“How dare you plunder from these men!” he growled.
Ellard spat at him. “How dare I? Fuck you and your piety! If this is the only way for me to get anything out of this accursed affair, so be it!”
“You will not desecrate our people!” Torin shouted, leveling his spear at Ellard.
Radek stepped around behind him, his own spear coming between the two men. “Stand down, Torin,” he hissed.
Torin swallowed hard, yet he continued to glare at Ellard.
Ellard started laughing. “Look around you, Torin,” he exclaimed, waving his dagger in a sweeping motion behind him. “Our men are already plundering the dead. Are you going to stop all of them? The Romans strip the prisoners of their valuables. Are you going to tell them they cannot?” He walked up to Torin so that their faces were but inches from each other. “Or how about you go and tell them the entire plan? Shall we cut your throat in order to keep you quiet? The dead get plundered after a battle. . get used to it! You want nothing to do with it, fine. Go and pretend that this is all for some noble purpose, but don’t piss on the rest of us!”
Torin lowered his spear, a tear starting to well up in his eye. He turned and walked away as Ellard continued to heckle him.
Radek placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Leave him be,” he said. “We have enough enemies as it is. Do not go and make any more, needlessly. Besides, if he doesn’t wish to take part in the plunder, it just means more for the rest of us.” With that, both men continued their search of the dead.
Felix stood trembling slightly, gazing down at the gladius in his hand. The blade was bloodied from where he had thrust it into the back of an unsuspecting rebel. He was awash with a mixture of feelings. He was partly ashamed for having stabbed the man in the back like a coward. Yet he also felt a feeling almost of exhilaration brought on by the sheer power he felt himself in control of; it was as if he had the power to play gods, to decide who should live and who should die.
“But you’re not a god, are you?” Artorius asked, startling the young legionary. He knew exactly how Spurius felt. He had felt the same way when he killed his first human being, though there had been no remorse, given the circumstances. Artorius’ first blood-letting had taken place during the campaigns against the Cherusci in Germania, a campaign of vengeance brought on by the disastrous battle of Teutoburger Wald, a disaster in which his beloved brother had perished.
“It is a strange feeling,” Felix answered. “I know not whether I should feel ecstatic or ashamed.”
“I suppose it is natural for one to feel both,” Artorius replied. “You have taken life, and it is instinctive to feel like we have done wrong. By the same token we feel ecstatic because we have survived; the enemy has fallen and not us. By killing those men, you may very well have saved the life of one of your companions. Unfortunately, those troubled feelings you get will always be there. I feel them myself after every battle. I also wonder how it is that I am still standing while others fell.”
“My fear is that I may grow to like it,” the legionary stated as he began cleaning the blood off his blade. “I find this to be both exhilarating and repugnant at the same time. Will it always be like this?”
Artorius nodded.
Felix let out a sigh. “Well, as long as the repugnance overwhelms the ecstasy, I’ll be alright.”
Night had long since fallen by the time Sacrovir made his way over to the makeshift holding pen that housed the prisoners. The moon shone through the wicker bars that prevented the defeated Gauls from escaping. As the guards opened the gate to allow Sacrovir in, Broehain, a leader of the Turani, looked upon him in disgust.
“I should have known that you would betray us to the Romans!” he spat.
Nearly half his men had been slain in what was supposed to be a minor skirmish to fool the Romans; the rest were imprisoned with him, caged like animals.
“Please, you misunderstand,” Sacrovir pleaded.
Broehain was immediately on his feet. “What is there to misunderstand? You allowed them to get behind and slaughter my men! More than four thousand now lay dead, the rest of us damned to rot in these cages! Shall I tell the Romans of your real intents? That you only wished to use us as sheep to be slaughtered in order to mask your own rebellion?” “Gods damn you, man, listen to me! The Romans acted on their own! They assured me they would not leave the ridgeline. It is I who has been betrayed.” Sacrovir hissed at the man, incensed at how his plan was disastrously thwarted. “But we’re going to change that.”
“You had better be right about this, Sacrovir,” Broehain warned. “Play us false again, and I will have your head myself!”
“The Romans have retired to their barracks,” Sacrovir explained. “It is my men who have you imprisoned, not theirs. Therefore, it is my men who will free you.”
Broehain was loath to trust the man after the horrific slaughter of his men, but it seemed the only way to free himself and his men. “You take quite the risk by freeing nearly six thousand prisoners of war. What is your price?”
“I will be sending you and some of your men with Florus to the east. Proceed to Augustodunum and link up with him. You will first rally the remnants of the Turani, and from there you will carry on to where an entire regiment of Treveri cavalry is stationed. Florus will undermine their loyalty to Rome and subvert them to our cause. When all of you have returned, we will exterminate any legionary forces that remain in the province.”
Broehain took a deep breath through his nose and stood erect. “It will be done,” he replied.
Sacrovir’s blunder had cost many of his men their lives. However, he was still the only means any of them had of attaining their freedom from Rome. As Sacrovir left the stockades, he saw Julius Indus waiting for him.
“I think you have gone completely mad,” Indus remarked as they walked back to where Sacrovir’s mount stood waiting to take him back to Augustodunum. “Centurion Calvinus will not like it, and he will be suspicious, what with you freeing all those men like that.”
“Centurion Calvinus is no longer of any concern to me,” Sacrovir replied, coolly. “My men have already fallen upon Augustodunum; the revolution has started in full. We have taken the sons of the province’s nobles as hostages, in assurance of their continued loyalty. I further intend to subvert those young men to our cause.”
“But surely the Rhine Legions will not let this go on unchecked,” Indus retorted. “Yes, they only sent four cohorts, but that was before this rebellion turned into a full-scale revolution.”
Sacrovir turned and faced him. “You knew this day would come, Indus,” he said, his eyes boring into him. “If you really wish to prove your worth in this enterprise, you will accompany Florus to Augusta Raurica and help him to subvert your cavalry regiment that has conspicuously remained out of this conflict thus far. In fact, you will take Broehain with you tonight and link up with Florus.” Indus nodded in reply. “It will be done.” He waited until Sacrovir had ridden off before returning to find his own mount. He then rode off in haste, alone, and not in the direction of Julius Florus.
Chapter X I: Betrayal
Valens was the first to see the rider approaching. The section was posted on picket duty, with the purpose of providing early warning against enemy fugitives attempting to use the forest road paralleling the small fort. They took turns with two men awake, the rest asleep in full armor. Valens smacked Decimus on the shoulder and pointed down the trail, where the moonlight shown through the trees. The man was armed with a cavalry sword and wore a brass breastplate underneath his purple cloak. He rode at a slow canter, eyes searching desperately.