by Ben Kane
Brennus was happy to oblige. Recounting long tales about hunting or cattle raids was one of his favourite pastimes and popular with everyone in the village. He launched straight into the story of the biggest wolf ever killed by an Allobroge.
Brac's face lit up.
'The winter of ten years ago was one of the hardest in living memory,' began Brennus. 'The heavy blizzards drove packs of starving wolves down from the forests. With nothing to eat, they began to prey on our penned cattle every night. But none of the warriors dared go out to hunt them.' He shrugged expressively. 'The snow was waist deep and there were rarely less than twenty of the creatures together.'
His cousin looked round the clearing nervously.
'Within a month, dozens of cows had been killed. Then an old man collecting firewood was attacked at the edge of the forest and Conall, your father, had had enough. With my help, he worked for days making large traps.'
'And you caught plenty!' Brac's eyes shone and he rubbed the long canine tooth hanging from a leather thong round his neck.
Brennus nodded. 'Five in as many nights. The wolves quickly became more cautious and people 's spirits rose. But it was not long before the pack's alpha male and a few others began to return, killing a beast with each visit. They had become far too clever to take the bait in the cages and men began to say that they were evil spirits.'
'Ultan says they were too scared to help.'
Brennus raised his eyebrows, taking a drink from his water carrier.
'Conall and I talked. There was no question of following the wolves into the woods. Up there the drifts were deeper than a man. So the next night Conall tied an old cow to a stake outside the palisade. There was no moon, just a few stars. He wouldn't let me stay with him. Said I was too young.' Brennus grinned, fondly remembering the man who had taught him everything he knew about weaponry. His own father had died when he was only an infant. 'So I sat on the walkway with my bow and a hidden torch.'
'Where was Father?' Brac had heard the story a thousand times but always asked.
'Wrapped in a fur cloak and deep in a snowdrift, close by the ox. It was a long, cold wait.'
'Half the night, he said.'
The big warrior nodded. 'Of course the cow smelt the wolves first and began bellowing like mad. Conall stayed calm and waited, as a good hunter always does. I could see nothing at all from my position.' Brennus lifted a hand to his eyes, squinting dramatically into the darkness. 'Then suddenly they appeared: seven grey shadows creeping across the ice.'
Brac shivered with delight.
'The alpha male came in fast, going straight for the kill. I quickly planted the torch on the battlements to give me light, but the wolves were so hungry that they didn't even pause.'
'Father said you roared like devils were after you,' laughed Brac.
'Of course I did! They'd have smelt him any moment.' Brennus shuddered. 'One man against that many wolves wouldn't stand a chance.'
'He jumped up and you had already killed three with arrows.'
Brennus shrugged. 'His task was far more dangerous. As I shot the third beast, Conall took the head off a fourth and maimed another, leaving only the leader and his mate. They were savaging the poor cow. I killed the female and managed to draw a bead on the male just as he turned to face Conall. They were only twenty paces apart, far enough for me to loose safely. But your father yelled at me to hold. "The bastard's mine!" he said.'
There was silence for a moment.
Brennus stared at Brac. 'He was the bravest man I have ever known. That wolf was as big as a bear and Conall had no shield and no armour. Just his sword and a hunting knife.'
Brac rocked to and fro, barely able to contain his excitement.
'The wolf kept darting in, trying to knock him over, but Conall kept it at bay with ease, waiting for a chance. Then he slipped on the snow and fell flat on his back, losing his sword. Before I could react, the alpha male leapt into the air.' Brennus' voice dropped. 'It was going to rip his throat out.'
He paused and Brac's grip on the tooth tightened.
'Somehow Conall drew his dagger and turned it upwards with both hands. The blade went straight through the wolf 's heart as it landed.'
'You thought he was dead!'
'Seemed that way until he pushed the body off,' replied Brennus with a smile. 'I've never been so relieved.'
'Father always said he could never have done it without you. The only one who would help.'
'It was nothing,' Brennus muttered awkwardly.
'It meant a lot to him. And me.'
Brennus quickly looked away.
'Tell me another,' said Brac, trying to lighten the atmosphere, but it was the wrong thing to say.
'Not tonight.' Brennus poked a stick at the blaze, releasing a stream of sparks into the night sky. 'Another time, perhaps.' He gazed sombrely into the flames, mood changed. Conall's death the previous summer still affected him deeply. At the end of a major skirmish against the Romans, Brennus had been swept away from the main body of warriors and surrounded by dozens of legionaries. As the big man had watched his fellow Allobroges run for the safety of the trees, he had asked the gods for a swift death. But instead of fleeing like the rest, Conall had led several men on a suicidal counterattack, saving his nephew but losing his own life. Guilt had weighed heavily on Brennus since, and Brac knew better than to persist.
'Get some rest. It will be tough tomorrow carrying all that meat.'
The younger warrior obediently curled up in his blanket, secure in the knowledge that he was being watched over.
Brennus stayed awake for some time, brooding about Conall and remembering Ultan's last words.
The tribe 's druid had been an old man when Brennus' father was a boy.
No one could explain how Ultan had lived for so long, but he was feared and respected by all and his blessings and predictions were an integral part of tribal life. If a child or beast was sick, Ultan was called for. No one could draw an arrow from a wound or treat a fever like the druid. Even Caradoc consulted him before making any important decisions.
Brennus had been weaned on Ultan's amazing tales, told by the fire in the meeting house on cold winter nights. He looked up to the druid like no other and in turn Ultan had a soft spot for the man who had grown into one of the mightiest Allobroge warriors ever seen.
Before he and Brac left to go hunting, Brennus had asked Ultan for a blessing. Frustrated that the druid would not intervene on his behalf with Caradoc, he had not lingered to chat in Ultan's ramshackle hut on the edge of the village. Prayer completed satisfactorily, Brennus had reached the door when the old man spoke.
'You are always one for long trips.'
Peering into the dim interior, Brennus had been unable to make out the druid's features. Bunches of herbs and mistletoe hung from nails beside the dried carcasses of birds and rabbits. Brennus had shivered. It was said that Ultan could brew a potion to charm the gods themselves. 'Will it be a difficult hunt, then?'
'More than that,' Ultan had muttered. 'A journey beyond where any Allobroge has gone. Or will ever go. Your destiny cannot be avoided, Brennus.'
He had steeled himself. 'I will die in the forest?'
Brennus had thought he saw a trace of sadness in the old man's eyes. In the poor light, he had not been sure.
'Not you. Many others. You will take a path of great discovery.'
Despite the fire 's heat, a shiver ran down the big man's spine. Typically, Ultan had refused to explain further. Unsettled, Brennus was worried enough to offer more prayers to Belenus than normal as they had climbed the wooded slopes. The hunt had gone well so far, but he knew the druid's predictions tended to be accurate. Would his family be safe? Would Brac's? Although it was early summer, the journey over the mountains was not without peril. Snow, ice, swiftly flowing rivers and dangerous paths awaited them.
Or had Ultan meant something else altogether?
He stared round the quiet clearing. The normally alert dogs twitched ha
ppily as they dreamt of chasing deer. Nothing. Closing his eyes with a sigh, Brennus pulled the blanket closer and lay protectively beside Brac. He slept well, without dreaming.
It was the last peaceful rest Brennus would have for many years.
When the younger warrior awoke, the sun's rays were already lighting up the mountains on the other side of the valley, turning the snow on the sharp peaks pink, then orange. He threw off his blanket and stood up, shivering in the early morning air.
'Had enough sleep?' Brennus laughed, over by the drying racks.
Brac flushed with guilt when he saw the packs were ready. All that was left to do was roll up the bedding and fill their leather water carriers from the stream. 'How long was I asleep?' he muttered, hurrying.
'As long as you needed.' Brennus' tone was kindly. 'Feeling rested?'
'Yes.'
'Good! Try this on.'
Staggering under the weight of one pack, Brennus gestured at the other beside him. With help, Brac managed to fit the bulging bag on his back. He noted with shame that it was much lighter than his cousin's.
'Let me take the heavier one.'
'I'm bigger and stronger. That's all there is to it. Yours is heavy enough.'
Brennus clapped him on the arm reassuringly. 'It's more than most could carry.'
Brennus led the way, using a hunting spear to steady himself on uneven ground. Brac and the dogs followed close behind. The little party made steady progress through the forest and by mid-morning they had covered just over half the distance back to the settlement.
'Time for another rest.' Gratefully Brennus lowered his pack by a large beech tree.
'I can go further.'
'Sit down.' He patted the moss, thinking it was a good time to tell Brac about his plan. 'Let's eat. Leave less to carry afterwards.'
They both laughed.
The pair sat beside each other, leaning against the broad trunk. In companionable silence, they drank water and chewed on dried meat.
'Is that smoke?' Brac pointed to the south.
There was a thick grey plume rising over the nearest treetops.
Brennus' fist clenched on his spear. 'Get up! That's from the village.'
'But how . . .?' Brac looked confused.
'Leave your pack and blanket. Take only weapons.'
The young warrior quickly obeyed and moments later they were running full pelt downhill, dogs at their heels. Brennus ran as if the gods were giving him strength and it wasn't long before Brac began to fall behind. He was fit and healthy, but there were few men who could match his cousin's physical prowess. When the big Gaul noticed Brac struggling, he stopped.
'What's going on?' Brac asked, chest heaving.
Brennus was a hopeless liar. 'I don't know, lad. A cooking fire out of control, perhaps?' He stared at the ground, Ultan's words echoing in his head.
Not you. Many others.
'Don't shield things from me,' said Brac. 'I'm a man, not a child.'
Brennus' eyebrows rose. Brac wasn't as naïve as he appeared. 'All right.
Our warriors must have been defeated.' He sighed heavily. 'The bastards obviously didn't wait for us to offer battle.'
Brac's face paled. 'And the smoke?'
'You know what happens. The village is being put to the torch.' Brennus closed his eyes. Liath. Their newborn baby. What had he been thinking to leave his family at such a time?
'Why have we stopped?' Brac pushed past roughly, feet sure on the narrow path.
They ran for a long time, guilt and rage giving them strength. Neither spoke, and they stopped to rest only occasionally. A short distance from the settlement, Brennus at last slowed down and came to a halt. Even the dogs seemed glad of an opportunity to rest. But his cousin kept running.
'Brac, stop!'
'Why? They might still be fighting!'
'And arrive completely winded? What damn use would that be?'
Brennus breathed deeply, calming himself. 'Always go into combat prepared.'
Reluctantly Brac walked back to where the big man was standing, feeling the edge on a spear tip.
'This is good enough for a boar,' said Brennus, baring his teeth savagely. 'Should kill a bastard Roman or two.'
Brac spat on the ground in agreement, checking every arrow tip was well attached. Then he looked up. 'Ready, cousin?'
Brennus nodded proudly. It was at times like this that a warrior knew who would stand by him. But a knot of fear was forming in his stomach. Terrified for his family's safety, Brennus also wanted to protect Brac from danger. As Conall had done for him.
They moved off at a slow trot, concentrating on their surroundings, wary of possible ambush. Following paths familiar to both, they soon reached the edge of the trees. Already it was obvious something was wrong. Summer was a busy time of the year, yet there was nobody out hunting or picking fallen wood, no children playing in the shade.
The sight that greeted Brennus would haunt him for ever. Past strips of cultivated land running up to the forest, his village was in flames. Thick spirals of smoke billowed upwards from thatched roofs. Screams carried through the air.
Thousands of legionaries surrounded the defensive wooden palisade that had always served the Allobroges well. The invaders were clad in chain mail and russet-brown thigh-length tunics. They had heavy rectangular shields with metal bosses, viciously barbed pila, short stabbing swords, rounded bronze helmets with ear flaps and neck guards. Brennus knew and hated every distinctive part of the Roman soldier's garb.
Behind the close-ranked cohorts stood the ballistae, massive wooden catapults that had fired flaming missiles over the walls. Trumpeters at the rear followed orders from red-cloaked senior officers, blowing staccato bursts from their bucinae to direct the attack. Every man knew his task, every sequence was planned and there would be only one outcome.
So unlike the brave, disorganised chaos of a Gaulish battle charge.
The deep moat round the stockade had already been filled with wood in numerous places. Long ladders were in place against the walls, allowing attackers to swarm up. More legionaries were heaving a battering ram to and fro against the main gates. Here and there an occasional figure fired arrows from the walkway, but the battlements were almost bare.
'There 's no resistance!'
'The warriors won't have run,' said Brac, face pale.
Brennus shook his head, a shiver running down his spine.
The lack of opposition meant only one thing: Caradoc and the men had been beaten, leaving the village defended only by women and the old.
There was no chance of saving Liath and the baby. Nausea washed over Brennus and he bit his lip until he felt the salty taste of blood. The pain focused his thoughts, preventing him from blindly charging forward. Not you. Many others.
Ultan had foreseen the attack and sent him hunting anyway.
'Come on!' Brac was also ready to leave the trees' protection.
A giant hand gripped his arm. 'It is too late.' Brennus frowned, staring at the sky. 'We came back a day early. The gods meant us to be up the mountain, not here. Ultan warned me.'
'The druid? He's crazy. We can't just stand here and watch!'
