Page 34 of Incubus

20

Roth

AD 205

Lutetia, Gaul (now known as Paris, France)

Night had fallen,and the moon shone high and bright over the tents of the Roman army stationed in Lutetia. I hurried through the dusty streets, hoping to finally hear the good news I’d been waiting for. I’d been called from my revelry with my men by the commander of the forces in this region. But when I reached his tent, I knew something was amiss.

The commander stood outside, his back straight and his gaze stern. “Where are your top men?”

I gave a formal salute as my stomach twisted. “My top men? They are at evening meal.”

“You let them drink and whore instead of doing their duty?” The commander spat at the ground near my feet.

“They are off duty for now, Commander. I thought—”

“You thought? You are a soldier, Lisalius. Your duty is to follow orders. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, Commander.” The answer left my mouth with no effort whatsoever. It had been drilled into me since I was a young man. But the question and the commander’s rough tone caused a foreboding to take hold in my breast.

He turned to one of his guards. “Go and fetch ten of his men.”

A chill of fear shot down my spine. The look in the commander’s beady eyes did nothing to change the feeling. My unease grew as the time eked by, though I knew better than to ask him any questions. But I already knew the answer—it was written on the faces of the other guards. Those who would not meet my gaze. Ten men.

Four years ago, my legion had fought our way through the mountainous regions of Gaul and across the flat plains on our way to Lutetia. Many barbarians had fallen under my sword, and my legion was known as the most heroic, and vicious, in the entire Roman Army. From a farm boy turned legionnaire at the age of seventeen, I had risen through the ranks until I was second only to the commander. Now thirty years old, which was a feat in itself for a man of martial pursuits, I was assured of a promotion to even higher levels—commander of the forces stationed in Lutetia.

Ever since I came to this land, I’d loved it as if I were one of the Parisii, the people who lived in the fishing village along the banks of the river. So it was only proper that the Roman governor make me commander of the army here. I could finally settle down, find a woman, and father children. I would serve Rome here, alongside the Parisii.

But now I realized I hadn’t been called before the commander for an honor. Ten men. The thought kept ricocheting through my mind. Ten men. I had been called to be made an example of, to be decimated.

Once my men arrived, some still drunk from their wine and women, the commander had them all line up, with me standing among them.

“Centurion Lisalius!” My heart dropped, that feeling of falling while remaining still, as the Commander’s voice rang out.

I stepped forward. “Yes, Commander.”

“Do you remember an order I gave you not two weeks ago to raze the local barbarians’ infirmary to the ground?”

“Yes, Commander.” I knew what was coming next. My men would die for my disobedience.

A month ago, a small group of the Parisii had taken part in an uprising against Rome, trying to rid their lands of the invading Roman Army. Though they had failed miserably, the Empire deemed them a threat. Rome gave orders to crucify many innocent Parisii as a sign of what happened to those who rose up against their benevolent masters. The streets ran red with Parisii blood as the commander demanded the deaths of over a hundred men. I’d been against such a strong retaliation, but it was not my business to question the emperor. I carried out my orders as if the emperor himself had directed me.

However, when the commander ordered me to take a legion and raid the Parisii’s primitive hospital and kill all within it, my obedience fractured. Over the years, I’d sent many a man to the shores of the Acheron to await the ferryman to the Underworld, but this was different.

I prided myself and my five legions of men on our ferocity in battle. But I also taught mercy in dealings with the non-warring peoples of Gaul. Now I was to massacre an infirmary full of people who never raised so much as a stone against Rome? Like so many times before, I steeled myself and told my soldiers that Rome demanded blood and would have it.

In the end, I went to the hospital, intending to do my duty despite my misgivings. I could only pray to the gods that few Parisii would be there. When I arrived, there were scores of sick and wounded women and children. Some crying out for the fathers my men had fought and killed earlier that very day. My men began turning the beds and destroying what few medicines there were. Doing as Rome commanded. The women and children huddled together, having already suffered untold horrors at the hands of centurions.

It was then that I had to decide. What was I? A Roman bound to obey and nothing more?

Not wasting a second, I yelled for my men to stay their hands. “This is not what Rome, the Rome I know, would want. Not what she would ask of us, her sons.”

My men stilled and looked to their leader. Only one spoke. “But Rome commands the—”

“Rome commands we serve with honor!” I roared.

I motioned to the sobbing children clinging to their mothers. “Is this honorable?”

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