Arthur II Chapter 9

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 them in battle.

Lamorak was not of the 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, do not join me. Just take care of the 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 nod 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 training 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 during a battle in Spain with 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. It was 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.

“The gladius is an extension of your arm. The only difference is that it can kill.” Lamorak told his men many times. “Without it, you will be dead by someone’s blade.”

“Know your gladius. You are to love and cherish it like your own fighting arm.” Lamorak gripped the hilt of his gladius. It was a fine weapon and that was not his first but of the few, he was to own, he likes the gladius. He had wielded it so much that the sword was unfelt by its weight except that it dree blood on the cuts. He was near to his end of service but till then, he will still need 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 an 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, Tristan.” 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.”

Tristan smiled and then left for his duty. It was essential to be recognized by your officers for that was the way to move up the ranks. Tristan 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 a 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,” Tristan muttered to himself. “Cousin…”

If the only bloodline runs 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 these 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 have food on the table….”

“Not when you were away. Gaheris was a poor hunter. I had to the hunting. And 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 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 we went missing. What about the land? She did not buy it. She had paid for the land but the Lord had 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, brother.” Gawain nodded to his brother.

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

“We are 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 girls.”

Antonio Marcellus looked at the girls huddled there at the open field looking at the remains of their tent. They were unharmed in the attack but they looked traumatized. He had tried to take care of his family but it was only his 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 …” Antonio Marcellus's voice broke on that.

“What we believed in? My son, you are a Marcellus. 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 harms my family without our retributions.” The older lady replied while she reached for the bones in her tunic. “The Marcellus will not let others harmed their families.”