‘Of course, Father, you are quite right. It would be silly to give away our freedom to a self-appointed ruler, of whom we know nothing except that he has three messengers to follow him. But we don’t want to antagonize a chief whose strength is unknown to us. I suggest a compromise. Get Father John to write a polite letter to the Count, saying that we think a united campaign against the Saxons is a splendid idea, and that we will send him all the men we can spare; but that will not be a very large force, as the enemy has begun raiding through the Forest. (He won’t know what the real conditions are, unless we are foolish enough to tell him.) Then send me and my ten companions, with a few other men you can trust, and perhaps some half-armed peasants, to show you have levied every man you can raise. If we find the army too small when we get there we can slip away as the battle is joined; otherwise we can send home for reinforcements. Then we are not risking too much; but if we take no part in the war your reputation and your power will surely dwindle.’
If they agreed to this plan I would have an independent command, though a very small one; I might be able to seize a little hill-fort somewhere, and set up as a ruler by myself. But my father was not a fool; he was not going to let me lead a party of his soldiers out of reach, and then throw off my allegiance. But he was a great believer in keeping the family united, and therefore he did not squash my suggestion.
‘That seems a sensible compromise,’ he said. ‘It is never prudent to return an unqualified refusal to a peaceful envoy. But I think, Coroticus, that you are too young for such a responsibility, and a campaign in the valley of the upper Thames will not call for the skill in seamanship that you undoubtedly possess. I shall send a small contingent, and Constans will lead it. Thus he will get to know the other rulers, and may confirm some friendships that will be useful when I am gone. But we can’t leave Noviomagus without a garrison next summer, when the pirates sail again. Maximus shall hold it until Constans returns. Has anyone any objections to that plan?’
I had a great many, though I thought it wiser to keep them to myself. It was obviously intended to leave me without any troops under my command; and that Maximus, the leader of the comitatus and the grandson of a slave, should be preferred to me as regent of Noviomagus was positively insulting; but I did not dare openly to complain. I must go to this war, if I was to earn the reputation that I needed among the comrades. I spoke humbly:
‘Dear Father, I have my own way to make in the world, and I shall probably settle down as a sea-rover; but I have never seen a bigger army than our comitatus, or been present at a battle with more than three shiploads of enemies. Let me go on this expedition, merely as one of the comitatus, and I am sure I shall learn things that will be useful to me in after-life. Here is a splendid chance to see how great armies are drawn up for the encounter and I am quite old enough to bear my part as a warrior.’
I think my keenness pleased my father, though Constans frowned; he always suspected me of trying to take his place, and it is easy to arrange a fatal accident in the heat of battle; I had already noticed that he never turned his back on me when we were alone together. But my father, who liked all his sons equally, was too slow-witted to realize the state of feeling between us; he agreed that we should go together to join Ambrosius.
That evening the envoys were sent for to receive their answer, which Paul had written out for them on a precious sheet of clean parchment. It said that King Eleutherus would send two of his sons with a band of picked men to the muster that the Count had commanded; but the envoys had to listen to a long explanation by word of mouth as well. It is so difficult to write down all you want to say, and if you make a mistake in the Latin case-endings it is so easy to be ambiguous, that a verbal commentary always accompanies a despatch; that is why messengers have to be intelligent men, with good memories. My father dwelt on the great danger to which his Kingdom was exposed, from pirates by sea and raiders through the Forest, and offered to show them the ruins of the villages that had been burnt last summer; all this as an excuse for not coming in person with his full levy. The chief envoy was not impressed, and answered that there were burnt villages in every part of Britain, and that the only way to stop them being burnt was to send all the help we could to the Count; but my father had a great flow of words when he wanted to persuade anyone, and the envoy could not give him the lie direct, if he wanted any help from us at all. He was a very dignified, I might say pompous, man, who had probably been chosen rather for his impressive bearing than for his skill in argument. Eventually he gave in to our clamour, and promised to tell his master that we were truly sending him all the help we could spare. I made up my mind that if ever I was in a position to send ambassadors of my own I would choose a clever talker, even if he was round-shouldered and squinting, rather than an impressive and dignified man who could not argue.
The envoys only stayed one night, and rode off the next morning on their dangerous journey round the western edge of the Forest. They reached Corinium safely, as we heard later.
We had four months to prepare for the expedition, and as soon as he had recovered from the Christmas drinking Constans began to choose and organize his following. The whole comitatus was about three hundred strong, and we could call on about ten times as many untrained and shieldless peasants in an emergency. But my father decided that fifty comrades and one hundred of the bravest and most active peasants were quite enough to send. Naturally Constans wanted to take the best men, but my father was worried about the safety of his two cities, though he liked Constans too much to fear lest he was making his heir stronger than himself, as many other Kings would have done. Maximus, who was absurdly loyal to his master, was aware of that danger, and he helped to arrange that some of the best and most influential warriors stayed at home; also it was his influence, I think, that prevented me from taking my own ten comrades, who were split up and packed off to the different hill-forts round Noviomagus. It began to look as though this war would not help me to gain my independence, after all.
The peasants presented no difficulty; if we were going to take any at all we might as well take the best. There were plenty of volunteers, only too eager to risk their lives if it meant a holiday from never-ending toil, and they were promised that any one of them who got hold of a shield and proper equipment on the field of battle might become a real warrior and live in idleness for the rest of his life. Of course, while they were unarmed they would carry the baggage and stay in the rear ranks.
So we settled down to the dullness of Lent, and the feasting of Easter. I was very excited about seeing strange lands, and the journey promised to be so interesting that I hardly thought about the battles that would follow; I had never been north of the Forest in my life, and I wondered if I would see real towns with properly roofed houses, and glass windows, and amphitheatres, and all the wonders of civilization that I had heard about from my grandfather. Or was the rest of Britain even more ravaged than our own land, sheltered by the Forest? In any case, I ought to get some advice about how to comport myself in foreign lands, and I turned to old Ursula as the most travelled person I knew. Unfortunately she was not a very intelligent observer, and what she told me, though sound enough, I could probably have guessed for myself: to give my name and rank to my host as soon as I entered a strange house, and eat something of his as quickly as I could so as to put myself under his protection; never to boast in front of warriors I didn’t know, nor to start a fight if I could possibly avoid it; to beware of bored and discontented housewives; to make very few promises but to keep those I had made: that was all the counsel she gave me, and it left me no wiser than before. But if poor Ursula had been prudent in the ways of the world she would not have ended up as a servant in a Roman household.
My brother Constans also thought I needed some advice before I set out on my first campaign, and on the afternoon of Good Friday, when we were all sober from fasting and full of serious thoughts, he took me aside and gave me his views on my behaviour.
‘Dear little brothe
r,’ he said, ‘remember that I shall have my eye on you all the time, and that I don’t trust you a yard. I know you hope that I shall fall on this campaign, and that with Paul a Bishop you will find yourself heir to the Kingdom. I wouldn’t put it past you to assist any bad luck that may be coming to me. Well, bear in mind that the comitatus I have chosen is absolutely faithful, and that if there is anything suspicious about my death they will cut you down at once. Conan will be your orderly, and will guard your back in battle; his orders are that if I meet with an accident, you don’t survive me ten minutes; he will report to me on your conduct from time to time. I tell you of these precautions to keep you from the sin of fratricide. But now that you see how well you will be looked after, why not be friends? Make up your mind that there is no throne waiting for you here, and I am sure you can win glory in this army. You are of noble birth, and a good swordsman; some great King will be glad to have you in his comitatus.’
I was annoyed to see my hopes dashed like this, but I controlled my face, and answered with a sad smile:
‘Dear Constans, I cannot blame you for your suspicions; I know the heir must always fear his younger kinsmen. But the thought of replacing you has never crossed my mind, and my highest ambition is to succeed Maximus as captain of your guard. Please don’t exile me to a foreign comitatus; I love Anderida and this countryside, and I will help you to make it the foremost state in Britain if you will allow me to live in my home.’ Of course, while my father lived he had no power to send me away, but this supplication flattered him. He graciously consented that I might return with the Regnian contingent, if I behaved myself.
When I thought over this conversation, I decided that I had better show myself loyal and trustworthy during this first summer that we made war together; I was still very young, there was plenty of time, and it would be easier to arrange for Constans’death if he regarded me as a friendly supporter. I worked hard at the fitting-out of the force, but took great care to ask his advice in everything.
Chapter 2
2. 470–474 Campaigning with Count Ambrosius –
My Brother Meets with Misfortune
On April the 15th we paraded in front of a cheering mob of peasants and took leave of my father. Constans rode in front, on the best horse in the Kingdom, which was decked out with an ornamental saddle; he wore a steel helmet and an ancient cuirass covered with steel plates, with a long red woollen cloak flowing from the brooch, at his throat to the horse’s quarters; on his legs he had woollen trousers, cross-gartered, which was rather a barbarian touch, but bare legs are uncomfortable for riding; there was in the baggage a pair of military boots on the Roman model that he could wear for state occasions. Behind him marched the comitatus; all were armed with Roman thrusting-swords, and oblong Roman shields, but their body-armour was made of bronze, for most of the old steel helmets and cuirasses have rusted away by now.
Between the trained soldiers and the peasants I rode by myself, with Conan walking at my bridle. I also had a comfortable saddle, though it was not so richly decorated as my brother’s, nor was my horse quite so handsome; I had a steel helmet and a red cloak, but I carried the Saxon arms that my grandfather had taught me to use. My little round shield was of wood instead of leather, and it was painted bright red; my sword was the heavy scramaseax, a sabre for slashing with, unlike the straight Roman thrusting-sword; on my right thigh hung the murderous little seax-knife; I wore no cuirass, and on my legs were thick red trousers. Although my hair was short and I had no beard as yet, I looked a thorough barbarian.
Last of all came the peasants, half of them leading pack-horses; they carried spears, and a knife of some sort in their belts, but they had no helmets, armour, or shields. So equipped, they would do to fill up the rear ranks, unless they ran away when they first saw the enemy. My brother had placed me at the back of the comitatus, partly to annoy me and partly as a reminder that I had no friends among the comrades; but to the onlookers it seemed that I was leading the largest contingent, and some of the more foolish gave me a specially loud cheer. The peasants of Anderida did not understand politics.
We only marched a few miles that day, for the feast we had eaten was a burden to our stomachs. In the evening we openly lit fires, and slept well in our warm blankets after a hot meal.
Four days later we started to skirt the western edge of the Forest. Now we were entering unknown and probably hostile land, and we marched slowly with all military precautions. Constans gave me command of the rearguard, for I had shown myself zealous and he was beginning to trust me. I had never been more than half a mile into the Forest before, and I was very interested in all that I saw. The stories I had heard from the old women were not exaggerated, though it is false that it sprang up in a night when Constantine III left Britain; Master Peter swears that it has always been there, even when our Roman ancestors first crossed the Channel. But every year it spreads a little farther. No one lives in it permanently, except the rather uncanny ironworkers, who have their own secret incantations; for it is infested with demons. Luckily the Saxons don’t like it any more than we do.
We did not have to go through this awesome and tangled tract of country, since the western end of the Forest does not quite reach the sea, and half a mile of open chalk is the only gateway to our land. But we rode very close to the verge, for it is always better to avoid the seashore. The men, who should have been excited at leaving their native land for the first time in their lives, were depressed and apprehensive. We made a long day’s march, and reached open country in the evening.
We had been going slightly north of west, by the sun, with the intention of striking the road between Portus and Calleva. Master Peter had told us of the existence of this road, and had sketched a rough map, which Constans carried. Master Peter himself had come from Dumnonia by very much the same route that we were travelling, but he was too old to guide us, and there were no other travellers in the Kingdom. We would have to pick our way by the stories we had been told, unless we met friendly natives. However, we knew that the road ran north from Portus to Calleva, and we could hardly walk over it without noticing.
All the same, on the fifth day we nearly did so. We were in open country except for a few patches of gorse, and the scouts were well out on the front and flanks. We had seen a few peasants in the distance, digging up their little patches of ground with spades, for raiders had long ago taken their oxen; but they had run away and hidden in the broken ground before we had a chance of asking them any questions. Suddenly a man stumbled, and then began scratching at the earth with his hands; he called out loudly, and showed me what he had uncovered, the unmistakable pavement of a main road. Twenty years’disuse had let the grass grow over it, but it showed as a clear green alley through the scrub. There need be no more arguing about where the north lay when the sun was hidden behind a cloud.
An hour before sunset we turned off the road, and hacked a way into the middle of a thick wood. The horses were muzzled so that they could not neigh, then we ate dry bread, and wrapped ourselves in our cloaks for a cold and miserable night. The ground was so wet we could not light a fire at the bottom of a pit, and it would have been madness to let one burn where it could be seen. We dared not trust our peasants to keep watch, for they are apt to cover their heads with cloaks so that the ghosts of the night will not recognize them; as we had to have sentries on every side it meant that the comitatus got very little sleep. That was my first experience of a night spent in hostile country, and I remember the uneasiness and discomfort to this day.
Next morning we heard cocks crowing in the distance; that should mean that Venta was inhabited, and by peasants, for robbers do not keep poultry. But peasants cannot settle anywhere for long without attracting soldiers to take tribute from them, so we went cautiously. Soon we topped a rise and looked down on the city.
Venta is the very opposite of a hill-fort, though there are hill-forts round it. It lies in a marshy valley through which runs a little stream, and its defences are wet dit
ches rather than walls; no Saxon raiders would have the patience to destroy an embankment, so that the town was still as strong as it had ever been, though unroofed buildings and smoke-blackened walls showed that it had been sacked not long ago. The moat was held by a small garrison for the King of Dumnonia, and their commander refused us leave to enter. We were all disappointed, for we had been looking forward to seeing a strange town and comparing it with Anderida; but we could not complain of such a sensible precaution. I have seen the inside of Venta all right, but that was many years later.
Next day we rejoined the road to Calleva, and marched along it without incident. This was the most ravaged district in the whole of south Britain, and the people fled from armed strangers; we saw only a few patches of cultivation and no cattle at all, but that evening, on the outskirts of the Forest of Calleva, we had an unexpected piece of luck. A little band of peasants manned a stockaded hill-fort when they first saw us, but as we drew nearer their courage failed and they bustled out with their women and children to take refuge in the Forest. We walked into the fort, lit fires, and spent the night in safety and comfort.
The road was now very bad, for bushes had encroached on it, and swamps had formed in every hollow. Next day we made very little progress, since the pack-horses caused us endless delay; their loads kept on being caught by the branches, and as they had no more sense than any other horses, the stupidest animals I know, instead of standing quietly to be disentangled they would struggle forward to get free. We made an uneasy and fireless camp a few miles short of Calleva.
Conscience of the King Page 4
