by Peter Rhodan
Cluen forced himself to turn and face his sub-chiefs. “Do any of you think we can defeat these Romans?”
There were grumbles and a lot of heads hanging down but the bravado of a few days ago had been knocked out of them as they watched the army being shot to pieces on that slope. “Even if we drove them off, our losses would be such that one of the other tribes will sweep over us.” Lanwyllyn said sourly. Several heads nodded at this and some looked to where Cryllyn lay, still badly knocked up from the head wound he had received. The Damnoni were easily strong enough sweep over what was left of the Selgovae without any trouble.
Morghanna found herself studying the Roman. He had spoken in the Brython tongue but with a broad accent. He seemed completely uninterested in the talk going on, which in itself was worrying. Clearly he had complete confidence in being to defeat her tribe if they did not agree to the terms. She felt resentment growing at such arrogance but at the same time she was impressed with his courage in coming here with just the three other men. The two standing at the door puzzled her and she studied them more closely while the men dithered. They were both short and slight looking for warriors although their clothes hid their bodies well. The strange curved blades strapped to their backs were unlike anything she had seen before. Something about them made her look more closely while the sub-chiefs talk went up in volume to the traditional shout in each other’s face stage. One of black figures moved a little and it suddenly dawned on her that the guard was a woman! She quickly determined that the other must be a female as well which posed all manner of questions.
Were they his concubines? Wives? Admittedly the Brythons had traditions of warrior queens but they were something special, set apart from normal women. These two were clearly undertaking the job of protecting this Arturo person and were doing so quite competently. One continually watched the tribal leaders gathered in the room while the other watched the goings on outside. They appeared to pay no attention to the discussion, concentrating on their task with a singlemindedness that was impressive. She looked again at this Arturo, the latest Dux Britannium and as she did he turned his head slightly to face her and gave her a slight smile in return. His attention was almost immediately recalled to her father before she had decided whether to smile back or not. There was something about him that bothered her but shouldn't quite put her finger on what it was.
“We appear to have little choice but to accept your terms Arturo, Dux of the Romans.” Her father said after waving his arm to quieten his underlings.
There were several disappointed sounding grunts and mumbles at this statement, but no one openly objected. They simply were not in a position to fight further without weakening the tribe to an unsafe level. Arturo bowed and then held out his arm so it could be clasped by King Cluen. “We have an accord then. I will see to having the badly wounded men released at once. Can I also offer the services of my medical personnel?” He pointed to Cluen’s leg wound. “My own people know many things about healing that do not appear to be common knowledge locally, even among the Romans. I have passed what little I know of the medical knowledge of my people on to the small corps of medical people that accompany my army. If they are guaranteed safe passage I will have some of them come here and look at your wounded to see if they can help with any of the serious cases. I cannot promise any miracle cures but what little we can do, we will.”
Cluen looked at Arturo for a moment with a somewhat surprised expression on his face then nodded and glanced around the room. “Do any object to the Roman healers coming to help?”
Galadrina, the senior healer amongst the women pushed her way through the men from the rear of the hut where she had taken position and came to stand near the Roman. “You imply your healers are better than ours, Roman!” She almost spat at him. Her son had not returned from the battle and it was not known if he had died or been captured.
The Roman turned his face and looked down at her for a few seconds then waved his hand in small motion. “Not better lady, merely more knowledgeable. And it is knowledge they will be more than happy to share with you. Most of it is simple stuff to do with stopping the tiny devils that cause infection from getting into wounds and such.”
The woman nearly laughed. “Tiny devils cause infection? And why have I never seen such devils?”
“Because they are too small to see with the naked eye.” The Roman replied and seeing her going to reply he held up a hand and continued. "Can you see the air? Yet it can push a tree over when it blows hard enough!" There was certainty about the way he said these words which Morghanna could feel that made her decide he was telling the truth. “If your king will allow, later in the summer I will have a special seeing glass tool sent up to you here so you can see the tiny devils for yourself.”
Even Galadrina could feel the absolute certainty in the man’s tone and manner. She studied him for some time. “You are not Roman?” She asked finally.
He smiled in such a wistful and sad way it was like a cloud moving in front of the sun to make everything gloomy. “I do indeed come from far, far away.” His reply was in a tone that conveyed such sadness in that simple statement, Morghanna could feel it almost as a physical thing. But then he cast the mood off as quickly as it had come on him. “I am a Roman now though, and they are benefitting from my people’s knowledge, such of it that I can pass on. I was not a healer and so my knowledge is limited but what little I do know has helped the people south of the wall immensely. Already the birth rate survival of both mother and child is much better and the reduction in infections from wounds has been marked. We still cannot cure all ills but we can reduce their numbers.”
He paused and then smiled at her. “You are angry because of the losses your people have suffered and for that I am sorry. But I am offering what help I can to aid your recovery from this mess. And I offer it freely now that your King and I have settled matters. If you refuse that is fine and entirely your right. New knowledge is always dangerous to those with vested interests in the status quo.” He smiled and turned to the king. “By your leave your majesty, I will return to my army. I would suggest we generally keep our warriors apart for the present time, but I would welcome some of your men to come and help with the badly wounded I am releasing.”
Cluen nodded. “Cunedd, take charge of the matter. Do not let anyone start trouble with the Romans.” He looked at Arturo. “The prisoners you are keeping. Can we have a list of their names?”
The Roman nodded. “Oween. See to that will you.” To which the other Roman, who had so far said nothing, nodded yet maintained his silence. The Roman leader turned back to the king. “It may take a few days King Cluen, but it will be done.”
“And after ten years you will release them?” Her father narrowed his eyes at the Roman leader.
“Yes, King Cluen. I do not support slavery at all, as a rule, despite what is the norm within the Empire. I do need soldiers and workmen. At the end of their time they will be free to return home. There are no guarantees that all will survive of course. Those who choose to be soldiers will face the normal risks and soldier faces. Those that choose to be workmen will be treated like indentured servants rather slaves but the sort of work they will be doing carries its own dangers. Building big things like bridges, fortifications, even just improving the roads, all such work carries risk. What will not happen is that they be treated like slaves. On that you have my word.” Again, this was a statement with such a solid certainty that none in the building were in any doubt the Roman meant it. There was a power to this man that was almost palpable she decided. Despite his apparent youthfulness he was obviously used to authority and command appeared to come naturally to him.
None the less Morghanna was surprised at this statement. The normal fate of prisoners after a battle was to be sold as slaves, everyone did it. There were at least a thousand slaves in the oppidum alone, mostly descendants of people taken in raids and battles from generations ago. In recent years the Selgovae had not done much in the way of raids
to gain new slaves, the tribe being too weak to upset its neighbours and the Romans had appeared too tough for them to chance attacking on their own. The tribe was even weaker now, she thought with disgust. How soon would it be before the Votandi swept over them, or the Damnoni for that matter. Only the Novotae were too weak to be of concern, worn down by constant Scotti raids as they were.
She considered his statement as the minor details were sorted out. Did they not have slaves where he came from? How could society function without slaves to do much of the menial work? This was a conundrum, as were the two female warriors who were obviously his bodyguards. And yet despite his commanding presence there was none of the arrogant Roman aristocrat about him. She remembered as child when an earlier Dux had come north to hold talks with her father. This Arturo Sandus exuded none of that innate sense of cultural superiority that Roman had projected. He was determined and straightforward certainly, used to command obviously, but he was not lording over the man he had just beaten in battle. She studied the Roman leader more closely as the details were sorted, intrigued after a fashion.
It was late afternoon when a party of Selgovae warriors, senior women and slaves with wagons, led by Cunedd breasted the rise that hid the Roman camp from the oppidum. Morghanna had insisted on being part of the mission, partly out of a familial responsibility, but mostly out of curiosity to see the Roman camp. From the top of the rise she could clearly see the camp was laid out in a sharp rectangle with four gates, one centrally positioned along each side. It was surrounded by a ditch and inside that a mound raised from the spoil atop which wooden stakes had been emplaced forming a wall. Behind the wall a fighting platform had clearly been made from the piled dirt and maybe a dozen soldiers patrolled along each face of the wall.
At each gate there was a wooden tower built over it from which soldiers could defend the entrance. The cavalry appeared to be housed in the portion of the fort nearest the Selgovae oppidum. Then there was area occupied by a group of larger tents at the junction of the four roads crossing the camp from gate to gate. Behind these were a mass of smaller tents laid out in neat rows in the larger area beyond the cross street. Over in the far corner was a collection of less well organised tents and the area was patrolled by armed Romans. She guessed this was where the wounded were.
There was a shout as they breasted the rise and as the Selgovae walked down the slope to the Roman camp trumpets blew and men boiled out of their tents and started fitting themselves out in their armour and equipment. Before the Selgovae had even reached the camp, the walls were lined with Roman soldiers armed with spear, shield and, Morghanna realised, what must be the dreaded bow things they used with such devastating effect. The gate in front of them opened and a large Roman marched out with a dozen men in his wake. He halted in front of Cunedd and clapped himself with his arm, diagonally across his chest. “I am Brennus, Tribune of the first cohort of Legio two.” This was said in clear Latin which Morghanna understood well enough. Most of the upper classes learnt Latin early due to the proximity of the Romans. Many of the young men often did stints in the Roman army.
Cunedd nodded “I am Cunedd, son of Cluen, king of the Selgovae. And this Morghanna, my sister. We are here to help the seriously wounded and maimed back to our oppidum as per the accord my father reached with your commander.”
“Of course Prince Cunedd. Please come this way.” And the big Roman, who Morghanna realised spoke with a Germanic accent. He turned and led them inside the fort without hesitation. The soldiers who had appeared on the walls began to drift back to their tents and disarm. There were cavalry men engaged in tasks inside who stopped to watch the Selgovae walk down the wide trodden down path forming a street that led through the camp. It dawned on her that although many of the Romans had gone back to other tasks the walls were still manned by plenty armed soldiers who watched them closely all the way through the camp. She was more amused than anything that they would regard their party of women and such as a threat.
The wounded men were being tended by five or so Romans who wore the same blue/green tunics as the rest but with red crosses, outlined in white, on the shoulders and hems of the tunics in addition to the other decoration that all the soldiers carried on their clothes. The men looking after the wounded had the white trim to their tunics like all the rest of the soldiers but a couple of the men with crosses had red trim. There was no sign of Arturo, the Roman commander, which she found rather a relief as she had decided he was rather unnerving. She tried to convince herself it was because he was a foreigner, but it was really more of a something about him, the way he moved, a sensation of strangeness.
The wounded were soon organised and put on the carts or on horses if they could manage, although there were several who only missing hands and who could walk back. They had not brought enough transport with them, but Tribune Brennus very kindly offered them some Roman carts and soon the entire group were headed back to the oppidum, including several of the Romans with the red crosses who chose to accompany them.
The lead carts had barely left the gateway at the far end of the Roman camp when a party of Romans rode up. Morghanna recognised Arturo and the man Oween who had come with him to the oppidum, accompanied by another, clearly older Roman officer, a younger officer who could not keep his eyes off her and another man carrying a banner. Behind rode the two black clad women bodyguards.
“Hail Cunedd. Is all to your satisfaction?” The Roman leader offered as he rode up.
“Yes Dux.” Cunedd replied not smiling but nor sounding surly either. “Your men have been most courteous towards us and some are accompanying us back to the oppidum to continue their ministrations. I will make sure they are not harmed or treated badly while they are there."
Arturo nodded casting an eye over the entire party. “Very well. I will hold you responsible Prince Cunedd.” He turned to look at the party of Romans accompanying the wounded. “Are you fine to stay the night and see what you can do for their wounded Carmelyn?” The Roman leader said to the senior of the men with the carts.
The man saluted as Brennus had done to Cunedd. “Yes Dominus Arturo. My men and I are happy to do what we can for the Selgovae. How long do we have?”
Arturo peered off into space for a moment. “Probably the whole of tomorrow and then we return south the morning after.”
“I understand sir. My men and I will return to camp tomorrow evening, all being well.”
He saluted again and Arturo turned back to Cunedd. “I did not like the look of your father’s leg, Prince Cunedd. I cannot guarantee Carmelyn can do anything to make it better but I would strongly recommend he be allowed to look at it.”
Her brother nodded and Morghanna suddenly found the Roman’s gaze upon her again, although he raised no questions. Instead he gave a small smile and then with a wave he led his party into the fort. She should be feeling hatred and resentment for the man who had brought ruin on her people, but she did not, for no clear reason. Although perhaps it was because she had known the raid would end in disaster before it had started. She could not in her heart blame the man for stopping the unprovoked attack her father had led, especially when he elected to be magnanimous rather than smash the tribe totally which was within his power. Yet at the same time his presence made her uneasy. It was all very strange and so far she had not had a presentment either. Strange.
Whatever the case the Romans and their strange commander were gone two days later and whether it was a result of the Roman healer’s efforts or not, her father’s leg did not get infected and there was no need to amputate. Cryllyn returned north with the what remained of his Damnoni warriors and those tribesmen from south of the Lynnew who refused to stay under Roman rule were given lands that had become vacant as a result of the battle. There were a number of widows and small children left homeless by warriors too poor to own their own land which Morghanna found positions for amongst the sub-chief households.
The Romans had also intimated that the wives and children of any of the Sel
govae warriors who chose to spend their ten years in the Roman army would be welcome to come south and join the husbands. Apparently this new Roman commander had no problem with wives and children living near the army forts the troops were based in. It was all rather odd. The Roman armies had lived in their stone forts for many years, although word had come in recent times that some had swapped to being billeted on civilian towns and such like on the continent. The return to fixed bases was an interesting reversion to past practice.
The older men spent much discussing the meaning of the changes in the Roman practices. Others debated the effect of the bow things the Romans had been armed with. Most agreed that while they were certainly effective, they had limitations. They were slower to fire than a normal bow and needed the troops to be slightly more spread out. On the other side of the coin they had a range at least as good as a normal bow and due to their nature used a flatter trajectory which meant they were a little more accurate and a man could be taught to fire them accurately more easily. At close range the force they imparted to the arrow meant it could punch right through a shield and into the man behind. The consensus of opinion amongst those that had been at the battle was that without the surprise trenches the Selgovae would have run right over the Roman line.
Chapter 13
A feeling of progress
Arturo watched as the last of the Selgovae prisoners, correction, volunteers, staggered into the fort. Of the over eleven hundred prisoners taken, just over eight hundred had chosen to serve in the army as opposed to the labour gangs. While he observed the prisoners, Arturo reflected on the different mentality that prevailed here. There was no great upwelling of that strong nationalism that marked advanced societies where every other state was viewed as the enemy. A Federation military member would never volunteer to serve in another state’s military because it would be deemed to be treason. Here it appeared such an act was accepted as a prudent choice in the face of adversity. He had spoken at length with Valerius about the Roman army and discovered that the Imperial Roman army in Gallia was apparently largely composed of Germans of various flavours, Syrians and Moors with very few actual Romans. Overall he found the whole thing rather hard to get used to.
