Caledonii: Birth of a Nation. (Part Four: The Romans Invade)

by Hall, Ian

  “Aye?”

  “Everyone’s upset about what we’ve seen here.” He nodded towards Conrack who scowled at them both, hand still on his dirk.

  As Calach turned away, leading the frightened girl gently by the hand, he heard Finlass giving Conrack instructions to scout the area.

  He set off to find Kat’lana.

  ~ ~ ~

  “What did Conrack say to her?” Kat’lana looked towards the walls of the town. She had settled the girl in a small farm hut outside. The horses of the warrior band were tied nearby.

  “Just that she was a coward an’ ‘should be treated as such.’” Calach repeated to her.

  “That arse doesn’t know what compassion is!”

  Calach smiled. He realized as he did so that it was the first smile of the day.

  “What did she have to say then?”

  “Nothing much. Her name is Weeha.”

  “Where is she now?” He asked.

  “She’s sleeping it off, she just collapsed after I’d let her lie down. It’s her body’s way of dealing with what’s happened.”

  “We’ll have to wait for her to wake up then?”

  “Aye.”

  “Damn Lugh! I wanted to ask her questions.”

  “Calach!” She snapped. “You’re starting to sound like Conrack!”

  “Sorry Kat’lana, I just needed to know certain things; where the Romans went, how many were there, that kind o’ thing.”

  “Well, it looks like you’ll have to find out somewhere else, because Weeha’s not going to be doing any talking for a long time.”

  “As bad as that eh?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Roman bastards!”

  In time, the first scouts began to return with reports of the Roman’s direction of travel. They had gone directly north, and were perhaps only one day ahead of them. As more scouts returned, some had local Selgove clansmen and women with them, attracted both by the smoke from the town and the activity of the warrior band. As their numbers steadily grew, the local Selgovae helped with the gathering of the bodies and the building of the pyre.

  By the evidence of the massacre in Shiels and the first-hand knowledge of the clansmen who had hidden as the invaders had travelled through, Calach began to build a picture of a very large Roman force. Thousands and thousands of foreign troops, too many for his small band to even consider tackling on their own.

  It seemed that the Romans had come from the south, then after the battle, marched on a route almost due north and Calach and his company had been fortunate to miss them. His small Norland force had approached Shiels from the north-west, due to their marshaling points along the way. They had missed each other by no more than a day, maybe even less.

  Eventually all the bodies were gathered and the pyre was completed. By this time, there were so many Selgove that they equaled Calach’s force.

  The pyre was massive; three times as wide as the main hut, easily twice as tall as Calach.

  “What do we do about the gods?” Finlass tugged at Calach’s sleeve. The Caledon turned round slowly, looking unfocused at his friend’s face. “The gods Calach! Someone should say something. We haven’t a dhruid wi’ us, so one o’ us should say something at least.”

  Calach took a deep breath, then let it out with a long sigh. He looked around at the Selgove people.

  “Is there a dhruid amongst you?”

  They shuffled uncomfortably, looking at each other, muttering amongst themselves. Prompted by a push from behind, and a few words of encouragement, one elderly man stepped forward.

  “If it pardon you Lud, there are no dhruids here.” He said. His back was arched with age, his wrinkled features twitched as he spoke. “There have been no dhruids here for the last four days. They left just before the Romans came through.”

  “Argh!” Calach hissed. “Why do I feel that it is typical o’ them to do something like this? Why do they desert their people when they’re needed most?”

  “Let them build a burial mound over their ashes!” Came a shout from behind Calach. The voice had been Selgove.

  “There is no one here to say the words.” The old man continued.

  “There is no part o’ me that can say words enough for this day.” Calach said. He walked to the old man and embraced him lightly. “You do it Finlass.” He said over his shoulder.

  “Do what though?” Finlass struggled for words. “What do I say?”

  Calach was about to erupt again in frustration, then checked himself, remembering the pressure they all were under. He turned, still keeping his arm round the old man’s shoulder.

  “Just lift your sword high an’ swear an oath o’ vengeance.” Calach said. “That ought to do the gods.” He slipped his arm from the old man and backed away. “The dead won’t care either way. If everyone o’ us says their own oath, the Gods will hear it!”

  He watched as Finlass approached the pyre and quietly spoke, his words only audible to those clansmen very close to him. Then he lowered his head and silently raised his sword and pointed it to the sky. All around, like a ripple in a pond, the same gesture was made by the entire warrior band, Calach included. The Selgove people raised their fists or torches to light the fire. There was a murmur as each swore their own oath.

  “Light it.” Calach ordered.

  When the pyre had caught fire, and the dark, acrid smoke plumed high in the evening air, Calach sought out Finlass, who was with Conrack, watching the flames.

  “What do you think we should do now Finlass?” Calach asked. The young Caledon was conscious that Conrack was weighing every word.

  “I don’t know exactly Calach,” Finlass replied, “But one thing’s for sure, we can’t fight them.”

  “Aye, not on our own, anyway!” Conrack agreed. “The Selgove inside must have numbered five six times our party, an’ look what happened to them!”

  “What do we do about them?” Finlass, nodding his head towards the Selgove. “What do we say?”

  Calach gritted his teeth. “We tell them that there’s a home for them up north if they want to make their own way up there.”

  “An’ right now?”

  “An’ right now, we get on our horses an’ ride out o’ here before the Romans come back.”

  “What size of an army must the Romans have?” Finlass interrupted. “Must have been thousands more than died here. There were no Roman burials that we found. It was a slaughter.”

  “Look, from the attack an’ the survivors, here’s what I’ve gleaned so far.” Calach paused, his train of thought lost for a moment as he looked into the flames. “They were attacked quickly. Very quickly.”

  “There’s no evidence of any animals inside the walls.” Calach began. The brothers nodded appreciatively. “Not even any tracks; so they weren’t prepared for a siege. This was a lightning attack by very good soldiers. The clanspeople didn’t even seem to have time to put on woad; and that’s unusual.”

  “I noticed that, but never thought anything about it.” Finlass mused.

  “I think that the Selgovae thought that they had more time than they were given. This fight was over very quickly.” Calach continued, “I don’t think it lasted longer than half a day. No chance to prepare, no chance to make extra arrows or spears, just a quick fight. In an’ out again.”

  “Do you think there were any survivors?” Conrack asked. “Any force that got away?”

  Calach looked around him at the Selgove people, who were staring blankly at the pyre. “Anyone caught inside the walls was either killed or taken prisoner, and I don’t see any evidence o’ the latter. As to whether there’s a Selgove force out there; there definitely is. The speed of the attack was crushing to the force here, but it also didn’t allow the Selgove to marshal their forces properly. There’s bound to be at least two or three times the number caught here still out there; probably more. With any luck they’ll be on their way here now.”

  “So there is a good side to this?” Conrack grinned,
“Because o’ the quick attack, most o’ the Selgove were out in the fields!”

  Calach grimaced. “Aye, thankfully there’ll be more alive than dead at this time. In a couple o’ days? Who knows.”

  “Roman casualties?” Finlass asked.

  Calach shrugged his shoulders.

  “We’ve no idea. Have we?” For once, even Conrack was silenced.

  Finlass answered. “Very light.”

  “Maybe none at a’.” Calach added.

  “You’re having us on?”

  Again Calach shrugged. He had no answer.

  “Then we’ve got no chance against them as we are!” Finlass said abruptly.

  “Aye you’re right. If we meet them, we’ve got no chance, Finlass.” Calach replied. “I think that our best hope would be to retrace our route as quick as possible, an’ make for the safety o’ Bar’ton or somewhere like it.”

  “Aye,” Conrack pointed at the broken ramparts as he mounted his horse. “If we got caught in the open, we’d last no longer than these poor bastards.”

  “So we’d better be on the move quickly then!” Finlass declared.

  “It wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Calach looked round at the Selgove. They would be transfixed by the pyre for a long time to come.

  “Warriors!” Finlass shouted. “Warriors of the north! Get ready to move out! We ride quickly!”

  “Conrack!” Calach shouted over the noise of riders getting ready to move. “Another reason for making for Bar’ton!”

  “Aye?”

  Calach pointed at the warriors behind them. “It’ll take us away from the Roman route. They’re headed due north. We go northwest, away from them with every stride.”

  “Right!” Finlass shouted to the rest of the warriors. “We ride to Bar’ton an’ the safety o’ the fort!”

  Calach mounted his horse, then waited for Finlass to finish. He pushed himself erect in the saddle. “Warriors o’ the Selgove! We came to help but we were too late, an’ a’ we could do was see to the dead.” Calach watched as they turned round to listen to him. Their faces were blank, their emotions unreadable. “There’s not much we can do here now. But I want you to remember that the warriors o’ the north came to help you, an’ that there’ll always be a welcome for warriors o’ the Selgove in our ranks. The clans o’ the north make you an offer! Come to the north to avenge your brothers here in Shiels. We can give you land and food for your first year.” He tried to raise as much of a smile as he could. “We might need your swords after that!”

  Conrack whispered something to Finlass. Then the older Meatae spoke.

  “People o’ the Selgovae. Remember that the warriors o’ the north that united to come to your aid. Men an’ women o’ the Meatae, Caledons, Venicone, Votadini and Taexal came to your aid. Spread the word amongst your people that there is a home for you in the north. You can return to your homes after we’ve beaten these Roman bastards who did this to you!”

  Finlass got on his horse and reined his mount round roughly. “Men o’ the north! The Romans are headed to the north, and that’s where most o’ our homes are. We ride for the northwest. First to Bar’ton, then home for the rest o’ you!”

  “Let’s go!” Calach turned his horse back the way they had come.

  He rode for a moment, then reined his mount back a bit and turned to look for Kat’lana.

  I keep forgetting about her!

  She rode right behind him.

  “What direction for you, Kat’lana?” He asked.

  “Our home is to the north, but we’ve decided to travel with you for a while.”

  She said “for a while”.

  “I’m glad you are.”

  “Me too.” she said “At least as long as it takes to get us away from the Roman route of march, then we may head east from there.”

  Chapter 14

  80AD

  Ambush.

  The line of Roman cavalry stood directly across their path, their small oval shields glinting green and gold in the evening sunlight. With the two infantry columns rapidly forming up out of the trees on either side, Calach knew their small band of three hundred were outnumbered three or four to one.

  They were in a trap, in a sharp valley surrounded on all sides, caught by their inexperience and their need for haste. He felt foolish and inadequate, outwitted not by superior tactics, rather by common sense, or their lack of it. The Romans had placed an ambush across their tracks hoping they would return by the same route and they had ridden straight into it.

  The forward scouts had not reported back, and now were nowhere to be seen. They had lost ten men already, with no blow being struck. The Romans had allowed the column to pass into the valley, then closed the trap. Roman infantry on two sides and behind them.

  A great first tactical challenge!

  “Which way?” Conrack said simply, to no one in particular.

  “There’s only one way.” Calach said, “Straight through them!”

  “Aye but in which direction?”

  “The easiest way!” Finlass pointed. “Through the cavalry. The infantry are a wall o’ shields.”

  “Aye you’re right, Finlass.” Calach frantically looked around. “There’ll be more space to ride through the horses than to charge the wall o’ shields the foot soldiers have. Plus it’ll get us on our way in the right direction.”

  “Right then. What’s the name o’ the next standing stone, anyone?” Finlass shouted.

  “Caer Coom!” Came a shout from behind.

  “Alright Calach.” Finlass, looking forward into the ranks of Roman horsemen. “How many arrows can your bowmen let loose before we charge the cavalry?”

  “Two or three, why?”

  “Just hear me out.” Finlass said quickly. “How many men have bows?”

  Finlass is taking charge.

  “About ten.”

  “Is that a’?”

  “Aye about that.” Calach watched his friend deliberate.

  “Right. Get a’ the bowmen together very quickly an’ tell them that I want three or four arrows into the cavalry before we reach them.”

  “An’ you’re going to do what?”

  “I’m going to turn the column to face the infantry on the south side, then turn them again to charge the cavalry and break through to the north-west.” Finlass turned to face him. “Then I’m going to ride like the very wind itself.”

  “Look Finlass, I think I should maybe lead the charge.”

  Say Nothing!

  Finlass was looking at Conrack, giving out orders when Calach winced in agony from the shock in his head, every bit as painful as the first time.

  “No Calach, it’s my turn to take command.” Finlass’ tone indicated no argument. “You’re needed at the side o’ us wi’ the bowmen. Without a clear way through, which your bowmen will give us, we’ll never make it. Go get them ready. Hurry we’ve not much time, once their infantry is in position, they’ll start to close in.”

  With no reason to argue the point further, Calach mentally shrugged his shoulders and rounded up the bowmen, explaining the strategy. Finlass started barking orders to Conrack. Calach’s sense of foreboding did not ease as he heard Conrack’s voice.

  “I want a big “Aye” every time I make a point!” Conrack shouted to the men, looking directly at the Roman cavalry. “Alright?”

  “Aye!” Came the half-hearted shout from behind him, as some of the warriors caught on to the game.

  Conrack turned round on his saddle to face the rest of the Norland warriors. “Right!” He shouted, “This is what we do!”

  “Aye!” Came the shout, louder this time.

  Calach shouted to his bowmen to ready four arrows. Most of them tucked them under a leg, ready for quick use.

  Finlass pulled on his reins, turning his horse to the left, facing the line of Roman infantry on that side. “Turn this way, facing the foot soldiers. When I shout “Charge” we start to ride at them, get a good gallop up, then, at my command, we turn toward
s the cavalry!” He paused smiling, waiting for the chant, now growing in momentum as they readied themselves for the exchange.

  “Aye!” Came the cheer.

  He watched as the men and women turned their mounts, almost in unison for the first part of the charge.

  “Remember! We’ll have to turn together!” Conrack continued. “We need to be in a tight formation. We’ll hit the cavalry in a column an’ break through.”

  “Aye!”

  Calach wondered if any of the Romans could speak the Norland tongue.

  Some Norlands warriors had raised their swords above their heads, emphasizing their bravado.

  “We’ll have to turn before spear range Calach.” Aysar said.

  Calach turned to him and nodded, smiling. “Finlass will remember that.”

  Conrack’s voice boomed out again above the clatter of swords and horses hooves. “We meet at Caer Coom.”

  “Aye!” Came the shout, mixed with laughter and ribald comments.

  “Listen!” Calach roared. “Listen to me!” He thrust his bow into the air. “Remember the dead at Shiels!”

  “Remember the women!” Finlass screamed, his face distorted with rage.

  “Now!” Conrack kicked his horse and trotted forward, followed by the trailing column, which, through their sideways shift, had turned into a charging line, two or three deep. Shouts of “Shiels”, “Calach” and “Norlands” mingled together with the horses’ hooves and heavy rustle of weapons into a cacophony of sound. Almost three hundred armed cavalry cantering with apparent glee to their deaths at the bristling spears which protruded from the wall of infantry shields.

  Calach’s bowmen held back slightly, angling their charge more towards the cavalry, they needed to get quickly into range for the main force’s change of direction.

  Finlass waited until they were almost a spears throw of the Roman line, the warriors not quite riding at full charge yet.

  Calach found himself wondering guiltily for the first time where Kat’lana was. In the argument about the leadership, he had forgotten all about her. As he trotted his mount into position, he thought he caught sight of her flailing hair, somewhere beside Finlass. Then he was distracted elsewhere.