The Eternal Vampire

The Druid

Brittania seemed cold and damp and there were forests all around. As a Roman, this all seemed very primitive to me. Even southern Gaul had seemed more civilized than this. I wrapped myself in woolen cloaks and leggings to stay warm. My uncle laughed at me, but he had been through the same thing himself. I was his little nephew from the city who had not yet learned to tolerate the adverse conditions. Even his comrades and some of the soldiers made fun of me. I knew if I was going to be a soldier, I was going to have to learn to put up with adverse conditions, and being laughed at.

One day there was great excitement at the fort. A group of druids had been found performing a human sacrifice. We pursued them without mercy; they were a major threat to stability amongst the population. When unrest and discontent stirred among the Britons, you could find a druid at the heart of it. They were our avowed enemies and were determined to see us driven out. They would sacrifice captured Roman soldiers that had the misfortune to fall into their hands, and would leave the body as a warning.

I saw Tristan looking at them. I did not know what I expected, but he had a look of hatred on his face. He guided me away from the wall, saying, "This is a sight you need not see. These are evil men, and they might see your resemblance to your uncle. Sometimes walls do not hold them back, they have allies among the men. Do not be too comfortable and think that we are secure here, because we are not. I don't want to find you lying on an altar with your throat slit."

I turned and looked anyway. The old druid was looking around, hatred in his eyes for the Roman soldiers who lead him by a rope looped around his neck, his acolytes following in a chain. He looked up and spied Tristan and began shouting at him, fighting the soldiers who held him in an attempt to free himself. The rope tightened as he struggled, and his shoulders slumped as he gave up the fight.

Then he saw me, and started shouting words at me I did not understand. The look on his face had the same madness Tristan had aroused in him. I did not know what this meant, but I became very afraid of the old man.

"What was that?" I asked. The old druid had targeted Tristan and me, but no one else. It was like he knew him, knew something about him, but what? This was my uncle's dearest friend and aide-de-camp, a Gaul loyal to Rome and the Legions. I could see no reason for the old man's rantings. Maybe he hated him because he had renounced his Gallic roots and now served the Romans.

Tristan all but dragged me down to my mess, and told me I was to go nowhere, unless I was with him or my uncle. He repeated this to my company's commander before he left, and I found myself confined to my barracks.

The next morning, the old druid had been found dead in his cell, his body drained of blood. His throat had been slit, but there was no blood on the cell floor. My uncle puzzled over what happened, but Tristan said, "We are well rid of him. He would have caused nothing but trouble. Bury his body deep in the woods and forget about him. Without him, his acolytes will be leaderless and will cause us less grief. We can hang them, and then forget them." My uncle seemed to agree with this, and the matter was forgotten.

My uncle and Tristan had perhaps made the mistake of being too complacent. They had not taken into account that something, perhaps, was being planned. Fortunately, a member of the Dumnoni demanded entrance to the fort one day, and was brought to my uncle. He was far from his home and his people, and bore little love for the tribes that lived around Londoninium. His father was a Roman soldier, but he'd never known him.

He had heard rumors that the fort was to be attacked in revenge for the seizing the Druids. Exactly when, he did not know, but it would take place shortly after the full moon. He pleaded with my uncle to keep watch and send out spies. The man we had taken had been important, and the forest dwellers sought revenge for the loss of their high priest.