Julius shrugged and turned away. Behind him, Gwendyrn called, “Is that an order, sir? That we should not alert these people to the danger?”
Julius turned. “We’re at war, Junior Centurion Gwendyrn. Everyone is in danger. Even us. Now, I think it’s time we gathered up our wounded and moved on the objective.”
As his part of the XIII Germania mobilized and prepared to move out, he noticed that Gwendyrn was missing. He looked around, expecting the man to reappear somewhere. He’s probably off scouting the perimeter, Julius decided as he hobbled along. Then he saw Gwendyrn slip out of a doorway. The former farmer quickly turned and walked away. When Julius gave him orders later, he found it odd that Gwendyrn made no mention of what he had learned on his scout mission.
As Julius and his men moved on toward their objective, alarm bells began to pierce the night, calling the local bucket and hose brigades out to deal with the spreading fire.
Bright daylight flooded the smoldering city. A small river ran west to east through Sundsvall, splitting it in two, and much of the southern part of the city lay in ruins. The fire had started quickly and burned quickly, leaving only the frames of a few stone buildings still standing. The stone temple of Gustav-Adolfus was one of those structures. Many of the townspeople had fled there for shelter, and were now fanning out across the city.
Julius sat atop the low stone wall that surrounded the waterfront district. Behind him, the ships of the expedition fleet were moored against the wooden piers jutting into the bay. The sounds and sights of the disembarking army washed over him as he rested his eyes for a while. It had been a long night.
First, the debacle at the landing site. Then the attack of the mecha-wolf and the slog through the streets afterward. Of course, there was also his choice of orders. The one that, in the light of day, surrounded by devastation and death, Julius was beginning to question.
Hearing footsteps approaching, he opened his eyes. Gwendyrn was walking along the balustrade, coming his way. Julius contemplated leaving, but he was positioned just perfectly and as he reached for his crutch, he knocked it to the walkway. Cursing, he reached for it, but the other man got there first. He picked it up and handed it to Julius, then settled against the low lip of the wall next to him. They stared at nothing in particular, each waiting for the other man to break the silence.
After a few long moments, Gwendyrn said, “Quite the vista, eh?”
Julius turned to look at his under-officer and nearly choked out his response. “I’ve seen worse.”
“Ah, you mean Brittenburg, right after the flood? Yes, well, I suppose there wasn’t a dam here you could bust now, could you?” Gwendyrn picked up a small stone and tossed it from hand to hand, still refusing to look his commander in the eyes. “I’ve heard reports that half the townsfolk are missing. They’re somewhere out there.” He gestured to the smoldering cityscape. “You know-mothers without sons, fathers without daughters, wives missing husbands. But I suppose, of course, that they deserved it, being barbarians and all. I’m sure they were the masterminds behind the raid on your hometown. . sir.”
Julius wobbled to his feet, his face twisted in outrage. He could feel his anger burning red hot inside him. He wanted to hit Gwendyrn, to wipe that smirk off the larger man’s face. How dare the man make fun of his loss and pain and suffering?
Gwendyrn tossed the rock off the battlement and stood calmly before Julius, ignoring the waves of anger and hate radiating from Julius. How can he be so calm? I ought to have him flogged or thrown out!
“How dare you!” Julius sputtered. “I’ll have you demoted and thrown out of the legions. Those barbarians destroyed my home, my family, everyone I loved. These barbarians might not have been there, but what’s the difference? I’ll have you strung up and flogged and-and-” Julius’s rant devolved into a string of heavy curses and invocations of the gods. He was waving his arms and gesturing at Gwendyrn when his crutch struck a crenellation and he pitched backward, nearly falling off the wall. His arms pinwheeled and the crutch dropped beyond the wall, bouncing off several stacked boxes.
Unable to use both feet to right himself, Julius flailed atop the rampart, looking like a turtle turned shell side down. Gwendyrn stood and watched him, unmoving. “Well don’t just sit there, help me!” Julius ordered, his voice cracking as he frantically tried to avoid falling the fifteen or so feet to the street below.
Just when he felt his body beginning to slip over the edge, Gwendyrn’s gauntleted hand grasped his arm and hauled him back over the edge. “Seriously, sir?” the big man said. “I’m glad you’ll take help from a barbarian when you need it, because otherwise it seems to be fair game on any of them.”
Julius glanced up at him once he had regained his composure, and for the first time he looked past the outward signs of Romanness-the armor, weapon, uniform. I always assumed he was mostly Roman, except for his name. “I didn’t mean it that way-”
Gwendyrn cursed at him. “Spare me your whining, sir. My family has more children than I have fingers on my hand. I lived in a shack my entire life on a farm no bigger than your apartment. We did not have an ‘autodryer’ to do the dishes. We didn’t even have running water!” Whirling, Gwendyrn marched away in disgust, then turned and glared at Julius. “Yes, you lost your family, and I’m sorry. You aren’t the only one who is having issues, sir, but you have to get it together. Your decisions impact everyone in this cohort. Other men, they can go about their business, they know it wasn’t these people who did the damage to the city. In case you forgot, it was a rebellion. Yes, the Nortlanders were involved, and that’s why we’re here, but we’re also here chasing those rebels.”
Julius stared at Gwendyrn, shocked. Gone was the humorous banter, the slightly childish bearing. In its place was an angry man, disgusted and ashamed of his commanding officer’s behavior. And Julius realized something then-he was ashamed of himself too. All his words and actions and choices weighed on him more heavily than the loss of his family.
Julius placed his hands on his head and slumped down, ignoring the throbbing pain from his ankle.
Gwendyrn sat heavily next to him. “I know how you’re feeling, sir. But take my advice. Keep the personal, personal. This is business. And those people out there, they’re business. We didn’t come here to slaughter innocents. I helped cover for your. . lack of sensitivity. . yesterday.”
Julius looked questioningly at him. Gwendyrn shrugged. “I woke up a neighbor and told them to run for the fire department when we left. No one deserves to die in a fire.”
Feeling more ashamed than ever, Julius sat in silence for a while. Gwendyrn remained next to him, waiting patiently. Finally Julius spoke. He had to clear his throat a few times to get the words out. “Junior Centurion, did I ever tell you about my family?” Gwendyrn shook his head. Julius smiled. “Let me rectify that right now.
“You would have liked Marciena. I joined for her, you know. To send her to school. I know it’s not the thing to do, but I wanted my sister to be smarter than me, maybe even marry up in this world. And my father, well, I think he’d like you too.”
Gwendyrn laughed. “If she’s anything like you, I bet your sister is a fireball.”
Julius thought for a moment, then chuckled. “She can be. Once she loosened all the chair legs in the house, and every time my father tried to sit down, the chair would collapse under him. My mom laughed so hard, she cried.” Julius could still see his mom crying with laughter as her husband broke chair after chair.
“That sounds like my older brother, Alaric. The boy was a natural-born troublemaker.”
“I thought you were a natural-born troublemaker,” Julius pointed out.