[213] There's enough sorrow in the world, isn't there, without trying to invent it.
68 AD The Year of Four Emperors; Rome
"My Lord," she whispered, curtseying quickly as she ran up the steps of the palace that Vespasian had taken as his own. "Vitellius is on his way to the palace. Your men are preparing themselves as we speak, they await your orders."
Vespasian looked at her, his true advisor, for a long time. As his men emptied the palace, she smiled coyly at him, approaching him slowly, one hand holding her pristine white toga off the ground. She tilted her head, and golden curls held back with a silver crown fell down her back as she dropped the hem of her toga, reaching her hand up to trace the curve of his jaw.
"M'lord?" she prompted, eyes as black as the kohl they were lined with.
He nodded once and she stretched up, kissing him softly on the lips. "M'lord." She curtsied once again and turned on her heel, running swiftly down the steps, sandals clattering against the stones.
Vespasian was crowned Emperor that very day. And as the advisors of Vitellius wept for their fallen leader, Ruby toasted the new leader. And he toasted her.
-
135 AD The Bar Kokhba Revolt; Jerusalem
Ruby rolled over in sleep, the noise of men outside the tent had become a kind of second nature by then, the war had been going on for three years now. I and the legion were not well. Sextus was angry at her, blaming her for their losses. Silly men fighting their asinine wars. She loved war; the honor and valor behind it, the glory and the love that it forged; but this was not her fault. She did not prolong war, she started and ended it.
Brushing a strand of hair back from her cheek, Sextus kissed her softly, shivering from the jolt of energy that coursed through his body.
"How am I to finish this, love?" he asked, kissing her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids. Love. Had she cared more, she would have scoffed. She didn't love Sextus, she barely tolerated him.
"Bar Kokhba's army will fall to you at Betar. The losses, they will be many, on both sides. Brutality will be your ally, General. The army will not fall easily, but you will triumph." For years they had thought her to be an oracle, a seer. She was neither. Men fought their wars and demons fought aside them, shifting the balance for their own amusement. For their own triumph.
This was to be hers. A demon taking the holy land of the chosen people. Five hundred thousand men dying for one demon's conquest.
-
627 AD Battle of Nineveh; Nineveh
Dawn came early on December 12th, Ruby could feel the morning chill seeping into her bones as she sat atop a hill, a veil shading her eyes from the rising sun. Khosrau's general, Rhahzadh, led more that seventy thousand men, against Heraclius' fifty thousand. She could see him at the front of his army, sword and shield, gifts from Ruby herself, shining in the morning sunrise.
Her hands gripped the arms of the chair, fingers turning white from the strain, as she watched. His advisors begged her to leave, but she stayed. From dawn until dusk, Ruby watched the battle. She had no say in this. She was forced to watch in silent horror until Heraclius killed Rhahzadh and Khosrau bowed at her lover's feet.
Without pretence, Ruby stood and ran down the hill, hair flying behind her until she reached Heraclius. Shame on her for loving a mortal. She ran into his arms, unmindful of the men fallen at her feet and the men watching with bowed heads.
He was bloodied; dust clung to him, coating him with a layer of sweet smelling dirt, but Ruby paid no attention, clinging to him like she was afraid letting go would mean this was a lie. "Heraclius, I thought I'd..." She trailed off, placing a hand against his cheek, her hand cool against his flushed skin.
He laughed softly, a hearty sound even in its hush. "You'd thought you'd lost me, love?" he asked her, smiling gently down at her. "It would take more than fifty thousand men to lose me. You've best try harder next time."
-
1192 AD Third Crusade; Jerusalem
She had been here before, many times, but never like this. She had seen the King, poor sickly Baldwin, die with her own eyes. Dressed as a nurse and playing her part, she flitted about the palace retrieving fresh dressings and pretending not to listen as the King and his advisors talked amongst themselves.
No one would ever expect a poor peasant nursemaid to betray their God's Kingdom.
But Nasir had a soft spot for her and her blonde hair. Even softer was his affection for her black-eyed smile. She was proof of what they were fighting for, a fallen angel in the midst of a holy war. Both sides were fighting for the same goal yet neither would put down their swords. Peace was not the path they had chosen.
For the kingdom of glory was paved in broken bones and bathed in blood. She had watched, months before, as Richard executed thousands of Muslim prisoners in the name of God. Saladin's anger was justified and Ruby only fueled his army.
Sitting alongside Nasir and his leader, Ruby smiled as she watched the people of Jerusalem walk towards the sea.
-
1212 AD The Children's Crusade; France
Scholars tended to call it legend, twenty thousand children following one boy to their imminent death because, 'God told us to'. God hadn't told them anything. God had abandoned them and their prayers long ago.
The miracles of Stephen, sweet but naive young boy, were not his own, but Ruby's. Imagine, miracles from a demon.
As they marched to the sea, thinking it would part for them as it did for Moses, Ruby bathed in roses buds and dressed in silks fit for a princess. The fates of children were not her concern.
-
1314 AD Battle of Bannockburn; Scotland
"Neven, please don' go. Stay, please." She didn't know when she'd been reduced to begging, but as she held his hands in her own, she begged. "Please. Don' go."
Barely six thousand men against twenty thousand.
"I must go, t'is me duty. Don' y'want to be free, giá?" Holding up their clasped hands he kissed her knuckles softly, dark curls falling across her skin. "'M doin' this fer us, Ru, so we can have a family of our own."
"I... Oh Nev, please, I'll do anythin', jus' don' go." With a kiss and a smile, Neven left her, family tartan waving in the cold wind. Ruby stayed by the door, hugging herself and letting the heat from the fire escape through the door before picking up Neven's father's sword and mounting her mare.
She watched in horror as Neven fell. And England's army watched in horror as she unleashed Hell. Twenty thousand men went to battle that morning, yet only nine thousand survived.
"My Lord," she whispered, curtseying quickly as she ran up the steps of the palace that Vespasian had taken as his own. "Vitellius is on his way to the palace. Your men are preparing themselves as we speak, they await your orders."
Vespasian looked at her, his true advisor, for a long time. As his men emptied the palace, she smiled coyly at him, approaching him slowly, one hand holding her pristine white toga off the ground. She tilted her head, and golden curls held back with a silver crown fell down her back as she dropped the hem of her toga, reaching her hand up to trace the curve of his jaw.
"M'lord?" she prompted, eyes as black as the kohl they were lined with.
He nodded once and she stretched up, kissing him softly on the lips. "M'lord." She curtsied once again and turned on her heel, running swiftly down the steps, sandals clattering against the stones.
Vespasian was crowned Emperor that very day. And as the advisors of Vitellius wept for their fallen leader, Ruby toasted the new leader. And he toasted her.
-
135 AD The Bar Kokhba Revolt; Jerusalem
Ruby rolled over in sleep, the noise of men outside the tent had become a kind of second nature by then, the war had been going on for three years now. I and the legion were not well. Sextus was angry at her, blaming her for their losses. Silly men fighting their asinine wars. She loved war; the honor and valor behind it, the glory and the love that it forged; but this was not her fault. She did not prolong war, she started and ended it.
Brushing a strand of hair back from her cheek, Sextus kissed her softly, shivering from the jolt of energy that coursed through his body.
"How am I to finish this, love?" he asked, kissing her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids. Love. Had she cared more, she would have scoffed. She didn't love Sextus, she barely tolerated him.
"Bar Kokhba's army will fall to you at Betar. The losses, they will be many, on both sides. Brutality will be your ally, General. The army will not fall easily, but you will triumph." For years they had thought her to be an oracle, a seer. She was neither. Men fought their wars and demons fought aside them, shifting the balance for their own amusement. For their own triumph.
This was to be hers. A demon taking the holy land of the chosen people. Five hundred thousand men dying for one demon's conquest.
-
627 AD Battle of Nineveh; Nineveh
Dawn came early on December 12th, Ruby could feel the morning chill seeping into her bones as she sat atop a hill, a veil shading her eyes from the rising sun. Khosrau's general, Rhahzadh, led more that seventy thousand men, against Heraclius' fifty thousand. She could see him at the front of his army, sword and shield, gifts from Ruby herself, shining in the morning sunrise.
Her hands gripped the arms of the chair, fingers turning white from the strain, as she watched. His advisors begged her to leave, but she stayed. From dawn until dusk, Ruby watched the battle. She had no say in this. She was forced to watch in silent horror until Heraclius killed Rhahzadh and Khosrau bowed at her lover's feet.
Without pretence, Ruby stood and ran down the hill, hair flying behind her until she reached Heraclius. Shame on her for loving a mortal. She ran into his arms, unmindful of the men fallen at her feet and the men watching with bowed heads.
He was bloodied; dust clung to him, coating him with a layer of sweet smelling dirt, but Ruby paid no attention, clinging to him like she was afraid letting go would mean this was a lie. "Heraclius, I thought I'd..." She trailed off, placing a hand against his cheek, her hand cool against his flushed skin.
He laughed softly, a hearty sound even in its hush. "You'd thought you'd lost me, love?" he asked her, smiling gently down at her. "It would take more than fifty thousand men to lose me. You've best try harder next time."
-
1192 AD Third Crusade; Jerusalem
She had been here before, many times, but never like this. She had seen the King, poor sickly Baldwin, die with her own eyes. Dressed as a nurse and playing her part, she flitted about the palace retrieving fresh dressings and pretending not to listen as the King and his advisors talked amongst themselves.
No one would ever expect a poor peasant nursemaid to betray their God's Kingdom.
But Nasir had a soft spot for her and her blonde hair. Even softer was his affection for her black-eyed smile. She was proof of what they were fighting for, a fallen angel in the midst of a holy war. Both sides were fighting for the same goal yet neither would put down their swords. Peace was not the path they had chosen.
For the kingdom of glory was paved in broken bones and bathed in blood. She had watched, months before, as Richard executed thousands of Muslim prisoners in the name of God. Saladin's anger was justified and Ruby only fueled his army.
Sitting alongside Nasir and his leader, Ruby smiled as she watched the people of Jerusalem walk towards the sea.
-
1212 AD The Children's Crusade; France
Scholars tended to call it legend, twenty thousand children following one boy to their imminent death because, 'God told us to'. God hadn't told them anything. God had abandoned them and their prayers long ago.
The miracles of Stephen, sweet but naive young boy, were not his own, but Ruby's. Imagine, miracles from a demon.
As they marched to the sea, thinking it would part for them as it did for Moses, Ruby bathed in roses buds and dressed in silks fit for a princess. The fates of children were not her concern.
-
1314 AD Battle of Bannockburn; Scotland
"Neven, please don' go. Stay, please." She didn't know when she'd been reduced to begging, but as she held his hands in her own, she begged. "Please. Don' go."
Barely six thousand men against twenty thousand.
"I must go, t'is me duty. Don' y'want to be free, giá?" Holding up their clasped hands he kissed her knuckles softly, dark curls falling across her skin. "'M doin' this fer us, Ru, so we can have a family of our own."
"I... Oh Nev, please, I'll do anythin', jus' don' go." With a kiss and a smile, Neven left her, family tartan waving in the cold wind. Ruby stayed by the door, hugging herself and letting the heat from the fire escape through the door before picking up Neven's father's sword and mounting her mare.
She watched in horror as Neven fell. And England's army watched in horror as she unleashed Hell. Twenty thousand men went to battle that morning, yet only nine thousand survived.