Eagles and Dragons Tribune Box Set

IV - Allies-3

It all sings of something more… the Boar had said. A dragon should be chained by no one…

Lucius closed his eyes and allowed himself to miss Adara and the children. They were in Britannia now, and yet, he could not get to them.

Severus’ war machine moved only forward, and Lucius’ ala was the probing spearhead of the van. In that land of low-lying cloud, it was almost impossible to see moon or stars, to speak his wife’s name to the night sky, as he had in Africa, and know that she would hear and answer him.

He began to polish his armour and helmet slowly, his mind passing over the surfaces, searching for calm.

When he finished, Lucius went to the small stone altar beneath the high square window in the wall. The statues of Apollo and Venus stared down at him from their niche in the plaster. The new statue of Epona sitting atop her magical horse, hair blowing back, completed the triad.

He lit a chunk of incense and laid it on top of the stone altar. The room was dim with orange light, and the shadowed features of the gods shivered before him.

“Gods who watch over me,” he began. “Please guide me in the time to come. My heart and mind are awash with doubt, and anger, and rage.” He breathed, deeply, a shudder running through his body. “Please help me to end this war quickly so that I may rejoin my family all the sooner. I worry for them. Please let there be friendly eyes watching over them, that they may be safe. I would be with them soon, in peace. Already I feel this war has gone too long. And… I feel a shadow hanging over it. Please guide me, my mind, my sword, and spear… Gods, do you hear me? If you do, please whisper to Adara that I love her, and to Phoebus and Calliope that I will see them soon.”

Lucius opened his eyes and felt alone. In the Temple of Apollo, on the Palatine Hill, he knew the god heard him. Beneath the full moon in the Numidian desert, the Gods would come to him and offer him comfort. But there, in Britannia, at the edge of the civilized world, he was unsure if the Gods even heard his prayers. Only Epona had appeared to him, on the fringes of battle.

He remembered the Boar again, and his talk of futility and making himself heard by the Gods.

Lucius backed away from the altar and looked out the high window. The sound of rain had stopped, and behind several teeth of cloud, a half moon struggled to be seen. The silver light called to him, and a moment later, he was strapping on his boots, pugio, and sword.

He considered the bull’s hide cuirass for a minute, but opted for thick layers of wool beneath his long black cloak.

I’ll be invisible tonight.

When Lucius opened the door to his rooms, Ferda and Hippogriff stood to attention.

“At ease,” Lucius said. “I’m going out for some fresh air.”

“Yes, Praefectus!” the Sarmatians answered and saluted.

“Stay here. No one is to enter my quarters.”

The men nodded and watched Lucius head outside. They spotted Barta returning to relieve them, and nodded quickly in the direction Lucius had gone.

Barta followed. Dagon, his lord and king, had ordered him never to let Lucius out of his sight.

Lucius walked as quietly as he could past the stables and to the gate of the west annex. He saluted several guards who recognized him, and then silently cursed himself for having forgotten that he had doubled the guard that night.

With the Votadini, there were men everywhere, dicing, caring for the horses, and trading tales with off-duty Sarmatians. Their love of horses seemed to be the common ground. Lucius hoped that this would strengthen their battle bond when it came time to charge the Caledonii.

All the while, the large silent shape of Barta followed, his eyes taking in every scene that Lucius walked through until they were outside the walls, walking across the fields toward the sleeping peaks of Trimontium.

It was a long walk, but Lucius’ stride never faltered. He pressed on for close to an hour until he reached the slopes of the north hill, and began to climb.

Stray moonlight caught Lucius’ sword blade, and Barta drew his own spatha. Lucius stopped, head c****d beneath his cloak, before continuing. Barta shook his head and followed, looking out for Selgovan shadows, listening for slipping steps on the patchy areas of shale.

As he climbed, Lucius felt the world go quieter. The bustle of the base and neighing of over a thousand horses vanished, leaving him only with the beat of his heart, his footfalls, and the sighing of the wind. Finally, he reached the top and peered out over the edge, his sword out before him.

Patrols had reported activity up there previously, but at that moment it seemed quiet.

Lucius walked to the middle of the rock and grass area where a fire pit and a couple of structures had once stood. The air was thick, it seemed, with ghostly whispers of Celts and Romans who had made the climb for one reason or another. However, the round houses were long gone, and the signal station torn to the ground since the legions had last moved through. The wind began to pick up, and the clouds were brushed away.

Lucius paced like a caged animal, his sword swinging, his cloak whipping about his legs.

He resented being there in Britannia, and his anger began to boil inside.

“Gods!” he yelled into the wind. “Hear me!” his voice was lost.

Barta, who had just reached the top was about to charge up to Lucius’ aid when Lucius called out his wife’s name. The Sarmatian held back.

“Adara!” Lucius yelled.

The Boar had said that his gods heard him when he yelled from the heights, but Lucius’ prayers had always been uttered in quiet confidence.

“Ahhhh!” he let out a desperate cry, his mind reeling with memories of bloody battles, of numerous enemies on the end of his sword or spear point. “Ahhhh! AHHHH!”

When he had exhausted his voice, Lucius fell to his knees in the windy dark, and gazed up at the moon and silvery stars. A whining pierced his hearing then and the pit before him suddenly burst into intense flames of orange and then blue. Lucius stumbled back rubbing his eyes. When he opened them, what he saw made him shake.

Far-Shooting Apollo stood there, with Venus beside him.

The stars whirled in their eyes and the muted glow about them reflected the blueness of the sacred flames.

I knew you would come, said a voice that belonged to neither of the deities.

From out of the dark, beyond the ring of light, emerged Epona, her three white hounds at her heels. Her red-gold hair seemed to float about her wild eyes.

Then all three of the gods moved close to Lucius.

Why do you cry out in anger? Venus asked. The softness of her voice made Lucius want to weep. He bowed to her, wishing for her to touch him as she had so long ago.

But she stayed back.

Apollo instead stepped forward, the tip of his silver bow planted in the ashen earth beside the fire. He did not smile.

“My Lord,” Lucius bowed.

Why do you doubt that we can hear you, Metellus? The god’s muscled arm and hand hovered over Lucius’ head and a wave of calm washed over the mortal man. Do you forget us, after all these years?

“No, Lord,” Lucius answered, his eyes fixed on the blue flames, his mind straying to the bright goddesses beyond.

Do you forget the blessings of Eagles, of the fullness of a moon, and the promise of the stars above?

Lucius felt like a child then, and fought his tears of frustration, hurt, and loneliness. “Help me, oh Far-Shooting Apollo. I am lost…”

You are not! Apollo answered. You are on the path you have chosen and we… he glanced back at his heavenly sister and cousin, We are there when you need us. But there are times when we must not alter the course of events in the life of man. You have always doubted yourself, your gifts. It is time to truly believe, no matter the consequences.

The words were ominous and terrifying to Lucius, and he struggled to stand despite his shaking in the presence of the Gods.

Venus, her golden hair tumbling about her shoulders, brushed past her brother, despite Apollo’s move to stop her. The goddess’ hand reached out to Lucius’ face and closed eyes, stopping just short and passing over his brow and temple. Remember your true love and children, her voice whispered in his mind, a ray of light in a world of storm clouds. Do not forget or forsake your greatest gifts, especially when the final test comes.

Stop this! Apollo’s eyes blazed like comets in the night sky. You go too far!

Love must always go too far, Brother, she replied, though she did stand back.

“Please watch over my family,” Lucius asked, his eyes opening and finding Venus’.

She nodded, but said nothing.

Down in the valley, a c**k crowed, signalling the coming of day.

We must go now, Metellus. The Charioteer is coming to light the world. Then, Apollo looked with compassion upon one of his favourites, as a father who realizes he has been too harsh. Know that wherever you are, Lucius Metellus Anguis, there too shall our light follow.

“Thank you,” Lucius looked at them both and an instant later the blue flames exploded and Lucius was back on his knees, gripping his sword.

We are not all gone, Epona said, kneeling down beside the Roman. She reached out and laced her smooth, pale arm beneath Lucius’ arm. Stand now. And let your strength return for the coming battles.

She was close, and her hair blew about Lucius’ face like a soft spring rain. Her hounds circled them, a ring of white and red.

I am with you and your men, Dragon.

“I know, Goddess,” Lucius managed. “I have felt you near.”

And I have accepted your offerings, she replied. Now accept my help as you and your horsemen go to war.

“And my family?”

She smiled. I said I would help.

Lucius, not knowing what had come over him, took her lithe hand in his and made to bring it to his lips.

Epona stared intently at him and spoke before she vanished to the sounds of birds.

Behind you!

There was a shuffle of feet and Lucius spun with his sword out to slice off the leg of an attacking Selgovan warrior.

Two more rushed in.

“Kill the Dragon!” they yelled.

Lucius leapt back as his blade just cut the first man’s windpipe, and the other fell behind with Barta’s dagger planted in his chest.

On the other side of the peak, the big Sarmatian stood there breathless, the first rays of morning light glinting on his armour.

Lucius looked at him and nodded.

Barta strode over and dispatched the two writhing enemies. Then he spat on them.

“How long were you there?” Lucius asked.

“I followed you from camp, Praefectus.”

Lucius looked at the three corpses. “I’m glad you did, my friend.” He put his hand upon the Sarmatian’s shoulder. “Anything else?” Lucius wondered how much Barta had heard of his weakness, if he had seen the Gods.

Barta looked at the ground, a minute trace of awe, or was it fear, on his bearded face?

“A man’s prayers are his own, Praefectus. Wherever you lead us, there too shall we follow to fight at your side.” He sheathed his sword and stood tall again.

Lucius smiled. Such loyalty. I never imagined….

They began the descent to the plain below and made their way back across the sodden field to the base. Smoke streamed from within the walls as the morning fires were kindled, and the cornu sounded the watch.