Spears of Britannia

by Scott Hurst

  Behind them Sabrina moved silently to his side. Was he really doing this? Offering protection to the woman wanted by his arch-enemy? Making his whole family vulnerable to Guidolin’s vengeance? And yet deep inside, though he still couldn’t understand it himself, he knew he’d do everything in his power to make sure Guidolin couldn’t hurt this woman any more. It wasn’t lust, as Decentius thought. It was something much more powerful, heroic almost.

  There was no time to lose. For a second Max considered throwing Sabrina onto his saddle before pushing her into his parents’ waiting carriage, mouthing ‘I’ll explain later!’ to their shocked faces.

  Just as he was about to give the signal to move off a figure loomed out of the darkness, a tall, fresh-faced young man wearing Dobunnic costume. Max drew his dagger and tensed, waiting for the man to raise the alarm. Instead he held his arms wide to show he was unarmed. Max was confused. Surely he’d seen what they were doing. Why didn’t he call for the guards? The Dobunnic advanced slowly, keeping his hands high and open. There were tears in his eyes. ‘Take me with you,’ he begged. ‘Guidolin has already killed my two brothers. I’m sure to be next. You’re my only hope.’

  Max glanced across at Salvius who looked back and shrugged. Decentius grinned. ‘Looks like everyone wants out of here. We should start charging fees!’

  Max’s mind was racing. Seeing him about to refuse the Dobunni looked him straight in the eye. ‘I’m desperate. If you try to go without me I’ll raise the alarm.’

  He had no choice. ‘Salvius,’ he muttered hastily, ‘get him into one of the carriages. Have him watched closely.’

  As Salvius dealt reluctantly with the new arrival, Max jumped onto his horse, gesturing, ‘Let’s go!’ As they set off, moving quietly through the darkness, a small boy wandered sleepily out of a hut and stood urinating against a wall, yawning. As he finished he glanced up to see the whole convoy staring down at him. Max put a finger to his lips. For a few seconds the small boy stared up at the silent strangers before running screaming into his hut.

  Seconds later the boy’s father emerged, dagger at the ready.

  There was no longer any reason for silence. The convoy rattled off at full speed, heading for the northern gap in the hill fort’s defences. Max shouted over to Decentius, ‘You deal with the fence. I’ll deal with the guard.’ Decentius’s horse swerved to the left. Max wrestled his knife from the scabbard at his side. Keeping Zephyr at full gallop he charged towards the solitary guard who turned and was staring dumbstruck at the approaching convoy. When they came within yards of him the man hurled his spear. Max instinctively ducked, allowing it to sail harmlessly over his shoulder. Throwing up his shield the guard lunged wildly at Max with his long knife. Max swerved to avoid the blade, kicking the man’s shield away and stabbing at him hard, feeling his knife slip into the other’s flesh, slicing and tearing. Screaming in agony the guard collapsed in the dust. Decentius had dismounted swiftly, pulling the wickerwork clear before remounting. They let the convoy, led by Salvius, through. As his parents’ carriage passed they pulled into line behind it, hurtling through the open gap onto a track leading sharply downhill to fields beyond. As his horse thundered behind the carriages struggling to cope with the steep gradient Max glanced back behind him. He could hear shouts of alarm. As he looked back in the moonlight an arrow sailed off the ramparts.

  Straight at him.

  Chapter Five

  It missed. But the missile headed for Decentius did not. Max heard the sickening thump as an arrowhead penetrated his friend’s back then the dull, gut-wrenching thud as his body hit the ground. Desperate, Max wheeled around. Men were running through the dragon gate, headed in their direction. Decentius lay on his back, dust wheeling around him. He was coughing up blood. The bright metal of the arrow extended from his chest, glinting crimson. As Max reached him, Decentius had begun gasping for air.

  Faithful Salvius had ridden back to help. He shook Max roughly by the shoulder. ‘There’s no time to play nursemaid now.’ Maximus looked behind them. Horsemen were erupting from Guidolin’s fort, headed their way. Somehow they managed to manoeuvre the unconscious Decentius into the end carriage. Wear had deepened ruts in the earth. Cursing Salvius finally got the wagons moving before returning to Max. ‘Don’t worry, he’s tough. He’ll live. But only if we throw Guidolin’s cavalry off our trail.’

  Still in shock, Max stood staring at Decentius’ pale face.

  ‘Max!’ Salvius’s voice was angry now. ‘Wallow in your guilt later. Right now, we have to make them believe we’re headed south-east. Otherwise we’ll have a massacre on our hands.’

  Max shook his head to clear it and quickly ordered Rhoswen’s maid to tend Decentius. By now the horsemen were close enough to see individual faces. There, almost first among them, was the ugly bastard who had tried to knife him. His face penetrated enough to spur Max into action. Urging Zephyr forward Max galloped after Salvius. Over his shoulder the Dobunni were gaining on them. Digging in his heels he urged the stallion on until a gap stabilized. But reaching the carriages they were forced to slow down. The gap between pursuer and pursued began to narrow.

  ‘Ready?’ Salvius shouted. Riding hard, they reached cover of the woods. There, hidden by trees, was the junction, waiting in the moonlight. Salvius waved the column north before riding back towards him, loaded with hunting spears he’d grabbed. ‘Here. Let’s greet Guidolin’s men with these.’

  Max’s brain was beginning to clear, driving out the sickening image of Decentius’s wound. His priority now was to keep everyone else alive. ‘We’ll take cover in those bushes. When we hear them coming we hurl our spears then gallop up the Verulamium road as fast as possible. Hopefully we’ll hit some of them, thin out their numbers a bit.’ As the Dobunni approached he could feel the muscles of his throwing arm tighten. Their pursuers were fast approaching. His mouth dry, he swallowed. ‘Wait for it,’ Max whispered. ‘Let them get into range.’ They waited, hearts beating and the thundering began. A pack of fifteen horsemen came charging down the track towards them, not more than twenty spear lengths distant. Cloaks whipping around them, the Dobunni rode at them. Their hooves came closer, grew louder, crescendoed until Max could make out individual hoof strikes. His body curled in on itself, ready to spring into action. They were upon them. Max could see their spears, their tense, excited faces. Closer, closer, until he could pick out the motifs on their buckles, the knives sitting ready on their thighs. Together they shouted, ‘Now!’ and drove their horses forward.

  Salvius and Max swerved out onto the track, just ahead of the group. As Max turned he let loose a spear, aiming at the cur who had jumped him. Not waiting to see if it hit home, he turned Zephyr hard down the track that led to the Corinium road and then to the direct route to Verulamium. As he rode he sensed a spear fly through the space between him and Salvius, ducking instinctively as it clattered to the ground. With Zephyr at full gallop he risked a look over his shoulder. One of their followers’ horses was down and the rest of the pack had halted in confusion.

  Max put his head down, galloping faster than he had ever ridden before. They had to keep their lead over the pursuing pack.

  Rounding the next bend the two hunted men disappeared from view.

  *****

  They rode far enough along the track to make sure that their pursuers were convinced the convoy must be making for Corinium and then ducked off the track to hide and wait for the Dobunni to pass. Max could only pray that the ruse had worked.

  Hiding in bushy undergrowth they watched nervously as the Dobunni thundered past. How long should they wait before it would be safe to move again?

  ‘Wait here, Maximus. I need to relieve myself.’ Salvius was already undoing the string of his bracae. Max waited in the moonlight, on edge, aware of every sound.

  To his right a twig snapped. Max swirled round, every sense alert, his hand on his knife.

  A bear, the bear, the one he’d seen earlier, was standing on its back legs, in the moo
nlight, just a few paces away.

  Max’s first instinct was fear. He weighed the javelin in his hand.

  It stood erect on its powerful back legs. He knew then why this awesome beast was revered by his ancestors. Upright, it was half his height again. He took in its powerful bone structure, its large paws equipped with sharp claws.

  He could try to kill it, but somehow he could not bring himself to do it. The beast was magnificent. No wonder they were admired for their strength, their wisdom. He felt transfixed by its power, felt the fire that lived within him.

  Behind him Salvius whispered, ‘Sweet blood of Christ, look at that thing.’

  Max motioned Salvius for quiet, listening for cubs. If young were present, this could go badly wrong.

  ‘Let’s leave the clearing quietly, the same way we came in,’ Salvius breathed.

  But Max stood there, fascinated. Bears were said to shy away from humans. Why was this bear staying? Someone had left food as bait. A strong noose of leather lay around its back leg.

  He was trapped.

  Could he not free himself? Peering through the forest’s dim light, Max could see why not. The leather was fashioned round sharp iron points which were digging into his skin. The noose tightened each time he struggled.

  Max felt the bear’s gaze resting on him. The bear, the guardian, was part of his mother’s lore. She’d told him stories of it since he was a child. And now this beautiful beast was trapped, perhaps to be shipped off to the amphitheatre in Londinium, or to be killed for sport. He stared into the bear’s eyes and was fixed by its determination to survive, its courage. Max stared in awe at its hazel gaze, sensed its appalling power, sensed all this and knew the danger he was exposed to. Yet to Max one thing was clear; such a magnificent, majestic beast deserved to live.

  Somehow he felt a connection to the beast. The Catuvellauni – once proud - were now bowed like this creature under the Roman noose, injured by forces over which they had no control. This bear was like his people – forced to submit, but somehow, miraculously, it had survived. His tribe would need that same strength.

  Rhoswen had taught him that bears attacked only to protect their young. He trusted in that now. He looked into the watching eyes and knew with certainty what he had to do. He took a step forward.

  Behind him he heard Salvius draw in his breath at his folly.

  Talking to the bear in a firm voice he took another step. ‘If you attack me you will kill me. We must trust one another, Lord Bear.’ Max forward slowly, seeing the defensive reactions, the jutting of its great jaw, the way it pawed the earth before him.

  Max stood his ground, spoke in a calm tone. ‘I mean no harm.’ Up close he could see that the bear’s leg was lacerated by a noose, the arrow heads cutting deep into the flesh.

  For a second it was as if some tie, some connection bound them together. Max sensed a lowering of barriers, the sense of possibility. It was as though the bear understood his intention and, just for an instant, allowed him to have power over it.

  Taking a step forward Max stooped swiftly, his knife reaching outwards like a claw, striking down. The leather gave way.

  He was free.

  Turning, the bear stood for a moment. Had it bowed its great head, before walking lamely into the forest?

  *****

  Riding back to the rest of convoy Max had continually expected to hear the clatter of hooves behind them. So far their luck had held.

  It took them a long time to catch up with the column. Max was beginning to get nervous that some mishap had befallen it.

  He shouted across at Salvius ‘We should have found them by now!’

  Salvius grinned tightly. ‘They know what’s at stake. Your father will have them driving at speeds fit to break the carriages. And remember we rode a long way down that Corinium path.’

  Travelling on through the forest, shadows conjured up things unseen. The darkness forced Max to use his other senses, keeping him on edge. Riding through the darkness any elation of his encounter with the bear faded. He thought again and again of his wounded friend’s face, going over it detail for detail. Finally, just as a distant hint of lightness on the horizon began to suggest the dawn, they saw dark shapes on the road ahead. They caught up with the rest of the column as it splashed across a ford, over the border with the Corieltauvi. Max urged Zephyr on towards the last carriage. Leaning over from his saddle to sweep the curtain aside, it was the handmaid’s face he saw. Her panicked reaction was replaced with something else as she recognized him in the moonlight.

  Sorrow.

  Fear fell on Max like a weight. Straining to see past her into the carriage, he could only make out a dark shape. The maid stammered her regrets. ‘We did all we could, master. He’d lost too much blood.’ The words felt like a physical blow. Vaguely Max sensed Salvius at his side, heard him bark an order. The convoy ground to a halt. Max was dimly aware of others gathering around the carriage in the darkness, aware of muttered conversations. As Salvius dismounted he followed suit.

  Salvius stepped into the carriage, re-emerging angry but silent. Max took his place. Inside, in the darkness, the moonlight picked out the features of his dead friend. A thin crust of blood had formed at the corner of the mouth. Decentius’s eyes looked like black glass. There was no sign of pain on the already greying face, the face he had known so well, so alive, so full of laughter.

  How to endure the guilt? Reaching out he closed Decentius’s eyelids, cool under his fingers. There was a gentle hand on his shoulder and he heard his mother’s voice. ‘He would have been proud to die as he did. Thanks to his bravery and yours we have escaped. But we are not yet safe, Maximus. We must go on. Will you ride in the carriage with us?’

  Max heard Salvius’ voice then, harsh and bitter. ‘Ride with you – or hide with you?’

  Rhoswen spoke up for her son. ‘Salvius, remember that Max too has lost a friend.’

  Severus arrived, limping, his voice anxious and irritated. ‘By Christ’s wounds, come on, come on…we can’t halt the entire convoy because one man is down.’

  Anger at his father spurred Max to action. ‘I will ride with Salvius, mother.’ The small crowd began to disperse, but not before Max caught Sabrina looking at him. When their eyes locked briefly there was pain there, and guilt too. Returning to Zephyr he gave her no sign of recognition. When he looked again she was gone.

  As the carriages creaked on towards Catuvellaunian territory and home Max took up the rearguard position alongside Salvius. Neither man spoke. Max was too busy wrestling with the anger inside him, anger at Severus, anger at Sabrina, anger at Decentius for getting in the way of that arrow. But mostly anger with himself.

  Anger and a terrible, gnawing guilt.

  *****

  ‘Brother Paulinus, a welcome to you, even at this late hour.’ The cowled man greeted Paulinus in an Atrebatic accent, ushering him to a simple wickerwork chair which creaked as Paulinus sat down. The single lamp didn’t allow him to see the dark recesses of room but he noted a bronze table and that the mosaic under his feet was well-made and costly.

  ‘A glass of wine after your long journey from Verulamium, Brother? ’

  Paulinus accepted gratefully. He took the cup offered by his brother monk and sipped it appreciatively, pulling his own hood down to reveal tired features. ‘My thanks, Timotheus.’

  ‘So, what news, Brother Paulinus? How fares your protégé, Maximus? Dare we hope? Is he the man who will one day fulfil our dream?’

  Paulinus hesitated.

  ‘Rome’s power grows weaker by the day,’ Timotheus urged. ‘The moment our Guild has awaited for generations is almost upon us.’ Paulinus nodded. He needed no reminder. Both he and Timotheus had joined a sacred brotherhood many years before, a brotherhood formed when Rome’s legions first began sweeping across Britain. How long had it been since he had committed his life to this Guild, and to its aim - unity between all Britons?

  ‘When the time comes, we will need a strong candidate in
place, Paulinus. He must be a man the other tribes will follow.’ The hood of Timotheus’s cowl hid the brother’s face, but there was no disguising his tone. ‘If Maximus is not that man we need another aspirant.’

  Paulinus balanced his cup on his left knee. ‘Maximus is young, Brother Timotheus, but shows great promise. I have already witnessed him pass our first Guild challenge, the challenge of self-restraint. When his father demanded vengeance against the Dobunni, he demonstrated self-control. Because of his caution a peace delegation was sent to Guidolin, rather than a raiding party.’ Paulinus allowed himself a smile. ‘If he continues to build on what I have taught him, I believe we have the makings of the man we need.’

  Timotheus looked almost as haughty as the expensive stone martyr posing in the shadows behind him. ‘It is that little word ‘if’ which causes me difficulty. I have just received word from our Dobunnic guild brother. Max’s delegation slipped out of Guidolin’s fortress under cover of night, seriously wounding a guard and taking with them a young Dobunnic noblewoman whom Guidolin intended to marry.’ Paulinus remained silent as Timotheus continued. ‘Naturally Guidolin plans to avenge the insult. My understanding is that Maximus himself ordered their hasty departure. Is this the self restraint you spoke of?’

  Paulinus fingers tightened on the wine cup. ‘You are sure of this information?’

  The other monk replied calmly, the tips of his fingers resting against each other. ‘Absolutely.’

  Paulinus sighed deeply, rubbing his furrowed forehead. ‘I’ll make no judgment until I know exactly what has happened. But I’ve no doubt Max had good motive.’

  ‘Quite, quite.’ Timotheus seemed to be considering his next words carefully. Finally he asked the question which hung between them. ‘There is no other candidate you would support?’