Soldier of Rome: The Last Campaign (The Artorian Chronicles) (3 page)

“Courage worthy of a king,” Verica said quietly as he and his small escort turned their horses about and rode away.

“Our enemies flee like cowards!” a warrior shouted triumphantly pointing to where Verica rode off on his horse. “The lands of the Atrebates are ours!”

“They have always been ours,
we just had to remind them of it,” Caratacus corrected, clutching his injured side. The wound had bled a great deal and was now a dark, coagulated mess. The Catuvellauni prince, who would now be king of Atrebates, was a hearty man, who had been dealt far greater injuries in his years of fighting. The gash in his side would be little more than a nuisance for a while as it healed and scarred over. “We will fill our coffers with silver and tin, enriching our kingdom further. And tonight I will dine in Verica’s great hall before I burn it to the ground!”

All about him lay dead and dying men; the sounds of felling axes and spears striking flesh as his warriors viciously finished off the wounded Atrebates. Their own wounded were being dragged away by their comrades. Medicines and methods of healing were very archaic for the Catuvellauni, relying heavily on druidic magic, and as such many of his warriors would eventually succumb to ghastly infection and death.

“A terrible, yet wondrous sight,” Caratacus observed. “Our victory is now complete, and tonight we will sing of triumph and conquest in honor of our glorious dead!”

As evening fell upon the isle, the triumphant hordes of Caratacus marched into the Oppida Hill Fort that had once served as the seat of King Verica. The inhabitants offered no resistance, leaving the gates open. Survivors of Verica’s army had warned the people, with many fleeing. Still, most remained, for they had nowhere else to go. After all, who could they now turn to, abandoned as they were to their enemies? They hoped for clemency from their new master and understood that any further defiance would only be met with further pillage, rape, and brutal death.

“No members of the deposed royal fam
ily to greet us,” a warrior scoffed.

“Verica was a widower
with no sons,” Caratacus said as he rode through the gate on a magnificent charger.

C
rowds of people lined the dirt path. Some hung their heads while others gazed at the large warrior curiously. In a land in constant turmoil, such occurrences of rulers deposed by mightier warlords were all too commonplace.

“His only surviving relative was his brother’s grandson, who may very well be a feast for the crows
by now. And even if he is not, he is of no threat to us. Atrebates is ours now, and the people look upon their new king!”

Verica feared for the safety of his great-nephew, thinking like Caratacus that the young prince may have perished. Such thoughts filled him with despair, coupled by extreme fatigue and lack of food to be found on the road
leading south and west towards the grove of Ancasta. The two days of riding had been extremely hard on the now-deposed Atrebates King, and as they reached the grove, barely a mile from the sea, he had to be helped gingerly down from his mount. His once proud army was scattered; perhaps a dozen men were now with him, with a handful more waiting in the grove that had been sent on ahead by Cogidubnus.

“I s
hould have died with my men,” Verica lamented quietly.

“And then who would our people look turn to?” The voice of his nephew was the fir
st welcome sound the king had heard since he’d first been told of the Catuvellauni invasion. Cogidubnus stepped out from the trees, his face pale and eyes red from exhaustion and strain. The king placed a hand on his shoulder.

“There is one who can lead them,” he
said tiredly, “and I am not he. But tell me, nephew, what of your family?”

Verica’s wife had passed on years earlier, and the couple had been childless. Cogidubnus was the grandson of Verica’s late brother and was his only living male relative. The y
oung warrior had a wife and two infant sons.

“You need not worry, uncle,” he reassured. “I took precautions before we depa
rted for war. Sorcha and my children are safe.”

“Safe?” Verica asked. “Where in these lands can they possibly be safe?
Even if he thinks you are dead, Caratacus will offer a large reward for their capture, in order that he may be able to parade them in chains!”

“It is not within these lands
that I sent them,” Cogidubnus explained cryptically. “But come, uncle, we must rest here tonight. Tomorrow all will be revealed.”

Verica was too exhausted to press any further. His guards laid out a pair of blankets for him to lie on
, as his nephew and several of his men produced some cold rations of dried meat and fruit. He could hear the gentle current of the River Alre, which ran just over a short rise beyond the grove.

“
We sent a couple men down to the river to catch fish, but I’m afraid any fires would be ill-advised,” a warrior stated.

“Agreed,” Cogidubnus nodded. “We must rest under the shadow of the trees tonight. I doubt that the Catuvellauni are attempting any pursuit, but we must not be careless. I on
ly pray it does not rain. We are in what is now their lands and Caratacus will have eyes everywhere.”

The meat proved tough and stringy, though for the half-starved king and his men, it helped sate their rumbling stomachs.
A few warriors came back bearing a basket of fish.

“There is a fishing village near here,” one of the men said. “We did not see much activity, and no sign of Caratacus’ warriors, so we should be safe for now.”

They ate in silence, uncertain as to what they should do when morning came. Only Cogidubnus seemed to have any sense of reassurance about him. His aura gave Verica a trace of hope that he had not felt since the word first came to him regarding the Catuvellauni attack on his kingdom. For the first time in a week he allowed himself to fall into a deep sleep as darkness of night completely enshrouded the grove.

The rains
came just before dawn but were mercifully brief, with the thick canopy of trees protecting the small, haggard group of exiles. Engulfed in an early morning fog, Cogidubnus led the contingent the remaining short distance along the river to the sea. He grinned as he spotted the large ship rolling in the surf near the inlet of another small river
2
. His warriors were startled by the sight.

“By the gods, who are they?” one of the king’s guards asked.

“The only friends we have left,” Cogidubnus explained. “The king asked me to send word to our allies once we heard about the Catuvellauni incursion. I ask your pardon for my presumptions, uncle, but I sent dispatches to
all
of our potential friends, not just those in Britannia.”

“Romans!
” a warrior spat in disgust.

“By Sulis
, why have you called upon them?” another grumbled. “They create nations of slaves and dare to call it ‘peace’!”

“And who else would you have me call upon?” Cogidubnus retorted. “The Iceni? The Cantiaci?
Well, I did, and they did not so much as raise a finger when we appealed to them for help! Forgive me, uncle, but even your brother, King Eppillus of the Cantiaci left us to the mercy of Caratacus.”

“It would appear,” Verica finally spoke up, “that Rome is our only ally not to completely abandon us.”

“Ally,” the first warrior scoffed. “We had dealings with their merchants, though I would hardly call that an alliance.”

“On the contrary,” Verica said, “
Our relationship with Rome goes far deeper than many realize. My father, King Commius, served with Julius Caesar during his Conquest of Gaul, from where, as you know, many of our people originate. Despite their later falling out, both I and my brothers maintained a subtle, yet firm rapport with Rome. My eldest brother, Tincomarus, spent the early years of his reign in Rome after the rise of Emperor Augustus Caesar. Tincomarus and Eppillus had a falling out, in a story which would take too long to tell now; suffice it to say, Tincomarus fled to Rome, where he spent the remainder of his days. After I assumed the kingship of Atrebates, and Eppillus took Cantiaci as his own, I renewed an alliance with Emperor Tiberius, who had just become emperor the year before. And though this alliance may have been forgotten by most, it would seem at least one of Tiberius’ successors intends to honor it.”

“What, with a
single warship?” the warrior said, his voice still full of doubt. “What can they possibly bring us?”

“For now, time to regroup,”
Cogidubnus explained. “Come, they will not wait for us long.”

As the contingent made its way down the long path that led to the narrow beach, they spotted a
number of marines from the Roman vessel waiting for them. They were armed similarly to legionaries, though their armor was lighter and their shields smaller and oval shaped, allowing for greater mobility aboard ship. Their captain, a tall, blonde Norseman, stood at their head. He wore a sailor’s tunic with a gladius strapped to his hip; his hair was cropped above the shoulders, and his face shaven. His northern ancestors may have once been long-haired barbarians, but his demeanor noted that he was clearly ‘Roman’.

“
King Verica,” he said in their native tongue as he stepped forward, giving a short bow of respect. “I am Commander Hansi Flavianus of the Imperial Navy. I am here to take you to Rome.”

“Rome?” a guardsman asked, perplexed. He then glared at Cogidubnus. “That was your plan
? Forcing us to flee to
Rome
?”

“We are not fleeing,” the prince explained, keeping his voice calm. “Like I said, we are regrouping. And no one is forcing you to go anywhere.
Those of you who do not wish to depart with us are free to leave. Take your chances with Caratacus if you wish; I’ll not fault you for it. Those who will stand by their king will accompany us.”

The
twenty or so men who had thus far journeyed with them talked quietly amongst themselves for a moment. Finally the first warrior spoke, “I’m with you, my prince, as are most of the lads. The rest ask your pardon if they cannot accompany you.”

“
Please understand,” another spoke up. “We have families that we cannot abandon, not with Caratacus as their lord. Forgive us, sire.”

“There is nothing to
forgive,” Verica said reassuringly. “I release you from any oaths you may have taken. Return to your families, and may Freya go with you.”

He
then noted that the warriors who remained were mostly young and unmarried. Those with families still in Atrebates, he could not fault for staying to try and protect them. These men bowed and quickly took their leave of their king for the last time.

“It is time,” the Roman officer said. “My men will help you into the ship
, and then we must set sail at once.”

“How long until we reach Rome?” Cogidubnus asked. Like all those who accompanied him and his great-uncle, none of them had any comprehension as to the vast size of the Roman Empire or the seas th
at surrounded its northern and western borders.

“At least two weeks, and that’s if the seas cooperate. Come.”

Verica nodded reluctantly and then looked back inland. Though it was a foggy and gloomy day, his heart was rendered at the thought of, what he felt, was abandoning his kingdom and people.