Fallen Legion Page 24

  With an exasperated sigh, Vito dropped back into his chair dramatically - or rather, he would have dropped back dramatically if it were not for the fact that in the cramped space of the tiny room, all Vito accomplished was banging his head against the wall. He's not used to being overruled, Marcus thought. But I suppose that it's time he gets used to it. Domitian may be the leader of this movement in principle, but I am the military leader - the General once again. That leaves me in charge of the decisions that truly matter, and I will not have my subordinates undertaking courses of action that I believe to be foolhardy.

  "Well," Domitian said, "I suppose there is little more for us to discuss tonight. Vito has made arrangements for us to have quarters in an establishment which he assures us is secure. Vincenzo, I believe that tomorrow morning you should acquire a horse and ride to Xanten. You'll have your work cut out for you there."

  "Xanten? I have no desire to go to that flea-ridden hole in the ground," Vincenzo delcared vehemently. "Send some damned peasant to take care of the Sicambrii there. Surely there can't be too many of them."

  "We have no choice, Vincenzo. Marcus is required in Cologne, and you are the only other one who can single-handled work towards culling the Sicambrii's numbers."

  "Actually," Marcus said as an idea dawned on him, "I believe there may be another possibility. Do you remember the little ragamuffin who started that riot in the street a few days ago? What was his name? Andrenius, I think. We mentioned to him that we might be able to find some use for him and his friends. This could be the perfect opportunity to put them to use."

  "Consider it done," Domitian said. He sounded taken aback - he had obviously forgotten completely about Andrenius in the confusion of the last few days. "If, that is, you believe this boy and his friends will be able to have any sort of significant impact on the Sicambrii in Xanten."

  "I do," Marcus said. "I lived in Xanten for some months after the defeat at Agrippinensis - long enough to see the Sicambrii who came to occupy the streets. There are several hundred, but certainly not nearly as many as there are in Cologne. The boy seems to be sincere in his hatred of the Sicambrii - sincere enough that his hatred may be enough to overcome any lack of martial ability on his part. And in a worst case scenario, if they get caught, they really know absolutely nothing about us or our operations. Even if the Sicambrii torture them for days on end, they will be able to divulge nothing except for some vague statements about soldiers in Cologne who ordered him to go to kill Sicambrii warriors. They'll think him and his friends mad."

  "I'm going to side with Marcus again here," Domitian said. Vito didn't seem quite as upset at this prospect as he had at Marcus' earlier suggestions. "The boy and his friends will be dispatched to Xanten tomorrow morning to do whatever damage they can do."

  "I never thought I'd say this," Vincenzo said, "but Marcus isn't completely wrong. It's a good idea. Then again, I suppose that everyone has to get one right once in a while."

  "Something like that," Marcus muttered.

  "So," Domitian said, "Vincenzo, you and Marcus will be responsible for thinning the numbers of the Sicambrii in Cologne, starting immediately. Do you think you can handle that?"

  "Without a problem," Vincenzo said with a smile. "I'll start as soon as we get out of these cramped quarters."

  "While Vincenzo prefers to work under the cover of darkness," Marcus said, "I prefer to fight in the light of day. I'd rather see the look in my victims' eyes when they see their death rushing on than shove a dagger through their back and run away. On that note, I believe that Alexandra and I shall retire to the quarters Vito has secured for us, and I shall begin my work in the morning."

  "Good," Domitian said. "In the meantime, Vito and I shall get to work planning the proper distribution of troops for our assaults. We'll meet again in two weeks to discuss our final plans."

  Everyone nodded their assent at the plan, eager to get out of the cramped shack without any further delay. As they all prepare to leave, Vito distributed small sheets of parchment amongst everyone - small maps and written directions to a nearby inn, along with room numbers for everyone.

  Chapter XV

  It was nearly noon when a procession of half a dozen brown-robed figures weaved through the crowds in front of Cologne's city forum. The marble steps of the grand building were littered with people - Sicambrii guards mixed with Roman guards, all standing at attention in front of the doors of the forum, while everyday citizens milled about in the square beyond the steps. The crowd was buzzing with conversation which brought the noise in the area to a dull roar; this was the day that Julianus Vestatian had decided to venture forth from his governerial palace to meet with his advisors in the forum. The pomp and luxury surrounding Vestatian's parade had drawn people from all over the city and surrounding countryside; some had come to criticize the governor for such presumptuous spending of the provincial treasury (the criticism, of course, was delivered in hushed whispers, lest it be overheard by the wrong ears). Others had gathered to witness the grand event, laying aside any political beliefs in order to allow themselves to simply revel in the sights. It was amidst this chaotic blur of bodies and noise that the processional of men dressed in simple, hooded robes was able to elude notice.

  When the robed processional finally reached the steps of the forum, the men began to ascend toward the building above. As might be expected, several of the guards stepped forward to block the progress of the robed figures; the Sicambrii guards reached for their axes, but the Roman guards waved the barbarians off, stepping in front of the processional in an attempt to resolve the situation without bloodshed. The snarl of disapproval from the Sicambrii head guard was loud enough to be heard by the crowd at the bottom of the step, drawing more than a few curious glances.

  "I am sorry, sirs," the lead Roman guard said, "but we cannot allow you into the forum. The proceedings inside are private."

  "By matter of law," said the hooded figure at the front of the procession, "all proceedings in a forum are open to Roman citizens. We have the right to voice our concerns and hear the plans of our governor."

  "I am not a legal scholar," the Roman guard said, "and such things are not my concern. All I know is that I really cannot allow you access to this forum today. You see those Sicambrii behind me? Those blasted barbarians have orders to kill anyone who even approaches the door - and they are not bound by Roman law. If you try to enter the building, they will slaughter you. By the Gods, let us avoid unnecessary bloodshed."

  "Unnecessary bloodshed? Yes, I would like to avoid that," the first robed figure said. "But necessary bloodshed? That is something I can agree with."

  Before the puzzled Roman guard had the time necessary to decipher the cryptic remark, the robed figure's arms burst out from beneath the rough brown cloth which covered his chest. Polished blades glinted briefly in the sunlight before a pair of daggers sunk into the Roman guard's chest. The robed figure ripped the daggers out of the wounds, whirling around the guard's body to engage the second Roman guard. The Sicambrii, still standing idly at the top of the stairs, roared out a few phrases in their rough, heavy tongue as they seized hold of their axes. Their bravado was in vain, however: while the first robed figure was busy dealing with the Roman guards, the second robed figure in line reached into his robe and withdrew a handful of flat metal objects. His hands were reduced to a blur as he hurled the objects through the air at the Sicambrii. One by one, the flat metal discs found their targets as if guided by the hands of the Lord of Battle himself. Razor sharp edges sliced deep into flesh and bit into the bone beyond, cutting the throats of several of the Sicambrii warriors. The remaining disc cut straight into the skull of the remaining Sicambrii warrior, burying itself almost wholly in the man's head. In a matter of seconds, the Sicambrii warriors were all reduced to little more than a pile of corpses on the ground. It took scarcely longer than that amount of time for the first robed figure to deal the killing blows to the last of the Roman guards. In a flash, before most of the p
eople in the square below had realized anything was happening, nearly ten men lay broken and bleeding on the steps of the forum. The robed figures slowly turned to face the suddenly silent crowd; the first figure slipped his figures back beneath his robe and drew back his head in a dramatic gesture.

  The sunlight dazzled Marcus briefly as he pulled the hood back, but he recovered from the light's assault quickly enough that nobody noticed. He addressed the crowd with a booming voice.

  "My fellow citizens of the Empire of Rome: hear me and ponder my words carefully! For too long have we toiled under the burden of foreign heathens! Our rights as citizens of the Empire have been crushed; we have all seen the results of the leadership of our so-called 'Governor'! Innocent men, women, and children are killed in the streets for offences so grave as daring to look at a Sicambrii guard in the wrong way.

  "If you wish to remain nothing more than a footnote on the pages of our province's history, then I suggest you all return about your business without giving today's events a second thought. If, however, you wish to drive the Sicambrii to their knees and recapture what is rightfully yours - if you wish to escape from the yoke of slavery and oppression - then take up arms and follow us!"

  "Follow you? Are you not the one," a voice called from the crowd, "who lead our armies to the crushing defeat which gave power to the very barbarians you rail against?"

  "Yes," Marcus said as the voice was given shape. An old man stepped from the crowd and onto the lowest step of the forum's staircase. "Yes, I am General Marcus Ulpius. It was under my command that our legions were defeated at Agrippinensis, and it is under my command that they have been rebuilt - with the help of two other very familiar faces. I believe these gentlemen need no introduction."

  At their cue, Domitian and Antonius Ceresius pulled down their hoods and acknowledged the crowd with a small bow.

  "I am sure you all recognize these men for who they are: Legatus Domitian Caelius, Commander of the former Legion XXX Victrix, and Governor Antonius Ceresius, the rightful Governor of our beloved province. It is through their aid, and the aid of many of our fellow citizens - those who still remain loyal to the Empire - that we have been able to gather here today. Whether you join with us or not, know this: our armies have been assembled, and are gathering even as we speak to crush the Sicambrii forces throughout the province. It is only a matter of time until the rightful rule of law is restored to our fair land. You need only to ask yourself a single question: when the time comes to reclaim everything that is yours, where will you be? Will you fight on the side of the interloper - the usurper Julianus Vestatian and his horde of Sicambrii miscreants? Or will you fight on the side of justice, on the side of everything a true Roman holds dear - will you join with us today and fight back against those who have stolen your birthright?"

  Marcus punctuated his last words with a thundering war-cry, reaching into his robe and tearing his sword free in one smooth motion, waving it above his head as if the simple sight of his blade would rally the people before him. Regardless of how overly dramatic the gesture was, it seemed to draw the attention of the people. A hearty cheer of approval rose from the crowd, nearly loud enough to shake the foundations of the city forum.

  "That went well," Domitian leaned down and whispered into Marcus' ear.

  "So it seems," Marcus said. "But it's easy to gain cries of approval. We'll see what kind of resolve our fellow citizens have shortly.

  "My friends," Marcus continued, raising his voice above the din of the crowd, "I must ask for your attention for a moment longer."

  The crowd fell silent again, listening intently for Marcus' next words. Marcus grinned eagerly, pleased with the control the crowd exhibited.

  "As you all know, our would-be Governor is attending a meeting here, in this very building today! I'm sure our cries have not gone unnoticed, and it is likely that he is preparing to take flight even as we speak. Should we let him go?"

  Screams of 'no' rose from the crowd, accompanied by a great deal of fist-shaking and baring of teeth.

  "Then," Marcus said, his voice dropping to a hushed half-growl, "I believe we have our work set out before us. Gentlemen, I charge you with this task: riot in the streets! Kill every Sicambrii warrior that has dared to set foot in our city! And as for those cowardly Romans who have sided with Julianus Vestatian and the Sicambrii, I tell you this: offer them the choice to surrender - the choice to rejoin the ranks of their fellow citizens. If they refuse, kill them."

  The cheers of approval from the crowd quickly changed to screams of fury and wrath as the hundred-odd citizens began to unleash the pent-up frustrations which had built up over the last months. An unfortunate pair of Sicambrii warriors, drawn by the noise and spectacle of the gathered crowd, wandered into the square. The enraged Romans grabbed hold of the pair, dozens of hands snatching the men and tearing them limb from limb. The Sicambrii could do nothing but scream in pain under the assault as the Roman hands tore through skin and muscle, literally ripping the warriors apart. The grisly scene lasted less than a minute before the two warriors were reduced to nothing more than a messy pool of skin, bones, and blood splattered across the square.

  The slaughter intensified the citizens' blood lust; they split into several smaller crowds, each departing down a different street, screaming to draw the attention of more Sicambrii and calling the rest of the city's citizens to arms.

  "This may have been a mistake," Vito said to Marcus, drawing his hood back and watching the last rioting stragglers make their way into the bowels of the city. "They are out for blood and destruction; the city may suffer because of it."

  "Not at all," Marcus said with a touch more confidence than he actually felt. Truth be told, he hadn't been sure of the wisdom of the plan initially. "We do, after all, have it from good authority that the citizens of our beloved city will be able to discern between those who deserve to be destroyed and those who should be spared."

  The sixth robed figure reached up and pulled down the low-drawn hood. Alexandra's hair spilled out over her shoulders as the rough hood finally released its grip on her head. She was watching the proceedings with a confident eye, unshaken by the violence of the crowd.

  "Mars himself commanded us to perform his will, Vito," she said. "Unless you are so arrogant as to dispute the wisdom and foresight of the Gods, I think you would do well to place your faith in their guidance."

  "I would never disparage the commands of Mars," Vito said with a trace of annoyance in his voice. "However, it seems to me that the possibility of collateral damage seems high, given the enthusiasm our compatriots have displayed thus far."

  "Whatever the collateral damage may be," Marcus said, "we shall deal with it. What is most important now is that the Sicambrii in the city are dealt with - and since our presence is required here, there are none who can deal with the other Sicambrii save the citizens of the city."

  "Speaking of which," Domitian said, "we should get inside and do what we came to do. There is a very real chance that Julianus Vestatian has already found some method of escape. If we wish to strike down the foul creature here and now, it would help if we were actually present for the task."

  "Agreed," Marcus said. He shrugged his robe off, letting the simple brown garment fall and pool around his feet. The bright sunlight beat down on him, reflecting off his highly polished armour and transforming him into a column of dazzling white light. The rest of his entourage followed suit, shrugging off their robes and standing at attention in their beautifully polished armour - all except Alexandra, who stood at ease in her typical flowing white robes.

  Marcus whirled about to face the giant oak doors of the forum, sheathing his sword as his black-and-purple cape fluttering around him dramatically. He strode confidently to the doors at a steady pace; despite the urgency of their task, his movements were unhurried and dignified, befitting a warrior of his status. The tremendously heavy doors did not even slow Marcus down; his palms slammed into them and forced them open, revealing severa
l very frightened-looking Roman guards. Seeming to not even give the guards a second though, Marcus strode into the foyer of the portal, stopping in the centre of the room. He glanced around him at the sentries in the room, who were exchanging nervous glances and keeping their hands on the hilts of their weapons.

  "You have one chance to survive this day," Marcus said, addressing the four guards. "You can fight by our sides and live, or you can draw your swords against us, and you will die. Make your choice now."

  Three of the four guards dropped to one knee, casting their gazes down upon the ground in shame at their inability to even fight against Marcus. The fourth guard, looking considerably peturbed at the weakness of his friends, drew his sword from its sheath and screamed at his companions.

  "Who in Hades do you think you are? Will you bow down before this traitor, swearing your swords and your lives in his service, or will you fight on the side of our lawfully appointed ruler?"

  "Be silent, Cassius," one of the kneeling guards said. "You know as well as any of us that Vestatian has no right to rule; we serve him only because there is no other choice. These men are fighting on the side of true justice...or would you rather set aside your ideals in exchange for the favour of a real traitor - one who has abandoned his people in favour of the damnable Sicambrii barbarians?"

  "I'll make this very easy," Marcus said, drawing his sword from its sheath once more. The weapon seemed to take on a life of its own as it tore forth from the sheath at an amazing speed, seeming to the naked eye to be little more than a silvery-grey blur of iron. The blade came to a rest with its point outstretched towards the standing Roman soldier, the tip of the weapon hanging in the air in absolute stillness. "Attack me, if you dare, good Cassius. Your death will be quick, I assure you."

  With a vicious war-cry, Cassius leapt at Marcus, swinging his sword in a wide, lazy arc towards the utterly still General. Time slowed to a near standstill as Cassius' blade inched closer and closer to Marcus, and still Marcus did not move. It was not until the blade was nearly upon him that Marcus dropped down to a low crouch, letting Cassius' blade whistle cleanly over his head. Before Cassius had enough time to realize that his blow had not been landed, Marcus rose upward, swinging his shortsword upward in both hands with all his strength. The edge of Marcus' sword slipped between the bands of Cassius' armour, penetrating deep into the soldier's chest. Cassius' eyes widened in shock as his sword slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground with a clatter that seemed almost unreally loud amidst the complete silence which had engulfed the room. A trickle of blood escaped from the corner of Cassius' mouth, followed by a pained gurgling.