The Order

-Prelude: The Tribe-1

They ran in all directions, screeching like falcons, leaping like dogs; great commotion swelled within the many huts and fire pits. The men wore bearskins with hair that was long and tangled; their beards were tied into braids and knots.2

A great beast of a man threw his arms up speaking in a deep guttural voice. His language was a disgusting and untranslatable speech. Men gathered around this chief as women peered out from the hut openings.3

The giant yelled, silencing those around him. He spoke low and brusque. He was telling of sacrifices to a ruler none of them knew, of one who governed the great provinces of the south. The chief screamed once again simultaneously lifting an emblem of a horrific serpent; he ordered rebellion. The barbarians cheered as they flashed their yellow teeth.4

-Nero-5

Images of forgotten battle flew thru my mind filled with anxiety, frustration, and anger. I was a centurion of the Third Legion. My men, all yeoman farmers, were loyal to me and would fight for Rome.6

Recently called to the Emperor’s throne room, I stood outside. As I knew he liked to keep people lingering in wait, I was tempted to throw the doors wide open, being the impatient person that I am.7

The doors budged open slowly. “Finally!” I breathed.8

I remember scoffing when I first saw him. Nero was standing on his trellis over-looking a burned-down citadel, his instrument in hand. What a nasty ugly man he was, short and balding. He had an unpleasant sneer that twisted his small mouth.9

“Ah, Romulus!” he exclaimed when he noticed me. The Emperor embraced me as a long lost friend back from a perilous journey.10

“Hello, Nero,” I managed to utter in reply.11

“Centurion!” he corrected. “You are to address me as Sir or Emperor!”12

“Yes, sir.”13

“Good!” He turned away to put his fiddle in its embroidered case. His throne room was a work of art, lavishly decorated with gold and silver. Stained glass windows were on the wall opposite the ten cubit, chestnut doors. Dark drapes covered the marvelous windows; Nero hated the sun thinking it mocked him.14

He seated himself atop his throne and, looking down at me with his pudgy face and green-leafed crown, he addressed me.15

“The upper Vandal barbarians are in rebellion.”16

Rebellion? They had a right to it after being enslaved by this man, I thought to myself.17

“I will not stand this intolerance!” insisted the ruler pounding the arm of his chair. “They are to be punished!”18

“But Emperor, they are but a small group.” I approached his seat. “What could they have done?”19

“They have gathered together and refused to pay their tribute. They’ve even raised a standard bearing the symbol of a dog, for Peter's sake!” The pudgy man stood up trying to enhance his speech, his crown crashing to the floor. As he stooped to retrieve it he continued to outline his demands.20

I was hesitant to comply that day, for my mind was filled with contempt for this abominable ruler and sympathy for the northern tribes.21

-Mountains-22

I awoke the next day in a barrack strewn with clothes, dust, and dirt. My men still slept on rough-hewn bunks, as the first rays of sunlight had not yet appeared on the horizon. I clambered out of my stuffy cot. The earlier conflict flooded my thoughts. I had no choice; I would have to fight the tribes.23

The Vandals could be barbaric at times, sure. They weren’t evil though, just uneducated. Residing near swampy marshes in the northwest they believed a huge sea serpent was their ruler and god. They called the swamps the Locked Nests, as it was hard to live there. We would have to travel a great distance and a great while to reach them.24

One of the men stirred, Axel by name. He was young for the legion, barely fitting the requirement, but he could wield the bow like the other archers.25

The first light began to fill the corridors, awakening the soldiers. I had to move quickly to avoid being trapped inside by the men. Escaping to the outside of the wooden barracks my troubled eyes gazed upon a dismal and unfamiliar scene. Rome’s buildings were half standing and half had fallen to ashes. The great marble temples were scalded and black, the coliseum partly crumbled. Sentries guarded what remained of the outside wall.26

Unable to look, I turned my face towards the majestic mountains. They were tinged with purple from the sun rising over their snow-covered peaks. Faint music could be heard on the wind, a lamentation for the countless dead of the once-great capital. The catacombs would soon be filled.27

-Sparring-28

Later that day men practiced hand-to-hand combat, fencing, and archery. Grunts and groans filled the practice grounds. They fought with no armor, but worked with blunt blades and leather bound fists.29

Axel took a bad spill due to a blow on his hip. Raising his sword to block onslaughts from his antagonist, Axel called out to the fighter to stop. He did. The man helped the boy to his feet. “Good job,” was all he offered.30

An arrow whizzed by my face, while watching I had strayed into the archer’s grounds. Quick to move out of the path of arrows I retreated away not wanting to incur a wound that day.31

Walking to the rack of weapons on the field I selected a long wooden staff, simple but sturdy. A hardy fellow was practicing with a similar weapon. I had needed some exercise so I appealed for a bout. “Sure,” he had replied in a deep gruff voice.32

I raised my staff to a complex Form IV, a defensive stance. He had his crossed across his torso, Form II, offensive. The legion gathered around forming a ragged arena.33

The large fellow sidestepped and formed an overhead strike. I raised my staff to parry. Thunk, wood met wood. Moving back I made a low sweep with the stick catching him on the heel. He tumbled down into a backwards somersault, quick to be back on his feet. The staffs clashed again and again until we were both out of breath. Gasping, I lunged inwards with the pole. My stick collided with his sternum sending him to the dirt. “I yield!” he huffed.34

“Nothing like a little workout,” I wheezed extending my hand.35

-Preparation-36

In the days that followed the troops prepared for the march. Swords were sharpened, shields were fastened, and arrows developed from chopped branches. It would just be my legion and me on the field; Nero wanted the outbreak to be contained without the knowledge of the Roman citizens. The Senate knew nothing of the Emperor’s plans. The white-robed men sat in ignorance.37

I didn’t tell them… I didn’t inform the men of their Ruler’s madness: of how he was the cause of the fire that had burned the greatest city, how he killed innocent thousands. I didn’t tell them that. They had been detained in the mountains during those times, as was the rest of the army. They didn’t need to know…38

-Marching-39

We left on the third of September, an unfortunate time to depart. It would be spring before we could return, dirty and tired.40

Due to the prolonged marching the men’s feet became numb, their weary shoulders fell, and provisions were dropped from the back of the carriers. As we traveled further north the temperatures plummeted and snow then began to fall adding to our discomfort, the ponds and lakes freezing over.41

“Sir?” questioned the young Axel, his face reddened from the cold. “What are the tribes like?”42

“Innocent.” I replied.43

-Encounter-44

We marched upon The Rhine’s frozen currents and rapids. I instructed Axel and the archers to string their bows; I thought I had glimpsed a giant among the ridge. We walked on for a hundred yards. “Snap!” A stick was crushed under a heavy foot. “Halt!” I whispered. Everyone froze everything fell silent…45

There were murmurs in the woods… The murmurs grew louder.46

Yells and screams filled the air, flames lit the forest, the hawks screeched from the heights above.47

“Formations! Archers in back, pikes in front!” I ordered. Axel ran in and out of my sight while the line formed. Wooden shafts from the trees cut the air, “Block formation!” Shields were lifted above the men’s heads. The barbarians charged with hatred in their eyes. Our standard was raised.48

The giant led them with a roar louder than all others. His eyes were fierce. I could feel the earth trembling from the oncoming force.49

“Let loose!” Men unloaded their quivers into the tribe. “Pikes low, swords high!” The soldiers fell into position. “Charge!” We ran, closing the gap between the barbarians and us.50

The battle came in a clash of steel and bone. Cries echoed through the burning forest, the pounding of my own heart filled my ears. A tribesman grasped spears, killing himself, but creating an opening. His brethren trampled over him breaking through the line of pikes. The tribe carried axes and clubs. Our two groups fought like bears; mauling, biting, and clawing.51

As the giant chief cut down men in his path, an arrow struck his leg. He possessed an inhuman strength. Another shaft caught his side but he kept on coming. “ Kill him!” I screamed. Again and again he advanced. Axel strung his bow. The giant was upon me swinging his huge war hammer. I raised a shield to protect my face. The lad took aim while the giant raised his hammer for a final blow! The hammer fell suddenly; an arrow pierced the chief’s heart. Axel gazed in amazement as the giant collapsed to his knees murmuring in a low voice, his face ashen. The tribal ruler breathed his last and lay motionless.52

-After the Storm-53

Standing up I gazed with a heavy heart upon a trampled field soaked red from the battle. Men in an endless sleep lay within coats of mangled armor among the trees charred black to the highest branches. Nothing escaped the fires of war.54

I turned to face my men, what was left of them. They wore expressions of terror and hate and … barbaric glares were found in their eyes. I looked down to my sword. Men’s blood covered its blade.55

“Sir,” said the lad to my left…56

-Within Rome-57

“Senator, I have something to speak with you about…” I stood with a battered frame. What a mess I am. I contemplated.58

Standing in Senator Rufrius Crispinus’s home I confessed of Nero’s plotting. I told of the tribe, of the giant, of the battle by the Rhine. The senator said he would present it to the consuls.59

I left his home to gaze at the mountains once again. Remembering the lament for the dead … of its sad tone, I pictured the procession in my mind; the fire would not be forgotten. I remembered.60


(Information derived from Wikipedia.org)