The Prophesy: Book 1 - Cave Lupus

**When the Dogs Bark, the Caravan Passes¹⁶¹⁶ ("Arab proverb.")

The legionnaires had been arranged in three parties, within the caravan. The avant-garde was composed mostly of scouts that went ahead to inspect the upcoming road, and kept the sides clear of threats. The main forces were in the middle, positioned so they could assist rapidly to either the rear or the front of the caravan, if a problem arose. Finally, the caravan's rear guard protected the last wagons, and could send forward a notice of either attack or a straggler that had a problem. The rule was simple: a maximum of two horse lengths must separate wagons. This guaranteed line of sight security as well as preventing the caravan from becoming too stretched out as to become unmanageable. Furthermore, each driver had an alarm whistle that could be heard on vast distances.

The morning was fresh but the sun was out, and it promised to grow into a scorcher for the legionnaires who had to walk all day. Fortunately, water was freely available from the different barrels carried by the wagons. Their reserves had been replenished in the evening, before the battle create a health hazard. The carrion now rotting away in the forest would contaminate the water, making it undrinkable for a while. A sign warned the travelers about the situation and had been posted on both sides of the bridge.

The hour-long walk to the next stream was done in relative silence. It seems everyone was thoughtful of the night's events and wondered what lay ahead for them. Even the wagon drivers, usually prompt at yelling insanities at their animals, were quiet. The legionnaires themselves, who usually sang while walking, kept unusually silent. The only sounds were those of animal hoofs, the regular marching beat of walking men, and the sounds that go with wheels and movements within wagons. A profusion of birds could be heard in the beginning, but as the sun rose, they too became quiet. The wind, which had been light, died down. Leafs and the cracking of wood branches stopped supplying background music as well. The only sound that remained from outside the caravan was the hissing of the river on the rocks that made up a progressively larger part of the riverbank.

An hour after prime, the sound of rushing water became louder as the caravan neared the next stream. Eventually, the first legionnaires scouting the forward reaches of the caravan came to the stream's edge.

"Decurion Terminus! Look at the vultures on the other side!" exclaimed an uneasy legionnaire, as the birds continued feasting on whatever carcass their numbers were hiding.

"Yes, I can hear and see and smell death! It's enough to make one want to puke! We must find a crossing, and investigate. Four of you walk along the edge of the stream and try to find a safe fording for us. Legionnaire Bertrand! Run back to the column and warn them of what we have seen!"

"Yes sir!" replied legionnaire Bertrand, smashing his fist on his pectoral, and turning around to run back to the caravan.

Fifteen minutes later, the four centurions sent to find a fording place were back to give their report to their decurion.

"Decurion Terminus, legionnaire Gentian reporting! We have found a crossing. It's a fallen oak tree that seemed to have drifted downstream and got stuck between the bank on this side and a rock midstream. It was a natural fall, but the tree's branches have been hacked, clearly indicating it has been used either as wood supply or to cross the stream. The other side of the rock is shallow and can be crossed on foot, albeit, as you an see, it's about knee-deep."

"It will be useful to people crossing on foot, but I do not know how this could help the caravan," replied the decurion. "Did you see anything else?"

"Legionnaire Formosa found this! It was stuck between branches of the tree and the rock. From its position, we concluded, Formosa and me, that it had fallen from the head of the bearer as he was either crossing or working on cutting the branches off." completed the legionnaire, giving his decurion a helmet that shone in the sun. "It must be of recent use, otherwise it would not shine so!"

"Good work, legionnaires. You and legionnaire Formosa will be named in my report to the centurion for your keen sense of observation and deduction. Good marks are hard to get in the legion, and promotions are even harder to come by, any good point should be added to you record." The decurion, true to his word, noted their name, the report, and his observations on their behaviour. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes, sir!" continued legionnaire Gentian, "We noticed that the forest floor seemed to have been trampled on by a considerable number of individuals. They seem to have been traveling in file, on foot, and moving fast. The direction of broken branches leads me to believe they were moving eastward. They did their best to hide their displacement, but some were not as good as others at doing so. There were no horseshoe marks near the stream, even on the other side."

"And what would you conclude, legionnaire Gentian?" asked decurion Terminus, wanting to test further the competence of Gentian.

"This would be orcs on the war path, I would say, probably those that fell on us last night. They travel by night, have no horses, and usually move fairly fast!"

"Good reasoning, legionnaire Gentian. Continue like this and you will climb far in the Legion!"

***

The caravan came into view around the curve and slowly made it to about 50 paces from the stream before the caravan Master called a halt by blowing in his whistle the appropriate code.

Decurion Terminus approached the head of the column, readying in his mind the report to his centurion. Centurion Annabelle moved forward, inviting with a hand gesture Harold to join her and the Master to hear the report. Harold parked behind the Master's wagon, and an apprentice took the bridle to steady the horse while he got off the cart and walked beside the centurion's horse to the front of the train.

"Decurion Terminus, report!" required the centurion.

"Centurion Annabelle, my preliminary report to you by the legionnaire I sent back informed you of our observations on the other side of the stream. We have found a fording for men, but we cannot cross there with any animal, wagon or cart. The stream is too deep on this side and the current too strong. It is crossable by way of a tree trunk, on foot. I have yet to examine further upstream, and we have not sent scouts to check on what keeps these birds so busy. I waited here for your arrival, not wanting to spread my men too far. Furthermore, legionnaire Formosa found this helmet stuck in the branches, and concluded it had been in use recently due to its shiny looks. I would also like to praise legionnaire Gentian for his sense of observation. It seems she observed that the forest floor had been tramped by a large group of men, going eastward, and he concluded, from further observation of the lack of hoof marks on the other side, that these were orcs. I agree with her conclusion, centurion."

"Good strategic decision, decurion. We do not need to lose legionnaires uselessly. Please write down a full report of your men's and personal observations. Anything else to add?"

"Since the caravan is here, Centurion, I would like to bring my men to that ford, cross over, and inspect at least to the road and even backtrack somewhat along the trail in an effort to confirm that it was made by orcs. I shall also go see what these birds are eating up before we try crossing. It might be important to know."

"This plan is acceptable, decurion Terminus; implement it. Good job! Gentlemen, let's have a look at that stream, and once the path to the ford is secure, to it as well."

***

The group walked towards the stream and observed it for a while, silently. They saw that what had been described as a stream, was closer to a furious torrent, made much wider and stronger by snowmelt in the mountain. No wonder the caravans coming from that direction complained of losses.

"This looks bad, centurion. The two caravans we were with in the clearing lost some oxen, and a wagon, and they were small by comparison to this train. I fear we may have more losses," commented Master Dunbar, looking at the water's treacherous behaviour.

"I agree, we cannot safely cross here under these conditions. Let's wait on the security report from the scouts and then we will go examine the river upstream. We may have to cross it at a narrow. This would be difficult on the carts and wagons, but even more so for the animals."

"I wonder, could we use these pillars and buttresses?" asked Harold, looking at what had survived the bridge's collapse.

"The Ancients built their bridges using steel rods and concrete. It lasted a long time, but the rods finally corroded. The last time I passed on the bridge here, the rods of the roadbed were visible, and there were holes between the rods that let us see the water underneath. I figure the melt brought lots of floating debris down river, and it clogged against the pillars, finally creating a dam that lifted the bridge bed right off and threw it in the river downstream. Ice can be a formidable foe. It's a miracle the bridge lasted all these years. It's a testimony to the quality of their work!" Dunbar looked at what was left of the bridge and completed his comment: "It's sad that what they did is gradually being washed away with our memory. I feel a deep sorrow at all that was lost!"

"I feel sad too, Master Dunbar," replied Harold, "However, I do not despair of using what is left. Maybe we can build a bridge using these pillars and buttresses as starting point. We cannot redo what they did, but we do have other materials, including a profusion of trees."

"Companion Harold is right, Master Dunbar, it is no use crying on spilled milk; and we do have a profusion of resources at our disposal, including huge trees, competent carpenters, and, from what I have seen of Companion Harold's cart, someone that has an acute sense of engineering. I shall see to the installation of the camp, and its securing, while we await the report from the scouting teams. Let's get the animals cared for, and the column organized. We may be spending a little while here."

"Sadly, I must concur with you two. I'll have the caravan organized on a defensive posture its back against the stream. It's unlikely an attack would come across from it, and the road is too close to the main river for any attack to come from the banks."

As the caravan organized in a defensive posture, and the animals were watered, the three men went back looking at the pillars.

"How far is the first set of pillar, you would guess?" asked the centurion.

"I'd say about sixty feet from the shore. And the other seems to be about the same distance from the pillars and the other side," replied Dunbar. 'What do you think, Harold?"

"I would agree to your estimate, Master Dunbar. I do not know much about bridge building. I suspect the span must have limits."

"Let's forego titles, if you do not mind. It will ease our relations and reduce excess formality. Would you concur, Centurion?" asked Dunbar. "We all know our station in this world, and we are going to be together for a long while it seems."

"I agree, Dunbar, it will help us, however, within the military, I would prefer my legionnaires continue addressing me as centurion. It maintains a minimum of decorum and hierarchy, and this may prove vital later on."

"I agree as well, Dunbar, I am flattered you even considered this with me!" added Harold.

"Oh, it's not totally uninterested, Harold! Last evening, I saw how the decurions reacted to you, and today, during the trip from the previous camp, everyone behaved like you were of high rank. The feeling I have, here, is that it's me that is benefiting from this familiarity, not the opposite!"

"But I am not special, and certainly not a prince!"

"Young man, there is prince and Prince," commented Annabelle. "Some are born into a royal family and inherit the title, others, well they have such a presence they are seen as Prince, even without the so-called blue blood. I, for one, have seen enough blue blood idiots to consider it a disadvantage. Maybe my mother was right, when she said that blue blood was indicative of lack of oxygen at birth to the brain and equated to limited intellect! Even I felt this prestige and presence in my tent. Why do you think I offered my seat? You have this aura around you, this I don't know what, that drives people to respect you even if you are young and Companion rather than Master. You will go far, very, very far."

***

A decurion approached the three figures, and clearing her throat, caught the attention of the Centurion.

"Yes, decurion?"

"The three decades we sent to secure the area have all reported clear. I can guide you to the ford, if you wish."

"Yes, please. Gentlemen, let's take a walk."

The three started walking along the stream, framed by the decade. Everyone was armed and carried a sword; Harold had his short bow for use in the forest, and the katana. He had decided not to leave it behind. Better be safe than sorry was his motto. The number of people that had been to the ford had created a walk path, and everyone walked in file. It eased the walk, reduced the noise, and hid their numbers. Five minutes later they were observing the fallen tree.

"Annabelle, we still aren't sure that this was done by the orcs. We should look around some more."

"You have a point, Dunbar. Legionnaires spread on both sides of the stream. Decurion, take one with you and backtrack this trail for about five hundred yards. Be careful to look for any signs of who actually made it."

"Yes, Centurion," replied the decurion, smashing his fist on his pectoral. "Argos, with me!" Argos and the decurion slowly started backtracking the trail, looking at the ground or branches for any indication of who had made it.

Meanwhile, Harold had moved to the tree, and climbed on its massive trunk. He lay on his stomach and began trying to see if anything could be discerned in the water upstream from the obstacle caused by the fallen tree.

The water was fast and the tree created considerable obstacles to the current, such that it overflowed the tree at some point, making it slippery. Nonetheless, Harold inspected each side of the tree, slowly, meticulously. He found a place were the bark had been torn, the sap oozing from the damage, and smelling fresh. That tree had not fallen long ago, probably at the crest of the melt, as ice floes undermined its roots.

Suddenly, a sparkle at the downside of the tree caught his eyes.

"Centurion Annabelle!" he called, lifting his right hand to catch her attention.

"Yes, Harold?'

"Something is sparkling just under the tree, here! Can we get some ropes, and a few helping hands? I'd like to see what it is and to do so, I need to retrieve it!"

"Certainly! You two!" she said, pointing at a pair of legionnaires, "Run to the camp and get ropes! Do not move, Harold, it might move the tree and we would lose it."

"Can you ask for a gaff, it might be of use if it's something massive!"

"Yes! You heard the Companion! Get a gaff as well!"

"Yes, Centurion!" replied the two legionnaires, with all the proper protocol. They took off on a run and fifteen minutes later, were back with ropes and a pair of gaffs, as well as some additional poles.

By then, Harold was shivering noticeably, his clothes wet from the water that kept passing over the trunk. Nonetheless, he carefully passed the rope around his waist, and two legionnaires stood on the slippery trunk as he let himself down in the torrent. He felt his legs go numb almost immediately, and the swift water tried to pull him downriver. The legionnaires held the rope tightly, weary of slipping either on one side or the other of the wet trunk. He moved closer to the trunk, swinging like a pendulum. Finally he was able to touch the metallic object.

"It's a belt buckle!" he yelled to the legionnaires. And its attached to a thick leather belt, itself wrapped around a body. It seems the body slipped under the tree and got caught by a branch under the trunk! Signal for an additional rope! I'll tie it to the corpse then we will try to release it!"

A few minutes later, another legionnaire tied an additional rope around the tree trunk and threw the other end to Harold, who deftly passed the rope around the waist of the corpse, then between the legs and finally around the thighs. He then took a breath and dove below the trunk to have a look at the situation under it.

Surfacing, he took a long breath and took one of his poniards out to start hacking at the branches holding the corpse in place. After 4 dives and surfacing, the corpse was suddenly released and pulled on the line like a mad fish. The body swung in the current, head downstream.

The legionnaires, including the third one, pulled on Harold's safety rope and helped him to climb on the tree. It wasn't an easy task, his wet clothes and weapons added considerable weight to the man, and the slippery surface of the tree trunk was far from ideal for the task. Finally, Harold managed to grip a branch stump and pull himself on the trunk with their combined assistance.

Standing up, shaking from the cold, Harold helped the legionnaires untie the rope from the tree trunk, and all four moved to the stream's bank to pull it on the ground, like some fisherman would land a big catch.

From the looks of the corpse, it had been in the water for a couple of days at least, maybe three. What was more important was the body type: an orc!

"Now we know who passed here. I shall call back the exploratory team," decided Centurion Annabelle. She used a three thousand hundred-fifty Hertz whistle that she modulated in a specific way. The high frequency sounds travel far in the forest, and can be heard for a mile or more. Meanwhile three legionnaires dug a shallow grave about three hundred feet inside the forest, and buried the corpse. The centurion searched the body for further clues, but nothing of importance were found.

The three were waiting on the return of the exploratory teams when a sudden commotion was heard at the gravesite being readied for the orc. A couple of minutes later, the five legionnaires that had gone to dig the site were back.

"What was that commotion, legionnaire?" asked the centurion.

"We were bothered in the digging process by an orc, Centurion!" answered the legionnaire, saluting. "We killed the attacker. We dumped him in the grave. It was wide enough for two bodies on their side. It's now closed. We hid the site with a cover of leafs as well. Here, for you, Companion, are the sword and the dagger of the attacking orc. We noticed how you carefully recovered any metal or leather. That one was wearing pretty rotten leather, totally unrecoverable."

"Thank you for your thoughtfulness, legionnaire," replied Harold, taking possession of the utensils of war.

"Good. Ah, the exploration pair is back. Anything to report?" asked the centurion, noticing the decurion and Argos, the legionnaire, walk back from the forest along the trail followed by the orc expeditionary force and slowly ford the stream on the very slippery tree trunk.

"The trail led to the road, beyond the curve we see across the stream from our position near what's left of the bridge. It seems they decided to enter the forest early because they had forward knowledge of the failed bridge. Maybe some of their scouts reported the collapse. It's difficult to know for how long they followed the road, but it seems they were on it for some time. We covered about five hundred yards on it before you called us back."

While the decurion was doing his report, the group that had explored the stream to the road on the other side of the ford was making its way back across the stream.

"And you, legionnaire, what is your report?" quarried the centurion.

"We found a dead body; death was by an arrow in the back, but the arrow was broken, indicating the man survived the initial impact and managed to travel some distance before death took him. He even had found the force to bandage his wound with birch bark, but unfortunately, it was not enough. The blood trail crossed the road, we backtracked it some distance, about two hundred yards, in the hope of finding the empennage of the arrow. Unfortunately we did not find it. No traces of horses were found."

"No need to stay here any longer. We have the information we need, and we must find a way to cross the stream. Let's go back to camp," commanded the centurion. Everyone walked back to camp, pensive at what had been discovered.

***

As they walked back, Harold thought about the problems that lay ahead. Finally, he came to a conclusion.

"Annabelle, we can use the fallen tree in the process of rebuilding the bridge. We need to get it measured and see if it cannot be floated down to the pillars. Furthermore, we will need twine to make additional ropes, and I shall endeavour to help in the design and construction of horse-drawn or oxen-drawn pulleys to lift the wood beams. It seems we will be here for some time. We might as well consider this installation to be semi-permanent. Far from me to tell you what to do, but we need to plan on food, and waste disposal. We do not want to end up drinking water that is contaminated by our waste or the waste of the horses."

"You are right, Harold. I was thinking along the same line. Hunters will track and collect food, gatherers will find edibles in the forest, as few as they are given this is early spring."

"I have some of my teams who are good at fishing too," commented Dunbar. "We should be able to get enough food for the people we have."

"And we can have latrines dug up far enough in the forest to prevent contamination of both the stream and the river. Furthermore, the pillars of the bridge can be used to anchor fishing nets, once some patient persons have made them from twine, albeit we will try making the lifting equipment first. I think for now hunting and line fishing will be good enough, until the animals become weary and more sparse."

***

The rebuilding of the bridge was undertaken. The first order of the day was setting up patrols, which doubled as hunters to supply food to the stalled caravan. Traps were laid to catch small preys, like rabbits, while others worked at securing the big games. Another team was set on collecting wood, and set fire pits for cooking. Finally a team was set on digging latrines and a garbage disposal pit where what was disposed of was to be burned, so as not to attract undesirable visitors, namely scavengers. A decade was sent to bury what was left of the cadaver across the stream, thus insuring a modicum of dignity to the poor soul.

After the essentials were assured, some metal work was required to create saws for the purpose of dressing timber. To this end, Harold converted some swords taken from the orcs into long saws to be handled by two men, one on each end. Meanwhile, others collected hemp to twine into ropes. Axes were sharpened and teams of men began bringing down hardwood trees, mostly oak, to act as crossbeams and arches for the bridge. Also cut down were the big firs that were used to create a palisade to secure the camp and would also ultimately be used as planks for the bridge's deck.

While the trees were brought down upstream and upriver, a group used a series of rafts tied together to reach the first pillar. An arrow carried a thin rope over the T of the pillar. This lead rope was then used to pull a much bigger rope in over the T crossbar, letting the builders climb on to the top of the T, about fifty feet above the stream. A close examination showed the steel rods that had anchored the bridge deck were severely corroded and broken, few having resisted the tension induced by the sudden displacement of the previous deck by the ice floes. This was a challenge, because the top of the T was not clear of debris and removing the tips of the rods would prove a challenge. Many tricks were tried, including repeated bending in the hope of breaking the rods at the base. It did work for the most rusted, but, nonetheless, sufficient numbers of rods were left in the way that anther method had to be considered.

After trying to clear the top of the first pillar for three days, and only managing to break two rods, Harold and the Centurion decided to have a look at the problem themselves rather than work from description. They did the trip to the pillar using the raft bridge, and climbed the pillar's side using the installed roping system.

"What do you suggest?" asked the centurion, looking at the mess of twisted rods.

"The maximum height of the rods is eighteen inches. Look at the middle one, there. We could probably reuse the rods to anchor wood beams by boring holes into the heart of the beams at carefully marked emplacements. All we need is to carefully map the rods' placement, diameter, and length. The result would be the new bed of the pillar, on which we would lay the crossbeams and then drive in steel nails to bind them to the new pillar surface. Note that the opposing pillar on this side of the river is about four and a half wagon wide. If we used the full width, traffic on the bridge would be considerable, and the bridge would not become a bottleneck. The hardest part will be the long beams' cut. Note that the edge of the T is very damaged. We may have to install specially tailored small pieces around the edges, and I shall hammer steel flat plates to tie them to the main crossbeams using nails. I have the tools to make some drilling bits, and we will use a leg-powered dented wheel system to run the drill bits."

"I see no other solution. We just do not have the proper tools to cut these rods. Diamond saws aren't part of the cargo, I think!" commented the centurion. "I'll have one of my legionnaires come and map the rods carefully on both pillars this side, and we'll get on establishing a suspended rope bridge between pillars, first on this side, then on the other, and finally between the two sets of pillars."

The work continued, and it was nearing Summer Solstice before the bridge was completed. That was a remarkable feat. Everyone had worked long hours, from dawn to dusk. Other caravans from the East had joined Dunbar's and contributed to the growing manpower available; sometimes, caravans went east to Riverside to get some essentials that were running low. The settlement finally got a name: Newbridge, what else?

There was another good thing that happened during this long stay. There were no reported casualties from the work force: no one fell in the river, and few were hurt, none seriously. Again, the foresight of Harold paid off. He had insisted that workers on the bridge wear a harness, that was tied by suspenders to a security rope that had been spanned across the stream from treetop to treetop. Furthermore, thigh-high sets of ropes were passed longitudinally along the bridge span, allowing for further security and another click-and-tie short rope could be tied and slid along the rope. Five fell off the pillars while the crossbeams were set in place, but none drowned, they didn't even get wet, the safety rope stopping their fall. Some balked initially, but the first fall closed down any complaints.

One incident did occur. The two orcs managed to escape, but they did not go far. They tried to swim across the river and drowned. Their corpses were washed down to the shores at a bend of the river. They were recovered and buried. A study of the ropes showed they had patiently worn them by rubbing them on a sharp object.

Finally, the day came to leave. Not everyone left, some caravan members asked to stay and maintain the settlement. The centurion agreed, as it would constitute an added safe place for travellers along the western road. Twenty-five families decided to stay, and began farming the area.

More legions had moved up from the East, and the army now had ten centuries at camp. The latest was ordered by Annabelle to stay to protect and police the settlement, in conformity to the military protocol. Centurion Annabelle now had under her command a vastly increased force of nine centuries, for a total of nine hundred ninety nine legionnaires, including her, and ninety-nine members of the support staff.

The combined caravan under the direction of Dunbar took the road on the morning of the Summer Solstice.

***

About an hour after the caravan had started its slow trek on the road, they crossed into a clearing and found what was left of a small camp. The camp seemed to date, but the fire pit was still visible. What brought the attention of the leading legionnaires was the skeleton of a horse that had evidently been butchered. This was so not like the human normal behaviour it piqued their curiosity and they explored the camp in more depth than they would ordinarily. The second anomaly was that the skeleton still had the horseshoes on, clearly indicating a non-human killing. Metal was so rare that no one in his right mind would have left the horseshoes on after butchering a horse.

Then a legionnaire found what was left of a tent, hidden from view in a gully. Exploring further, he discovered that, under the collapsed tent, were a saddle and saddlebags, in perfect condition. That did not make sense. It's like the tent, hidden by some quirk of the ground, had fallen by itself as its occupant left in a rush, and had stayed hidden from view. The legionnaire took the saddlebags and saddle, as well as a small jewel that was still on the tent's side bag, brought the lot to the decurion, who, in turn, brought the items to the attention of Annabelle.

"Gentlemen, what do you make of this site?" asked Annabelle, as she surveyed the area.

"The person left in a hurry, and could not access the horse, so took off on foot, across the woods along the river's shore," replied Harold. "Maybe it's the person whose body we found near the river."

"That makes sense, Annabelle," completed Dunbar. "Probably the poor fellow was away from his horse and tent when he was attacked, and had very little chance of escaping the horde. That he even reached the area we found him is a miracle. The only possibility is he fell in the water and was carried downriver. We know orcs aren't good swimmers! And the river was high from melting snow at the time, making it even more treacherous. I would say the tent fell because of weathering, not because of any human or orc intervention. That is why the contents is undisturbed."

Harold quickly recovered the nails and horseshoes and the caravan resumed its travels westward. The centurion took the saddlebags into Harold's cart and began investigating their contents while the caravan made progress.

At some point, the centurion made her way to the bench in front of the cart, and showed a letter to Harold.

"This letter is interesting, it's a request for immediate assistance from Lois, the next big city west of here. They were expecting to be under siege from a major horde of orcs. From what I know of Lois, it's not five hundred or even a thousand orcs that would have triggered this request! They have high walls, and a moat with steep banks on both sides."

"This is worrisome, Annabelle, we may be walking into a situation that is worse than what we expected. Have you noticed we have not seen a single caravan from the western portion of the road during our bridge-building efforts? None, whatsoever!"

"Yes, I was going to raise the subject tonight with you and Dunbar. We have to cross three villages and numerous farmsteads as we travel to Lois. I just hope we do not find ourselves attacked on the road. We are very vulnerable, spread like we are."

"Yes, I agree. Maybe we should consider stopping the caravan early, so we could organize ourselves. Orcs are night owls, and prefer attacking when it's dark. I'm not saying they won't attack during the day, but it's less likely."

"Good idea. Given how much work goes into establishing minimal fortification we will stop an hour before vespers; this will give us about four hours of daylight to set up a semblance of fortified camp each evening."

***

The caravan continued its slow progress and paused at sext, which give time for a short meeting of the three leaders.

"I am worried about the security of the caravan, Dunbar. We are too extended. We now are fifteen combined caravans, extending over miles," said Centurion Annabelle.

"I see your point. The road is large and would allow four wagons abreast, with about two feet between each. This ancient road, albeit less important than some I have seen, must have had some importance."

"What about the road banks?" Harold replied.

"They need to be left free so we can send messengers or reinforcements along the side of the column. Already, shortening the caravan to a quarter of its current length will reduce the strategic nightmare," replied Annabelle.

"I agree. I'll mention this new arrangement to the other caravans, and we will use the resumption of travel after lunch to organize the caravan that way. I'm not too worried about meeting another caravan from the west."

"Do you anticipate any obstruction from the other caravan masters or companions?" wanted to know Harold.

"No, by tacit understanding, they joined my caravan when they were stuck with us while we were rebuilding the bridge. If they had decided to stay at the camp when we left, they would have regained their independence. They joined us, therefore they are under my command, until such time they have reached their destination or I have reached mine."

"That makes sense," commented the Centurion. "It is much like with the other centuries, by merging with my forces, they accept my command tacitly. Unless I do a major blunder, no one will dare contest my decisions."

"I wonder how they feel about my position," wondered Harold. "I have no one under my command, and I am only a Companion of my order."

"Oh, your position is as solid as ours. They have seen how you organized the work at Newbridge. And, contrary to what you think, you have earned the respect of everyone. You have earned the respect of the other Orders, Guilds, and impressed the legionnaires far more than any legate or other dropped-in superior officer will ever do. Do not worry. What you say is as important to the army as what I have to say, " replied the centurion.

Harold blushed, feeling overwhelmed and embarrassed by this. He had no wish to be above his station, and this was being dumped on him by what he now considered friends.

"Do not blush, Harold. You have even shown me some tricks. You rule by example. Everyone wants to be able to say they have impressed you, not me, not Dunbar, you. You lead by doing, and that is what has impressed everyone more than anything."

"How far ahead are the scouts?" wondered Dunbar, more to get Harold out of the embarrassment than by true curiosity; he felt that Annabelle knew what she was doing and trusted her with that aspect of the convoy. That too, was a characteristic of good leadership that seemed to have percolated from Harold, he realized. Harold trusted them and they trusted him; in turn, that feeling of trust percolated down to others and made each person more confident in their own capacities and in each other's competence.

"I told them to keep eye contact, two deep. That means it varies according to road conditions, the weather, and the terrain. In open, flat terrain, that would be twelve miles, but given the current road, the forest, and the increasing hilliness of the terrain, it's more a couple of miles, straight line of sight. See the scouts, at the crest of the hill, there? It can see the second line, probably on anther crest, they can see the road on both sides of the hill, and see us, as we see them. They are in visual contact with the close-quarter ring of legionnaires you see just ahead of us on the road, by use of both sound and visual signals."

"Visual signals?" continued to wonder Dunbar. "Aren't they too far from each other to actually see movement?"

"It's not movement, it's light flashes, produced by tiny mirrors. The ancient had developed a code we rediscovered in a dry cave, some centuries ago; they called it Morse. It had every symbol of the alphabet represented by dashes and dots. That was genial, if you want my opinion. We have long flashes of light, and short bursts. Every scout team must be qualified in this art, and they train constantly. It's not their only training, as you can guess, but it's one I'm using now."

"Remarkable, truly remarkable. I am still amazed at how advanced the Ancients were."

"Maybe, Dunbar," commented Harold, "but not enough to stop that Atomic Cataclysm."

"True, so true. We lost a lot in that horror!"

"More than neither of us will ever know, I think!" lamented Annabelle.

***

Vespers was almost on the caravan when a courier from the advanced scouts intercepted it. The legionnaire made his report to Annabelle and Dunbar, who then fell back to Harold's cart.

"We have news from the farm I was hoping to reach the first day we left Riverside, Harold," remarked Dunbar. "It's not good. It was burned down. We should reach it by tierce, tomorrow. We are progressing a lot more slowly than I had anticipated, due to the size of the caravan and the increased security that we have to put up with."

"It seems the more we move west, the worse the reports."

"Yes, it seems the western reaches of the kingdom are under siege. I wonder what got the orcs so steamed up. Usually, they are small bands, but the horde we have defeated earlier this summer tells me things have changed, and not for the best!"

"Lois hasn't sent anyone except that messenger, and that, in itself, has me worried far more than anything else. It smells bad, really bad."

"Well, no use getting too worried, let's do the best we can," concluded, sombrely, Dunbar.

The caravan stopped shortly thereafter, and the scouts closed ranks, to be within earshot from each other rather then visual range. The night went without incident, and by prime, the new decades that were to be the day's scouts left to take their position ahead and on the flanks of the reformed caravan.

As expected, by tierce, the leading wagons came to view what was left of the farmstead. Not much could be gathered, but nonetheless, the legionnaires fanned around, in an effort to figure out what had happened to the farm. No survivors were found to explain the events, so a more careful study of the surroundings and the farm buildings was undertaken. The fire that had burned the farm was long cold, and some grass had begun the conquest of the farm building. Birds were hiding in crevices, and field mice were nesting in the house shell itself. Rain had washed off some of the blood marks; although dark spots marked the tiled floor were deep puddles of blood had once formed. It was apparent the fire had burned without any effort to put it out, hot enough to melt the kitchenware, copper, bronze, and steel being amalgamated into shapeless masses. The pigpen and barn were in no better shape. Harold found what was left of the farm's forge. It had survived better, and the tools were still stacked cleanly. Only the front door had been broken open.

A Companion Carpenter, Williams, member of the order of the Oak, accompanied him. Williams had been part of the last caravan to join Newbridge before Dunbar had resumed the road westward. They carefully explored the forge and its interior. They found an appendix that contained the tools of a carpenter, as was expected of an isolated, and self-sustaining farm.

"This is sad; the carpenter took good care of his tools. None shows the slightest trace of rust, and everything is well organized. The tools are clean, sharp, at hand. And he was busy building a carriage for farm products when everything stopped. He had all the parts already assembled, the only missing one is that rear wheel, we see leaning on the wall there. The nails are prepared as well, and it would be a breeze to affix the wheel to the carriage and use it," remarked Williams.

"I agree. In fact, I shall talk to Centurion Annabelle about taking the time to do so, and we should load it with the tools of both our trade and whatever else we can recover that can be of use. I, for one, need to find more coal, I am sure the little building behind this one is the coal reserve. I shall move my cart to the vicinity, and transfer as much of this unexpected boon to my cart. We can then try to find bags to put some in the new carriage as resource. Who knows when we will find some later on?"

Meanwhile, Centurion Annabelle was exploring the main buildings with Dunbar.

"I see nothing recoverable here, Dunbar. The oats reserve burned, and the kitchen is well and truly reduced to ruins. All the food seems to have been either burned or pillaged."

"True, and no indication of who did this atrocity. Not that I do not have my suspicions!"

"So do I, so do I!"

At this point, a legionnaire came towards Annabelle, from a field located a bit off the main farm, white as a ghost.

"Legionnaire Marcus Robins reporting!" said the man, in a shaky voice. "I have found something you must see for yourself to believe!"

"Lead the way, legionnaire!" replied Annabelle, a bit surprised to see the man so shaken. Although he was not one of hers, she had taken time to know each of the legionnaires and officers that had joined her, at least to better know their weaknesses and strength.

She also gave a short burst of the whistle to call Harold back to her, not that it was really necessary as he and Williams turned the corner of the forge as she let the call out, walking their way towards her. The only consequence was for the two men to speed up their pace.

As they caught up with her and Dunbar, Harold looked at her, wanting to know what was happening. All she did was indicate legionnaire Robins was leading them somewhere.

"Oh, I see. While we follow this legionnaire to where he is leading us, I would ask if it is possible for Companion Williams, here to finish fixing a carriage we found in the carpenter's shop? He only needs to affix one of the rear wheels. It's a two-horse carriage, and we would like to recover as much of the tools as we can; furthermore, I want to replenish my coal reserve. He will bring a couple of the apprentices to help him in this task."

"Yes, proceed, we may stay here for a bit before resuming our travels, depending on the nature of what legionnaire Robins has to show us."

"Thank you, centurion." He gave a hand sign to Williams to proceed as they had discussed, and set to accompany Dunbar and Annabelle to where the legionnaire was leading them.

About ten minutes after the beginning of the walk in the field, they came over a rise and found themselves looking in a small, circular, depression about a hundred yards in circumference. At first, all they saw were stakes stuck in the ground in a large circle, the grass had grown back to hide the floor of the circus. But then as they looked more carefully, they saw bleached things sticking out haphazardly in the grass.

"But, these are bones!" exclaimed Harold.

The other two looked more carefully and had to agree. There, sticking out in the grass, were bones, hundreds of bones. They slowly made their way towards the open-sky necropolis. Around this improvised cemetery stood Robins' decade. It was apparent some were very distressed, and had been sick.

"Decurion! Report!" hollered Annabelle.

A young woman moved quickly towards them from the center of the circle of stakes and, saluting the three with a smash on her pectoral, started her report.

"Centurion Annabelle, we have found what seems to be a killing field. There are, at last count, fifty humans, a hundred pigs, a dozen horses, and twenty bovines. We also found what we think are leftover bones of birds, probably the chicken, ducks, and other fowls that lived on the farm. Also, we found what is apparently the skeleton of a dog. There may be more. We have not yet finished inventorying the area."

"Any idea of who did this atrocity?"

"When you called, one of the legionnaires had found this arrow. Note the black empennage. This is orc, sir."

"Is that all?"

"No, Centurion. The long bones of all were fractured to extract the marrow. Furthermore, many showed marks of butchering, animal and human alike."

"Are you telling me those that committed this atrocity ate their captives?"

"I am afraid so, Centurion. What is the strangest is that we also found about ten orc skeletons. They had been devoured as well."

"What have you been able to make of these stakes we see here?" asked Harold, distraught.

"From what we make of the markings on them, the captives were tied to them and were made to watch the festivities. They were butchered alive, right where they were tied, and eaten raw. We found no trace of cooking, no fire pits; no burn marks on the bones. Nothing."

"That would explain why we found no bodies in the ruins. Apparently, the farm was set on fire to force the occupants out. Some fought within the house but the fire finally drove them out, and they were captured with the others," commented Dunbar.

"Thank you for your report, decurion. You are relieved of duty for today. I shall send three decades to help bury these poor souls."

"Centurion Annabelle, may we stay and help the others burry them?' asked legionnaire Robins. "I feel this is our duty; I am sure I speak for my brothers and sisters in this matter. It will help us overcome the memory of this and anchor in us the will to fight the orcs even more."

"What do you make of this suggestion, decurion?"

"I agree with him. I was going to suggest the same."

"Then it is granted." Turning herself towards Harold, she looked at him and Dunbar. "How are you two dealing with this? You are not of the trade of the blade, I would not expect you to take it easily."

"As for me, centurion, I feel sick in the stomach, but, like legionnaire, I have to deal with it; the only effect has been to fortify my will, not weaken it."

"I concur with Harold, centurion. We are at war, and these scenes will repeat themselves ever more so as we make our way westward. I must deal with it, and I shall!"

"I think we will stay the night. It will take that much work to bury all these individuals properly. Let's move back to the caravan and set it up for the stay," concluded Annabelle.

***

The day was spent burying the human bones, making sure to separate, as much as possible, the species. Orcs were not buried individually but put in a common pit. The farm animals were treated to better care than the orcs, being given separate graves, as befit trusty servants. The carriage was rapidly completed, and the tools of the two trades were packed in it, separately. Harold's reserve of coal was replenished, and, bags having been found, they were also filled with what was left of the coal reserve and packed in the carriage, between the two tool sets.

Williams, the companion carpenter, did not have his own cart, so he was offered by Harold to take the new carriage. Annabelle offered a set of horses to pull the carriage, telling him, over his protest, that as the only companion of his order, it went without saying that he deserved to have the carriage pulled by horses rather than oxen. Dunbar concurred, not mentioning he did not have a pair of spare oxen anyways. Williams thus moved his tools and beddings to the new carriage, thanking profusely the wagon handler that had taken him in so far.

By vespers, all was done, and the caravan was readied for the night. Guards were set around the camp and all was quiet. No bird, no cricket, no frogs were heard. Even the bullfrogs lay silent.

Matins¹⁷¹⁷ ("Matins: midnight.") had barely passed when a slight noise was heard from the kitchen. The noise was slight, and the legionnaire that was leaning against the doorframe ignored it, thinking it was a mouse foraging. The noise paused, and then resumed, a crushing noise, that, in the still of the night, sounded a lot louder than it was in reality. The legionnaire turned slowly to look inside the kitchen, finding the mice were louder here than at home! By the weaning moonlight, she saw a block of the kitchen floor slowly rise, and the noise of crunching became clearer. A dark square slowly appeared where once the floor was as the tile slid slowly in a recess below he kitchen floor. The legionnaire stayed perfectly still, holding her breath. Another noise was heard, and the base of the floor was slowly lowered to create a ramp. The noise was now very clear, and indicated some wheels of wood on wood. At long last, the noise stopped, and all was silent. The legionnaire stayed put, not wanting to scare away whoever was the cause of this.

A head peeked around from the hole, but did not see the legionnaire, hidden as she was by the frame. A body, then a pair of legs, slowly followed the head. The legionnaire watched, eyes half-closed to prevent the moonlight from reflecting in them, as what appeared to be a young child of eight or nine years old slowly walked towards the fireplace. The legionnaire was curious as to the reason why this was so, but kept still. The hand went inside the fireplace and pulled on a rod. This brought the false floor back up in place. Apparently the mechanism could be operated from both below the kitchen floor and the fireplace. She was amazed at the complexity of the mechanism this setup implied. The child turned around and slowly made towards the back door where the legionnaire was hidden, blissfully unaware of the observer. The legionnaire pushed back gently deeper in the shadows, so as not to be seen. As the child passed in front of her, she wrapped her arms around the torso, imprisoning the arms tightly against the body. The child let out a shriek and tried to get free of the enclosing arms, kicking back at the legionnaire.

"Calm down, child! Calm down!"

"Let me go! Let me go!" cried the child, whose prepubescent voice couldn't indicate the sex.

"I cannot, I must bring you to my commanding officer, centurion Annabelle. But first, we will get you to decurion Terminus."

The child was now sobbing heavily, too scared to talk. The noise had attracted attention of other legionnaires, and one of them got decurion Terminus, who rapidly moved to look at the captive, now very passive in the arms of the legionnaire.

"What do we have here?" wanted to know decurion Terminus. "Ah, you caught a little girl! What is your name, child?"

"I am not a girl!" replied, furious, what was now clearly identified as a boy. "I am Paschal! I was apprenticed to the carpenter. I was asleep, below the kitchen floor, when the house was attacked."

"Below the kitchen floor?" This raised the curiosity of the decurion. "It saved your life, boy, but why was it that you were sleeping below the kitchen floor?"

"The companion carpenter was mad at me for breaking a saw. He was a big foul-tempered man who punished me regularly rather than teaching me the trade. His way of teaching was beating and complaining. I hid under there to escape the punishment."

"I see, boy. And how did you survive?"

"That was the farm's food reserve. I knew of it because I had been helping store its contents last fall. There was enough left to keep me fed for months. The only problem I had was waste disposal. I did this at night, so as not to be seen.'

"There must be a lot of reserves left?"

"Not much, we were attacked in the spring, and we were going to go collect fresh food, mostly fish, and the first edibles of the forest, when the attack occurred. There was enough for the numbers on the farm for a month; I have been digging in them ever since. I was getting worried as to how I would pass the winter. Collecting nuts and stuff was my goal tonight."

By then, the commotion had reached Annabelle, Dunbar, and Harold. All three were listening to decurion Terminus' gentle interrogation, as the legionnaire still held the boy more loosely between her powerful arms.

"I see. Are you hungry?"

"No, I ate ham, dried fruits."

"Thirsty, then? Ham can be salty!"

"I had a big mug of ale. It was the last barrel. I was wondering how to get an empty barrel to the stream to fill it in with water."

"Well, it's good you did not endeavour to do this. Water isn't ale, boy. It would turn bad fast, in a barrel."

"OH! I did not know that!"

"No one blames you for not knowing. There are many things you need to learn. You told me you were an apprentice-carpenter. Do you know where your parents live?"

"No. My parents took me to a faire, and someone, who had many children with him, took me in. We travelled all over the place, and I never knew the name of the village I lived in. A year later, I was left on a farm, apprentice to a carpenter. I stayed two springs there, then, I was brought here at the summer festival. I spent the autumn and winter festivals here. We were getting ready for the spring festival when the attack occurred."

"Let's see. According to the laws of the land, you had to be six years old when you were released into the custody of the diviner. He talked to your parents, and noted their trades. This tells us that neither were carpenters; since, by law, you cannot be in the same trade as any of them. Furthermore, you had to spend a year with the diviner, the man your parents released you to. That means you were seven by the time you started your apprenticeship. You spent two years at the other place, so you were nine by last year's Summer Solstice. You are now ten years old, boy, since this year's solstice passed a few days ago."

Paschal thought things out. It made sense; he had spent, what was that number? Ah, four, winters away from his parents, and counting on his fingers, he came up to the end of them, ten! He was ten years old! That was old, very old, to him.

The adults looked at the boy's effort at counting, and were first pleased, then worried when he renewed his crying.

"What is wrong, Paschal?" requested a concerned Terminus.

"I have not seen my family for nearly half my life! What has happened to them? What happened to mother? What happened to my dad? I miss them so much! What will happen to me?"

At this last question, Annabelle sat down on the grass and took the boy on her lap. "I cannot tell you what happened to your parents, Paschal. We do not even know where you are from. This is a sad situation, a situation we all went through. I wish I could say we will find them and search for them, but this is not possible. Maybe, one day, you will be able to recognize the village you are from, but maybe you will never go there." She took a breath, brushing the boy's hair gently. "However, I can offer you to join us, if Master Dunbar accepts. I must warn you, through, we are going to war. It will be dangerous, and your life will be at ever increasing risk."

"I do not have anyplace to go," replied the boy. "And I must continue my apprenticeship."

Companion Williams, who had been listening quietly on the side, walked closer, and looked at the boy. "I am Companion-carpenter. If you wish to continue your training, I shall do my best to teach you what I know."

"You will? Will you beat me up like the last one? If so, I shall not go with you. I would prefer death than to live under these conditions ever again!"

"Death is a permanent solution to a temporary problem, Paschal. But no, I shall not beat you up, boy. I so swear on the Oak. I am sure that Companion Harold will see to it that I do not break this oath. I shall protect you and see to it that you learn as much as you can from me."

Harold walked closer and stood beside Williams. "I accept your oath, Companion Williams. I shall hold you to it."

"So do I, Dunbar, as Master of the Roads!" claimed Dunbar.

The centurion stood and, smashing her fist loudly on her pectoral, said, "So do I!" At this comment, all legionnaires replied loudly "So do we!"

The boy was brought to Williams' new home on wheels. The boy looked at it, and exclaimed "Hey! That is the carriage I was working on! The companion always kept yelling at me for not making it fast enough, when he wasn't out cold from drinking fermented fruits."

"You made this carriage, boy?" asked, uncertain, Williams.

"Yes, every part of it. I broke the saw while finishing the fifth wheel, I think the wood was too green."

"Well, young man, this is remarkable work. I was sure it was the work of the farm carpenter!"

"No, he was more into whipping my ass than anything. I had to learn everything by myself."

"And you maintained your tools yourself?"

"Yes, when I came here, most tools were dull, rusty, and in disrepair. I fixed them up, with the help of the blacksmith."

"Even more remarkable! Well climb in; there is room enough for both of us. As for the fifth wheel, it is now fixed to the brakes, and it's now pretty dry. It had all summer to dry up."

Harold had accompanied Williams to the carriage and sat on the bench.

"Paschal, did you see what happened during the attack?"

"No, I was asleep. When I woke up in the morning to get out, the kitchen was on fire, and I stayed below. I only went out two days later to find that the farm was abandoned."

"Do you know who attacked the farm?"

"No. When I came out, there was no one around. I saw a profusion of carrion-eating birds but I did not feel like going there to check on their meal. I had a good idea of what I would find, and I had my share of nightmares already!"

"Thank you, Paschal. I shall inform the centurion of this. Good night."