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.