Джерейнт Джонс - Legion

He put out his hand. I took it. I saw him look about me, and realized that he was seeking the legion’s standard.

‘Under the guard of the Tenth, in camp,’ I explained.

‘Ah, well, a hero of the legion like yourself is welcome in my century anytime. Especially if he’s a friend to Marcus.’

‘He’s my brother, sir,’ Marcus corrected with a smile.

It was a proud moment for him, and I loved my friend for it. I almost smiled myself, but then another scream of a raped woman cut through the mountain air.

The centurion shook his head. ‘I told the lads to gag her.’

He took his leave then. I shadowed Marcus as he took control of his men. He was a natural leader. There were work parties to be organized. Roman dead needed to be buried. The enemy were rolled down the steep mountainside. The stone of their wall followed them. The position would not be left for the rebels to reoccupy.

I heard the sound of hoofbeats, and turned. The man in the saddle was squat and stern: cohort commander of the Sixth. ‘Marcus. You’re commanding the century now?’

‘Yes, sir!’

The officer surveyed the industry of my friend, and nodded in satisfaction. ‘Scouts say there’s another village a few miles ahead. We need to keep the pressure up, so I’m moving the cohort out now while we still have daylight. Finish your work, stay here for the night, then at first light, move out to meet us. We’re going straight along the ridgeback, but I’ll send you runners at dawn. They’ll meet you on the trail.’

‘Yes, sir!’

The cohort commander returned the salute. ‘Good job today, Marcus.’

When the old soldier was out of sight I crossed the two steps to my friend and embraced him. I knew how much this meant to him. ‘I’m so proud of you, brother.’ His first action. His first kills. I yearned for the days when we had been children, and innocent of life’s cruelty, but Marcus had dreamed of this day since he had come marching out of the womb. ‘I’m so fucking proud of you.’

He was my brother.

The night did not pass quietly.

There were four women. I learned that from their screams. Each had their own melody of pain. Each had their own words that begged for mercy. I doubted the Italians raping them understood any of it.

I did.

‘Please!’

‘Stop!’

‘Not her. Not my daughter…’

I stood a lonely vigil. Marcus and his men had been slogging hard through the mountains. Most chose sleep over rape. Sentries were rotated. A double guard was standard practice at night, but I stood alone, with only the screams for company. I did not enjoy the sound of such misery, but…

But they were far easier to bear than the death of Marcus would be. The women had been on the wrong side yesterday – the losing side – and this was war. It was as simple as that.

Wasn’t it?

I tried to clear such questions from my head, but where to take my mind? Should I think about Priscus with a spear through his chest? Should I think about Brutus, decaying if not already dead? By his own admission, his life had run its course once he could no longer serve in war. Perhaps I should think about the death that had sent me running to become an instrument of such violence in the first place? A party to rape.

Another scream. It was shrill.

A child’s.

I spat on the ground. The girl’s screams were her own . Damn it, Corvus, the girls screams are her own .

The wheel of death spun in my mind, but where else could I take it? I would not voice my concerns out loud. Who did such a thing? And even if I could find some kindly soul to listen – some soft touch amongst the hard steel of the legion – then perhaps that someone would take pity on me, thinking me full of sorrow and timid mourning.

They would be wrong.

I was full of anger. Brimming with it like a boiling cauldron. The thought of the dead didn’t make me want to curl up and join them. It made me want to punch, bite, strike and kill.

‘Brother?’ Marcus. Quiet, but awake.

‘Over here.’

He joined me in my place amongst the rocks. The night was as black as pitch. No moon. ‘They could march their army by our noses and we’d never see them.’

‘Smell them though. Hear them.’

My brother knew what it meant when I was terse. He stayed quiet.

‘You should go back to sleep,’ I said.

‘I’ll keep you company.’

We stood in silence until the black night bled to grey, and death and dawn came to the mountains.

The cloud hung like grey wool about the peak. Visibility was low. Dawn had yet to grow to day. It was time to move out.

For the first time I saw the four women. They were kicked out of the hut. None had clothing. None made any protest. Their spirit had fled in the night. They were empty vessels, now. Ghost ships adrift in the current of war.

‘We can’t take them with us,’ Marcus told his men. ‘You’ve had your fun, lads.’

I couldn’t see the features of the men as they heard those words. I don’t know if they mistook the order, or proceeded on their own initiative. I just saw four shapes shoved on to their knees. Heard the sound of blades sawing into flesh. The crunch as the steel grazed against spine. I heard the gags as the women writhed on the floor, and the curse of a soldier as pumping blood shot over his feet. ‘Give me some bastard warning next time!’ he growled at his comrades.

Unburdened, the century fell into loose ranks on the trail. The mountain was no parade square, but there was safety in formation, and Marcus would hold to one as much as was possible.

‘Prepare to move…’ he told his men, the order passed from mouth to mouth, muted by tactics and tiredness.

‘I’ll catch up with you,’ I told him.

Concerned with command, he didn’t question my decision.

The century moved off. My mount Balius had been taken back to legion HQ by the dispatch rider. I stayed behind alone. I shouldn’t have. If there were rebels waiting in the shadows, drawn by the screams, then I would not be able to outpace them. Not weighed down in a legionary’s war gear.

But instead of leaving, I stood alone in the silence. There were no sounds of choking, now. The women had leaked their lives away before the last pair of sandals had marched by their heads.

When the light of dawn was long enough, I looked at them. Three were face down in the stained dirt. The fourth was on her back, her hands on her neck. Between her legs was as bloody as her opened throat. Her rape had been violent. Her death, more so.

All about me on the peak was silent stillness. There was a finality in the air. A judgement on the value of life. The mountain didn’t cry for its children. Not a single stir, or accusation. Not even so much as a breeze.

I looked down. The dirt was dark red beside the child.

The sun had risen before I walked away.

‘What’s wrong?’ Marcus asked. I had caught up with the group before the sun had burned the haze from the mountains. Now, it felt as though a torch was being held in our faces as the century took a pause for breath and water. ‘The heat?’ It wasn’t the heat. ‘Corvus. Speak to me. I’m your brother. ’

I could see that my silence was causing him pain. It was the only reason I opened my mouth. ‘Those women today,’ I shared begrudgingly, ‘every time I see something like that, it just…’ I wanted to hit something, then. Kill someone. I forced myself to finish. ‘It just reminds me.’

My greatest friend. As he had done so many times before, Marcus put a hand on my shoulder. His patient look righted my ship. A ship that was heading for the rocks of self-destruction. He was the only one who knew exactly what I was being reminded of. ‘You’ll want to hit me for what I’m about to say,’ he promised. ‘You’ve hit me when I’ve said it before.’