Rise of Merovech

Chapter Three

Moisture hung in the air like a thick blanket. It was going to be a hot day, hopefully one with a clear sky. Guntram did not think rain would impede the men too much, but it always complicated other details of a mission that they could not control. It was far easier for an army to march through a dry maze of streets than a maze of mud and muck. The men were in high spirits, a very good thing for mornings like this morning. He looked around as he chewed his breakfast, taking in the slopes of the hills and the direction of the wind. Merovech had briefed everyone on their specific roles and the strategy as a whole late in the night. The plan was perfectly suited to the environment and the morning should be over quickly.

Guntram stood and placed his now empty bowl on the ground. His men were layering on their armor. t was nothing like the armor of the Roman army, made of cloth rather than metal and only covering the necessary parts each man thought he needed to protect. Guntram only had part of his chest and one arm covered. Other men, such as Corbus and Merovech, wore even less. Guntram admired their bravery, but if he had to fire an arrow, he certainly did not want the string biting him once it bounced back.

He picked up his bow and his axe and walked over to his men. They were ready, greeting him warmly and without the fatigue of early morning. And they were keeping their eyes out for their leader.

Merovech finally appeared from his tent and gave the signal to move out. Guntram's squad was small but comprised of men he had known for most of his life. He knew he could trust every single man with him now. They followed Merovech in silence down the hills toward the still sleeping Castell Menaporium. Guntram had always been mystified at how many hours made the difference between when his men rose for the day and when the Romans rose from their beds. Hours of the day were wasted--even on the battlefield. He had been concerned that attacking at such an early time in the day was an unfair strategy, but Merovech knew the schedules of the civilians better than he ever could. The city was awake; Merovech's men had only been awake longer.

"Guntram," Merovech called out quietly. Guntram looked over at his commander, so confident as he had been the entire journey. "I do not want her hurt."

Guntram nodded. "Of course," he answered. "You need not worry."

Merovech nodded and signaled for Guntram's men to separate from the rest of the army. Guntram looked over his men with pride--the finest his village had to offer, but still only a fraction of what the army had once been. The huns had seen to that and then the Romans had all but finished them off. This victory would be a victory for all of the men and not just Merovech.

The city was laid out in a mass of squares, making it laughably easy to navigate. The tour of the villa just the night before had not only been polite but incredibly generous for the strategy Guntram had to realize. He knew exactly where to go.

The Greek slaves stared dumbly as they approached but soon ran as Guntram and his men fought their way into the house. His troops scattered, knowing exactly who or what to find, staying perfectly calm as the rest of the house flew into a panic.

"Lothar, Childebert," Guntram called out. Two men stepped forward obediently. "Bring the girl to me."

His men left quickly, just as more of his men were bringing a struggling woman before him. Her brown hair was half up in one of the strange fashions of Roman women, but that was the only part of her appearance that was even remotely ready for the day. Guntram's eyes nearly popped out of his head. The fabric of the normal day wear for Romans was thin enough, but this nightwear was even thinner. Nothing was left to the imagination. He was almost glad when the woman opened her mouth to begin thrashing insults his way.

"Vile, filthy barbarian rat!" she spat. "Rome will have your heads for such insolence! How dare you do this to us?"

Guntram watched as his men brought in two more, children this time. The little girl looked to be around ten years old and the soldier who carried her had thankfully wrapped her in a blanket. Guntram shuddered to think how thin the fabric of her gown may be. The other child was a very young boy who could not have been any older than five years old. He, too, was wrapped in a blanket, but the wrapping could not conceal the tangled and tousled mass of red hair on his head. It was nearly as red as Merovech's hair. Guntram had never seen that shade of hair on any Roman, and usually only saw it on peoples from the North.

"Are you even listening to me? How dare you come into my house uninvited and then proceed to ignore me? What kind of incestuous pig are you?"

Guntram finally looked back at the woman impatiently. She must be the mistress of the house. Seeing as how women were not normally permitted to attend Roman dinner parties, he had not had the opportunity to meet the Councilman's wife. He now knew that this had been a blessing rather than an insult. "We were not uninvited," he replied smoothly. "Your husband sent for us personally."

The venom continued to seep from her mouth, but Guntram's eyes found Childebert, dragging in a young woman who was putting up quite a fight. He fought with her until she stood right in front of Guntram, who recognized her immediately as being the correct girl. She stared up at him with defiant brown eyes.

"You?" she asked, stunned. "What are you doing?"

So she recognized him. Good. "What my King ordered."

She stiffened. "There are no kings in Rome."

"We are not of Rome." Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. Guntram looked around at his men, surveying their work as he did so. The house was wrecked, as he had expected to happen, but something was off. Something was wrong. Lothar was missing, as well as a few others. Where had they gone? They were supposed to meet back in this atrium once they had completed their orders.

He had no time to waste. They knew how to get back to camp. "Move out," Guntram ordered his men.

The city outside was completely different than the city they had walked through such a short time ago. The assault and invasion had been more than successful and Guntram was not certain how much of the city would survive. Not that they had shown any consideration for his village. He led his men and their captives through the streets and around the house, sending most ahead as he planned to find his missing men.

He stopped short then as he came to the back of the villa, his blood running cold then boiling hot. Lothar was easy to spot, as well as the other missing men, as they hovered over a tiny shape. They were laughing as the tiny little blonde servant girl from the dinner party wept, pleading softly for them to stop.

With an angry cry Guntram tore his axe from his belt and hurled it precisely into Lothar's back. The soldier collapsed almost immediately on top of the young woman and Guntram glared at the other men. They were frozen in fear as he approached them. It was obvious that these men had participated in violently ravaging the girl. Quickly, roughly, he pulled his axe out of his victim's back, kicking the corpse away from the girl. She was covered in dirt and blood, crying weakly at his feet.

Guntram had never felt like this before. Anger, confusion, sadness, betrayal and the oddest sense of relief clouded his thoughts, but anger most of all. Another pained cry tore from his chest as he drove his axe swiftly into the neck of the closest assailant. And, as the other man ran from his punishment, Guntram simply took his latest victim's axe and hurled it into his final victim.

His own axe he cleaned of all matter on the clothes of his second victim before he slowly knelt down beside the girl. She looked at him with terrified eyes, her whole body quaking with violent shudders. Her injuries only fueled his anger, but none so much as the blood on her inner thighs. Pain accompanied his anger and he carefully used the shreds of fabric of her dress to cover her legs. "I will not hurt you," he whispered, smoothly and gently taking her into his arms. "I will make everything well again."