The morning sun melted the thin layer of snow that held their ground tenaciously. Birds sing in the distance as they welcomed a much delayed spring. The British legionaries dressed themselves in proper armor, and their standard bearer unwrapped the Rho-Chi banner.
The men are in high spirit. Just last night they ambushed a few dozen Barbarian scavengers and liberated a Roman couple. They’ve been in Gaul for one night and already they are liberators.
Now they ready themselves for the march to the Port city of Rotomagnus.
“They are still talking?” Batiatus asked as he emerged from his dwelling for the night. He was less than interested to meet the couple Vortigernious rescued. But young Claudius was thrilled to greet the survivors, and stayed up to converse with them the entire night.
“Aye sir. I think they are about to leave.” Vortigernious replied as he buckled his red cress helmet.
Batiatus followed his gaze to the palisade wall were his soldiers gathered. Next to the gate, young Claudius is still talking to the Roman couple.
“Friends, surly you will not leave with such short notice.” Batiatus put on a fake smile as he and Vortigernious approached the three.
“Quintus, come give me a hand,” greeted young Claudius, “I was just trying to convince dear Norbanus to stay with us. They are heading to Rotomagnus as well, we can travel together!”
He turned to the husband, a bearded Roman intellectual, and continued: “The country is filled with bandits, join our party to be safe. By the Almighty God! You remind me how much I need the company of an educated man!”
“Stay with us,” added Batiatus as he looked up and down the couple, “you won’t survive out there on your own.”
Claudius smiled at Batiatus as he put his arm around Norbanus, and walked further away so they could have some privacy.
“Forgive him,” Claudius whispered with a smile, “he’s a good man, but a man of the soldiery.”
“Flavius Claudius Constans,” Began Norbanus, “you are a pious man, an honorable man. What your men did for my wife and I is something we can never repay.” He gave a quick look back at the legionaries and lowered his voice, “But what you are doing here, I can’t get mixed up in this.”
“We are doing God’s work,” interrupted Claudius with a frown, “Britannia is here to help Gaul, to reclaim and rebuild. And your knowledge and influence in the community will be critical to the recovery!”
Norbanus laughed bitterly as he turned and looked Claudius in the eye, “I respect you, so I will tell you straight. You won’t find a rebel in me.”
“We will not be intimidated,” added Rosalind as she gripped onto Norbanus’s hand.
His hand was icy cold, and her warmth gave him strength.
“What are they whispering?” Batiatus turned to Vortigernious, hoping he would have the better ear.
“I don’t know sir,” his aid replied, “the young master made sure his conversations are private.”
“I don’t like this,” whispered Batiatus as he clenched his fist, “I’m not taking any chances with these two… If they refuse to join us, cut them down on my command.”
In the land with no allies, his four dozen men are easy picking. He will not allow anyone to compromise their mission.
“Then allow me to be frank,” Claudius returned Norbanus’s sharp gaze as he held eye contact, “If you walk, you won’t get far.”
“Is that a threat?” Norbanus did not back down
“That is a fact,” Claudius shot back, “the band we scattered last night is still out there, and chances are they want you back.”
Rosalind tightened her grip around Norbanus’s hand, so tight he could feel her racing heartbeat.
The young scholar’s gaze hardened even more as he continued to stare into Norbanus’s eyes: “Look at the men behind me. Look how proud they are.”
“Indeed,” Norbanus agreed, “they fought like lions.”
“These sons of Britannia are lions,” Claudius said firmly, “but they are mere cubs compared to Imperial veterans. Today my father calls himself Constantine, tomorrow he may believe he IS Constantine. Britannia is living in a dream of its past glory, and all have forgotten the many who failed to reinstate it.”
The young monk paused as he looked up at the morning sky, “Decentius, Magnentius, Silvanus, Magnus Maximus…”
Norbanus listened silently as the young man recounted the names of fallen Usurpers from Gaul and Britannia. Too many have longed for the dream of Constantine.
Yet there had been only one Constantine.
“If you walk, we will just find another man to collaborate” Claudius continued, he then stepped forward and leaned into Norbanus, so only he can hear him and whispered, “Arrogance is the downfall of men. Stay, and help contain the sins of my father. The Empire doesn’t need another Usurper. Come with me, and be my adviser…”
Norbanus was shocked by his honesty, and for a second, he saw a vision of a man consumed by flames; it was the flames of Lucifer, the flam of seven deadly sins.
All men are weak, especially ambitious men in the face of power. Norbanus knows how Gaul clamors for a leader to repeal the Barbarians. He knows how Romans need a man to stand up for the justice of the common citizen, to take revenge on the Imperial authority that abandoned them during the crisis.
He knows when a man in golden helm by the name of Constantine steps onto the Shores of Normandy, tens of thousands will rise to support him, and they will cry for war.
By then, who can guide that man from his sins? Who can be there to give sound advice?
Certainly not the proud men clad in armor who surround him day and night. Not the man in fur hat standing over there, staring at him like he is some roadkill.
Of all the places he could be, of all the men he could meet. He met the eldest son of that man in golden helm. He met the son of Constantine.
Isn’t that the will of God? Is he not only just an instrument?
All men are weak, especially ambitious men in the face of power.
“Alright, I’ll come with you,” he finally let those words squeeze out his teeth. Norbanus let out a deep breath as he watched Claudius grin in satisfaction.
“And you can tell your friend to lower his hand now, I am yours to command.” He added with a smile.
Claudius looked back and saw Batiatus clenching his fist, ready to give the orders to cut down the couple. He immediately waved him down in embarrassment.