The Golden Acorn

by Catherine Cooper

  The centurion was about to speak when a boy bolted out from the trees and ran straight into his chest knocking the long stick out of his hand onto the ground. The first soldier Jack had seen quickly bent down and picked it up.

  Jack gasped; the missing part of Camelin’s life was about to unfold.

  He watched in horror as the centurion shouted angrily and struck the boy’s face. He gripped him hard around his shoulders and shook him violently. The boy struggled as he tried desperately to escape. More soldiers ran out from the trees and surrounded them.

  ‘Stand still,’ one of the soldiers commanded, as he thumped the boy hard in the back.

  It must have hurt but the boy didn’t cry out, though he stopped struggling. The centurion took one hand off the boy’s shoulder and retrieved his long stick from the soldier who was holding it. He must have relaxed his grip on the other shoulder because the boy squirmed and wriggled out of his grasp. Once free he turned and kicked the soldier who’d punched him, as hard as he could, on the shin. He started to run. He dodged between the first two soldiers and sidestepped a third before the centurion bellowed loudly.

  ‘Kill him!’

  The scraping of metal filled the air as every soldier drew his sword. One struck the boy on the back of the head. His knees buckled; his limp body dropped onto the damp grass. It was over so quickly. Jack could see blood flowing from the wound. He was frozen to the branch, his whole body rigid from shock and fear. He felt sick and was finding it hard to breathe. If he didn’t know better he would have thought Camelin was dead. The centurion prodded the body with his long stick.

  ‘Search him,’ he commanded.

  Jack held his breath as one of the soldiers rolled the boy over and put his hand inside his tunic. He pulled out the three cauldron plates and examined them.

  ‘Only these,’ he said as he offered them to the centurion.

  ‘Nothing of value here,’ the centurion replied and tossed them into the grass. ‘Is the building alight?’

  ‘All is done centurion,’ the soldier announced. ‘The trees will be ablaze shortly.’

  Jack could hear the crackling of branches as the fire began to spread.

  ‘We march to Viroconium,’ the centurion commanded as he mounted his horse.

  The soldiers started to shoulder their packs and equipment and form rank. The soldier at the back bent over and picked up one of the cauldron plates. He examined it closely and then retrieved the other two from the grass. Before he shouldered his pack he slipped them into it. This was the information Jack needed. This was the soldier they’d have to follow. He looked carefully at the man’s face so he’d recognise him again. He had a scar on his chin but, apart from that, his uniform was identical to those of the other seven foot soldiers in the group. As they marched past Jack could see they each carried different tools. The one with the scar was going to be easy to follow; dangling from the back of his pack were the company’s cooking pots.

  Jack flew back to Camelin. They watched in silence as the soldiers crossed the field and eventually joined the road. The sound of marching feet, rattling packs and clanking belts faded into the distance. The smell of burning drifted on the air towards them. The woman from the farm had smelt it too and ran inside the round building shouting something Jack couldn’t hear.

  ‘I couldn’t watch,’ Camelin said apologetically.

  Jack didn’t want to talk about what he’d just witnessed. He nodded sympathetically to show Camelin he understood.

  ‘How long will it be before Nora finds you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t remember. Nora said that when I didn’t arrive, and they saw the grove was alight, she came as fast as she could. Luckily I was this side of the fire. If I’d been caught at the other side or in the middle I don’t think she’d have found me at all.’

  ‘They’re heading for Viroconium,’ explained Jack. ‘The soldier at the back, with a scar on his chin, has all three plates inside his backpack.’

  ‘Time to go,’ said Camelin.

  They took off and followed the soldiers. Jack needn’t have worried about long-distance flying. They had to stop several times and wait so they didn’t get too far ahead. In just under two hours the fortress came into sight.

  ‘I know this place well,’ Camelin told Jack. ‘Come on, we’ll fly on ahead. Follow me. There’s a good place to hide near the main gate. We can watch from there and see where the soldier goes.’

  Once they were positioned in a large tree which overlooked a well-fortified gate Jack had a chance to look around. The fortress was rectangular with a gate in each wall. There were several small towers around the perimeter with larger ones on each of the rounded corners; a walkway ran around the inside of the wall. The most imposing buildings were near the centre and wide roads led into the fort from each of the four gates. Outside the perimeter wall were farm buildings and barns with the river behind. An important looking man stood in the doorway of one of the largest buildings.

  ‘That’s Quintus Flavius Maximus,’ whispered Camelin. ‘He’s the Camp Prefect.’

  ‘I thought there’d be soldiers everywhere. Why’s it so quiet?’

  ‘The Fourteenth Legion marched out of here a few weeks ago. I was here when they left. Some of us acolytes had been taking it in turns to watch the fort. I was in the barn down there; it was an amazing sight. It was only later we found out they’d been sent to the island of Mona on the Emperor’s orders. He’d commanded that all Druids be killed. Hundreds had fled there thinking they’d be safe with a stretch of water separating them from the mainland. They should have gone through the portals but they didn’t realise how much danger they were in. Maximus was left in charge when the legion marched. One morning, not long after the legion had left, a centurion rode out with a tent party, set fire to one of the groves and killed the Druid Dryfor. That’s how we knew we were in trouble. Nora said it wouldn’t be long before they reached Glasruhen and Gwillam started making plans for everyone to go into Annwn. You know the rest.’

  ‘He looks too fat to be a soldier.’

  ‘He is. He used to be one but now he’s too old to fight so he organises the running of the fort. He also makes sure that if any of the centurions find anything worth having he gets to keep it. Once I’d recovered I used to fly over here a lot. I’ve watched him sorting out his plunder. You should see what he’s got stashed in his quarters, gold torcs, brooches and a pile of metal objects. He’s greedy.’

  ‘What’s inside that open square behind him?’

  ‘It’s a shrine, dedicated to their goddess of wells and springs.’

  ‘Like Jennet?’

  ‘Not quite. This is a Roman Goddess; they call her Appias. They think she’s a beautiful maiden, a bit like the statues in Nora’s garden. When the commander left he gave Maximus instructions to make sure he honoured the goddess. He’s supposed to throw gold into the shrine so the water never dries up. He won’t because he’s too greedy to part with any of his gold. I’ve even seen him fishing out the offerings other soldiers have thrown in too.’

  ‘Why isn’t the centurion we saw this morning with the rest of the legion?’

  ‘I don’t know, but he’s the one who’s been killing the Druids and torching the groves in this area. He brings back any valuables he can find from the local shrines and give them to Maximus; I think he gets a share.’

  Jack could see the centurion’s armour flash and his red plume bobbing up and down through a clump of trees in the distance.

  ‘They’ll be a while yet,’ said Camelin. ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘Every time I transform I’m hungry,’ confessed Jack.

  ‘Well I might just know where we can get fed.Follow me.’

  Camelin led the way round to the far end of the camp. They used the trees and stayed hidden. Eventually he stopped opposite a group of long buildings.

  ‘These are the barracks. I used to fly over when they were cooking. Each barrack has its own bread freshly baked every morning.’r />
  Camelin nodded towards a group of beehive-shaped ovens near the perimeter wall.

  ‘They won’t be using many of them today because there aren’t many soldiers in camp.’

  Jack could smell cooking but it smelt more like bacon than bread. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what it was, just in case it was barbecued raven.

  ‘Somebody’s having a fry up,’ Camelin said excitedly.

  ‘Is that bacon I can smell?’

  ‘Yes, course it is. Each barrack has its own frying pan. They won’t be short on rations at the moment; looks like pig’s on the menu.’

  ‘So they might not be interested in raven if they’ve got bacon,’ said Jack hopefully.

  For a few minutes they enjoyed the delicious smells, then Camelin puffed out his chest feathers, which was always a sign he had something important to say.

  ‘Stay here. I’ll go and get our breakfast.’

  He was off before Jack could answer. It wasn’t long before he came back with what looked like a rather large flat bread cake in his beak.

  ‘Mind you don’t burn yourself, it’s only just come out of the oven.’

  It wasn’t quite the kind of bread Jack was used to but it tasted good and he was grateful that Camelin’s speciality was finding food. It didn’t last long but at least they’d eaten. Camelin was keeping a keen eye out in case they were disturbed but Jack was more interested in what he could see through an open doorway.

  ‘Is that a wolf’s skin in there?’ he asked.

  ‘It is,’ confirmed Camelin. ‘It belongs to one of the standard bearers. There are three of them; they go at the front of the legion. They each carry poles with different things on top and either wear a bear, lion or wolf skin over their helmet. It’s an honoured position.’

  ‘Why haven’t they taken this one with them?’

  ‘It’s an old one,’ replied Camelin. ‘I know about this skin. It belonged to that wolf I told you about, you know, the one who ate Dagbert, King of the Sparrows. He stole a chicken and choked on one of the bones; everyone thought it served him right.’

  Jack wasn’t sure if Camelin was making it up but it seemed a fitting end for a wolf that liked eating sparrows. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden loud noise.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s a horn. You get used to it. It means the soldiers have arrived,’ explained Camelin. ‘Come on, back to the gate.

  ‘Look!’ exclaimed Jack excitedly as the fort sprang into life.

  Soldiers appeared and lined the walkway above the gatehouse.

  ‘Titus Antonius Agrippa,’ the centurion shouted up to the guard.

  The gate began to open and soldiers saluted as Titus Antonius rode into the fort. He dismounted and dismissed the tent party. Jack and Camelin watched as the centurion strode down the main street. The foot soldiers turned and made their way back to their barracks. Camelin nudged Jack. They flew back to the long huts and watched the soldier with the cooking pots go into the middle one.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Jack whispered.

  ‘Wait till there’s no one around, then you can slip in, grab the plates, drop them in the well and off we go. This is going to be easier than I thought.’

  They settled down but before long the middle door opened again and a soldier came out. He was carrying something.

  ‘It’s him,’ said Jack, ‘the soldier with the scar on his chin and he’s got the plates.’

  Camelin groaned, ‘I think I know where he’ll be going.’

  They watched the soldier go back to the important looking buildings. He stood outside the middle door and knocked loudly. A voice from within shouted something and the soldier replied, ‘Marcus Cornelius Drusus, I have something which might be important.’

  The door opened and Drusus entered the office. It was important that Jack and Camelin knew what was being said so they risked being seen and flew onto the roof. Maximus was already speaking.

  ‘…and it was the young boy you killed, not the Druid, who was carrying these plates?’

  ‘Yes Prefect,’ Drusus confirmed.

  ‘And you thought you’d get a reward for bringing me two worthless bits of metal?’ the Prefect shouted. ‘They’re only good for smelting. Don’t any of these people use gold or silver?’

  Camelin and Jack looked at each other. Jack couldn’t risk saying anything but he knew Camelin was thinking the same. Why hadn’t Drusus taken all three plates to show the Prefect?

  ‘My apologies for bothering you,’ Drusus replied. ‘I thought they might be of some importance. The boy had them hidden in his tunic; he lost his life trying to escape with them.’

  ‘That will be all Drusus,’ the Prefect said gruffly.

  Jack heard the clang of metal from inside the office before the door opened and Drusus stepped out. Jack’s heart sank; the soldier’s hands were empty, the plates were gone.

  ‘Looks like we’ve got a problem,’ sighed Camelin when they were safely back in the tree outside the fort. ‘We could have done without the plates being in two different places and especially when one of those places is the Prefect’s office. It’s going to be twice as difficult and more dangerous trying to retrieve them now.’

  THIEF

  Jack was worried; he didn’t want to stay inside the fort a moment longer than he had to.

  ‘Do we wait until it’s dark?’ he asked.

  ‘No, they double the guard at night. It’s probably best for you to go into the Prefect’s office when he goes out to brief the soldiers. He does it every morning. When I used to come over here, spying for Nora, it was always the best time to help myself to any breakfast leftovers. The whole camp assembles in the big space in the middle, the bit they call the forum. Maximus always keeps them standing there for ages. After he’s given them their daily orders he comes back to his office until lunchtime.’

  Three long blasts from the horn they’d heard earlier echoed around the fortress.

  ‘What’s that mean?’ asked Jack.

  ‘It means Quintus Flavius Maximus is ready to address the camp. You’ll be able to get in there now. Come on, follow me.’

  They flew low over the buildings, avoiding groups of soldiers as they hurried towards the forum.

  ‘When you’ve got these plates you’ll have time to find out what Drusus did with the other one. The soldiers don’t go back to their barracks until later.’

  Jack was feeling nervous. Although the plates didn’t belong to Maximus he didn’t feel right about searching the Camp Prefect’s office. If they caught him they’d think he was a thief.

  He’d tried to memorise the plan of the camp while they’d been up in the tree. It was useful being able to fly. Having a bird’s eye view of a place made it easier to understand where everything was. He thought he’d be able to make his way back to the well without any trouble once he had the plates.

  ‘Are you ready to transform?’ asked Camelin.

  ‘Ready,’ replied Jack.

  They landed on the ground behind the office buildings. The street was deserted. In the distance Jack could hear the Prefect’s loud voice. They touched foreheads. The blinding light still penetrated Jack’s eyes even though he’d had them tightly closed. When he opened them he’d transformed, the only problem was that he was naked.

  ‘Oh!’ he moaned. ‘I’d forgotten about this part of the transformation.’

  Jack carefully made his way to the end of the first building. He was glad it was June and not the middle of winter; even so, it was cool in the shade. He was shaking but that was probably because he was afraid rather than cold. His first priority was to find something to wear. His feet hurt from the gravel on the road but he doubted he’d be able to find any shoes to fit. He could still hear Maximus shouting orders but now he’d transformed he couldn’t understand what he was saying.

  He hadn’t thought what he’d do if the door was locked. Luckily it wasn’t. He slipped in through the doorway and looked around for something to put on.
The room was lighter than he’d anticipated. All the walls were white; the one without a window was decorated with a battle scene. There was a large table, its legs carved in the shape of lion’s feet, with matching chairs. A long reclining seat under the painted wall had a brown woollen blanket draped over the back. He grabbed it and wrapped it around his shoulders. His feet were freezing on the cobbled floor. Jack went and stood on the rug in the middle of the room while he looked around. Near the table was a large basket full to the brim with metal objects. On the top were two large bronze plates. He grabbed them, quickly looked outside to see if it was safe to go, and then made his way back to the place where he’d transformed.

  ‘Camelin,’ he whispered, ‘I’ve got them.’

  Camelin swooped down.

  ‘Look, I’ve got them,’ Jack said triumphantly.

  ‘Those aren’t the ones.’

  ‘They’re not!’ exclaimed Jack in disbelief as he examined them closely.

  They were made of bronze and looked about the right shape and size. One plate was decorated with a man sitting cross-legged holding a snake, and the other had some kind of four-legged animal. To his horror Jack realised his mistake; not only were the pictures wrong, they didn’t have any holes in the sides either. Nora had shown him three of the plates and he’d been told they would all be embossed with a tree. He’d even been told about the cauldron’s construction. Nora said she laced the plates together using leather thongs. He should have looked more closely at the plates and made sure they were the right ones.