Codex Argenteus

Chapter Four

- Contemporary Boudicca

Centuries before the Goths sacked Rome many other tribes rose against the Empire. Some of them came from Britannia such as the fearsome Iceni. The peculiarity of that tribe was that their leader was not a man, but a woman: Boudicca.

The Butcher Queen.

Integral recalled her history lessons and how she used to admire the monument of the infamous ruler beside the Thames River. Tall, deadly and with a powerful voice. Englishwomen had always been a force to be reckoned with.

Crawling out of the pew, Integral bent to drag Enrico out. Fortunately, he was still sleeping. Lazy Italians indeed. She paused, straightening her posture before clearing her throat to attract the attention of the Goth soldiers. Her features remained unperturbed even as they circled her, swords at the ready.

"Halt!" Integral ordered in Latin, extending her arm to gesture at Maxwell. "I come from Britannia to fight the enemies of my country and I have a proposition to make to your leader."

Their looks of confusion were not lost on her - she had expected such a reaction. She waited while they conferred among themselves; she could only understand some words – they used an old form of German. Their discussion over, the tallest one stepped forward while the rest lowered their weapons. Integral smirked to herself, concealing the deep sensation of relief that passed through her system.

The plan was working.

Or at least she could communicate.

-

Of all the things Seras had thought she would do before she met her final demise, making pirouettes above the Vatican with Father Anderson hanging from her right foot had not been among them. She was surprised that the Catholic had not chopped off her leg yet, but he seemed to focus his battle thirst on the enemy below them. He seemed to focus his battle thirst to the enemy beneath them.

Was he staring at her knickers again? She scolded herself, that couldn't be it, could it? No, he was just trying to speak with her.

"Fly to the right, Draculina! Right!"

"Roger, control base," Seras replied mockingly as she went in that direction. There was a heave crowd of Goths in that area. Her eyes narrowed, they were assuming a defensive formation with their shields raised. They obviously expected their attack. It did not matter how strong that steel barrier was, not even tanks could resist her Harkonnen.

Master will either have a fit or laugh at me if he ever finds out about this, Seras thought as she pulled the trigger, aiming for the front of the shield formation. That was enough to break their protective stance. Anderson continued the assault by tossing as many bayonets as he could muster with one arm. She wondered absently from where he obtained the knives. A dimensional pocket?

Seras flew closer to the ground, targeting another group. An instant of concentration, a narrowing of the Police Girl's attention, allowed enough time for the Goths' arrows to strike her wing. She cringed, the shadowy appendage was not suppose to hurt, it did not have nerves. But it burnt, pain consumed the tangible darkness.

Holy, the arrows were blessed.

Seras yelped as she lost altitude. It was like those nightmares she used to have as a little girl where she stepped over the edge of a cliff. Anderson released his grip on her ankle, she looked down and saw him attempting to land on his feet, she mimicked his motion and gulped. At least, her bones were harder to break. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the impact.

Except, when it came, it was softer than the marble floor she had been expecting. The world turned grey. Cloth grey. Anderson's grey. Her pupils dilated, she had landed on him – her face was on the same level as his cross. Embarrassed, Seras straightened her posture, sitting on him. His cranium was bleeding, his glasses shattered and his body was cracked. She waved a hand over his distorted eyes. No reaction at all.

Seras sighed in relief, I should get out of here before he awakes. She tried to stand and a sharp pain shot through her ankle. Her right foot was twisted at an unusual angle and the holy atmosphere kept it from healing.

Anderson moved beneath her.

"Draculina?"

She froze.

Uh oh.

-

How could they purge a crime of that magnitude? How could they rebuild what was burnt down and trampled? With a shake of his head, Theodoric the Great turned his back on the sacking. His heart fell heavy with sorrow at such a despicable spectacle, but he did not allow regret or guilt to haunt him for being one of the schemers behind the fall of his once admired Roman culture.

But he had to continue.

However, that did not mean that Theodoric approved of the Visigoth's tactics. Their bloodlust in battle was a double-edged weapon. He must be careful not to cut himself. Also their worship of that deity instead of the Creator went against his principles. They had disobeyed his direct commands about no sacrifices. If the Ostrogoth ruler had been able to settle the issue peacefully, this massacre would never have happened.

But the Catholics refused.

His people were long gone and only their western cousins had survived the passage of the centuries. They had accepted him into their ranks as almost an equal to Alaric The First in exchange for his blessing.

Theodoric was not a one-man army.

"Sir, someone requests audience with you," a soldier interrupted his musings.

"Let Alaric attend that."

"He's occupied with the new prisoners…It's a woman from Britannia."

Theodoric arched a brow, intrigued. Unlike Alaric and his people, he had travelled around the world. "Bring her in." The soldier bowed and walked off, returning a few minutes later with Integral and two other Visigoths carrying the unconscious Enrico.

"Hail, Theodoric the Great," she greeted, inclining her head. Latin, she spoke the Romantic language. "I am Integral Hellsing, a leader for my people."

Theodoric inspected this Integral. A child of the new millennia, where no matter in which nation you were from, you could posses the most incredible linage. Among it, he recognized the blood of his people rushing through her Dutch heritage. "Hail, Integral Hellsing," he saluted as well, using English as a courtesy. "Tell me what's your business? Why are you handing us Father Maxwell? We thought you were his ally…" She appeared stunned at the mention of the priest's name, Theodoric smiled. "Not all are brutes who throw themselves recklessly into battle, I did research before coming here."

"I see," Integral replied, switching to English as well. "My allegiance with Maxwell was only a formality. He's occupying my lands. His men are murdering my people. But I don't have an army anymore with which to rise up and protect my city."

"The contemporary Boudicca is alone then?" Theodoric inquired affably. There was an inner determination to the woman that he admired.

"Not alone… but almost," Integral replied, he could swear that her lips twitched up in a thin smirk. "Why are you attacking? I doubt it's some sort of melancholic impulse for the good old times."

Theodoric laughed, shaking his head, denying that it was a mere whim. He was uncertain if his goal effectively gave a real purpose to all his soldiers. "No, Boudicca, it has a purpose. One your… friend knows very well," he gestured to Enrico. The man was recovering consciousness little by little, his muscular twitching increased. "Tell Alaric to leave those women alone and protect our backs as we go to the museum," he commanded to the messenger soldier.

"May I ask what's in there that interests you so much?"

"Certainly, Boudicca Hellsing," Theodoric answered as he moved passed her, towards Enrico. "The Codex Argenteus."

-

Flames.

A deafening noise.

Then darkness.

Heinkel grunted as her body awoke, becoming more and more aware of her surroundings. She heard voices speaking in something akin to German. She could recognise words tinted by her mother tongue. An explosion, someone had thrown a grenade close to her! No wonder her back burned.

She opened her eyes, assessing her situation. The roof was rounded and possessed grand arched openings where the moonlight crept in. The statue of St. Peter stared back at her, along with delicate, stained-glass images of the saints. It was a sight she had taken delight in many times before. The Basilica's dome. Damn… that meant…

Heinkel's eyes fell on the small spiral staircase behind the demons. The only way out. She tried to move and found it difficult. Her hands were tied. She clenched her teeth in anger.

"Are you awake?"

Heinkel rolled over, attempting to turn and see her partner. She was also bound with ropes, hair tossed and face bruised, and a piece of cloth was between her teeth. She chuckled, proud that Yumi had put up a fight.

"Ja," she replied, wishing to know how the vampires would react to German. They paused in their conversations and looked at her oddly for an instant. She displayed a smug smirk in return. The one that was richly clothed - gems in his vest, golden helmet - took a step forward her; his eyes held a leering glint. Wolfe was not impressed; head high, excepting the worst. God surely smiled on her because a younger Goth soon joined them, climbing the narrow staircase. He uttered gibberish words that made her admirer's smile faltered.

Thank you, God, Heinkel thought as that one marched out, following the messenger. The two guards did not advance in her direction. These were guards; keepers, she gathered, with no authority to claim trophies of war.

"They can't understand English," Yumi pointed out, lips twisting in a predatory smile. "Except the one who walked away."

"How do you know?"

"It's either that or they're too stupid to take offence at my insults."

The spark of hope rekindled in Wolfe Heinkel. They could plot in peace then. There must be a way out of this. It was only a matter of time before they found it.

God grant her enough time to achieve it.

-

Enrico was more than enraged. She had betrayed him! That Judas! That backstabbing sow! He was in Iscariot! Only he was allowed to do that! Even though Maxwell was furious, he would not let them know he had awakened minutes ago. Alone he could not escape the undead gorillas' grasp. Instead, he settled for the world of sounds and noises, waiting for the moment when the Lord would intervene in his favour.

"The Codex Argenteus?"

He nearly gritted his teeth when Integral asked. And she called herself Christian. Not knowing what the Codex was, Protestant education was so flawed. The heretics were too proud to admit it.

"The Silver Bible. Centuries ago I ordered it made. A collection of the Scriptures in my tongue," a cultured, male voice replied.

Enrico's blood ran cold. If that man was truely the one who made the Silver Bible... It was impossible! He yearned to open his eyes and look over Theodric the Great, if only out of historical curiosity. How could he lower himself to such slaughter? He was one of the few historical heretics Maxwell had come to respect.

"I recall something now… But wasn't it kept in Sweden?"

"Aye, Boudicca, it was supposed to remain under the university Carolina Rediviva… but those fragments are fake. In 1995, they were stolen and later found inside a storage box at the Stockholm Central Train Station. However, when I went to retrieve the Codex, I found out those weren't the original parts."

"I should have known those Catholic rats would have no qualms with robbery. They enjoy to break commandments all the time."

Enrico bristled. The Arian scriptures were certainly heretical - to say that Jesus was not part of the Trinity but an entity inferior to God - but still a Christian treasure. Thus only they were the rightful owners! The rest were the thieves.

"Then it's a sentimental issue? You ordered the attack to get your book back?" Enrico detected the scepticism in her tone. Clever girl, her mind did work after all.

"I wouldn't order such extreme measures unless the end was important…"

There was a silence between the two. Enrico's patience was dwindling. The Codex Argenteus was extremely dangerous. A mixture of holy and pagan faith could cause unexpected results. The Vatican was still researching about the mysterious Silver Bible.

"And why do you need Maxwell alive? To give you the Codex's location?"

"No, we know where it is, but we need him to open the gates…"

"Can't you just blow them?"

Enrico's brows started to twitch. She should stop give them brilliant ideas. If he came out of this alive, Integral would pay.

"No, it's blessed… We cannot pass them."

"So is the Holy See. Neither you nor your men are burned by contact with the ground… In what way are they different?"

Enrico could not stand it any longer. That stupid idiot. "Because the gates were partly blessed by his heretic faith, sow!" Then he took a huge breath, a migraine was starting to fog his reasoning.

"Glad you decided to join us, Father Maxwell," Theodoric greeted him, giving a gracious bow. "I hope you slept well…"

"You'll pay for this. God will send his legions as revenge!" Enrico spat, and then glared at Integral. The sow did not look bothered by his righteous rage. He would have his reckoning and to think he used to respect her. A bit.

"That could wait until our appointment with the vault," Theodric inclined his head. Enrico felt the two guards drag him in the direction of the museums. He muttered a silent prayer. By some miracle they had to be stopped.

Author's Notes: A thousand thanks to Kit Durani for edit this chapter! And to everyone who reviewed. This is officially A/U, since with the fantranslations I found out Seras and Pip share her body.