by Kevin Ashman
‘You heard the officer,’ he said, ‘This is your chance to earn your own standard, but it will be the hardest thing you have ever done.’ As he spoke Severus stomped back and fore, his voice raising steadily raising the passion in his soldier’s chests. ‘Chabal is over twenty miles away, so a return journey is twice as far as you have ever marched before. I am confident that every man here is capable of succeeding in this task, but if we do this, we do it as a Century. Eighty men as one. If we fail, we fail together. There will be no drop outs, there will be no quitters and there will be no failures. We have stuck together throughout your training and we will still be together when we meet the first barbarian spear in Britannia. I am proud of what you have achieved so far and have no doubt that we will return with standard held high. Are you with me?’
‘Yes, Centurion,’ roared the men in return.
‘I can’t here you!’ screamed Severus, ‘Are you fucking with me?’
Again the Century roared their agreement, this time their voices echoing off the surrounding hills.
‘Tessaria!’ roared Severus, ‘Check their kit, Optio, get me a sack of Buccellatum.’
He looked at the retreating columns of the other centuries disappearing into the distance, already started on the race. Within a few minutes the Century was ready to march, each with an extra ration of Buccellatum, the hard tack biscuit issued to legions on campaign and each carrying an extra water bottle, hastily gathered by the Tessaria from the quartermasters in the fort. Centurion Severus took Optio Remus to one side.
‘Chabal camp lies along the road twenty miles in that direction,’ he said, pointing at a trail of dust left by the departing centuries, ‘But our route lies there.’ He pointed upwards at the mountain overlooking the valley to the north. ‘The other side of that hill lies a track that leads past the camp. If we can gain the summit in two hours, I reckon we can be there before the others.’
‘Our horses will never climb that,’ said Remus.
‘The horses stay here,’ said Severus, ’We march with our men!’
Chapter 10
Gwydion sat huddled in his oiled sheepskin cloak, pushing himself as close to the fire as possible to get some warmth into his freezing bones. All around him were hundreds of similar fires providing the same service to thousands of Catuvellauni warriors, each warming themselves against the bite of the nocturnal temperatures. Spring was still weeks away and though the forest canopy had prevented the worst of the snowfall from reaching the forest floor, it could provide little in the way of warmth or comfort to the waiting army below.
Men coughed and spluttered as they tried to get a few minutes sleep, while others talked quietly, anticipating the forthcoming battle. Gwydion blew on his hands for the hundredth time that night, and looked jealously over to the makeshift tent that contained Caratacus’s brother, Togodumnus, and his own king, Idwal. Muffled voices came from within and shadows moved on the hide walls, the imagery projected by the roaring flames within.
The Catuvellauni army was impressive, consisting of over sixty thousand armed men and a thousand chariots. Huge piles of wood were built into unlit bonfires every few miles along the coast, each manned by two men under orders to light the pyre should there be any sight of the invasion fleet. Gwydion had never seen such an army. He was sure the Romans would be crushed like ants when confronted by Caratacus and his hordes. He huddled deeper under his cloak and closed his eyes, not sure why he was even here.
----
Gwydion’s eyes sprung open, instantly alert.
‘I told you,’ said a voice behind him, ‘A common thief, right here in the very midst of us.’
Gwydion sat up, but remained facing the fire.
‘To whom do you direct your insult sir?’ he asked staring into the flames.
‘You are the only Deceangli pigs around here, I guess it must be you.’
‘There are no thieves here,’ said Gwydion slowly, ‘Leave us in peace.’
‘Ah, but thieves you are?’ said the voice.
Gwydion stood up and turned to face his accuser. In front of him stood five men, led by a man of great stature swigging from a flask of ale.
‘And what am I accused of stealing?’ he asked.
‘It is no accusation,’ answered the warrior, ‘The evidence is right before our eyes.
Gwydion looked around.
‘I see nothing that has been stolen,’ he said.
‘Then what do you burn on your fire?’ asked the man feigning surprise.
‘What?’ gasped Gwydion in astonishment, ‘It is but firewood.’
‘Catuvellauni firewood, and I don’t recall giving you permission to burn it.’
Gwydion’s men stood up in support of their leader, their hands resting on their swords.
‘But never let it be said I am not a fair man,’ continued the warrior, ‘You can keep the firewood….. for a price.’
‘Over my dead body,’ said one of Gwydion’s comrades and drew his own sword.
‘Wait!’ shouted Gwydion and grabbed his arm before the sword was fully withdrawn.
‘What price?’
‘Sensible man,’ said the warrior, ‘I want that heathen bow you carry.’
Gwydion looked down at the Parthenian recurved bow he had been given by his father. Slowly released the arm he had been restraining.
‘That is not going to happen!’ he said quietly.
‘Then I guess I will have to take it myself,’ said the warrior and reaching over his shoulder drew his long sword from the scabbard fastened to his back, closely imitated by his fellow Catuvellauni.
Gwydion’s comrades followed suit and all faced each other, the tension rising in the firelight.
‘Hold!’ ordered a voice and all men looked up to see Togodumnus watching the confrontation outside the flap of the tent, along with Idwal, king of the Deceangli.
‘Brallot these are our guests,’ said Togodumnus, ‘Why do you draw your sword, have they borne you insult?’
‘Their very presence insults me,’ answered Brallot, ‘This is our war and we need no aid from Deceangli pigs.’ He spat at Gwydion’s feet.
‘You are a good warrior, Brallot,’ said Togodumnus, ‘And I know your blade itches to taste blood but let it be Roman blood. These are my guests and I will not allow you to slay the boy.’
‘He stole firewood from my pile,’ said Brallot, ‘And I seek payment.’
‘I did not know it was yours,’ said Gwydion, ‘It was untended.’
‘Mine nonetheless,’ said Brallot.
Something landed in the thin layer of snow at Brallot’s feet.
‘Is that payment sufficient?’ asked Cody, Gwydion’s right hand man.
‘What is it?’ asked Brallot, his eyes not leaving Gwydion.
‘A bracelet,’ said Cody, ‘Khymric gold.’
Brallot hesitated, then bent quickly to pick up the bracelet.
‘The debt is paid,’ he said eventually and sheathed his sword before turning away to leave the clearing.
‘Wait!’ shouted Cody and the man turned back around to face him, ‘You and I still have unfinished business.’
‘Which is?’
‘You call my people pigs in front of my own king. I demand redress.’
Brallot looked at Togodumnus and the king’s brother nodded in agreement. It was a matter of honour.
‘I paid you a fair price for your firewood,’ said Cody, ‘Now you must pay me a fair price for insulting my tribe.’
‘I am not returning the gold,’ said Brallot.
‘You can keep the bracelet,’ said Cody,’ I want something of yours.’
‘What?’
‘Your head!’ said Cody and drew his own longsword.
The men in the clearing gasped and formed a circle. It was a fair challenge as honour was at stake. A grin spread across Brallot’s face and he drew his sword for the second time that night. The surrounding men picked up burning branches from nearby fires to light the circle.
&nb
sp; Both swords swished back and fore as the two wary men circled each other, Brallot the experienced Catuvellauni warrior and Cody, a young warrior of the Deceangli. A few heartbeats after squaring up, the forest rang with the clash of steel upon steel as the first blows were dealt.
Brallot launched himself into the attack raining blow after blow on the Deceangli warrior, the strikes from his broadsword falling thick and fast. His bigger frame and muscular arms meant his attack was stronger and Cody was forced backwards as the seemingly inexhaustible Brallot rained his rage down on the younger man. Gwydion stared in horror as Cody struggled to defend himself, constantly retreating and not returning a single blow in return, but, as the minutes passed, he realized that his comrade was not even attempting to return the assault but was absorbing the frenzy of the attack, deliberately soaking up the ferocity with a mix of patience and technique.
Slowly the strategy started to tell and Brallot’s blows to eased in intensity as he strained for breath, his arms weary from wielding the heavy sword. Finally he stumbled as he missed Cody completely and the young Deceangli took the initiative. Now it was Brallot’s turn to retreat, throwing his sword up wildly to parry Cody’s counter assault as he stumbled backward, a look of fear on his face. Despite this, he countered bravely, seizing the opportunity of a mistimed strike by Cody to smash him in the face with the butt of his sword and knocking him to the floor in the process.
He screamed wildly and drove his blade downward to deal the death blow but Cody had rolled away, kicking Brallot’s legs from beneath him as he went and Brallot fell to the ground, losing his sword in the process. Cody was on his feet above Brallot who lay gasping for air on the floor. He picked up the Catuvellaunian sword, holding it in his left hand.
‘Get up!’ he said.
‘Just do it!’ gasped Brallot.
‘I will not kill an unarmed man,’ answered Cody.
‘You have defeated me, I seek no quarter.’
‘And I offer none!’ said Cody, ‘This is yet unfinished!’
Brallot lifted himself to his feet and faced Cody, both men breathing heavily. Cody threw Brallot’s sword across to him.
‘Like I said, I do not kill unarmed men.’
Brallot caught his sword and stared back at the younger man.
‘That was a big mistake,’ he said and suddenly launched a huge swing at Cody with unexpected ferocity. Cody ducked instinctively and spinning around, whirled his heavy blade in a wide backhand strike of his own, connecting cruelly with Catuvellaunian flesh.
For a couple of seconds Brallot’s brain continued to function as it used up the last of the interrupted blood supply and his eyes stared in confusion at the sight of a body lying a few yards away. The torso was familiar, even though he had never seen it from this angle before. Blood spurted from the neck, pulsing in unison with the dying heart and as oblivion beckoned, his final realization was that the body was his own, and he was looking at it from three yards away!
The surrounding men stared in silence at the scene, unsure how to react. They looked towards Togodumnus for guidance, all willing to strike down this man who had killed their comrade. Togodumnus walked over to the head lying on the floor and stared down for a moment before kicking it into the fire.
‘It is done!’ he said, ‘Return to your fires and take his body with you. Honour is satisfied. He returned to his tent closely followed by Idwal.
The rest of the men dispersed into the darkness and Gwydion wrapped himself in his oiled cape once again, watching the flesh peel from Brallot’s head in the flames.
Chapter 11
High above the legionary fortress, Cassus’s lungs burned as he pushed himself up the last steep rise of the mountain. Before him lay the summit, a twenty foot rocky escarpment that rose vertically in their path like the palisade upon the fort walls. The Century were spaced out in single file up and over the crag, passing their equipment along a human chain to the top, and as he waited his turn to clamber up the rocks, he stared at the scene far below. From this height he could see the whole military camp and marvelled at its enormity. Over five thousand troops were stationed within its barricaded walls, and a further four thousand auxiliaries outside in a tented village. The cavalry horses were corralled within fenced paddocks, as were the herds of donkeys intended to carry the legions supplies to Britannia. Cassus realized that this was a rare sight for many soldiers were often away from their legionary headquarters on postings or expeditions, and only the fact that the invasion was imminent had prompted their return, ensuring the legion was at full strength.
Finally the signal came to continue and he followed the man in front of him as they scaled the granite crag. When the last soldier had joined the rest of the Century on the plateau, Centurion Severus addressed his men.
‘Five minutes rest,’ he said, ‘Eat some Buccellatum and drink deep. From here on in there will be little rest.’ Within minutes they were formed up in their three ranks and adjusting their kit for maximum comfort.
‘Right,’ shouted Severus, ‘Optio get us moving, we have a standard to obtain.’
‘Century,’ shouted Remus, ‘Double time,…. Advaaance….!
The column started down the track in unison at two steps per second, the thud of their steps enhanced by the clank of their armour. The hill soon levelled out and the pace steadied to a regular pattern. Two hundred paces at double time followed by one hundred at single, repeated over and over again, eating up the miles between them and their destination. They stopped at a stream to refill their water bottles, resting for two minutes to catch their breath.
‘How far now, Optio?’ asked Montellus between swigs of his water bottle, his two Pila lying on the floor between his feet.
‘An hour!’ responded the Optio, ‘I reckon we are ten minutes ahead of the nearest Century. If we…’
‘Optio!’ interrupted Prydain urgently.
Remus stopped mid sentence, his expression angry at the interruption.
‘Did I give you permission to speak?’ he asked menacingly.
‘No, Optio, but...’
‘Shut your slave mouth,’ snarled Optio, ‘I thought I made it clear you don’t talk to me unless I tell you too.’
‘Yes, Optio, but you should know something.’
‘Nothing you have to say is of interest to me, now get your shit together and move out.’
The soldiers scrambled to form up, ready for the last push to Chabal.
‘You never learn, do you’ said Cassus, drawing his sword belt a notch tighter.
‘I thought I saw something,’ said Prydain, ‘Up there on the hill.’
Cassus followed his stare up to the wooded slopes of the valley.
‘What did you see?’ he asked.
‘A reflection?’ said Prydain.
‘Like a waterfall?’ asked Cassus.
‘Like a weapon,’ said Prydain grimly.
‘Double step, ….advaaance…,’ screamed Optio and the column started again down the track.
‘What do you mean a weapon?’ hissed Cassus between breaths, trotting alongside Prydain.
‘Just that,’ said Prydain, ‘A reflection off a piece of steel, like a sword or helmet.’
‘It may just be a local hunter, or something,’ said Cassus.
‘Maybe, but if it is, there are several of them and they have been following us for the last two miles.’ Suddenly Prydain peeled out of the rank and ran back along the column.
‘What are you doing?’ shouted Cassus and Optio Remus, who had been leading the Century at the front, span around to see the commotion.
Prydain ran back along the column towards Centurion Severus who was bringing up the rear, ensuring there were no stragglers.
‘Hold fast, soldier?’ screamed Remus behind him, ‘Get back in line!’
Prydain ignored him and ran back to the Centurion who was now staring at the disobedient recruit in quiet anger. He ground to a halt before Severus.
‘You had better have a good reason fo
r breaking ranks, soldier,’ said Severus menacingly.
‘Sir,’ he began, ‘I think…’
Before he could finish, Severus came up behind him and smashed him across the side of his head with his Scutum, knocking Prydain to the floor.
‘No one disobeys me, slave-boy,’ he spat, ‘You need to be taught a lesson.’
‘Century halt!’ roared Severus and ninety men stopped as one, glad of the unexpected rest break.
‘Get up,’ said Severus, ‘This had better be good, or I’ll whip you myself.’
Prydain regained his feet and wiped the blood from his mouth staring at the Optio with loathing.
‘Well,’ said the Centurion.
‘Sir, I think the column is in danger,’ he said, ‘I think we are walking into an ambush.’
‘What?’ gasped Remus in disbelief, ‘By the gods slave-boy I’ll have your hide for this.’
‘Explain!’ snapped Severus interrupting the Optio’s imminent tirade.
‘We are being followed,’ explained Prydain. ‘On the hill behind me there’s an armed party following us through the valley.’
‘I have seen nothing,’ said Severus, ‘Why do you think this?’
‘For the last few miles I have seen the sun reflecting off metal. At first I thought I was mistaken but it has happened several times, too often to be natural.’
‘Have you seen horses?’ asked Optio,
‘No Optio but they are keeping pace with us, and unless they are legionaries, they have to be mounted. The distance between the first and last suggests at least twenty mounts.’
Severus stared at the hill.
‘Why do you think we are at risk?’ he asked, this area has been in Roman hands for years. There are no tribes that would dare stand against us.’
‘If they are friendly, why keep themselves hidden and take a rough road through the forest,’ answered Prydain. ‘This track is far easier. They hide themselves for a reason.’
Severus continued to sweep the hillside for a sign, pondering whether to trust this man’s instincts or beat him with his Vitis for insubordination.
