15.
Decurio Galahad looked to the wall they
have been labouring over the week. It was not a tough task initially with the
Legionnaires assigned to the task. The stones for the wall were still there but
with the weather and soft ground, some of them were embedded into the soil thus
the task was to dig them out. That took time and effort. The Decurio assigned
his riders to assist; using the mounts to pull the stones out and dragged it to
the wall. It worked for a while and then the Optio stepped in.
“Decurio, move your Equities to do the
patrols. They are best suited there. I have other help coming in.”
The Optio managed to rope in some others
from the other two Cohorts at the other section of the wall. The extra help were
Legionnaires and they came with foul moods.
“We just done our part and now here to
help you.” It was true then that the others have done their walls for they
arrived earlier and there was not much to do compare to what the First Cohort
had to handle. “Trust the First Cohort to get to the bad sections of the wall.
What is wrong with them? They are hasty to die or to serve the Emperor more
diligently.”
Those words were not taken well by the
First Cohort and fights erupted on the first day of works. The Centurion had to
step in and deploy discipline actions. It brought some control to the
Legionnaires but the animosity was already in them.
“Decurio, do I have to repeat my order?”
Optio Lamorak poured in scorn to his words. He was upset too that the Equities
were excused from the works but it was also essential that the patrols go out
to ensure that they do not get attacked once more.
“No, Optio. I will deploy the riders now.”
That was when Decurio Galahad rode off to find his riders. He split the
Equities into small groups to patrol the boundary. Each group was four or five
riders.
“We will patrol the land in a narrow
perimeter to all sides with the northern and southern the length. I want every
settlement; village or huts identified and the inhabitants counted. Do not
engage if there are hostilities. Just back up and we will ride back in
strength.”
He had travelled with another four others
leaving Gawain and Gaheris to take other patrols. He took the northern east
route with the low hills and wide expanse of grassland. There were the clusters
of trees hidden in the low valleys away from the winds which were their main
search but some riders preferred to skirt the boundary than entered the trees
area. They feared the trees may be alive but Decurio was not one to fear the
unknown. He searched the area with his focus on the solitary huntsman abode to
the possible witch lair. He was told that there were a few for the people there
believed in such acts. They looked to the witches for everything from healing
to hunting. It was soon that he found one; the old crone covered in creature furs
and sporting bad hairdo and the odd bones on the walls.
“You Romans do not know your lines. If you
cross this one, you will all die.” The old crone sat there fingering the bones
in her hands. She tossed the bones onto the ground. “It spelt your demise.
Among the Equities and also the
Legionnaires, there are many who believed in such acts but not Galahad, He was
sceptical of it and had deemed his sword was the equal of these acts.
“Spare me your spells, Witch. I am just
here to check on you.” Decurio turned to leave the old crone to her actions. He
then stopped. “If one of my men gets sick or dies from mysterious illness, it
will be you that will accompany them to the next world.”
“Mere words to scare an old lady, Roman. I
have seen more than that. Go back to your camp. The dead will seek you soon.”
The lady told the departing Decurio who had refused to listen but one of his
riders had dropped some coins for the lady and whispered some request for
protection. The lady laughed at the rider who had then joined the others. They
rode out and then the sounds of fighting came to their ears. It was near to the
wall.
“Ride!” Decurio called out. They rode hard
towards the wall, and saw at a distance the single rider slashing at two others
on foot. “Stop! I demand you stop.”
Lancelot heard the call but he was
fighting the remaining undead who was holding a spear. He knew that he was out
of time and decided to retreat. He turned his horse and rode towards west.
“You two catch the rider. I will handle
the one there.” Decurio rode straight for the standing figure with two other
riders. When he approached the figure, he was shocked by the sight. It was a
dirty unkempt figure in the tattered tunic holding the long spear. It was a
pilum that was held by the Legionnaire. What shocked him was the figure’s face
was hideous with a section of the skull on the left shattered and the flesh
covered with maggots. He also recognised the figure.
“It’s Mahdut.” The mercenary had died last
week during the attack and was buried in accordance to his ancestral tradition.
“He lives…..No, he is …undead.”
Decurio heard the other rider called out
the name and the warning. He spurred his mount to avoid the undead mercenary.
He had heard of the ritual to rise the dead but never had fought one. He
grabbed his bow but one of the riders had dismounted and approached the undead.
The rider held the gladius with both his hands. He muttered some prayers and
then went in for the kill. He cut at the upper limb holding the spear and
severing it with the skin left holding the severed arm. He then swung the
gladius in a backward move towards the neck. The blade cut into the side of the
head on the right and was stuck there.
“Sparus, help here.” The rider called out.
The other rider rode in with the mount and slashed the undead in the left
shoulder at the juncture by the neck. His action dislodged the other’s gladius
who had then thrust the blade into the neck of the undead and then twisted it
sideways before he severed the head.
“It’s done.” The undead lies dead there.
The other two in pursuit of Lancelot was still in the race headed towards the
cluster of trees in the low valley. Lancelot rode into the valley but the other
two riders held back. They were wide not to pursue for there were tales that
the trees were alive and will hurt those who are not invited. More so when they
are pursuing one who rode in brazenly.
“Was it the Ghost?” The rider on the left
asked.
“I don’t know but I think it’s him. We
will tell the Decurio we lost him. There are some places we do not entered
without invitation.”
Lancelot sat on the mount and looked at
the riders. He smiled. It was his sanctuary there on the land. His own
boundary.
Witches and Warriors.
16.
Lucius Artorius leaned forward on his seat
inside the tent. His right hand’s fingers were caressing the side of the goblet
that held half its content then. He knew that it was too early to get drunk on
the wine with the sun still above the horizon but his mind was moving
elsewhere. He had visions of himself then younger as a Probate Centurio. He had
just joined then and was attached to Legio VI Ferrata then based at Judea. It
was one of the earlier conquest of Rome with the land switching conqueror over
the period and finally the defeat of Bar Kokhba by Emperor Hadrian that the
place was named Province of Judea. The local people, the Jews were sold as
slaves or deported to other areas. It was when he first met his first witch.
“The two of you move to the rear. I don’t
want any runners.” Centurio Artorius was adamant on keeping his numbers intact.
He commanded a small detachment under a Decanus. The low-ranking officer
commanded eight legionnaires.
“The two of stay outside. Anyone passes
us, stop them.” That was a relief to the two who was posted there. The other
four with the Decanus followed the Centurio inside. It was just another mud
caked abode like the many others on the street but that one was marked by the
informer. The Centurio rushed in with the gladius drawn and saw the inside of
the place was devoid of any furnishings that normally adorned the abode but
that one held only the scented candles and the small fireplace with the lady
seated there. She was not old as expected of many but a beauty of the tanned
skin. The chamber was however adorned by the dead creatures skins with the fur
intact.
“Lady Lisette, you are …” The Centurio
stopped then, when he saw the creature emerged from the rear of the lady. It
was not any creature but of the yellow mane and the huge body with the snarling
fangs. He had seen drawings of this creature from the units that served far
south in the other continent. They named it the King of the Wilds.
“I trust you meant well to serve the
Emperor by coming here but could you leave here serving him? I naught think you
could.” With that, the lady commanded the creature to step forth. With each
step it took then the creature seems to had grown larger until it filled up a
large size of the chamber. Two of the legionnaires turned to run but the
doorway was not there. Where there was a doorway was then the gaping jaws of
the serpent. They screamed in panic and it was then the Centurio thrust his
gladius into the lady. The blade pierced the heart but the lady sat there
smiling.
“You wanted my heart…” The lady reached
towards the blade and pulled it out along with her heart which was throbbing as
if it was alive. “You may want to feast it.”
Centurio Artonius pulled his arm back and
swung it at the lady but she blocked it with her left hand. Artorius had then
pulled his pugio the dagger with the left hand and stabbed it at the lady’s
throat. He then cut it to the left to sever the flesh there. The lady’s head
fell back but it hung by the neck bone with the lady screaming. The voice was not from the throat but from
within the chamber. Artorius dragged his pugio once more to sever the bone
there and with a hard kick, the lady went down backwards. That action severed
the head and the lady stopped screaming. The creature that stood behind her
also dissipated into the air, and the doorway appeared.
“Centurio, you are cursed. That was a
witch. Her death will be avenged.:” The Decanus told him. Artorius looked
towards the other with his left hand. His hand was trembling and then it spread
to his chest and down his legs, He fell down on his knees before the dead witch
as if he was in prayer towards her. He keeled over and threw out the remains of
his stomach. He retched in pain and then fell to his side. It was the Decanus
pulled him away from the dead witch to the wall. He turned over onto his back
and groaned.
“She is dead, Centurio. You are …..safe.”
Artroius heard the Decanus. He mumbled whatever words of comfort that he could
recalled then. He called for the protection of Mars, the love of Gaia before he
blacked out. It was over ten years then and Artorius had not encountered any
witches or acts by them, although he slept with the rosary beads give n to him
by his mother then from the monks. He had not any good sleep since then.
Not even when he heard the report from the
Decurio.
“Prime, the men are that easily swayed by
such tales. I killed the …. Undead but now I am not sure. Maybe the attacker
was not dead before. He could had died when I killed him.” Decurio Galahad was
not convincing. “I don’t see why we need to worry about.”
“None whatsoever.” Centurion Artorius
replied. “We are the Legionnaires. More to that, I have news of the barbarians
are grouping to attack us. That may distract them from the undead.”
The words of the imminent attack have
spread to the others like wildfire. The tale of the Undead was shuffled and
dealt with more gory details that even the Auxiliaries held special prayers
that evening. The forty strong warriors were not in the battle during the last
attack for they were at the other side of the wall having their own campsite.
They were busy guarding their camp as per instruction from their leader, Chief
Asterix. The Gaul prisoner turned serving mercenary have no real love for the
Romans but his servitude was to pick his day when he could overcome them. It
was better to get closer to the enemy to know its weakness. He had discovered
few but he was short of warriors to handle it. He needed time to stage it.
“Where were you, Chief Asterix?” Optio
Lamorak questioned the other. “We did see any of you.”
“We were guarding the wagons there.” It
was true that the Auxiliaries held the care of two wagons which housed the
idols and prayers materials.
“Forty warriors? I am sure the Gods will
be pleased with you.” The Optio remarked back.
“Optio, one cannot taunt the Gods. Their
wraths are great and deadlier.” Chief Asterix mocked the other. He knew the
Optio was not a believer unlike the others. He was raised in the forest and his
only worship was his grandmother and she was said to be a witch.
“I feared no one but my own death which I
will then join my ancestors. Then I will come back to hunt the one who killed
me.” The Optio replied. “You can be that one but be prepared to die first for I
will do you myself.”
“I hold no desire to fight you, Optio. I
will die for Rome when the time arise.” Chief Asterix smiled. “For Rome.”
It was what was on the Chief’s mind. The
so-called attack by the undead was unnerving. He had seen his share of
witchcrafts when he was in Gaul. The tribes of Gaul held man of their own from
witches to druids, with their potions and bones. He had not mocked them but his
beliefs in them have diminished with the defeats that they incurred by the
Legions. It was whispered then the Romans held more powerful Gods which
prompted him to join them. He had seen none of them except the decorative idols
and paraphilia. Initially he was
apprehensive to approach it but soon after travelling with it, he felt a
loathsome for it.
“Have you heard …” The Chief looked at the
other mercenary re-telling another version and decided to cut it off there.
“The possible attack by the barbarians?”
The Chief looked to the others gathered there at the fireplace. “I feared them
more for they come charging and slashed you with the sword. Your innards
spilled out like what you saw in the slaughter. You will then kneel down and
scooped the innards to push them back. Your blood mixed in the innards and
there is the pain. You will scream but the sound you made are like your
innards; empty and meaningless. For you will be dead soon and no one will care
then.”
“Not even the Gods.” The Chief looked at
the gathered. “We are doomed.”
Then the Chief laughed.
“Get back to your tasks. We got a war
coming……warriors… I hope you are worth of it.” The Chief motioned to the
wagons. “They are not.”
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