The Snows Of Gaul - Episode 1

1

The howling winds blew, twisted, and whistled over the two Roman centurions, chattering as they stared over the snow floor. A white, blowing fog brought a permanent night to the featureless, white landscape. They stood beside each other, one wielding his sword and the other gripping his planted spear for dear life as the cold tried to kill both of them in spite of their woolly layers of garb.

They stared at the object, face-down in the snow, one of only three things there that wasn’t just unending white. It had the grey roughness of a burlap sack, and it had the two soldiers’ undivided, teeth-chattering attention.

Both shakily rotated their heads to each other and the soldier with the spear motioned towards the sack with his head. The soldier with the sword reached over and grabbed the object.

“Attatatatae!” He shouted, throwing his arm away and jumping backwards.

“What, what?” The other shouted back.

“Gaius, it’s not a sack of gold, there’s a woman lying there.”

Both looked at her and frowned. Gaius turned to his partner. “Okay, Marcus, but it wasn’t that ridiculous if it was actually a gold sack.”

Marcus inched over to the woman, sword in hand. He patted her with the broadside of his sword. “Hello?” He asked.

“Don’t do that!” Gaius said.

“What, why?”

“Are you looking to kill her?”

“I know how my sword works, Gaius. I’m not stabbing her.”

He patted her timidly a few times, eliciting a groan from her and causing her to roll over. Gaius looked at Marcus and grinned. Marcus stared back, unamused.

Gaius walked up to her and tried laboriously turning the woman over. He planted his spear in the snow and awkwardly hauled her up by her arms. He turned over to see a dumbfounded Marcus, very distinctly not helping.

“What are you waiting for? We have to get her back to the outpost.”

Marcus shifted around on his feet. Gaius noticed and dropped her back down again. “Oh no, you are NOT doing this again.”

“The Iberia thing was two years ago! But this time I really mean it; We can’t be hauling around every half-dead person we find when we can’t even find out way back to our outpost. We’re not exactly the Emperor’s finest out here.”

Gaius shook his head and went right back to manoeuvring this lump of a person. Marcus hiked up the left half of his robes and holstered his sword after a few attempts. He folded his arms and watched as his colleague fruitlessly tried throwing her over his shoulder. A blast of sharp, icy wind pummelled the boys and Marcus relented, walking over to the body.

“I knew you—”

“Shut up,” Marcus plucked the spear out of the ground. “Hey, lady. If you can hear me, hold onto this stick.” He held it out to her and with utmost strength lolled over it, coiling both her arms around it. Marcus walked to the other side of the spear and gripped it with one hand. “Hold the other end.”

Gaius looked at the sharp, chipped blade of the spear on the other side. “Why do I get the pointy end?”

“Because it’s your spear and you’re the reason we’re doing this.”

Marcus waited patiently as Gaius stared for a few moments longer, before resignedly crossing over and planting his hands one over the other, the least awkward grip he could manage, and lifted her up. The wind picked up again and sharp tufts of snow were pelting them all. They walked off into the fog with a hazy, scattered sun being the only guide for navigation.

2

A fire crackled in front of a cut in the hillside which could only charitably be described as a ‘cave.’ Being illuminated by its yellow glow, the woman was lying in the fetal position in a position that could only be called comfortable by two clueless Roman soldiers. She was half-wrapped up in a cloak and continued shivering in the enveloped cold, despite the brief blasts of warmth provided by the sputtering fire.

Marcus and Gaius were on the other side of the hill at the nearby forest. Marcus whacked away at a tree he was halfway through with his now chipped and warped sword. Gaius’ spear was stuck in the snow and half out of a bloodied rabbit. Gaius watched Marcus, without a cloak and shaking as he barely clung onto the pile of firewood in his arms. He had taken to rocking back and forth, yet still shaking so hard that the wood produced a constant rattling noise. Gaius darted his eyes back and forth between his colleague and the dim glow coming from the other side of the hill.

“What if she’s the leader of a massive tribe?” Gaius said.

Marcus gave the tree a few more spirited whacks. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean that, y’know, what if she’s not just a nobody. We could have stumbled across a wealthy merchant, or a warrior. I’m thinking she could be like Boudica.”

“You mean the lady in Britannica?”

“No. Yes. Well, not literally from Britannica but she could be the leader of the local tribe or something.”

Marcus popped his mouth open. “You mean Chief Martalos of the Nemetes magically turned into a woman and she’s right here with us? That’s incredible!” He dropped the surprise and concentrated back on his chopping. He gave the tree a few more hits and it dutifully collapsed onto the ground, showering the area with tufts of snow. He looked at Gaius who was staring down at the ground and had continued chattering. Marcus sighed. “We could split the difference.”

“Hm?”

“Y’know. Not a queen or anything, but there’s no reason she couldn’t be a wealthy landowner.”

Gaius ever so slightly stopped shaking and smirked. Marcus knelt over to chop the fallen log.

“Unlikely,” Marcus cut in, “But, sure, whatever.” He raised his sword, but the flickering of the fire on the other side of the hill became unmistakably dimmer, and it caught Marcus’ attention. Gaius looked where Marcus’ gaze was held and waddled over to his spear to yank it out of the snow, rabbit attached.

Marcus holstered his sword and walked over to Gaius, scooping two of the logs out of his arms and holding the spear. He nodded and they walked back to the camp. They came to the side of the hill and Marcus leaned the spear against it, causing a pile of snow to fall down and obscure it. As they drew closer, the sound of metal scraping and rattling was able to fight back against the wind howling through their eardrums. Marcus lolled around the corner and the only sign of life was the roaring fire. All of their gear had been overturned, but with a strange delicacy as they all were in piles roughly where they were packed.

Marcus plopped the firewood onto the ground and Gaius did the same. Gaius stared at the empty cloak as Marcus turned around and scanned what little of the landscape could be gleaned. The fog stretched off into the distance without the semblance of anything even vaguely human.

NOTE FOR SECOND DRAFT: Actually she has just woken up and doesn’t hold Gaius hostage, she thinks they’re gonna kill her and they don’t give a shit

A few pieces of metal knocked around behind Marcus and he turned around. He raised his sword, combat ready, as his colleague held both of his arms up. A curved skinning knife was being held by a third hand. The woman’s face crept out from behind Gaius’ shoulder and she scanned Marcus. The wind picked up and he adjusted his feet to balance and firmly plant himself to the ground.

Gaius was scanning everything around them except for Marcus, while she darted her eyes across the landscape. Marcus had his gaze set squarely on Gaius and didn’t break his gaze, even as he was battered about by the gale. Gaius looked right towards where they had entered, and Marcus did the same for a split second, locking eyes with the woman. She glanced over her shoulder towards the corner of the hill and took a step towards it. Marcus responded in kind and she raised her eyebrows, nodding towards the knife pressed firmly at Gaius’ throat. Marcus made a much slower, much more deliberate nod towards the hill she was heading towards.

She looked back at the hill with a sudden trepidation. She turned back and shook her head, not believing Marcus, but he relaxed his shoulders and stood at ease, waiting for her to keep going. She pondered this for a few more moments before sliding along the wall towards the other side. Marcus side-stepped to keep up with her, still keeping her at a good distance. After a few moments more of this ballet she reached the edge of the hill and walked backwards away from Marcus. Before she could walk any more backwards, Marcus nodded and Gaius threw his full weight backwards into his hostage taker. She gripped her knife tighter, and made a motion to begin cutting. However, her legs tangled up in Gaius’ spear and she let go of Gaius, her feet grasping for solid ground that wouldn’t come. She fell over and Marcus rushed over, grabbing Gaius and keeping him on his feet. She lay on her back staring at the sky and noticing the dented sword pointing at her face.

“Marcus, wait,” Gaius said, picking his spear up and plucking the rabbit carcass off and tossing it behind him. He held it at his side and scooped up the skinning knife. “How about we try introductions again,” He said to the woman.

“You mean without a knife at your throat?” Marcus mouthed off.

“Marcus!” Gaius shouted

Marcus almost lowered his sword in disbelief. “You’re seriously calling me up on my manners? I think I have every right to skip the niceties right now.”

“Well then maybe you should look at it from her position. She’s woken up with two random people with weapons approaching her. I’d probably flip out too, and from where I’m standing she has a good head on her shoulders.” Gaius looked at her. The woman remained frozen in the same spot, like an animal going completely catatonic before they die. “How about we chalk that one up to a misunderstanding. What’s your name.”

She darted her eyes to Gaius and then to Marcus, locking gaze with him. “Metela.”

“And I’m going to assume that’s a fake name?” Marcus said.

“Yes,” she replied, staying perfectly still.

Gaius cleared his throat and Marcus looked over, he motioned his head at the sword. “No,” Marcus replied.

“You’ve made your point and she doesn’t have a weapon. You can put it away.”

“And what makes you think she doesn’t have another stashed somewhere?”

“Because the only alternative to you lowering your weapon is us leaving her here to freeze to death.”

Marcus snorted, “Works for me.”

“Okay!” Metela boomed as the wind momentarily subsided so she was that bit more loud. Both men stared at her and she nervously cleared her throat. “I am very, very sorry for holding your friend hostage. But he’s right, I thought you two had kidnapped or arrested me. You can only take my word for it that I have no weapons but trust me when I say I am basically wearing a sack right now with not even the slightest hint of room for storage.”

She looked over at Gaius. “You’re lost, aren’t you?” she said. Both men were taken aback but said nothing. “It’s a long way away from the nearest Roman outpost and if you keep going in the direction you’re heading, you’ll be heading to Rome, and you’ll be dead.”

Marcus moved forward but Gaius stopped him. “Can you show us where to go?”

“We found her lying in the snow, I think we can take our chances,” Marcus said.

“I was lying in the snow because I was robbed. And if you two make sure that doesn’t happen again, I can ensure your safety too.”

Gaius looked over at Marcus, who despite everything that had happened and the ice swirling around them, held a steady grip on his sword. He took a few moments and frowned at her. She had begun shaking again as one is to do when lying in the snow for a bit. Marcus’ hand wavered and he snapped, stabbing the sword into his holster and walking over to the camp.

“Ita me di juvent,” he grumbled to himself as he picked up one of the logs of firewood and dropped it onto the struggling embers.

Gaius held his hand out but Metela hauled herself up using the hillside and she plopped herself back onto the cloak, shakily wrapping herself up.

“I’ll cook up this rabbit into a stew, we’ll eat, then we’ll take turns looking over her.” Marcus looked to her. “Then we’ll head back to our fort. Sound good?” Marcus said, talking to both of them.

Gaius glanced over to Metela, staring deep into the fire, and back to Marcus. “Sure.”

3

The weather had let up the next day the very slightest amount, this time the three could see more than a few metres ahead of them. However, now the sun bared down on the snow and blasted their eyes with the strength of Sol Invictus. Gaius and Marcus both squinted to avoid sizzling their retinas, but Metela simply shaded her eyes with her hand.

They marched at various levels of weary resignation. Metela trudged through the shin-high snow with determination, Gaius flew through like a dog, and Marcus dragged his feet like he was about to die in that spot.

Metela stopped and the other two groaned.

“Seriously?” Marcus said, “How many times do you need to get your bearings? This is the millionth time.”

She didn’t respond, instead tracing a path with her hand towards the now much brighter midday sun. She turned to him. “I’m keeping us alive. You’re complaining.”

Marcus looked to Gaius for support, and he looked back uncomfortably. Marcus grumbled and hiked up his belt and yawned. Collectively, he and Gaius had gotten 8 hours of sleep divided between the two. The much more well rested Metela finished her measurements and trudged in what looked like the same direction, to the groans of Marcus.

As they walked, Gaius sped up to approach Metela. He stayed there for a few moments before dropping back again. A few minutes later he did the same thing, opening his mouth before doing the same. Marcus watched this strange behaviour with incredulity as Metela continued walking, looking dead ahead. Gaius sped up for the third time.

“What?” Metela snapped, still not turning her head.

Gaius jumped. “Uh…um…why were you out here?”

“Hm?” She said.

“Don’t talk to her, she’s got ‘important’ measurements to do,” Marcus said.

“I agree,” Metela agreed.

“It’s just that,” Gaius began. Metela tensed up. “I don’t know why anybody would decide to be out here.”

She looked back and raised her eyebrow. “You two were out here.”

“We got lost and detoured from our patrol route,” Marcus said.

“We were not lost,” Gaius interjected, “We would have stumbled our way back home eventually.”

“That’s lost,” Marcus said, matter of factly.

The fight droned on and on as the two boys argued further about the definition of ‘lost.’ Metela pursed up her lips more and more.

“No no no,” Marcus interjected, “It doesn’t mean you will be lost forever, it just means—”

“I was securing passage across Gaul,” Metela interjected. She breathed a sigh as the fight finally reached an end. She looked back and the two looked at her with tired intrigue.

“Explain,” Marcus said.

“You were telling him not to talk to me a moment ago. What happened?”

“Because,” Gaius began, “You just answered a question and raised a million more.”

“As soon as I told him I had the money for the fare, he decided that it was less trouble to just take it from me.”

Marcus broke from his marching stupour and shot her a glance. “You should be more careful who you tell about your money.”

“I suppose,” she said.

As they marched, a dim, flickering light revealed itself in the distance. Gaius looked at it, enraptured, as Marcus reflexively rested his hand on his sword. Through the ungodly bright fog, more details of the light came through. The light source was not just a campfire, but an array of torches lining a snow covered log wall. A road that could only be spotted by its slight indentation in the ground snaked its way into the only way into the village.

Metela continue marching unfased but the two were slowly starting to scan the city; More specifically: The inhabitants. Marcus realised it first, his gut very visibly scrunching itself up and he froze in the snow. Gaius looked at his partner with intreague and did his own scan of the village. Soon enough he figured it out too.

Metela noticed her two party members rooting themselves to the ground with incredulity.

“What?” She said.

“We’re going there?” Gaius said.

She looked to the village and back to them. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Marcus dropped his shoulders. “That’s a Gaul village.”

“Yes,” Metela said.

“Full of Gaulish people.”

“They’re all very friendly, trust me.”

Gaius stepped forward. “I’m sure they’re lovely people. But I think I speak for both of us when I say that even the friendliest Gaul village will see two Roman soldiers walking—”

“Invading!” Marcus interjected. “They will see us INVADING their territory and want to rip us limb from limb.”

Metela scoffed. “I know the villages and tribes in the area. I picked this one because they were the most Roman friendly.” She got no reaction from the two. She sighed and held her hands out to each of them.

“What?” Gaius asked.

“Give me denarii.”

“What the hell is going on?” Marcus said.

“You two want to enter that village without being ‘ripped apart?’ I’m going to need to buy you two clothes. And I’m light on money, myself.”

The two grumbled but turned out their pockets and scraped together what few pathetic coins they could, making unceremonious clinking noises in Metela’s hands. “Great,” She said flatly, “I could get you two a single cloak to share.” She glared at Marcus, who tilted his head back hoping a bolt of lightning would get him out of here. He rummaged around in his pocket some more and produced a slightly less pathetic palmful of coins. “Thank you,” She said, walking away. “You might want to find somewhere to hide yourselves if you really care that much about cannibal Gauls or whatever.”

Note for second draft: The agreement between Metela and the lads is now just that Metela was taking them to the nearest village

“Stop itching it,” Marcus said, bumping his colleague.

“But it itches.” Gaius turned to Metela who was leading them into town. “Could you have not bought something that is more comfortable than a rug?” Metela said nothing, keeping a dignified posture as she tried not drawing any attention to themselves.

The town was alive with activity, as people worked outside wooden huts with seemingly whatever they could get their hands on. Woodworkers worked wood in little improvised workshops outside their homes. Some had simple planked fences that enclosed their furnaces. None were seemingly inconvenienced by the snow in the slightest. In fact, the few that were disturbed in their work turned to glance at the three vagabonds

“Where are we going, anyway?” Gaius asked, uncertain.

“I’m going to arrange for you two to find a place to stay for the night. Then I’m heading off.”

Before Gaius could speak Marcus jumped in. “I think we’ll be able to find our own place to stay.”

He diverted to a nearby old woman in front of her door. “I’m sorry about this, but me and my friend got lost in the snow and we were hoping to get a place to stay for the night.”

The woman had a mixture of bewilderment and worry. She looked over to the younger man chopping wood in the nearby pen. “Ah, hey, how are you doing?” He said, waving to the man. He turned back to the woman. “Don’t worry, I’m not a crazy person. I was just hoping that, if you’d be okay with it, we could spend a day…a night somewhere in your property.” His spiel had turned into an announcement as the man had walked over. “What do you two say?”

The two looked at each other and the man stared daggers at Marcus. He opened his mouth and what came out froze Marcus’ blood: Gaulish. His eyes widened and the short, sharp sentence from the man made it clear how he felt about Marcus. He backed off, hands raised in the air, and joined the rest of the party.

Gaius looked on with much the same horror and Metela was scrunching up her face trying to suppress a smile. “Let me talk.”

4

• The two get up and are stared at by the populace
• Interrogated by troops looking for Metela
• Jail heist
• POINT: Break out Metela and flee, bounty hunter goes after them
• EXIT:

5

• Interrogate Metela about who she is and what she did
• Roman outpost has been burnt to the ground, shit what do?
• POINT: The boys are now super fucking lost
• EXIT: Shadowy Gallic soldiers closing in(END OF EPISODE)