Oh, you are the best! Really. Thank you so, so much for the reviews!!! They made me so happy. It's so good to know, that people still enjoy this story!!
So, thanks a lot, Rhysel, Queen Amy and Aerlinniel-lairiel! You are great!
Yes, another update. But I promised. I know I am crazy...^^, but the reviews were so encouraging that I got into a spontaneous mad-writing mood. However, I can't promise, that the next update will be as quick- as of tomorrow, my holidays are- sadly enough- over, and school, well, it demands a lot these days.
In this chapter we finally get to know- as you can already see at the title- Marcellus Aurelius. So, now- enjoy!
26. Marcellus Aurelius
***
Byaczt trod softly after his Master, thin red nostrils taking in the scent of the new stable.
The dappled horse neighed anxiously, rearing its head up.
Tristan turned around to his belligerent steed.
"Seems to me as if ye're havin' trouble with yer horse," Bors called. The other knights chuckled a little because of the mere absurdity of the comment. Sarmatians didn't have problems with their horses and Tristan was no exception.
"I am not," the scout replied evenly, his words more tinted by the hard accent than the words which came out of his fellow knights' mouths, probably due to his taciturnity.
"He doesn't like being locked up," he added quietly, his mouth set in a hard line.
Tristan then turned back to Byaczt to stroke his soft snoot. "Hush," he said softly. Byaczt finally calmed under his gentle administrations. Tristan didn't see his horse in that moment, didn't even see the stables. "…doesn't like being locked up." His own words came back to haunt him, to remind him of the look in Isolde's eyes as she was being dragged away. His Isolde, sold to a mindless Roman. Unconsciously he clenched his fists, a rare show of emotion on the impassive scout and several knights looked to him in wonder from where they were already tending to their horses.
Tristan finally realised where he was and what he was doing. Without a further word he placed Byaczt in the stable closest to him and removed the heavy saddle, rubbing his valiant steed down with hay.
When he was finished, he turned around to see Dagonet standing there, watching him.
"You are a fool, Tristan," the giant knight told him quietly, dislike tinting his words.
Tristan simply inclined his head, accepting the accusation. He didn't object.
Without another word, Dagonet turned around and walked over to Arthur, who was standing in the middle of the dimly-lit stables, apparently waiting for them to join him.
***
Tristan quietly waited somewhere in the shadows, but his gaze was fixed on Arthur, who was standing directly under a flickering, candle-lit lantern, that provided the only light in the stables save for the crude, little openings high up in the walls.
Arthur's green gaze strayed over the assembled knights.
Then, in a firm voice, he started to speak:
"Knights, before we go in there, I have to tell you something about Marcellus Aurelius."
"Yes?" Galahad queried impatiently.
"Marcellus Aurelius," Arthur started, his voice reverberating in the large room, "was once a Tribunus in the Legion VI Victrix Pia Fidelis Britannica, which basically means that he was the second-in-command of the whole sixth Legion."
"Yes, yes," Bedivere interrupted impatiently, "we have served long enough with Romans to understand those ridiculous military terms."
Arthur grazed him with a cool sideways glance, then went on.
"Anyway, he was injured and could serve no longer. So he was rewarded with this estate, however, he lost most of his political influence. His representatives in Rome are unreliable and likely to do as they please without him being able to stop it, due to his reluctance to leave Britannia."
Arthur paused again.
"So, as you can imagine, Marcellus Aurelius would do everything to regain influence in the Senate. Then, about half a year ago, for reasons I can't fathom, the Senate issued an order, that some of high rank would have to enter into marriage with the daughters of enemies."
"And our Isolde is such a daughter," Percival said heavily.
"Yes," Arthur confirmed. "Isolde is the daughter of Troucetes, who is the Chief of several Gallic tribes. An uneasy truce had been established earlier, but in order to make it last, Isolde was chosen to come to Britannia.
Marcellus Aurelius's loyal second, Lucius Sicinius, urged him to take Rome's offer and so a treaty was signed between Troucetes and Rome: Rome won't kill anymore Gallic warriors and the Gauls will acknowledge the Roman rule over Gaul. Isolde is merely the guarantee in that pact."
There was a long silence. Then Bedivere exploded: "What!? A bloody treaty?"
"They sold her like a piece of livestock?" Lancelot, too, was aghast.
Arthur only nodded sadly.
Rage burned in Tristan's dark eyes. He would make sure that the Roman suffered, when he killed him. He would do it slowly, patiently, meticulously.
"Let's go," Arthur finally said heavily to the knights, who still wore strong, disbelieving expressions.
"Well, what did ye all expect?" Bors spoke up, his gruff voice echoing in the building.
"They are Romans." There were grunts of acknowledgments through the rows of the knights.
"Let's go," Gaheris then repeated Arthur's words heavily, his pallor speaking of long nights spent in mourning for his and Gawain's brother Gareth, who had been killed in the fight with the Woads.
***
So, grudgingly, they followed Arthur, who led them up a marble staircase into a typical Roman house. Their heavy steps echoed loudly in the long stone corridors and more than one knight looked around in silent uneasiness. The white walls were decorated with all kind of frescos all depicting either battles or ceremonies of the Roman military.
They walked on through a collonade, which lined a square place. In the middle was a large fountain, that constantly sloshed water over the marble basin, that held it. The place was open to the sky and they could see the grey clouds.
"It's where they get their water," Arthur said quietly, pointing to the fountain.
The knights looked at it, torn between disgust and awe for the gigantic Empire and its inventions. Arthur had been here before, obviously.
"Have you already been here?" Lancelot voiced their thoughts.
"When I was a boy, I sometimes came here with my father," Arthur explained and they didn't ask further, knowing that his family was a sore subject for their Commander.
Finally they arrived in front of an oak door. Arthur had already raised his hand to knock, then he thought better of it and turned around to his knights once more.
He spoke in a hushed voice:
"Listen. Don't be insolent now. It would probably be best if you didn't say anything, no matter what Marcellus says, that might insult you. He doesn't have so much power anymore, but enough power-"
"To do what?" Galahad's young voice, maybe a bit too loud.
Arthur fixed him with an impatient glare. "Enough power to bind you for another fifteen years, Galahad."
"Oh." The youngster was silent.
"And enough power to remove Arthur from his position."
Tristan had spoken up, his voice serious. They looked at him, then back at Arthur, dread in their eyes. They knew that Arthur was the best thing that had ever happened to them.
"He is right," Arthur confirmed. Then he gave them one last, stern look and finally knocked.
A tanned servant opened the door.
"Centurio Artorius Castus?" he asked.
Arthur gave a single nod of confirmation and the man bade them to enter.
***
They entered into a large room with an intricate tile pattern on the floor.
In the middle of the room were two elegant cots. And there, standing next to the cots, were two men, a bigger and a smaller one, both of them clothed in the traditional toga. Tristan's gaze hushed over them before he found Isolde, who was standing with her back pressed to another door, fear in her eyes. The petite, honey-blonde woman stood next to her, her eyes downcast. The bigger man gave the honey-blonde woman a nod and she disappeared through the door, dragging Isolde behind, who gave him a last, desperate look.
Tristan was ready to pounce on the Roman by then, but he remembered Arthur's words and stood still, which cost him a great amount of his considerable control.
"Centurio Artorius Castus," the bigger Roman, Marcellus Aurelius greeted. He was a tall, older man with black hair, that greyed at the edges. It was obvious, that he had once been a military man, but the beginning of a belly showed, that he was enjoying the civilian life. His blue eyes were sharp and cold, like icicles. The smaller man standing next to him had completely grey hair. Dark, malicious eyes looked out of a wrinkled face.
Arthur raised his arm to the traditional Roman greeting.
"Ave, Marcellus Aurelius and Lucius Sicinius," he said very formally.
Again, the knights were ignored by the two Romans, a habit of the people living here, or so it seemed.
While Arthur and the Romans were talking the knights stayed in the background, motionless, feeling more and more ridiculous with each passing second. Soon they began to exchange annoyed and exasperated glances, but with Arthur's words still in the back of their heads, they kept silent.
Tristan was lost in his own thoughts. His inscrutable mask impenetrable he stared at something only he could see, unaware of Dagonet watching him.
Tristan had seldom felt so helpless. He had to escape this house. He had never been good with confined, narrow spaces and everything in him longed to break free.
But he had to stay here and witness her demise.
He knew that it was cowardly to wish to escape, to wish that he was anywhere else but here, when it was the hour of her greatest need. But he could not bear to see her like this, his Isolde, the vibrant, fresh woman he loved shackled to a careless, old Roman.
He was shaken out of his thoughts by Arthur's voice.
"I am afraid we have to decline your generous invitation, Marcellus Aurelius," he was saying.
"Oh no," the Roman protested. "I insist."
"Very well," Arthur said with a sigh. "Then we will stay to the wedding, but not any longer."
Horror gripped Tristan in icy waves. The wedding? He could not stay until the wedding.
But so he could only watch, as Arthur, with a last nod to the Romans told them to follow.
***
Once they had exited the room and the tense atmosphere, Bors bellowed:
"Why the hell did you accept his invitation?"
Lancelot gave him an impatient glare. "Think about it Bors. This was no invitation-"
"-It was an order," Arthur finished heavily.
To their surprise, it was Tristan who spoke up next.
"Arthur," he said quietly. "Let me explore our return route."
Arthur frowned, while Bors laughed uproariously. "Are you afraid of weddings?"
Tristan ignored him and stared intently at Arthur.
"I am afraid I have to decline your request, Tristan," Arthur finally answered. "Marcellus expects all of us to attend the wedding. It would be a breach of etiquette if you departed."
Tristan only nodded and fell back. Three of the other knights guessed his reason for asking, and those three were Percival, Dagonet and Lancelot, who was beginning to get an idea of what bothered Tristan, because he had been nursing suspicions for months now.
Thus, after denying Tristan's request, the knights and Arthur followed the tanned servant, who brought them to their assigned rooms.
On the horizon, beyond the estate, a storm was brewing.
tbc...so, did you like it?