Primus Artorius paced the tent with his eyes averted to the tent flaps watching the unseen sun then but the rays of dawn were showing itself. He looked to the two legionnaires guarding him; he frowned at that idea when they should be out there searching for the attackers but it was the Optio’ call. 

“Primus, your safety is of utmost concern.” Optio Lamorak was not taking chances with the Centurion safety. He was already upset the camps were under attack. The Cohort was the best among the others and yet they allowed this to happen that night. He was thinking of the mode of punishments on the sentries; the flogging with the flagrum ( short whip ) or the reduction of ration. He was a strict officer but that will come later. He needed to find the attackers.

“Primus, we have reports from the Equities.” The Calvary units have returned with the updates. “They have returned.”

The Decurio was the first to report.

“We have scouted the land. The Elites are safe. The Marcellus were the worst to be inflicted but they were found unharmed and safe with our men.”

“Inflicted and then unharmed? Tell, the truth, Decurio.” Primus Artorius was upset.

“Their camp was attacked and their guards’ dead. They escaped and were found by the riders.” Percival replied in his Legionnaire tone. “How they escaped, I have no report on it.”

“I want the Equites out there to expand our boundary. There will be no rest until we have a prisoner.” Primus Artorius called out. “Any prisoner but one that will talk on the attack. Get out now.”

The Decurio left and then the Optio took his place.

“I have strengthened the patrols and we have a prisoner.” Optio Lamorak reported in. “He was hiding in the bushes. He is ready for you.”

The Option have arranged the prisoner to be tied spread-eagled on the punishment beams. It was reserved for the errant legionnaire but on that day, a barbarian was set up there. Artorius approached the displayed prisoner; a bearded figure with his coats removed appeared in his loose pants held up by the sash. His clothes and weapons were on the ground next to the beams. Artorius picked up the broad sword and looked at it. There was blood on it.

“You killed someone earlier? Was it a slave or a guard?” Artorius did not wait for the reply and slashed the prisoner on the right thigh. The blood spurted out from the wound but the Primus was not settled as yet. He took another slash on the left shin. The prisoner called out in pain and then gritted its pain. He looked at the Primus in defiance.

“So, you are a tough one. I liked tough ones.” Primus Artorius smiled. “More so when they commit killings on my camp.”

“Bring in the hounds. Cut fresh meat from him to feed them.” Artorius called out. It drove the prisoner to scream out in profanities but the Primus had returned to his tent. Soon the screams were of other pain and then the prisoner spoke.

“Lancelot he told us. He was also known as the …..” Optio Lamorak reported to the Primus.

“The Ghost. I heard of his name.” Primus Artorius nodded. “He is a great warrior and have been their champion. Find me the Decurio.”

“To hunt for the Ghost? I can do it.” Optio Lamorak volunteered.

“No, to drag the prisoner to the nearest village. There the prisoner can have his wounds tendered and the mouth to tell the others of our cruel methods.”

“Primus, you must be mad. If the barbarian speaks of the torture, we will all be the target of theirs. We will have no mercy from them.” Optio Lamorak replied.

“And we shall not have any. We are the Legion’s finest. Do we fear barbarians like lions? Or hogs to feed on our dead flesh?” Primus Artorius replied. “I came here to defend Rome’s interest, and if they are in the way, I will kill them like the lion they are or feed on their hogs. It matters not for either way I will live to tell the tale.”

The words went out and the prisoner was dragged to the nearby village.

“I shunned such task.” Gawain looked to the rear of the figure struggling to walk on the wounded legs. “We are Legionnaires and here we are doing the …”

“Escort duty? Yes, we are. It’s to bring that man back to his village so that he can be cured.” Gaheris replied.

“To fight us on the next moon? This is utterly ridiculous. We ought to kill him now.” Gawain fumed with frustration. He was part of the seven riders assigned to send the barbarian back. “For all we know, his friends may have us targeted now.”

“And we in their sight.” Gaheris replied when the column then stopped. He saw the group of barbarians that emerged from the grassland like morning blooms. He counted five in the front and four on each side. They were all armed to kill then.

“Release the prisoner.” Gaheris heard his brother, the Decurio gave the command. The Decurio then rode up to the five men forming the front line. “Tell Lancelot or the Ghost, we will not tolerate his actions. If he comes again, we will hand him over dead bodies.”

“Lancelot….” The one in the middle roared out but was silenced by the voice from the left side. The figure was one of the four barbarians there. He approached the Decurio.

“Your words are an insult to me. Leave the land and we will not attack you.” Lancelot told the Decurio. “And we may just bury your dead,”

“Are you the one they called Lancelot or the Ghost?” Percival asked back,

“We are all the Ghosts here and our names are Lancelot. What’s yours, Roman?”

“I am not …” Percival swallowed back the words. He was not of Rome but from the northern tribes bordering Gaul. He was part Celt. He served the Legions to be free as a citizen and then to return to his land. He was also to save his brothers. “I am Taurini.”

“Whatever. I am not keen to know the families of Romans. Be off before we kill the lot of you.”

Percival took that as the offer to leave the place. He could fight them but his order was specific.

A Legionnaire takes his order to heart.

It works for most including the slaves.

8.

The attack came as a surprise then and it was made worse for they were in the midst of unpacking the items to the warehouse. The mess was made worse. There were no slaves for the Legionnaires but they do have followers. Those were the unknown or the ones without any homes. They followed the Legionnaires on the march and waited for the handout. Or the companionship. That one pays with rations and a warm bed.

“I do not want to do this.” The young lady complained. She was tall and her body was hidden by the shapeless shift. She shuffled her feet from the cold. She disliked the works but it was all she was worth. She was being a fool being there at the village. She took shelter there after her silly tiff with her father. It was not the first and won’t be her last. She joined up with a family there who were there.

“Yea, you can follow us.” The family head had told her. “Just tell everyone you are our sister.”

The young lady nodded. It was worth her coins that had lightened her purse. She had to work then. It was how she ended up trailing the Legionnaires on their march. It was her second week of trolling. She had discarded her other clothes and took up the makeshift wrap around.  During her march, she had been taken for a easy catch but she was good at fighting them off. She had her training in the arts courtesy of her father who never get out of bed without his sword. Since the incident, she kept a dagger on her belt. The last one who questioned her lost his right index finger.

“We don’t choose.” The other lad from the family was with her. He was moving some dried fruits that spilled over from the dropped crate. While he was scooping the fruits, he was also placing some into his mouth.

“You did with the fruits.” The lady commented. The lad gave out a chuckle. He then placed some in the tunic. “It’s for Kellie and mum’s.”

The young lady smiled. She had not seen so much care and love until she met them. They are unlike her own family’ squabbles and betrayals. It’s the traits of the nobles. With the family she was following she found something to look for.

“Hey, you.” The young lady ignored the call. She had learned that for among the followers are always the creeps. She felt the hand on her left shoulder and turned around with the dagger drawn. She paused then when she saw the figure.

“I did not know.” The lady sheathed the dagger. “What ..”

“I came to offer you this.” The figure was another lady but older . Her name was Igraine and she was part of the Augustus camp. “You might be hungry.”

“Thanks.” The young lady accepted the apple offered by Igraine. She then noticed the lady was well dressed in the green outfit and the hair do was complete.

“Did you …”

“I got my release today. It was actually yesterday before the attack.” Lady Igraine then broke down emotionally. “Why did it have to happened now?”

“Its over, Igraine. We are all safe now.” The younger lady replied. “Good luck on your release.”

“I will be back for you.” Lady Igraine looked at the younger lady. “I promise…”

“Don’t be. I will be fine.” The younger lady replied. “I am from the noble family too. My father name is Pendragon. I am his eldest.”

“Pendragon? Lord Pendragon?” Lady Igraine looked away. She then turned away before she stopped. “What is your name?”

“Guinevere. My mother is Lady ….” 

“Mention no more. I have to go now.” Lady Igraine left the young lady. The two lady interactions did not go unnoticed. The one who stood at the distance shrugged his shoulder but he saw he was not alone. He approached the figure waiting there.

“Do you eavesdrop on your allies?” Lord Pendragon asked. “Like jackals waiting for the scraps.”

“Don’t get at me. I was just passing by.” Lord Meleagant looked over the other’s shoulder. “Nice ladies. Is that….”

“Don’t push it, Meleagant.I am still your overseeing Lord. Listen to me, you left us for …where that was? Sicily?”

“Yes, I left. I had to get way. I had to find my …” Lord Meleagant looked away. “You would have done the same.”

“I did and came back here. I found what I was looking for and found more. I found an old ally who ran away when I was in need of one then. That ally was …”

“I did not run, Mathias. I sought my family heirloom there.”

“I hope you got it and you are now back to work for me. Serve me well, Lord Meleagant. Remember me, I am Lord Pendragon.”

The declaration of oath was then by the surviving mercenaries. The lucky ones were the Meleagant and the Augustus. They all stood there in a circle with a clear line drawn in the middle. The leader of the Meleagant named Belvedere stepped up.

“I am calling for the meet for we are the only survivals. The others have done their tasks.” Belvedere spoke up.
“We…”

“So, what’s with the …” The mercenary that stood on the other line cut in.

“I here to question our loyalty. Do we even have one? Or was it to the purse we hold?” Belvedere glared at the other. “We are warriors.”

“No, we are warriors with an empty purse.” The other replied. He then stepped up towards Belvedere with two others. “And we do not recognise you as the leader.”

Belvedere held firmly on the hilt of his long sword. He had left his shield behind at the fire place. He watched the trio; all covered in the fur coat and mail lined tunic, with the sword like his and the shield with the dagger slotted on the waist belt. He knew them as the Assante brothers; from across the channel of sea and were good fighters.

“Maurice, I have no fight with you.” Belvedere stepped back but the later had his right index finger pointed at the chest.

“We have none with you. So, we will back out.” Maurice replied and then stepped back but his youngest, Issac rushed forth and looked into Belvedere.

“We ain’t afraid of you.” Issac spat at Belvedere’s face. That was an insult to the other. Belvedere lashed out with his face into the Issac’s nose. The impact caused the other to backwards with the nose bloodied. It was the move that made Maurice to strike out. He laid his punch on Belvedere. The later fell backwards and swords were drawn. Belvedere levelled his sword at the trio.

“We need not fight.” Belvedere reminded the brothers but Issac was upset at the bloody nose and charged at Belvedere. The later blocked the sword swung at his chest and then moved his body sideways to elbow the other at the throat. Issac stepped back to avoid the move while his brother Maurice moved in on the right to stab at Belvedere. The later deflected the move and swung his own sword back. He barely missed Maurice but by then the last brother, Barry have stepped in with the sword slashing downwards. Belvederen withdrew and gauged his attackers.

“Bel, take this.” A shield was tossed to him. It was a rounded shield and suited him well. He look at the trio.

“Now we are even.” Belvedere rushed at the trio with his sword swinging from the right. He slashed into Barry who was standing on the left while his shield crashed into Issac. He had his right leg lashed out with a low kick at Maurice. All his efforts were met with resistance but he was among the trio. He ducked from the swinging sword of Issac with his shield upturned flat to punch at Maurice in the midriff. He then twisted his body to swing his sword downwards at Barry. His move cut into Barry at the left hip and seeing then Maurice retreating in pain, he moved in on Issac. He had his shield blocked the oncoming slash and thrust his own sword into the youngest at the right thigh. He then backed up and faced the trio with one wounded.

“You want more? I am here, barbarians.” Belvedere roared out. “I am here.”

Issac limping then was help up by Maurice and Barry in anger charged at Belvedere. His sword slashed downwards but Belvedere had his shield up and his sword thrust into the other’s midriff. It was a killing move and used many times.

“No….” Maurice called out and rushed to his other wounded brother. He saw the wound and knew that Barry was going to die then. “I will…”

“Barry is dead, Maurice. Stop the fight. We are even now.” Belvedere replied. “You know it. It was me or him.”

Maurice held onto his dying brother. He wanted to strike out but knew that they will lose more than one life that day. He looked away at Issac who was still recovering from the blows.

“Not today, Belvedere. I will come back after I settled his burial.” Maurice replied to Belvedere. “Our fight is not over yet.”

The group then dispersed with some helping the brothers to the tent. It was just another event for the mercenaries but their action did not go unnoticed then.

Arthur II; Artorius; The Legend and Myth Chapter 5 & 6

5.

Prima Pilus Artorius have a quiet corner in his tent where he placed his idol of worship. Almost all the Legionnaires worshipped Mars; the God of War but unlike them, he took his prayers towards Bellona; the Goddess of War. She was portrayed with the military helmet with sword or shield when she rides into battle on the four horses chariot.

“The barbarians as you call them are really no different from the Gauls of the northern lands. They are like us with their own Gods and Goddess. One of it was the Goddess of Wild Life named Artio. She was their protectorate and held great strength.” Lucius heard the Decurio who had remained behind after the others left the tent. “The slaves here revel you as one. They called you the bear from your name Artorius. It also mean Arth or the bear in their tongue.”

“I have heard of that many times when I was campaigning in Gaul. They feared me there for I once wrestled a local chieftain that was named the Bear too. He lost to me and paid with his life.” Artroius laughed. “What other children tale have you heard to amuse me today?”

“Heed my words, Artorius. We are in strange land that our mighty Legion have not been able to tame.” Percival shifted his concern to a personal level. “The cohort needed the idol to lean on. You may be the one they need. Their prayers to Mars have gone unheeded. We are marched to here to protect the land where others have left with relief.”

Artorius looked hard into his Decurio. He had never heard of the man to complaint of any bad days even when they were surrounded by Gaul warriors or retreated to the deep gorge. His Decurio had fought back and overturned the odds to emerge alive.

“What is your concern, Decurio?”

“Its not the …. I have ridden for days here and the land beckon to me like the dead warriors. They want to re-surface and kick me out. I am not a coward nor a …”

“Speak your real mind, Decurio. If not, I am ready to retire.” Artorius grew agitated by the behaviour of his aide.

“Okay, Artorius. I will speak my mind.” Percival voiced out in anger. “Ever since we assigned the task, we have heard murmurings of the barbarians and this particular land. It was not abandoned because it cannot be guarded. The wall does not belong here. It’s their land and….”

“Have the Legions stopped to ask any Gods of the conquered lands for their permission. We take what is there and make them part of us. Do you know how many other tribes we taken down and absorbed into the Legion strength. They served us like those from Rome.”

“There is the tale of the druid.” Decurio refrained from mentioning the name. “He is said to be an influence here.”

“The druid? I heard of him. Then you must of the Ghost? Are we so sacred of them that we are afraid to look at our own shadow?” Artorius placed his right hand towards the nearby brazier. “Even shadows are with a physical body. Destroy that and the shadow dies.”

“I hear you..” Decurio replied.

“Then leave me to my sleep. My Goddess have told me we have more days to live for.” Artorius then dismissed the Decurio. He then turned to look at the idol of his. He told himself, that Bellona also the Goddess of the Wild Life will be more powerful than this druid. With that he took the last drop of his wine and then approached his bedding. It will be a short rest.

If it was rest then the Ghost was not to have it. He had assigned the others to deliver the warriors across the wall. They have lived here long enough to know where the cracks that could allowed them to cross. That was not enough for his warriors have a need for more guidance. He knew that the only figure who could do that was the druid.

The druid was not someone you could find unless he wanted to be found. He lived in the forest away from the villages and even the isolated woodsman. Nobody knew if the druid was real or was he a human. Some of them believed that he even had any real form. He could be a tree or a creature of the land. Hunters have asked for forgiveness before they take a prey to feed their family.

But the Ghost knew where he could be found.

The Ghost was after all his friend, and at times, bringing food to him.

“Another sack of vegetables? You do know that I have plenty of them here. It’s the meat I desired.” The Ghost heard the druid that he had found by the pond hidden by the low hills. He lowered the sack load he had brought there. “Do sit with me.”

“I did have some salted meat in there. It will keep for days.” The Ghost approached the druid. He had seen the later a few times. He was clothed in the thick cloak over the knee length tunic and the hood covered his head and part of his upper face. From the uncovered part was the unkempt beard that had turned grey.

“You came to ask me for guidance.” The druid started off the conversation. “I will say go ahead but beware of their leader. He is a bear in the wilderness. We are all creatures of the wilderness. We are dis-united and we need the leader. One day Artorius may be that.  He may lead us to better days.”

“A Roman? Druid, have you lost your mind? We are the people of this land not creatures of the wilderness We cannot be led by the others. We will have our own leader.” The Ghost snapped out in anger. “We will rule ourselves.”

“Have we? Have we ever had a leader? Our land is overrun by the Romans. We are divided by half in our land and yet the tribes have not come to be one together. You are a great warrior but not truly the leader to them.” The druid looked towards the other then he reached inside the sack. “We can’t even agree to the food we should grow. I disliked carrots. Why do you bring me that?”

The Ghost did not reply. He was still upset at the druid for saying that the Romans will be the winner. He had fought them for years ever since he could wield the sword.

“Lancelot…” The druid called the Ghost by his real name. “You must see beyond your anger. Today he may be your enemy, but he may the friend one day. Artorius is the bear. You may call him Arthur. That is his name by us on this land.”

‘Enjoy your meat, Druid. I am to battle a bear=.” Lancelot left the druid at the pond. The former looked to the pond and muttered.

“He is much like you but like you, I loved you both.” There was a ripple on the pond then before all calmness prevail there.

As it should be before the battle.

“At them, you knave. Do you want live forever?” The Decurio swung his gladius at the barbarian head striking deep into the left side of the neck. He pulled the blade out and spurred his mount forward. The attack had begun before dawn when the sentries were looking to have the rotation. It was also the period when they feel relaxed after a night of guarding. The barbarians were few but their surprise attack caught the sentries off guards. He counted five from the skirmish and then got the alert that the barbarians were only a diversion. The real attack was at the elites.

The Marcellus.

Percival rode hard for the camp. The Marcellus had camped to the south much further than the others. He does not fault them for they reckon the furthest south will be safer. They have the Legions at the wall and all will fine as assume by the family.

The Marcellus have a small number of servants and five mercenaries to guard the family of five. Antonio Marcellus was not from Rome but a noble of the upper reaches of Sicily. He was a small time noble with no influence on Rome but some Senators took interest in him. They had him badgered into submission of his land and left the homeland. He staked his future was away in Gaul but found his way to Britannica instead. His family was his three daughters and his aging mother.

Percival arrived at the camp late and saw the carnage. He saw several bodies dressed like mercenaries but it was still dark to distinguish if they were barbarians, but the slaves were not there. They have scattered for safety, and the Marcellus’ were missing. The wagons were looted and the tents torn or burned. He rode among the dead with his sight of the killings; they were not named the barbarians without a reason. The dead bodies were gutted and the women folks were not spared. He saw none of the Marcellus.

“Find the Marcellus!” Percival gave the command. His riders have followed him and they took off on all directions.

Then it was time to pray for the ones they can save from death.

Citizens and Barbarians

6.

Lord Pendragon held the long sword in front of himself with his right hand while his left hand reached to the back to hold onto the love he cherished. Lady Igraine stood there with her back to the Lord, and herself holding the gladius given to her by the Lord. She had freshened herself the evening before, scrubbing the dirt from the body and then soaking herself in the warm water. No matter how many times she scrubbed her body, she still feel the dirt inside her. She was treated by one named Augustus, and to have suffered some indignity was her fuel to anger.

“You are tense, Igraine.” Lord Pendragon had then reached to scrub the lady’s back with the soft fleece. “You are safe now.”

“You took your time to find me.” Lady Igraine hissed out.

“I could not find you then. I swore my mother’s soul, I searched for you. I was preoccupied then in the north but agents of mine were travelling wide and deep to locate you. When I did, I had the Augustus ransomed you out but little I was to know that they have treated as such.”

“Kill them for me.” Lady Igraine told him. “Do it or I will drown before your eyes.”

“No, my love. How could you do that?” Lady Igraine felt the lips of her lover caressed her neck from the hair line towards her shoulder. “Let us not feel anger when we are now together.”

“I was ….mistreated. I was no hostage but the slave to them.” Lady Igraine pushed the head away. “They are no nobles. Only….”

“They are allies of mine now. I have befriended them to lent their strength to me. They will finance my soldiers and horsemen. I will ride once more as the head of the tribes.” Lord Pendragon replied. “I will no more be the lackey of Gorlois.”

At the mention of the name Gorlois, Lady Igraine slumped back on the tub. She knew the name well; her wedding to the man twice her age, a brute when tenderness was needed, the lady was in chains to him. She had borne him no child but she had herself fixed on his death. She dictated it with the other lover of her, fascinated with her beauty and even to the extent of sneaking into her chamber when Gorlois was away. He was unlike the other, the epitome of a lady’s need but her illicit affair was discovered. She was banished to her home village while her Lord Gorlois waged war on Pendragon. She was told that Gorlois perished in battle but when she thought rescued was near, she was spirited away by brigands. It was torturous journey that one until she was ransomed by the Augustus. What she thought of rescue once more turned out to be a period of slavery.

“Who are the Augustus?”

“Allies whom I met sometime back. They backed me in my war against Gorlois.” Pendragon replied. He knew the Augustus from the nobles of Rome who had come earlier when the Hadrian wall was not even built then. The nobles had ridden north to sought him for trade and soon they became friends. He offered escort guard for the nobles who went north. Then he met one name Auric Augustus, the son of the Legatus stationed there. Auric was not a Legionnaire but he served as a statesman. He liked the land more than his father, and even wedded a local lady. He has a daughter and was soon asked to return to Rome. There he flourished but Britannica beckon his return. He had many friends there including Lord Pendragon. When the request came from his friend to ransom the lady named Igraine, he took the opportunity to return. He told his wife, then Lady Alicia Augustus of the ransom. He was surprised at his wife refusal.

“Igraine is an enemy of mine.” Those words spat into Augustus’ face. “If you rescue her, I will leave you with our daughter.”

Auric Augustus had a hard time convincing her. Her final reply was the lady be a slave until her lover arrived. It was agreed and the deal concluded for Pendragon.  Although their camp was small during the journey, Auric told the others to keep them separated. It was a task left to Alain his overseer for the slaves.

It was a steamy evening then of heated passion but the lovers were then alerted to the attack of the camp just before dawn. Lord Pendragon dressed in haste and then passed to his love, the gladius he had kept for himself. He took on the familiar long sword favoured by his people.

Two mercenaries approached the couple and reported to the Lord.

“Lord Pendragon, we are here to protect you.” The burly figure in the mail coat over his tunic stood before the other holding the spear and shield. “Master Augustus expressed his concern for you. And ….the lady.”

“How many and who are they?” Lord Pendragon asked.

“Not many but they could be scattered to attack the other camps.” The newly arrived warrior reported. “We killed three of them at the outer perimeter.”

Lord Pendragon reached into his tunic and withdrew the signet ring. He gave it to the warrior.

“Take this and ride east till you reached my castle. Tell them I sent you. Bring the warriors here.” Lord Pendragon then reached into his tunic and withdrew some coins. “For your trouble.”

Trouble was at the Mealegant.

Lord Meleagant held his gladius in his right hand while the shield was on the left. He was dressed in his toga loosely tied by the sash on the waist. He was alerted by the guards and from his earlier experiences he slept with the weapons near him.

“Get the guards here.” Lord Meleagant called out. He had the guards circle them and then the servants were stationed outside. He looked to his rear and saw his son missing. He looked around and saw the younger Meleagant in the fore.

“Son, step back here.” Lord Meleagant called to the younger but the other ignored him. He was to step up when he saw his son charged into the dim light.

“Follow him.” Lord Meleagant called out to the guards. There was some hesitant then and the Lord called out once more. Two of the guards took the task. They trailed the younger Meleagant to the wagons. He was checking the horses.

“Master Meleagant, please return with us.” The guards called him but he ignored them. He then turned to look at the guards. It was then the hound charged into him. It was a huge one and pushed the younger Meleagant to the ground. The later reached up with his right arm to block the fangs from his face while his left arm was pushing at the creature. He struggled hard until the hound yelped in pain before it rolled off with the chest bleeding. The mercenary had stabbed the hound below the neck.

“Get up, Master Melegant.” The mercenary extended the arm to the fallen man. He was pulled up and had to be held up then for his legs was wobbly from the attack.

“Hold onto me, Master Meleagant. You will be fine.” The younger man did just that and then turned to coughed out the phlegm from his throat. He was patted on his back while he leaned over.

“Thank you…” Meleagant could not remember the names of the mercenaries; he never had to for it was his father who dealt with them.

“Belvedere. I am the leader of the guards.” The one who replied was a tall figure with wide shoulders and his coat of mails reached his thigh only where his laced sandals reached below his knees. He held a long sword and the rounded shield but he wore no helmet leaving his long braided hair to flow behind him down to his back. He had on a small axe in his waist belt.

“We need tio get back to your father.” Belvedere told the younger man. “He will be worried.”

“Please don’t tell him what happened here. I saw the movement and rushed over.” Young Meleagant confessed. “I should had …”

“It’s only a hound. One of ours placed there to guard the wagon. It’s fine now.” Belvedere then looked to the other mercenary. “No one will speak of this tale from now.”

No words were required then by the Marcellus when they were led in the dim light towards the western direction by the ten mercenaries who had captured them. The attack had come as a surprise; the small detachments of guards were slaughtered even before they could resist then. The surviving onius slaves were rounded up and told to leave by the other eastern side.

“Scattered and run. Make no noise unless you see the Legions.” The leader of the attackers told the slaves. “If you get through, find your way to the sea shores.”

Antonius Marcellus himself was roused from his bedding clad only in his loose toga looked back at his family. His wife was holding onto their two young daughters and the son was trailing behind. They were all unharmed and were clothed in the loose clothing wore to bed. He mentally estimated that they were force marched for half a hoare ( hours in ancient Roman ). They are not far from the camp, and he could make out the calls for searches. He could alert them but the attackers have warned them that they will die if they do so.

“Stop here!” The leader of the attackers called out. The entire group of over twenty sweaty and dirty fur coated figures stopped in their track and halting the captives.

“Let them go!” The leader called out. “We have dealt them a blow which they will remember well.”

“Wait!” One of the attackers stepped up. “We could hold them as hostage and then get paid for their release.”

“No, we are not like them. We will let them go to warn the others for coming here.” The leader looked at the others. “We are here to get them to move on and not be pursued as outlaws in our land.”

“Nay, I say we kill them. But let me take the young girls for my tribe.” Another one spoke.

“Stay put your action or feel my wrath.” The leader voiced out. “I will have them harmed.”

“Lancelot, we are …” The one who spoke earlier broke the oath taken. There were to be no names mentioned.

“Silence you oaf. No names.” The leader warned the others and then turned to the captives. “Leave now while you can.”

No one dared to challenge the Ghost to a duel.

Not yet.