I am ashamed to say that I have let this timeline wither on the vine for far too long. So today I made it my goal to do some work on it. This will be continuing, it just got lost in all the other stuff I've been working on.
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There was a long line of traders waiting to enter by the gates and he peered at them carefully. Odd tales had been in the air these past ten days. Tales of unrest and treachery amidst the Hibernians and all their various tribes. The High King was dead, no he was alive and his brother Aedan was dead, no, they were both dead and the boy Niall was the new High King.
The traders did not know what was right and was wrong, or even what was half-right. He sighed. Petrix had a better ear for this kind of thing than he did. He’d listen and remember and then give him a full report later.
He wandered on and then paused as he felt a drop of water brush against his face. Oh look, it was raining again. He sighed slightly and then pulled his helmet a little further forwards, before adjusting his oiled cloak to keep the worst of it off. A squint into the wind got him the answer that he needed. It was going to be one of those days, with low clouds that had a fine veil of mist-like rain hanging below them.
The local traders called it ‘soft weather’. He couldn’t deny the accuracy of the term at all, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it. This kind of rain got everywhere, soft and insidious, worming its way into your clothing until you were sodden, inside and out.
All a man could do was wipe his face off and then continue to inspect his command. Young Decimus was still a shoddy excuse for a Decurion, but at least he had Albix as a damn good Optio. One of the sentries was a veteran who had wedged himself into a position in one of the posterns that kept him reasonably dry whilst still being able to watch the horizon. But one of the others was that damn young recruit, who could somehow doze standing up at times.
The forge needed better fuel again, but the blacksmith was making do. The man was also painfully keen at volunteering to make things out some of the books that Decimus had brought with him. Well, it was good to be so keen. He remembered when…
He wrenched his thoughts away from that precipice. His past was a place that he did not like to think about. The humiliation was almost like physical pain sometimes. And people knew. Oh yes, they all knew. Best not to think about it. Instead he forced himself to continue on his rounds.
The stores were full at least. And the storemaster was an honest one. Well – as honest as such men could be. He might skim things off the top occasionally, but nothing major. Nothing important.
He looked back at the landward side and the great ditches that made up the main defence on that side. There were times when the place almost looked beautiful. When it wasn’t raining that is.
A group of three horsemen could be seen on the approaches to the road and after a moment one of them pulled out a horn and blew on it three times. The nearest sentry watched them and turned to report. “Hunting party coming back Centurion!”
A short nod was enough to greet that piece of information and he watched the trio approach. One of them was Mannix and he narrowed his eyes a little. The man… concerned him. He was half Hibernian – Eblani to be exact – and half Dematae. And frankly at times he was touched by something. There were deer tied behind the saddles of two of the horsemen, and a brace of hares tied to Mannix’s saddle.
All saluted him as they rode past and he nodded back at them. He could see it in their eyes. Judgement. Well, damn them. Damn them all. He’d keep doing his duty to this place, just to bloody spite them all.
Because he was Marcus Junius Beliatrix the Elder. Not Bellatrix the Damned, not Bellatrix the Fool, but Marcus Junius Beliatrix the Elder. His brother might be a great man in high places, but he’d forgotten about the low places. And he’d do his duty.
He turned, wiped the rain off his face and stamped into his office. He had paperwork to do.