The Pain that Made Her Beautiful

PMHB ch 34

Hey everyone,

By the way, thank you for the awesome support.

I told someone that I needed 20 more votes bevore i uploaded, but I thought that was a little overkill.

Anyways, this time, I'm not gonna up load till i have 200 or more votes....

Sorry guys, I feel bad, but, please do.

Thanks to all who have been reading and voting.

I hope this chapter is as good as the last ones =D

Love you all.

~JDB

Chapter 7

*                                                *                                                            *                                                *

Hermun sat in his chair after he proffered a chair to each of the men, Brunden, Rupert, Hanz, Alex, Verganzblast, Glaan, Lanzgres, Herbert, Jacob, Brayden, Addlemen, or Berjen. They sat in silence for a time. Brunden was the first to speak.

“What are we going to do? Warick was—“

“Warick was an irreplaceable asset to our clan. However, he is gone. I am required to take his place until we return to Germania. Do you really think that I—“ two lumps swelled in Hermun’s throat and his eyes threatened to tear up, “I want to take his place?”

Brayden, seeing Hermun’s discomfort, placed a hand on his shoulder, “Hermun, I believe that this new responsibility has forced you to mature in ways that Warick would have been empathetic to. He knew what it was like to have to be responsible for hundreds and hundreds of men’s welfare. I empathize with you as well, my friend.”

Hermun lowered his eyes, as they threatened to release tears, “Thank you, Brayden.”

“Hermun, Warick’s loss is… saddening; however, we have matters that we must attend to. While your brother was in office, we helped him in many matters of leadership as well,” Brunden said, “But, Hermun, we are nearly a week away from our homeland and clan, what are you going to tell your father?”

Hermun wanted to say that he knew exactly what he was going to do. He wanted to tell Brayden and Brunden an elaborate speech that he would give his father, but he knew he would be lying if he did. Hermun’s barriers dropped and his head drooped slightly as he said, “I will tell him exactly what I should: the truth. Afterwards I will pray to the gods that he will take pity on me and let me live.”

Hermun watched as shock plastered Brayden and Brunden’s faces. However shocked that they were, Hermun knew that the two men were proud of his resolve; it was exactly what Warick would have done, were he presented with this same situation.

“Hermun, it is nightfall now. We must move now or never cross the wall into Germania,” Brayden said in urgency.

“You’re right, thank you. Let us depart now.”

The night was cold, dark, dreary, and the air was thick with humidity. The stars were hidden that night by a thick layer of cloud. The edges of the clouds where they broke apart had a pale shimmering glint shone ghostly on the ashen color of the clouds. The water in the air stuck to Hermun’s skin with an almost mildew property. The chill in the wind combined with the darkness that blanketed the landscape surrounding him gave it an ethereal feel and made Hermun’s bones quiver in apprehension and fear. There was something unnatural about the moonless haze he was witnessing, something that made his hairs twitch and his senses sharper than usual.

Hermun and the other elderly men had to decided to travel north an extra one hundred miles as to catch the Roman legionnaires where they would least expect it. There was a gate here and it was very loosely guarded. The legionnaires were very lazy at this time of night anyway. Most of those whose watch it was were fast asleep. Hermun and a few of his stealthiest men were with him. There were three huts on the Roman side of the wall. They were makeshift and made crudely of wood and other natural materials with thatched roofs. Only one of the three had a light on inside. A single candle was Hermun’s guess. There was something wrong thought. Something just didn’t feel right. Hermun continued to look at the windows of the other two huts and noticed, to his dismay, that there was a single watchman looking at him in the eyes. Hermun knew he had seen him and with a singular finger motion beckoned for him to come out. To Hermun’s surprise, the legionnaire did.

He was a short man, especially in comparison to the German standards. The man was no taller than 5’7” and had a thick go-tee, dark in color. His eyes were chalky. He stopped thirty or so paces away from Hermun, looking upward to meet his gaze.

“What could you possibly want other than to cross? Am I right, German?” the man said.

Direct. Good that means I may be equally direct back to him, Hermun thought.

“What is your name, Roman?” Hermun said flatly.

“Gaius Aleron Ignatius. Yours, German?” Gaius asked in return.

“Hermun Diedrick Betelgeuse.”

The Roman man just looked at him with a greedy eye.

He wants a bribe! Hermun realized with disgust.

“There is a fee to go past here, as you should be well aware of,” Gaius said, peeking at the wagons down the hill, “if I’m right, you have slaves in those carts, don’t you?”

The look in his eyes was well experienced, meaning that he had been through this more than one time.

“And, what if they are?” Hermun asked accusingly.

“Give us some girls, of our choosing, and we’ll let you pass without hassle,” Gaius said. It was a tempting offer.

“Hmm,” Hermun said, overly thoughtful, “now why would I do a silly thing like that?”

“Because I can guarantee you safe passage and will not alert any of my superiors to your presence. You will reach your homes in safety,” Gaius’ voice was oozing over-confidence, “who else can guarantee you that much?”

He has a valid point, Hermun thought, concerned.

“What will happen if we only give you one?” It was a compromise, and a dangerous one at that.

The legionnaire gave him a look that made him feel small, followed by, “I cannot guarantee your safety.”

The way that Gaius said it made Hermun’s stomach go sour. There was no other way but the Roman’s, and it made him increasingly frustrated to realize this fact.

Hermun made up his mind. He could not make this decision in the absence of those whom he had set himself under the tutelage of, it would be incessantly wrong.

“I will be back in a matter of minutes. I must confer with my advisors,” Hermun said as-a-matter-of-factly.

“As you wish. Do not take too long. As soon as the sun is visible over the mountains, I will not be so kind,” Gaius warned.

Hermun but nodded, turned and walked down the hill. What would he do? There was something that just didn’t feel right. As he walked back to his camp, he leaned to the closest man and whispered, “Dirk, I want you to take four other men with you and conceal yourselves. Watch the Roman camp and listen to what they are saying. I want to know if they are planning a coup.”

Dirk nodded swiftly and did as he was told, branching from the group only when there was a small cluster of trees to cover their escape.