Spears of Britannia

by Scott Hurst

  Soon their collective might had the Saxons encircled. For a split second before he gave his command, Max hesitated. The last time he’d seen action he’d almost lost his life. For an instant he felt fear. And then he remembered what was at stake.

  Hearing Max’s roared command to attack; the Saxons hastily attempted a shield wall. Before it could be formed Max charged through it with his cavalry, smashing their formation wide open. The charge had the desired effect, scattering the raiders so they could be dealt with one by one. In the midst of the fray Max’s sword caught one of the raiders under the armpit. Seconds later he slashed another, full in the face, gory and unpleasant work, against an enemy beaten almost as soon as its pathetic shield wall broke. Within minutes only a small number of Saxons were left, standing blood spattered among their dead and injured comrades. As Max surveyed the prisoners he thought of the Saxons he had met in Constantine’s camp, giant Sigwulf and the rest. Just ordinary men, like these, some of them jowly, overweight.

  A wounded Saxon looked up at him beseechingly, mouthing garbled Latin, most likely learned fighting for Romans somewhere. ‘Spare our lives and we will be loyal to you.’

  Loyal? A Saxon with a sword in his hand? Max smiled at the warrior’s audacity. ‘You have killed and looted my people – why would we believe you would ever be loyal to us? From now on, you are our slaves. You will be taken under guard to rebuild the homes you have destroyed. You will work that land, to feed the families of those you have killed. All that is in your power now is to save yourselves any more suffering.’

  *****

  Back home, as soon as he had dismissed his men, Max stormed into the house. It was time Severus knew about Dye’s murderous campaign against the Bagaudae.

  His father’s room was dark. Severus lay in bed, Rhoswen sitting quietly by his bedside. Seeing Max’s face she ushered him out of the room. ‘Your father is resting. Why are you so angry?’ she asked in hushed tones.

  ‘Dye and Calista have begun some demented crusade against the Bagaudae, using those missing girls as a pretext. They’re killing innocent peasants, Mother. Father needs to put a stop to it.’

  Rhoswen looked down at her feet. ‘He knows already. In fact he gave the campaign his backing.’

  *****

  Still angry, Max sought out Sabrina. Seeing him she threw herself into his arms, kissing him on both cheeks. ‘I am so glad to see you back, unharmed. Not an hour has gone by without me thinking of you.’ Embarrassed by her over-familiarity, she wriggled loose. But Max wasn’t about to lose this opportunity. This was the sign he’d been waiting for.

  Never taking his eyes from her face he commanded her slave girls to leave. Sabrina’s eyes widened, then widened further as he caught her under the knees and scooped her up, making for her bed and laying her gently on the bedcovers, before covering her with his own weight. Her long lashes cast tiny shadows over her cheekbones. She was perfection. How could he have ever thought otherwise? Nuzzling her neck he began working his way along her delicate jaw with tender kisses and heard her sigh, unable to hide her body’s response. Satisfied, he slanted his mouth gently over hers.

  The touch of his tongue surprised her. For a second he felt her stiffen, before a groan of pleasure escaped her. Max pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. Moments later his fingers trailed her spine before travelling up to catch her breast in the palm of his hand. He pulled back reluctantly. ‘Should I go on?’ he asked, his breath ragged.

  Sabrina’s eyes were heavy lidded as she looked into his. She nodded yes. Seconds later he felt her muscles clench as he raised her dress to her thighs. She flushed with embarrassment as his hand disappeared under the material. ‘Hush, my love,’ he soothed. For what seemed an eternity he kissed her neck and breast, his gentle fingers tantalizing on her flesh. Sabrina cried out. Misunderstanding, Max cupped her buttocks and moved over her, so hard he needed no guidance.

  The first touch of him to her delicate entrance and she raised her hips, to allow him access. He gazed at her, willing her to trust him. It was only when he saw her tremble that he understood the fear behind her urgency.

  He stopped, taking her face in his hands. ‘My beautiful, hurt love,’ he whispered, pulling her to him.

  *****

  The next morning brought an envoy from Constantine. Quintus Scribonius Libo brought with him several imperial officials from Londinium as well as a squad of imperial soldiers. The whole family gathered to hear him, aware that this tetchy little lawyer represented the man now fighting for control of the Empire. A man who no longer had cause to love them.

  It had only been a matter of time before Constantine made fresh demands. The Emperor needed the strength of numbers. And the Catuvellauni had men, battle experienced men. Max listened intently.

  Standing before them, full of self-importance, Severus Libo delivered his message. ‘I bring word from your Emperor Constantine. Wherein your son Maximus did in a cowardly and treacherous fashion abandon his post in the imperial forces, the Emperor is most displeased. However, in his mercy, the great Constantine is prepared to extend forgiveness…if those forces are returned to Gaul to aid him in his further struggle against the rebel Gerontius. Moreover, should any campaign against the supporters of that same rebel leader on this island be pursued by the tribe, Constantine may be persuaded to forget the errors of the Catuvellauni and once again bestow his imperial favour and protection on your people.’

  Max didn’t try to hide his scorn. ‘Firstly, we did not abandon our posts. We fought your emperor’s nasty little battle in his nasty little civil war. We left only because Constantine conceived the twisted idea that we might go over to Gerontius - and that killing a tenth of us might be a deterrent. Secondly, why should we believe his promise of protection, when he has stripped this island to its last defences, leaving us vulnerable to marauding Saxons?’

  Severus began feebly waving his arm. ‘Silence, Maximus. You have given us much food for thought, Quintus Scribonius Libo. We would ask that you wait outside, whilst we deliberate.’

  When the envoy appeared unwilling to leave Salvius and Madoc moved towards him, backed by a group of veterans. Libo’s face was clouded with rage. ‘Such arrogance only makes the future worse for yourselves, Vellauni.’

  Max looked at him hard. ‘You make things much worse for yourself right now. My men will see you out,’ he said firmly.

  As Libo retreated, Max turned to Severus. This was the moment he had been waiting for – the moment of decision. ‘What say you, father? Is it time? Rome’s priorities lie elsewhere. They offer nothing whilst we suffer one usurper after another… is it time for us to take charge of our own affairs? We must look to ourselves now, surely?’ Max felt the excitement of what was suddenly possible and allowed that to show. ‘Think what it means - we govern ourselves once more. We, the rightful ancestral leaders, provide the law. It would be as before. Perhaps the other tribes would follow?’

  Instead of joining in his excitement, his father looked grief-stricken. ‘What is it, father?’

  Max had to lean in closely to hear what Severus was saying. ‘Do not deny your emperor!’ Tears fell from the old man’s eyes. ‘Magnus Maximus was my emperor and…I betrayed him.’ Severus’s voice dropped almost to a whisper. ‘I let down my emperor… and I let down my men.’ Max strained to hear. ‘I had been drinking, the day of the battle. When the commands came, my mind was confused. Many of my men died, Maximus, died needlessly. Including my brother.’ Severus swallowed convulsively, trying to dampen down the pain of the memory. ‘The lives of those men have weighed on my conscience ever since.’ Severus’ hand was gripping his wrist now. ‘Promise me you will restore our family’s honour. Then I alone will pay for my sins on Judgment Day.’

  Now Sabrina’s voice was heard, begging Severus to change his mind. ‘What if Libo has been ordered to escort Maximus back just so that Constantine can kill him in person? Listen to Max, all of you. We should take a stand now! Tell Libo we want nothing to do with his Em
peror or with Gerontius. Tell him we Britons are taking back our freedom!’

  All those nights she’d listened as he’d shared his vision. She’d understood his dream.

  Despite his excitement, Max stood straight, weighing the moment, discerning. Was this the hour? Such a blow for freedom would have severe consequences. Could they stand alone? Take others with them?

  Max looked to Rhoswen, who nodded her head in agreement. ‘Don’t allow the pain of your father’s past to mar our future, Maximus.’

  He turned to Dye and Calista, opening his hands. ‘Well? What’s it to be? The freedom your beloved Catuvellaunian ancestors fought for? Or continued suffering under Rome?’

  Neither of them was able to look him in the eye. After long seconds Dye muttered, ‘Freedom.’

  Max beckoned for the envoy to return.

  Standing before them once more, Libo’s lip curled in expectation. ‘So, what message shall I take back to Constantine?’

  ‘You may take this message: that we, the Catuvellauni people, acknowledge no allegiance. Neither to Constantine, nor Gerontius, nor even Honorius. We owe allegiance only to ourselves and to Britain. We were a free people before Rome came to these islands, and we will be a free people when the name of your Emperor is long forgotten.’

  Libo stared at him in horror.

  Feeling profound pleasure Max continued. ‘I trust, Libo, that when you go begging the other tribes for men you will receive a similar answer. Please give those tribes a message from me. Since the Empire will not defend us, we must defend ourselves. We Britons no longer need Rome. We need only each other.’

  Libo’s face was livid. ‘Do you think you can walk out of the Empire like a brothel you’ve tired of? You were nothing before Rome and you will be nothing once Rome has finished with you!’

  Max leaned forward, a steely look in his eyes, ‘Careful, Roman. We uncivilized scum can be very unpredictable. Have you ever heard what Boudicca did to her prisoners? We might try the same on you.’

  Max saw a glint of fear in the man’s eyes, but still he could not stop his arrogant pride. ‘You will rue this day, Maximus of the Vellauni. Constantine will never forgive you this treachery!’

  *****

  The following day Max returned from a manoeuvre up north. He was tired after his day in the saddle, tired from the responsibility on his shoulders. Saying no to Libo had finally severed all cords to Rome. The Catuvellauni were on their own now. His refusal to Libo had set a wildfire ablaze. The whole nation was rejoicing. Maximus of the Vellauni had declared them free men! Free from oppression, from inequality, freed from Roman taxes, free to enjoy their liberty. Free to make their own decisions, to decide what was best and right for themselves. He was feted everywhere he went. Despite his elation, Max knew he needed to ensure alliances with other tribes. It was up to him to make this vision work, to make certain the tribes stood together.

  It had been a long day. So when Adrastia called him as he passed her room, gaily offering him a cup of wine he settled gratefully he her chair and accepted the proffered glass.

  ‘You work too hard, Maximus.’ Adrastia sulked. ‘I’ve not even had time to tell you how magnificent you were yesterday.’ She clapped her hands with glee. ‘You showed that jumped up little Roman envoy! I hear when news reached others that Libo was sent on his way that many other roman officials were expelled. Think what it means, Maximus. Now you will be the new king of the free Catuvellauni!’

  Max stared into his wine. ‘My father is not yet dead, Adrastia. Nor has he yet said who will succeed him.’ That knowledge weighed heaviest weight of all.

  Adrastia sniffed. ‘Everyone knows Dye’s no match for you. He runs behind that wife of his like a dog in heat. Whilst you,’ she reached across, stroking the muscles of his arm, ‘are a real man! Here, my darling, have some more wine. Don’t look so skittish – I’m not flirting with you. It’s just harmless fun.’

  Max began to relax as Adrastia babbled on. ‘I hear you dealt the Corieltauvi another blow today.’ Suddenly she looked wistful. ‘If only your militia had been able to save my poor dear husband.’ Reaching across him she casually pushed the door until it was almost closed. ‘That corridor can be draughty,’ she smiled. ‘There, nice and snug.’ Sitting back down on the bed, Adrastia leant in towards him. ‘I’m too young to be a widow, Maximus. I need a new husband. If you know anybody as rich, handsome and powerful as yourself, just let me know! I’d look after him well.’

  Was it deliberate, he wondered, the pink tongue she ran around her top lip? She’d topped up his wine again, encouraging him to drink. Max took a deep mouthful, enjoying her easy company, for all her nonsense.

  She leant in closer. ‘Enough talk of my marriage.’ She smiled sympathetically. ‘How are things with yours? Sabrina’s a little…prim…it seems to me. A little prudish? A pity. You need a real woman who knows how to keep a man happy.’ Reaching forward she stroked his leg sympathetically. Light headed from so much wine on an empty stomach, Max moved her hand. Adrastia leant forward to fill his glass again and he found himself looking down the front of her tunica. Clearly she wasn’t aware how much flesh she was showing. Or was she? When she sat up again to fill her own glass she fumbled, spilling wine down her dress. It happened so quickly, yet he could almost have sworn it had been on purpose. Pulling at her tunica, sticking wetly to her ample breasts, Adrastia seemed to hesitate, then she smiled. ‘You won’t peek, will you, Max, if I just slip this off?’

  Uncomfortable, he rose to leave, but Adrastia had moved between him and the door. Her voice, low and sultry, emerged from the material wrapped around her. He looked away.

  ‘Will you help me, Max? I’m stuck!’

  When he turned back she was smiling over her shoulder at him. The material of her tunica was ruched around her hips, deliberately revealing her beautiful buttocks, the skin soft and inviting.

  Even through the wine he felt angry. ‘Let me past. There’s more to attracting a man than wiles, Adrastia. Sabrina could teach you much.’

  *****

  After their declaration of freedom events moved rapidly. Word came from the Cantii, Iceni and the Atrebates. They too had sent Libo away empty handed, except for a declaration that they too were free. Max sent each tribe his congratulations, along with a heartfelt hope they could all now work together for the common good. Victor sent word, assuring Max of the Bagaudae’s support, warming his heart. But the Dobunni and Corieltauvi tribes still stood firmly behind Gerontius. Reports came in that they were urging other tribes to join them. For border Catuvellauni life became difficult. Max was forced to lead out his unit several times, to deal with incursions and border raids. Catuvellauni in the north and west began to abandon their homes in increasing numbers.

  All the time Maximus found himself watching Salvius. Whenever he was by his side, he still seemed like the old friend he had always known, stalwart, and his right hand. Yet when Max dared to put him in command of a detachment against the Dobunni somehow their enemy got away. Coincidence? Perhaps. But what it if wasn’t? Could he rely on him fully?

  There were ever more Saxon raids to be dealt with. As his men grew in skill they were killing substantial numbers with fewer losses to his own forces. Yet with every passing day the Saxon raiding parties seemed to be growing bigger.

  Information reached him from Dobunni prisoners taken by his men: Guidolin was unhappy that the Catuvellauni were not crumbling in the way he had hoped. He too was raising an army.

  This was it, Max realised. Guidolin’s push to control Britannia was on.

  Two men, one goal.

  Christ save this land if Guidolin won.

  *****

  Paulinus rose to address the monks and priests gathered in the vacant villa. A hush fell over the assembled crowd. The old monk had thought carefully about what he would say; such a significant occasion deserved significant words. Slowly he walked to the centre of the candlelit room. ‘Many years we have been waiting for the day Rome would abandon us.
I believe that day is now upon us. Throughout Roman rule our brotherhood has endured, kept alive by a single hope. That one man would emerge as a leader, a man capable of uniting the peoples of this island. ’ Paulinus looked around the room, trying to gauge the mood of his audience. Some of his guild brothers were looking at him intently. Other faces were impassive.

  Undaunted, he pressed on. ‘You all know that my charge, Maximus of the Vellauni, was the first to declare his tribe free of Rome’s rule.’ Paulinus began to circle the gathering. ‘You know too that he has passed almost all the challenges our Guild requires of him. The first; innate intelligence. Max has shown himself more far-sighted than his family, rising above their petty power struggles. Yet a young man, he was able to see the potential of unity, and to make that unity a reality. He has proven he has the vision we require in a leader.

  ‘Second; self-control. Maximus has learned to harness his own power. After many hard lessons - banishment, even threats from those who have the power of life and death over him – he has learned wisdom, the ability to think before he acts.

  ‘Our next challenge is mercy. Time and time again Max has demonstrated compassion – to his brother, to his men, to those in danger. Out of compassion he dared defy the Emperor Constantine, at risk of his own life.

  ‘He has demonstrated the fourth quality we demand: leadership. Max has shown right judgment, the ability to make difficult decisions, as well as great self-sacrifice. In Gaul he started drawing other tribes to him. He won the confidence of other tribal leaders. Gentlemen, he has even shown himself willing to lay down his life for his people.

  ‘Maximus of the Vellauni now stands before the final challenge we demand of our aspirants, gentlemen. Faith in God and self. By God’s grace, will he make his vision of unity come true?’ Paulinus was almost speaking almost to himself now, so proud was he of the man Max had become. ‘Maximus believes, as we do, in a Britain where the tribes can unite for the common good, where all members are considered equal. He seeks an honourable alliance with the other tribes. Even Herennius of the Iceni is now an ally. With time the confidence of the other tribes will grow.’ Paulinus threw out his hands in appeal. ‘We can wait no longer. Brothers, Rome is about to quit this island completely. Already the Saxons are sharpening their axes. Without a king to unite the Britons, without a declared Rex Britannorum, what is to prevent our tribes collapsing into murderous civil war and tearing this land apart? I urge this Guild to recognize Maximus of the Vellauni as our new Rex Britannorum, the first since Caratacus.’