Fallen Legion Page 27

  "To say that you have faults," Domitian said, "would be kind. You are little better than Vestatian yourself, Marcus. You are a liar, a weakling, and a thief, and I tolerate your presence only because you could prove to be an asset for us. However, I have been reconsidering that position lately; I believe that your liabilities may be starting to outweigh your benefits."

  "You speak slander," Marcus said, finally beginning to give in to the rage which threatened to overwhelm his senses. "Consider yourself lucky that I do not strike you down for such insolence. I have never lied to you, and I have never stolen anything in my life. As far as being a weakling...if that is a theory you want to put to the test, you are welcome to do so. I caution you, however, that you would not be likely to survive such an attempt."

  "I do not slander you," Domitian said. "You once said that you were my friend and my companion, but you have shown that to be a lie. You have stolen something from me, Marcus, something which can never be replaced."

  "What is it that you claim I have stolen?"

  "You know full well what it is that you have stolen," Domitian spat.

  "I confess that I do not know," Marcus said. "By my word, by my very life, I have never stolen anything from you, Domitian."

  "But you have," Domitian said. "You have stolen the heart of the woman I love. Alexandra was to be my wife, but you swept down upon her like an eagle swooping down to snatch a fish from a lake. The one who was supposed to be mine is now yours, and you seem perfectly content to remain oblivious to that fact."

  "I was not oblivious to the fact that you harboured feelings for Alexandra," Marcus said. "Indeed, that fact has been recently brought to my attention by one whose wisdom far exceeds my own. However, that does not change the fact that I have stolen nothing from you. You claim that Alexandra was to be your wife. Had you two been engaged before I came to Cologne?"

  "No," Domitian said.

  "Had you made her aware of your intentions at all?"

  "No," Domitian said, his face burning red with anger.

  "Then what makes you believe that you had any sort of claim to the lady's heart? To the best of my knowledge, she never once displayed so much as the slightest bit of interest in your affections, Domitian, and you certainly never made any sort of effort to make your feelings clear to her. Yet now you stand before me, accusing me of stealing something that cannot ever be stolen - love is not a physical object, Domitian. It is not something I could slip into a pocket, or hide behind my back. It is something which can only be freely given from one person to another; Alexandra has seen fit, for reasons which still defy my understanding, to give her love to me, a man who is admittedly unworthy of the love of such a woman. I have likewise given my love, unworthy as it may be, to her, and she has accepted that. I made my feelings clear to her, and she responded to that. You have no claim to Alexandra, Domitian. You never did. Surely you can see that."

  "Liar! I will kill you for this," Domitian screamed, pulling his sword from its scabbard and lunging at Marcus. Reacting quickly, Marcus drew his own sword; stepping to his left, he deflected Domitian's blow and dodged the man's charge. Growling with rage, Domitian lunged forward again, thrusting his sword at Marcus' chest. Swiftly, almost effortlessly, Marcus knocked Domitian's sword to the side with the sword in his right hand and delivering a fierce blow to Domitian's solar plexus with his left fist. Domitian gasped for breath and tubmled to the ground, wheezing in pain. His sword slipped from his grasped and clattered to the floor, only to be knocked into a corner by a carefully placed kick from Marcus. As Domitian lay before him, panting and trying to regain his breath, Marcus levelled his sword at Domitian's head, tracing a slow path over Domitian's cheek with the tip of his sword.

  "Damnable fool," Marcus said, shaking his head sadly. "What did you hope to accomplish? You are a skilled leader, Domitian, but you were never a swordsman. You must have known that you would never be able to defeat me in a duel - why would you even attempt it?"

  "Forgive me, Marcus," Domitian muttered. His bluster and bravado had faded, leaving him a shamed shell of a man. "My rage got the better of me. I could not control myself, and this defeat is the price I pay for my arrogance. Go ahead; take my life. It is a fate no more severe than what I deserve."

  "I will not kill you," Marcus said with a heavy sigh. With a smoothly practiced movement, he slipped his sword back into its sheath. "Get up."

  Domitian slowly regained his feet. He stood unsteadily before Marcus, his eyes downcast. Shaking his head sadly, Marcus clapped Domitian on the shoulder with one hand.

  "You need to understand something," Marcus said quietly. "What has happened between Alexandra and I cannot be reversed. Even if it were in my power to do so, I would not. You were content to remain a quiet observer, obsessed with watching her from afar - do you really expect that she should have remained alone for her entire life simply because you did not have the courage to admit your feelings to her?

  "I need you at my side, Domitian - all of us need you at my side. You placed me in command of this operation when you assigned the rank of General, but that does not make your role any less integral to our success. If you are not willing or able to fulfill your role, and cannot keep your emotions under control, then we will be forced to find a way to survive without you, and that would be regrettable. What do you say? Will you be able to work under my command and set aside any misgivings you have about Alexandra and I, or are you going to leave the city tonight and never return?"

  "I will do my job," Domitian said reluctantly. The fire seemed to have faded from his eyes, but it was obvious that he still considered himself to have been wronged by Marcus. "And I will do my job with all the dedication I have available. I can only hope that you will have the capacity to lead us to victory over the Sicambrii."

  "Do not worry about our victory," Marcus said. "That is inevitable. I have it on very good authority that our forces are quite capable of defeating the Sicambrii. As long as I know that you will fight by our side, and will not do anything detrimental to our success, then I will happily forget that this little incident ever happened."

  "I think that would be best," Domitian said with a weak smile.

  "Good," Marcus said. "And try not to think too much about what may have been between you and Alexandra, Domitian. There are many, many women out there, and the majority of them would be more than happy to settle down with a man like you."

  "A man like me? You mean the sort of man who would attack his best friend in a fit of jealous rage?"

  "I told you," Marcus said, "that the incident is forgotten. As far as I am concerned, it never happened. You are a man who possesses all of the attributes that a woman might seek in a man - you are personable, intelligent, courageous, powerful, and handsome. I cannot imagine that you would have any sort of trouble finding a mate, if that is what you seek."

  "Thank you, Marcus," Domitian said, "but I think that for now I will have to content myself with being a soldier. There is not enough room in my heart and mind for anything more than that right now. When our battles are over, and we have triumphed over the Sicambrii...maybe then I'll be able to settle down and find a woman who can love a grizzled old soldier. Until then, I shall bear arms with the strength and grace due of a Roman soldier. We shall do the Empire proud, my friend."

  "Indeed," Marcus said. "Come, now. It is time for us to retire to our respective chambers. It is late, and unless I am mistaken, we have a scheduled troop inspection tomorrow morning. We have much to do, and little time to sleep. I suggest we take advantage of the few opportunities we get."

  ***

  The very next morning, Marcus met Domitian and Ceresius at the city gates. All three men were dressed in their finest dress uniforms, each very much looking the part that they were there to play - mighty warriors and leaders all. Marcus approached the two men with a slight nod, noting with no small amount of satisfaction the look of annoyance on Ceresius' face. Domitian seemed nervous, almost sheepish as Marcus approached, but was
obviously willing to keep his emotions under control, just as he had promised.

  "Ceresius," Marcus said with a smile, "it's good to see you looking so well this fine morning."

  "Shall we just get this over with? I have no desire to be paraded around like some sort of prize monkey," Ceresius said with a sneer. "You know as well as anyone that I should be the one leading these troops into battle, not merely acting the part of some bit of background scenery to your little revolution."

  "What I know," Marcus said, "is that it is largely - if not completely - through the fault of your own inept military leadership that we were ever placed in this situation to begin with. Now, it just so happens that you are in a unique position to make up for your former faults. With your presence, you add a further sense of legitimacy to our rebellion against Vestatian and the Sicambrii - your cooperation in that regard could very well be enough to secure your life when all this is over."

  "What are you talking about? I know of no reason that my life would be in danger," Ceresius said.

  "Then you are a fool," Marcus replied. "You know full well that Domitian and I are going to petition the Emperor for your removal from the position as Governor when all this is over. If you decide to make things difficult for us, we shall not only petition him for that removal of your title, we shall also ensure that you are brought to trial as a traitor to the Emperor for your foolish actions - and if you believe that we do not carry sufficient influence with him to guarantee a verdict of guilty, then you are sorely mistaken."

  "He is correct," Domitian added. "Just follow our example and keep your mouth shut, Ceresius. Do not speak unless we direct you to do so, and if you must speak, watch your words carefully. Keep in mind that you are nothing more than a prop in our undertaking - a prop which can be discarded if the situation requires it."

  "Fine," Ceresius snapped. "Let's just get this over with."

  Marcus took the lead in the trio's solemn procession; as the three men stepped outside of the city gates, they were greeted by the sight of six and a half thousand armed and armoured soldiers standing at attention. The soldiers stood in long, neatly formed lines stretching the entire length of the city's west walls; some of the soldiers were gathered around large siege engines, while others stood holding bows and arrows, ready to attack at a moment's notice and a single command. Slowly and methodically, Marcus proceeded down the first line of soldiers, carefully examining each man who stood at attention. After walking past dozens of soldiers, Marcus suddenly halted in front of a soldier at random. Marcus looked at the soldier closely; he was little different from any of the thousands of other men standing there. The soldier stared off into the distance, undisturbed by the sudden attention he was drawing from his General.

  "You," Marcus declared, "soldier! Name and rank!"

  "Private Andrenius Callius Janiculus," the soldier cried out. He had obviously been drilled well; his voice didn't show the slightest trace of a waver as he called out his name and rank. "Sir!"

  "Private Janiculus," Marcus said quietly, "are you prepared to fight to the death if necessary?"

  "Yes, sir!"

  "Will you fight our enemy with the strength and skill of arms due of a Roman soldier, forsaking all other commitments to face your enemy on the field of battle?"

  "Yes, sir!"

  "Do you hate the Sicambrii, Private?"

  "Yes, sir! The Private hates the Sicambrii, sir!"

  "Why do you hate the Sicambrii, Private?"

  "Sir, the Sicambrii raped my wife and killed my family!"

  "And to what lengths would you be willing to go to if it meant you could ensure that every Sicambrii on the face of the earth was wiped out?"

  "Sir, I would stop at nothing to ensure that goal!"

  "Good," Marcus said. He clapped his hand onto the soldier's shoulder. "You shall fight well, my friend."

  The soldier remained absolutely still, despite Marcus' praise. Not even the trace of a smile crossed his face. Marcus noticed the stoicism with approval. His hatred for the Sicambrii is untouched by even the slightest touch of compassion,Marcus though. He'll be a fine warrior, though I worry about releasing him back into society after the Sicambrii are defeated. Warriors so full of hate rarely integrate back into the population smoothly, and he may soon find himself taking out that hatred on the people around him. I'll need to ensure proper care is taken with him when that time comes. Perhaps a posting to a position on the outskirts of the province, where there will remain plenty of barbarians for him to take his agression out on.

  The inspection continued in short order; Marcus knew that he had many soldiers to see, and that very little time could be spent dallying around any particular part of the assemblage. In fact, it was over an hour before Marcus stopped in front of another soldier. This time, the soldier Marcus stopped in front of was a small man who looked almost comical in his oversized armour. The man trembled slightly as Marcus approached, and despite his obvious attempts to control his anxiety, the soldier was unable to completely avoid shaking.

  "You," Marcus demanded, "soldier. Name and rank."

  "C-Cassius Meredii Cicerium. P-private Cicerium, sir," the soldier stuttered.

  "P-private? Do you have a speech impediment, soldier?"

  "No, sir," the soldier said with a wince at Marcus' brusque tone.

  "Then tell me your name and rank," Marcus shouted, "and do it with some bloody conviction!"

  "Private Cassius Meredii Cicerium, sir!"

  "Private Cicerium, do you have the courage of your convictions? Do you have the strength of body and mind to take the lives of your enemies and do what is necessary to protect your province?"

  "Yes, sir!" The soldier's hesitation seemed to have vanished, replaced by a suddenly unwavering confidence.

  "Good to hear, Private. As you were."

  The soldier nodded slightly, then returned to standing utterly still - or at least, as close to still as the nervous Private seemed able to come. Marcus turned and continued down the lines of soldiers, Domitian and Ceresius trailing in his wake. The rest of the inspection took another two full hours, but none of the troops seemed bothered in the slightest by the lengthy inspection. By the time Marcus reached the last soldier, standing in the front line of the army's ranks, he was ready to ascend the steps and climb onto the hastily erected platform which had been constructed to face the troops. Two centurions stood flanking a podium in the centre of the stage, standing silently while holding vinewood staffs topped with bronze eagles, the symbol of the Roman Empire. Marcus stepped behind the podium and gazed out at the massive crowd which was assembled before him. After a moment of silence, Marcus addressed the crowd in a booming voice which was loud enough to be heard by even the soldiers who stood at the furthest edges of the crowd.

  "There have been many days and much effort which have led up to today, men. Today we stand in front of Cologne, the liberated city, free from the reach of the vile and blasphemous Sicambrii!" A cheer rose up from the crowd, but their jubilance returned to stoic silence as Marcus waved a hand for quiet. "As many of you are aware, we have suffered losses to get us to this point. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but there will be many more such losses before we are able to look at a map of our province and see that it is entirely liberated from the Sicambrii.

  "That is the bad news. The good news, however, is this: the Gods themselves are on our side, and with their assistance, we shall not fail to defeat our hated foes! Mars has spoken to me through the city's Oracle, and he has given me the mandate to lead you into battle, justified to restore to power the rightful Governor of this province, Antonius Ceresius!" Another cheer erupted from the crowd, and Marcus did not silence this one. The men eventually returned to silence again, waiting expectantly for Marcus to speak again. He did not disappoint them.

  "I tell you this, my friends: we shall triumph, and the blood of the Sicambrii will stain the ground under our feet!"

  The crowd roared approvingly; as Marcus surveyed the proud men
who cheered at the prospect of their impending victory, his silent reverie was interrupted by the approach of a breathless scout who stumbled up the steps of the platform. One of the Centurions rushed to intercept the man and, after hearing a few whispered words from the scout, the Centurion escorted the winded man to Marcus' side, mindless of the still roaring crowd.

  "What is it," Marcus asked, "that cannot wait until this assembly is finished?"

  "They are coming," the scout muttered, still panting for breath. "The Sicambrii are on the march; they will arrive in only a day."

  Marcus whirled to face the crowd again, waving his hand for silence once more.

  "Men," he cried out, "enjoy yourselves this evening, for tomorrow we fight! Be prepared by dawn to face your mortal enemies - and indeed, your own mortality!"

  ***

  Watching from the seclusion of his bedroom high in the Governor's mansion, Marcus gazed out at the torchlights and bonfires which dotted the fields outside of the city. Even from a distance, it was obvious that his men were enjoying themselves on the eve of what was sure to be a monumental battle.

  "You seem on edge this evening, my love," Alexandra said, gliding into the room with her usual grace. "Is something of concern?"

  "Only the possibility that my men may be enjoying themselves a little too much this evening. They all know that there will be battle tomorrow, and yet I'm sure half of them will be fighting with hangovers. That could spell doom for us."