Roman - The Fall of Britannia (27 page)

‘
And
you have seen this?’

‘
Like I said before, Miss, my cousin...’

‘
What exactly did your cousin say, Willow?’ she asked,
interrupting the girl. ‘Think back, and try to remember everything
he said.’

‘
Just what I said, Miss,’ stuttered Willow, ‘about the Druids,
and the cape and the stone gate, that’s all I know,
really.’

‘
I
see,’ said Gwenno standing up and pacing back and fore. ‘About this
Henge, do you know where it is?’

‘
No,
miss.’

‘
You
have not taken any other acolytes there before?’

‘
No,
Miss, you will be my first.’

‘
Did
your cousin describe where this place is?’

‘
No,
Miss, though he said the ceremony looks over the water toward
Afallon.’

‘
It
must be on the west coast.’ She said before taking Willow’s hands
in hers. ‘Willow, we have to go there.’

‘
But
we can’t,’ said Willow, ‘they will capture us and we will be
punished.’

‘
They won’t know,’ said Gwenno. ‘We can sneak away tonight and
be long gone before we are missed.’

‘
The
guards will see us,’ said Willow.

‘
There are no guards,’ said Gwenno. ‘They have been
removed.’

‘
The
Druids know you saw the ceremony, Miss, and have instructed that
you are guarded once more.’

Gwenno ran to
the door and peered through the gaps between the planks. Sure
enough, an armed guard stood across the clearing watching Gwenno’s
hut. She returned to the bed and sat next to Willow.

‘
So
I am no better than a captive,’ she said.

‘
I
don’t think it is like that, Miss,’ said Willow. ‘It’s for your own
protection.’

Gwenno turned to
Willow slowly, and suddenly everything made sense.

‘
Protection has nothing to do with it,’ she said. ‘Afallon is
a small island and there is little room for the smallest of clans,
let alone lands of beasts and forests. The Druids are not being
truthful with you, Willow, there is no way the chosen ones live on
Afallon. It is just not possible.’

‘
But
it is common knowledge, Miss, and even Lapwing has told me it is
so.’

‘
Oh,
I have no doubt the chosen ones are taken there,’ said Gwenno, with
tears welling up in her eyes, ‘but not to live in peace amongst
lands of plenty, but to lie amongst the ancestors as an offering to
the Gods. Oh, Willow,’ she said bursting into tears,’ I think I am
going to be sacrificed!’

----

Chapter 22

Prydain stood
alongside his horse waiting for Centurion Scipio to return from the
ridge overlooking the enemy camp. He wondered how the other three
legions were faring on their march northward and felt a little
aggrieved that they would get to conquer a city while the Ninth had
been sent to sort out a minor tribe. Glory lay northward not
westward.

The whole
Century of scouts were together for this action, a rare event for
them as usually they were split up on different missions. They had
cleared the slopes of lookouts overnight with a mixture of stealth
and blade, and prepared the way for the diversionary tactics that
would conclude their part in the action. At last Scipio scrambled
back down from his vantage point.

‘
Mount up,’ he said. ‘It is time.’

The scouts
mounted their horses and looked to their leader.

‘
Move fast and strike quick,’ said Scipio. ‘Do not get sucked
in to combat, that is not our role. Spare their horses; we want
them to follow with as much strength as possible. Let’s go.’ He
turned his horse and led the troop out of the gorge, taking the
enemy encampment by surprise as they stormed into the valley
without warning.

They galloped
along the fringes loosing a hail of arrows into the huts as they
passed, screaming insults and challenges as they passed. They span
around at the end of their run and galloped back up the valley,
though this time; many warriors had gathered their wits and raced
from their huts, picking up their spears and swords to attack the
horsemen with a fanaticism borne from fearless belief in the
afterlife.

‘
The
hornet’s nest has been shaken!’ shouted Scipio, ‘let’s get out of
here!’

Prydain and the
rest of the scouts galloped out of the valley with Scipio bringing
up the rear. Hundreds of mounted barbarians, all armed with spear
or sword followed a few hundred metres behind them as they sought
to bring down the invaders.

The scouts
neared the exit to the valley and were almost clear when Scipio’s
mount placed a galloping hoof in a pothole and tumbled forward, its
leg snapping with a resounding crack and catapulting his rider
forward to land face down in the dust. The Centurion regained his
feet groggily, his left arm hanging uselessly by his side, blood
pouring down from the severed bone that protruded angrily from his
upper arm. The barbarians were closing fast as Scipio looked to his
retreating scouts, realising there could be no rescue; he turned to
his horse to see if he could remount and escape. The horse had
regained his feet, but one foreleg hung loosely from its sinews,
broken in two places and Scipio patted the horse on the neck to
reassure him, whispering in its ear.

‘
Looks like it’s our time, old friend,’ he said. ‘At least we
will go together.’ Scipio drew his Gladius and started to hobble
forward toward the screaming horde less than a hundred metres away.
He picked up the pace, ignoring the pain from his broken body until
he was running as fast as he could toward the enemy, raising his
sword above his head and screaming the final challenge of his
life.

Two hundred
yards away, one of the retreating scouts glanced back and reined in
suddenly as he witnessed their leader being engulfed by the
barbarians.

‘
Stop!’ screamed Prydain and two of the nearby scouts pulled
up to find out the problem.

‘
What’s the matter?’ panted one of the Decurions, pulling up
alongside Prydain.

‘
Scipio has fallen,’ shouted Prydain. ‘He’s in amongst that
lot.’

The Decurion
struggled to control his horse as he calculated the risks. Finally,
he gave his orders.

’
There’s nothing we can do for him,’ he said. ‘It’s too
late.’

‘
We
can’t just leave him,’ said Prydain.

‘
What would you have me do?’ shouted the Decurion. ‘There are
thousands of them and eighty of us. He is gone, Prydain, we have to
finish our mission.’ They looked at the swarming tribe before the
Decurion added finally, ‘Scipio was a fine man, but he is only one,
we have a legion to think of. Now move out!’ He turned his horse
and galloped after the distant scouts, closely followed by Prydain
and his comrade.

----

Two miles away,
Cassus lined up in the third rank of the assembled soldiers,
looking between the first two ranks and across the empty plain.
Behind him, the heavily wooded hills formed a semi-circle of
protection, though also presenting a barrier, which could not be
quickly climbed, should they need to retreat. The legion had
assumed a linear deployment and two Cohorts stretched across the
flood plain from hill to hill. The ground was perfectly flat,
eroded from the attentions of the spring floods and ideal ground
for manoeuvring both infantry and cavalry.

Legatus Nasica
peered down from one of the flanking hills at his forces. It was a
typical Roman deployment with two auxiliary cavalry units on the
flanks, slingers and archers to the rear and over a thousand
legionaries stretched across the plain in three ranks. It looked
impressive and any enemy spies couldn’t fail to be
intimidated

But it wasn’t a
good impression that Nasica wanted to achieve, and if he was being
honest with himself, he had to admit that the lines did stretch
quite a long way and seemed somewhat weak with no heavy infantry
back up. In addition, the archers, whilst deadly, would be far more
effective had there been at least four times as many. As for the
slingers, everyone knew flood plains were notoriously sparse of
sling sized stones and when their pouches of lead projectiles had
been used, there was not much in the way of natural ammunition
lying around.

He turned his
gaze to the ground infront of the formed up Cohorts. Yes, it was
ideal for infantry to manoeuvre, but it was also ideal for
chariots. Nasica knew that whilst there were the two units of
cavalry deployed, any sizeable force being faced with the stretched
Roman forces and perfectly flat battleground would think they were
there for the taking. which was exactly what Nasica
hoped!

----

Cassus shivered
slightly in the early morning breeze, flexing his fingers around
the haft of his Pilum to get the blood flowing. This would be his
third action since landing in Britannia, but still his stomach
turned in anticipation. Over the last two weeks, the legion had
encountered some resistance as they made their way westward and had
laid waste to several villages en-route. Those who had welcomed the
Romans and had met their demands with little resistance got off
relatively lightly. Those villages that argued or showed any
resistance were dealt with mercilessly, and their occupants either
slaughtered or taken as slaves before the provisions were taken
anyway.

However, this
was different. This was the first time Cassus had formed up with
his legion in classic battle formation on an open field, ready to
meet an enemy at least of equal strength. Every man was fully aware
that their somewhat weak deployment was a deliberate ploy and not a
tactical gaffe by their commanders. If this worked, Nasica would
enjoy a great victory, and though defeat was not envisaged, a
tactical miscalculation could cost an awful lot of Roman lives.
Cassus’s reverie was interrupted by the shout of the Primus
Pilus.

‘
Legion!’ he roared, ‘present Pilae!’

Cassus
re-gripped his stabbing spear, all thoughts of cold or discomfort
forgotten as he focussed on the dust cloud on the horizon. As he
was in the rear rank, the butt of his Pila rested on the ground
with the blade pointing straight up in the air, unlikely to be
needed in the first encounter. The middle rank rested their heavier
spears on the shoulders of the front rank, who in turn, gripped
theirs firmly in two hands at waist level, their left feet slightly
forward of their right in the classic thrusting stance used as a
defence against cavalry or chariots.

----

Nasica strained
his eyes as the scouts raced back to the legion and even though he
was pleased to see a strong force of barbarian cavalry in hot
pursuit, was unable to see if they were backed up by the main
threat to the legion, chariots. The scouts thundered close to the
legions lines, heading for the centre, and as they approached, the
ranks pivoted backwards, opening up a large gap in a well-rehearsed
move that allowed them to disappear behind the infantry lines. At
the same time, the flanking cavalry raced in from the sides of the
plain to engage the pursuing horsemen in the first clash of the
battle.

The mounted
units crashed into each other in the centre of the plain, the
barbarians equalling the auxiliaries in number, ferocity and skill.
Men and beasts screamed as the exchange of hardened spears tore
into the flesh of those unlucky enough to be in the initial impact,
and as the momentum of both forces ground to a halt, swords were
drawn on both sides to engage in close quarter battle.

High above on
the hill, Nasica watched closely and considered sending the scouts
back into the fray to strengthen the auxiliaries, but resisted the
temptation when it became apparent that his forces had started to
get the upper hand. Finally the surviving enemy warriors broke free
from the conflict and raced back the way they came to meet up with
the bulk of their force entering the plain far behind.

The cavalry
started to pursue the retreating barbarians, but a long blast on
the horn from Nasica’s signaller stopped them in their tracks and
they returned behind the infantry lines to reform and sort out
their wounds. Dozens of lightweight infantry ran forward to cut the
throats of any surviving enemy wounded before carrying the legion’s
own casualties back to the tree line and the waiting medical
orderlies. The excitement died down as the dust settled and the
chatter in the ranks increased until the Centurion’s voice once
again echoed across the position.

‘
Silence!’ he roared, and the plain fell quiet as everyone’s
ears strained to hear what the Centurion had obviously
heard.

‘
Listen,’ whispered a voice to Cassus’s side, ‘can you hear
it?’

‘
I
can’t hear anything,’ said another.

Slowly, a
distant hum reached the ears of the legion, borne on the morning
breeze.

‘
What is it?’ asked the soldier.

‘
I
don’t know,’ said Cassus, ‘but whatever it is, it doesn’t sound
happy.’

In the distance,
the settling dust revealed an army flowing onto the flood plain
like a cloud of black smoke blown across the land, their weapons
glinting across the battlefield as they reflected the morning
sunlight. Armoured warriors roared their challenges and beat their
shields with their weapons while others, draped in cloaks of
varying colours, blew into unrecognisable horns producing the
melancholy tones rebounding off the hills. Women and children
wailed their laments into the air, their hands held aloft as they
implored their Gods for aid in defeating the invader and even the
aged were amongst the throng, adding their screaming voices to the
deafening and terrifying din. Suddenly the advancing army stopped
dead in their tracks and everyone stared across the plain as if
waiting for a sign.