The Crimson One In Bremenium, a cock crows,On midsummer night,Spears and shields together form,Barrier between cold and missed Apennines,Now facing feared terra,  Of mountain passes and hissed wind,Which whispers the legion’s names. The light of empire drew them far and wide,But here only the crowns of Bernicia,Glisten with silver, that leads soldiers,Over peaty fields and heathered moor,To where … Continue reading The Crimson One