King Arthur

A Simple Mission

*I found this on my computer. It's been quite a while since I wrote it but maybe it deserves to be posted. Perhaps someone likes it; I hope so. Set pre-movie. No beta so all mistakes are mine and it's not finished yet.

OOOOOO

Chapter One

A Man of Great Importance

Every now and then a Roman delegation decided to visit their northern outpost, Britannia. If not only to give new orders but to update their Roman soldiers of what was going on at the capital. To the Bishop and his aide, who were currently travelling thorough the evergreen landscape of Britannia, the Northern Province was nothing but a conquest of little importance these days. It had been a few tough years and the empire was still struggling to once again reach it utter glory.

Yet Britannia was important enough for them to keep. The fortresses across the landscape that divided the country, protecting the south from the north, working as a barrier between the civilized land and the savages, belonged to the Roman Empire.

Tales about the Roman Commander Arthur Castus and his Sarmatian knights had traveled far down south and into Rome itself, the capital of the empire. Tales of a man who had managed to unite a band of lowly savages collected from their villages in Sarmatia to fight for the empire. Tales of a Roman commander who'd won countless battles on the field.

Bishop Bentorius was, despite the fact that the Sarmatians was under Roman guidance, skeptical to them and their beliefs, or rather lack thereof. While it was good for the officials and men of the church such as himself to have such men to protect them, it was not good for the empire that the Roman troops in the area didn't seem to possess the same strength and courage in battle.

He was there to convert the Sarmatians to Roman beliefs and to recall half the company of the fortress's inlands. He would decide just how many soldiers he would release from their duty in Britannia when he'd assessed the situation properly. What the Roman's proudly called Hadrian's Wall was still in use but given the hard pressure from the north it was probably just a matter of time before the Woads tried to overtake the fortresses that created the outer line of defense of the empire. It had been decided that, since the enemies were closing in on them, the capital must have protection, no matter the cost to the outskirts of the vast empire. And since Commander Arthur Castus seemed to be able to handle whatever came in his way there would be no trouble for him to cover more ground.

Bentorius put his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the late sunlight as he stepped over the reeling of the Roman boat. Several Roman soldiers awaited upon his arrival, standing at attention as he, a man of great importance, walked up to them on the rocky beach line.

A satisfied smile crept over the bishop's lips as the Roman commander stepped forward to welcome him. He'd always hungered for power and respect; it fueled his ego every time he was reminded of such an achievement. Still he wanted more, no one had managed to make civilized people out of the Sarmatians and they'd achieved quite a reputation about themselves as invincible fighters on the soil of Britannia. Bentorius was convinced that no one had tried hard enough. If he succeeded, he would recall them to Rome to have them as his private army just to take pride of his victory.

"Bishop Bentorius, we stand at your disposal. I am Commander Maclan. My orders are to escort your highness to Fort 134. I will leave four units here as per request to board the boat and sail to Rome," he said.

Bentorius glanced around, his eyes narrowing. "These cannot be four units," the bishop said sternly.

"Those are the proud men that remains of the glorious companies sent here several years ago," the commander explained. "Despite the evergreen landscape and its beauty; Britannia is a dangerous place."

"This land is the land of the savages," Bentorius replied sternly. "Lowly people; farmers, craftsmen, settlers and tribes. I cannot believe that the Roman army have been decimated to these numbers by such…people," he said, gesticulating with his hands in the air, slightly upset.

"I regret to inform you of the truth, my lord," the commander returned politely.

"Very well," the bishop said steely, pulling his robe tighter around himself.

Despite the sun it was still early in the spring and, being so far away from Rome, it was literally freezing.

The commander nodded and ordered his units to leave the island before motioning for the bishop to take place inside a carriage, for his own protection.

The man who considered himself to be of high importance mumbled under his breath as his aide held up the door for him. Then, as he set his foot on the step, he turned around to face the Roman commander again. "How far to the fort and how far till the place called Camboglanna?" he asked.

"Our journey will take four days. Then you will be our guest for another few days," he explained. "Accommodation has been arranged and the remaining troops will be ready for inspection at your arrival. Also, we look forward to hear the latest news from the Rome."

"Rome wants to assess the situation here at the northern outpost; times are changing," he returned coldly, cryptically. "Now, I believe I asked another question?"

"Fort 138 – Camboglanna is situated further up north of the Hadrian's Wall and in the middle of the country. Harsh terrain needs to be crossed. Commander Castus has been ordered to oversee your transfer as per request."

An evil, mischievous smirk parted the bishop's lips as he stepped in to the carriage and took his place. "Then we should begin our journey," he said.

OOOOOO

Fort Commander Antonius looked up as a sharp knock on the door brought his attention away from the scroll he was currently studying. "Enter," he said.

The Sarmatian knight called Dagonet stepped through the door with a serious expression on his face. Antonius froze but his expression revealed nothing of his concern. Instead he glanced up at the man curiously. "Has he improved?" the commander asked hopefully.

"No. I did not come to update you of Arthur's condition," Dagonet returned.

"I believe you mean Commander Castus," Antonius corrected sternly.

Dagonet bit his tongue but managed to refrain from delivering a snarky reply. Instead he calmly reported what he came for. "Tristan brought with him a gravely injured Roman soldier on his way back from his last scouting mission. Sarcas, our first healer, believe he's beyond saving but he demands to speak with our fort commander."

Wasting no time Antonius left his place behind the desk and followed the tall Sarmatian through the hallways of Camboglanna down to the healer's clinic. As he drew near, he could easily hear the tumult outside in the courtyard as people discussed the arrival of the mysterious courier. The few Roman soldiers he met on his way to his destination looked concerned.

Sarcas, the first healer, glanced up from his position next to the young soldier's bedside as Antonius entered and nodded sadly at him.

It seemed to be a small miracle that the man was still alive. His paleness rivalled that of the sheets and his once so proud uniform tunic lay plastered against his bloodied torso in shreds.

Blood slowly trickled out of his mouth and at first no sound came out as the soldier looked up at the newly arrived commander. Glazed eyes stared at him and Antonius slowly leaned closer to the dying man.

"Commander Antonius…" he began, not without effort. "…I have come to inform you…"

Antonius swallowed as the man in front of him hitched on his breath. He looked so young, so innocent. His temper flaring for a moment thinking of the savages outside that had caused such irreversible damage to the lone courier.

"…that bishop Bentorius…" his voice became even weaker.

Antonius gently squeezed the young soldier's shoulder, encouraging him to continue.

"…awaits escort from Little Rome to Camboglanna," he finished.

That would be the young courier's last words as he bled out from his wounds, his life slipping between the fingers of the seasoned healer and his underlings.

"May God be with you," Antonius whispered sadly as he gently closed the unseeing eyes of the soldier.

"Bishop Bentorius," Dagonet said, causing the Roman to jump slightly, having forgotten the man was there.

"What is he doing at Fort 134 and what is his purpose of travelling here?" Dagonet inquired suspiciously.

"New orders from Rome," Antonius replied cryptically, not really wanting to go into detail about the visit with the Sarmatian. "You will ride immediately to Little Rome and oversee the bishop's journey."

Dagonet chuckled. "I see. When the Romans can't get through, you send us. What are a few Sarmatian lives compared to those of the glorified soldiers of the empire?" he questioned.

"Not everyone shares those beliefs," Commander Antonius replied diplomatically. "I respect you, although I do not understand your ways. Bishop Bentorius specifically ordered that you should collect him and his aide in the letter that he sent here a few weeks ago. It was not my idea."

"I don't know if I should be troubled or suspicious by the fact that we suddenly seem to be worth something to Rome," Dagonet replied ironically. "There is just one thing – we will not ride."

"You have no choice in the matter," Antonius said sternly.

"We do not ride without our commander," Dagonet finished as he turned on his heels, ready to leave the room.

OOOOOO

Lancelot poked the dying fire and then retreated to the chair he'd been sitting in earlier. He rubbed his tired eyes and let out a yawn. Darkness was once again settling over the landscape outside.

A weak mumble from the bed next to him brought his attention back to the man he called friend and commander.

Arthur Castus whispered something in Latin and, even though Lancelot didn't understand the language, he knew enough to know it wasn't anything coherent. He reached for the bowl of water standing next to the bed and took the soaked cloth, squeezed it to take away the excess of water, and then gently began to wipe the perspiration away from Arthur's forehead.

The door behind him opened and Tristan walked up to stand beside him.

"I don't like it, Tristan, even though he's not burning up anymore, he's still weak." Lancelot said seriously. "I don't like seeing him like this, the fever has been raging his body for too long."

"It may be the least of our problems," the scout said, seemingly devoid of any emotion.

Lancelot turned to face him in disbelief.

"The Roman courier that Bors and I found earlier died from his injuries. He was sent to inform Commander Antonius that Bishop Bentorius awaits our arrival," Tristan explained in a subdued voice.

"So, it wasn't just a rumor?" Lancelot stated as he once again dipped the cloth into the bowl and squeezed it, his attention now back on Arthur.

"We are to leave at first light tomorrow morning," Tristan said, his tone of voice giving away the dislike for the mission.

"Little Rome?" Lancelot asked, suddenly angry. "It is a suicide mission through rough terrain right now on the south side and the Woads have made it almost impossible for any troops to go that way on the north side and you know it."

Tristan nodded thoughtfully.

"They even killed the courier and they have never bothered doing so before," Lancelot added darkly.

The door to the room suddenly burst open and a high-ranking Roman soldier walked in. He nodded in respect at Arthur and gestured for the Sarmatians to follow him outside.

With his jaw set and his lips pursed into a thin line of displeasure Lancelot gently swept Arthur's face one last time before following Tristan out of the room.

As the door closed behind his men Arthur slowly opened his eyes, awareness had been coming to him gradually but he didn't want to make it known. He carefully straightened his aching back and threw back the sheets. His hand wandering down his bandaged side to where a Woad had got in a lucky strike beneath his armor. It still hurt to touch the wound despite the fact that it had been over two weeks since he'd received the original injury. The healer had been forced to cut it open once and he still remembered the agony through the delirium of his fever. Even though he had regained strength for every day that had passed since the infection, he still wasn't allowed to ride and fever was still plaguing him from time to time.

He hadn't heard everything, only fragments, but even if his mind was hazy at times, he'd understood enough of what had been said to know that Commander Antonius had ordered his men somewhere; somewhere dangerous. Arthur gingerly managed to prop himself up on his elbow and pushed himself further up until he managed a sitting position. He would not let his knights set out on a journey straight into no man's land without him.

OOOOOO

To be continued