Legionary

Chapter 13

Gallus and his trickle of remaining legionaries, just forty-one souls, jogged across the plain approaching the eastern point of the diamond-shaped Bosporus peninsula, with the midday sun and verdant grasslands bringing welcome warmth to their hearts — the frozen wastes beaten back as the coming spring gradually reclaimed the peninsula. Zosimus lay happily on his stretcher, while four legionaries heaved him along at the rear of the column. It had been a torturous march.

Avitus, having tethered a grazing mare — doubtless an orphan of war going by its decorated reins — came galloping up from the coast. ‘She’s here!’ He cried, punching the air in delight. This brought a roar of joy from the legionaries.

The mast of the bireme became visible through the heat haze bathing the horizon, and slowly the ruby-red bull effigy that adorned the sails burst into view — at the sight of this the legionaries gave another whoop of joy.

‘I’ve never been so glad to be facing a long sea journey, Felix,’ Gallus sighed.

‘I’m with you on that one, sir. Can’t believe I’m actually pining for old Durostorum too — I’ll be straight into the town, no distractions, right into The Boar and Hollybush for my fill of that swill they call ale…and then there’s the women!’ Felix chuckled, stroking his beard with a distant look in his eyes.

Gallus admired his optio’s enthusiasm, then braced himself — the Greek wouldn’t like this. ‘The delights of Durostorum will have to wait for a few more days, Felix. We are dropping off the men at Durostorum. Then me, you and Tribunus Nerva are tasked with reporting our findings…to the very top,’ Gallus replied.

‘Constantinople?’

‘The snake pit itself. Dux Vergilius will be there and,’ Gallus flicked his eyebrows up, ‘Emperor Valens too. Tribunus Nerva will speak to the emperor on behalf of the XI Claudia, so we just need to stay quiet and look soldierly.’

‘A meeting with the emperor, indeed…’ Felix puffed his cheeks out, subconsciously eyeing the filthy tunic he wore under his rusting mail vest, ‘…and then a visit to the alehouses,’ he cackled.

The column of legionaries reached the sandy shore as the sun shone directly overhead. The group of fifty who had stayed behind to man the Aquila came splashing through the surf to greet their comrades. Their cheers dulled as they realised that more half of the inland party had been lost. The cold reality of life in the army. It took a gruff roar from Zosimus to right the mood.

‘Gimme some of that soured wine, mouth’s like a fart in the desert!’

They descended into a bantering rabble, soaking tired feet in the cool waters. After a short while, Gallus made the call to start loading up the ship and fill barrels from a meltwater stream for the journey back to Constantinople.

Later, the sun dipped into the western horizon as the Aquila readied to depart. Gallus stood at the stern, eyes scouring the landscape as the boat pushed off. He churned it all over once again; the Goths, the riders and the phantom war that seemed to be all around them yet never there. Still there were no answers. Then the words of the mysterious warrior on the hilltop echoed through his mind.

I am the first of the storm; my kin will destroy your people like a plague.

A flash from the beach turned his head. His eyes widened; on the shore, from where the Aquila had set sail, a small party of the dark riders trotted through the foaming shallows. He gritted his teeth and hammered a clenched fist onto the lip of the boat.

Felix came to his side, screwing his eyes up to scan the water’s edge. ‘What’s wrong, sir?’

‘I think we’ve been herded like cattle Felix,’ he hissed, pointing to the distant figures. ‘They’ve been right behind us every step of the way.’