Spears of Britannia

by Scott Hurst

  Lupicinius did not reply. He pursued his thin lips, willing himself not to rebuke Guidolin for his blasphemy. Unless he wished to join the man in front of them, it seemed unwise. ‘It appears neither the Guild nor Maximus know the Torc’s whereabouts.’

  Guidolin spat on the earthen floor. ‘The Guild. Those sanctimonious bastards. You were right when you told me never to trust them. When I rule Britain, I will eradicate every last one of them and any man who might seek to rebuild it. I will stamp out their poison from this island forever!’

  Beside him the dying man passed into painful convulsions. Lupicinius felt a stir of curiosity once more.

  ‘Pay attention when I’m talking to you,’ Guidolin barked. ‘Or you could end up short of breath, like our friend here.’

  Carefully the priest schooled his features, to hide the contempt he felt. ‘My Lord.’

  ‘How fares the new regime in Catuvellaunia? Ironic that they trust in racial purity, just as we do,’ Guidolin murmured thoughtfully. ‘Even if they are so deranged they believe their weak Catuvellaunian blood superior to our own Dobunnic life force.’

  Lupicinius scratched a sore on his gaunt cheek. ‘It is as we thought. Max’s brother is selfish, blinkered, ambitionless. And his wife is intent merely on the glory of the Catuvellaunian nation, keener on killing ‘impure’ Catuvellauni than any real enemy.’ The new king and queen were a far lesser threat than Maximus with his absurd ideas of unity between the tribes. Which suited Lupicinius’s purposes well. ‘They’re so short sighted they cannot see the opportunity they are handing us. Unfortunately the auspices continue to be unfavourable, my Lord. I would urge caution still.’ And their army was not yet strong enough to take on the Catuvellauni. ‘Perhaps if we leave them to it they’ll do the work for us, tearing their own land apart. Our tribe grows stronger through the bear cult. Other tribes join us.’

  By now the man had now fallen face forwards onto the ground. Barely a death twitch. How disappointing. Lupicinius focused on Guidolin again. ‘As to our plans to invade Catuvellaunia, Artur has blessed us, as I predicted. The Cornovii are with us, as are the Corieltauvi. Given time I believe we could persuade the Atrebates, perhaps even the Cantii, to join us too. I continue to parlay with their leaders, reminding the tribes of the danger of a Catuvellaunian empire taking over from Rome.’

  Guidolin grunted. ‘Rest assured any empire that replaces Rome on this island will be Dobunnic, not Catuvellaunian.’ He frowned heavily. ‘Any further word on Maximus from our agent?’

  Lupicinius’s expression turned spiteful. ‘He tells me Maximus fled to the woods. What irony. The great hope of the Vellauni, reduced to relying on Bagaudae scum for shelter and protection. I’ve ordered our agent to lay low. For now he’s staying close.’ Lupicinius allowed silence for several heartbeats. ‘He did send word that Maximus has Sabrina with him.’

  Guidolin roared his fury. That filthy piece of Catuvellaunian offal. To think he’d had his hands on her, had moved in her. Incensed, he walked up to the dead man and started kicking the bloated, unresponsive face.

  A furtive expression crossed Lupicinius’s face. ‘After being so desecrated the Lady Sabrina is no longer worthy of you, my Lord. Perhaps it’s time to think about another? Have you considered the woman I suggested to you? She has a look of your sister, blonde, unlike Lady Sabrina…’

  Guidolin whipped around, grabbing Lupicinius around his neck with both hands. ‘Never mention my sister’s name in the same breath as that treacherous little slut again. Tell your man to keep a close eye on that turncoat bitch. The Lady Sabrina will pay for her perfidy.’

  As Guidolin stalked away, Lupicinius slumped to the ground. The full moon could not come soon enough. Guidolin had to die so that he could be priest-king. He fingered his neck gingerly. At the feast he had to find a way to separate Guidolin from the others, to make killing him easier.

  All men seemed to lose their minds when their loins were stirred. A thought came to him.

  It was time for those Catuvellaunian bitches he had locked up to be useful at last.

  *****

  Max was adamant. ‘No, Sabrina! You will stay here with the other women.’

  Seeing his determination Sabrina appealed to Rhoswen, Victor and Paulinus. ‘Tell him, all of you. Time is so short. We must convince as many veterans as possible to rally to our cause – and the best way to find them together is at the great autumn market. A woman is less likely to be stopped and checked than a man. One of Victor’s men will accompany me, keep me safe.’

  Seeing his doubt, Paulinus put his arm around Max’s shoulder. ‘Sabrina’s right, my boy. Victor and I are using all our contacts to spread the word of your counter-coup, but we must take every opportunity. People are dying out there, Bagaudae and non-Bagaudae, whoever Calista deems unwanted. We must stop this madness, before they destroy our nation completely.’

  Max’s mind was racing. Dye and Calista had control of Verulamium. They had won over the nobility with their fear-mongering about the Bagaudae. But they had not won the hearts of the Catuvellauni people. But he needed to take the capital back now, while Dye’s hold on the rest of their nation was still weak. But Sabrina was so precious …what if he lost her again?

  ‘Have no fear for her, Maximus, your plan is sound,’ Victor pushed. ‘Each courier knows only the attack plan for his particular group, so no one can betray the whole. But your plan will work only if we rally sufficient support. Sabrina is less likely to be stopped than any of us. And as your wife she has a standing others don’t. The people would listen to her.’

  Sabrina met his eyes, pleading. Despite his disquiet, Max found himself nodding agreement. Even more reason to keep the plan secret now that Sabrina’s life depended on it too.

  Two hours later the couriers they had chosen began to filter out of the camp. Pulling Sabrina’s hood up around her face Max made one last attempt to persuade her to stay. Her tone told him it was futile. ‘You should be staying here, not me,’ she teased. ‘Your face is too easily recognized, Maximus.’

  ‘I’ll keep covered up as much as possible, but the men need to see it’s me leading from the front. They’ll respond more quickly, more fervently if they know I’m out there too, willing to share the dangers.’ He nodded over to Felix’s son who had joined them after the escape, bringing good wishes from his father. ‘How can I ask young men like Aurelianus to risk their lives if I’m not prepared to risk my own?’ And now she was risking hers, again. Overcome with dread he pulled her close, kissing her hard on the lips. She tasted of wild honey. ‘Be careful, my love.’

  *****

  Rhoswen was sitting by the camp fire, nursing Victor’s youngest. The last few days had taken a heavy toll on her but there was spirit in her eyes as Max knelt down to embrace her. What it cost her to see her children so divided, he’d never know. He was only glad that of her sons he was the one who had her support. He deepened his embrace.

  ‘Go save our people, my son,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘Your father was a fool. He was so proud of you, but too proud to show it.’ Max’s head stayed down for a long moment, until he could trust himself to raise it again.

  Salvius had been standing a way off. ‘Rhoswen will be safe with me, Max. I’ll guard her well, though I still wish you’d made me courier.’

  Even though Salvius had saved him, at the last minute questions gnawed at him. What if Salvius had betrayed him in Gaul then regretted it? What if he was connected to Guidolin? With those doubts hanging over him, Max just couldn’t find enough trust in his heart for old friend. At least here others could monitor his movements. ‘Guarding Rhoswen is the far greater responsibility,’ he offered, turning to go.

  Salvius watched him leave, then disappeared into the forest.

  *****

  Max spent the next ten days criss-crossing the Catuvellaunian countryside, contacting veterans from Arelate wherever he could find them. Everywhere he went he reminded his men of what they’ve already come through together. ‘We mi
ght be few in number, but I know the stout hearts that beat under those breastplates,’ he encouraged. With a salty rallying cry they declared themselves ready.

  Everywhere he went he saw the consequences of Calista and Dye’s misrule. As the borders closed raw materials and goods were in short supply. No trade meant businesses destroyed. Men had no way to support their families. In the towns the social order was breaking down. The people were beginning to panic.

  Travel was dangerous. Dye had his scouts everywhere, looking for him. Close to the Dobunni border they took shelter in an inn. Not that it deserved the name, a one-story building without furniture, where travellers slept next to animals. The innkeeper gave them water to wash and cook their own meals on the fire he furnished outside. Sitting around the campfire, Max and Paulinus grabbed precious moments together.

  ‘You seem troubled, Maximus.’ Not a question, a statement.

  Max threw the remains of his meal in the campfire, unable to eat. ‘Here, close to the Dobunni border our people live in fear of their lives. In the east they face Saxon invasions. Everywhere there is unrest.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t there be discontent?’ Paulinus offered. ‘The people thought they would get the elder son, a man who had already proved himself in battle both against the Saxons and the dreaded Dobunni. Instead they have a drunkard, controlled by his cruel wife. But you’re right. If you don’t take back power, Maximus, it’s only a matter of time before there’s an uprising.’

  With Paulinus Max could share his real fears. ‘Calista is clearly mad. Only the mad use terror to rule. But what made my brother so vulnerable to her, Paulinus? How could Dye allow her insanity to strike at the heart of his own people? And our nobility…how did they become puppets of their regime? When I retake power I will have great need of you, Paulinus. We need to tackle these issues head on. We need justice - and equality.’ Dragging his hand through his hair, Max fretted. ‘I feel…unworthy…at times, Paulinus. Weighed down by it all.’

  ‘That you doubt yourself is a mark of humility, Maximus. Sometimes we must go to the edge of our self-belief in order to find God’s strength.’ There it was again, that knowing tone, as if all was as it was intended to be. His words gave comfort, as they always did.

  Rising, Max thanked him. Stationing guards for the night, he headed for his rolled up blanket on the floor of the inn. Eventually he fell into a fitful sleep. But the combination of vigilance and responsibility meant he never slept for long. Just before the dawn he left the inn to warm himself by the campfire whose smoke still drifted into the chill night air. What would this day bring? Gazing east, he saw a movement in the dawning light. He peered, then peered again. Dear Christ, there were men out there. Dye’s men.

  He could see at least ten of them. Though ill-equipped and untrained, they had taken advantage of the heavily forested countryside. Max kicked his men awake. Bleary eyed but well trained, they moved swiftly into position, seizing their arms. Max’s voice was heard, quiet but commanding. ‘Every man to his post. Remember your orders’.

  Dye’s men had no difficulty in surrounding the inn. But Max had stationed seasoned watchman on the crags. At his signal they acted now, sending tarred arrows into Dye’s lines. An arrow zipped past Max’s own ear as their attackers came down the wooded slopes. Horses snorted and stamped, neighing in terror as Dye’s men came charging down the rocks, slashing as they went. They came at them and it began again; that primeval dance of life or death. There was no real skill here, just instinctive savagery as each man fought to save himself and what he believed in.

  On they came. Max stepped aside or parried blows where he could, glad of the training that taught him to save his power. Strengthened in Gaul, he knew how to draw on that inner force that made the difference between life and death. A man came at him, a great hulking brute, but Max instinctively knew just where to charge him, how to tilt him as he fell, so he was thrown back on the rock behind. Landing, his back broke, a look of agony on his face. A single thrust and it was over.

  His men made short work of Dye’s untried soldiers. Within minutes they had seen them off, letting them retreat at the first sign of defeat. Max looked with pride around his little band of seasoned fighters and raised his arm to them in silent salute. But covered in blood, surrounded by corpses, some of them relatives, the men were subdued in victory.

  After the raid at the inn they took to sleeping in barns and fields, despite the cold. The days wore on. Max saw again and again how Dye and Calista were cleaving his people apart. Every day they came across more abandoned settlements, more refugee families. Everywhere there were signs of growing violence, corpses thrown in ditches or abandoned in bushes by the sides of roads. Everywhere he heard tales of torture, killing, beatings, and disappearances. In one village they witnessed a man suspected of spying for Dye torn apart by an irate mob of refugees. Another never-to be-forgotten morning they found children butchered, their bodies pushed into a shallow stream.

  Catuvellaunia was collapsing into a vicious slaughter.

  Everywhere Max went he spoke to the people. As his conviction rose that Dye must be stopped, and soon the mood of those listening to him changed. Paulinus watched with pleasure as the Catuvellauni responded to Max in their disillusionment. As he travelled from place to place Max spoke from the heart, urging others to join him. They were his people. Paulinus recognized it. And the people recognized it too; more and more men rallied to his cause. It cost Max every time, knowing he might be calling on them to make the ultimate sacrifice. Somewhere the tide began to turn. Strengthened, the people began fighting back. Stories started coming in of oppressive landowners being beaten up, of whole settlements rising up against Dye’s campaign. These reports gave Max strength.

  At his side whenever his spiritual duties allowed, Paulinus acknowledged the challenges ahead. ‘But you have the hearts of the people, Maximus, and that’s what counts. The love you have for them is your greatest advantage. They will die for that love.’

  *****

  By the time Max made his way back to the Bagaudae camp, accompanied by another hundred and fifty men, he felt confident they could take Verulamium. Approaching the encampment that certainty vanished. Already on its outskirts there were signs of battle. Burned out shelters. Arrows lodged in trees. Freshly dug graves. He was greeted by a sombre-faced Victor. ‘Dye’s men. We’d kept this place secret for so long, I don’t understand how they knew where to find us.’ Victor wrung his hands in frustration. ‘We saw them off, thankfully. They’ll be back with a much bigger force. Hopefully we’ll take Verulamium before then.’

  Max was still scanning the damage. ‘Let’s hope so. The others are back safely?’

  Victor grimaced again. ‘All but two.’ He paused, unable to meet his eyes. ‘Felix’s young son, Aurelianus, has been captured. He’s been tortured.’ Aurelianus knew almost the whole plan. Sharing Felix’s gift for organization he’d been involved in drawing it up. Victor waited for Max to adjust to the blow, before he delivered his next. Taking a deep breath he said quietly, ‘There’s no sign yet of the Lady Sabrina.’

  The world halted. Max turned, bewildered, to Victor.

  ‘There’s time yet. Perhaps she’s had to go into hiding.’

  His mind was in turmoil. ‘It’s my fault. I should never have let her go, no matter what she said.’

  By now word had spread of his return. Salvius and Madoc came running to comfort him. Rhoswen took him in her arms. ‘She’ll return safely, you’ll see.’

  Salvius spoke the unspoken. ‘What are we going to do if young Aurelianus talks?’

  Max slumped to the ground. ‘He will talk…eventually. Calista will see to that.’ And what of Sabrina – would she be tortured too? Desperately he tried to put himself in Calista’s mind set. Where would they keep her prisoner? She’d want Sabrina close by, a pawn to be used. If they had her, she’d be in Verulamium. Through his pain he became aware of the others, waiting for him to make a decision. He shook his head, forcing himself t
o concentrate. ‘How many men do we have now?’

  Victor cleared his throat. ‘With your men, perhaps two hundred and fifty.’

  His war band had become a gathering force.

  There was no time to lose. ‘We attack Verulamium tonight.’

  *****

  Max crouched in the ditch outside the city’s closed north-west gates. His whole plan depended on the militia who had allowed Sabrina through the gate still guarding it. The guards, not surprisingly, had kept their role in Sabrina’s escape quiet. Victor had managed to get a message through to tell them they were coming. Back at the camp, it had seemed a good plan. Crouching there in the darkness Max felt unsure. The gate would be more heavily guarded now.

  Was Sabrina already lying dead in a ditch somewhere? Max had to force the thoughts out of his mind. He called out again, less softly this time, the codeword they had agreed. ‘Arelate.’ This time, to his relief, a figure appeared in the window of the guard tower. Max stood up and signalled. Pulling off his helmet to show his face Max was almost hit by a javelin, whistling low overhead. Another javelin thumped into the ground behind him. Crawling back into the ditch a third landed just in front of him. Certain the next would strike him Max was surprised by a low groan. The javelin thrower fell from the tower and slumped to the ground. Another figure appeared in the window, calling the password.

  Max risked standing up. The huge gates were swinging open. He made for the open entryway, his men appearing out of the darkness behind him. A tower guard appeared. Max recognized Amax, the young veteran who had begun the riot at the funeral, allowing them to escape. He was a deathly white. ‘My king, our humble apologies, Calista became suspicious and put a new officer over us. He won’t be causing you any more problems.’