Retribution

Chapter Eleven

A few miles to the north-west, the majority of men from two centuries of troops sweated and toiled as they worked to dig the foundations of a new fort. Due to hostile action by Caradoc and his men, the place had become a virtual no go area for soldiers as patrols been attacked and convoys destroyed. It had been decided therefore, that a series of forts and fort-lets would be the best way of controlling the ground as the Roman war machine moved further west.

Legionary Valerius knew the dangers all too well, as he had been besieged with the Second Augusta in the Silurian mountains a few years before during an ill-fated attempt to destroy the enemy on their own ground. Now as he looked towards those same mountains, shrouded with mist, the thoughts of those few days returned to him and he tried to block them out. As he looked at the forbidding mountains again, he had taken cover with a small contingent of archers, keeping a look out for the enemy as the engineers supervised the construction of the new fort on the flat ground below.

The site had been chosen as it provided a clear line of sight for the surrounding countryside and the first unobstructed view of the hills and valleys, with the mountains behind where Caradoc was thought to be carrying out his raids from. The sound of digging and men talking was a welcome distraction from the drizzle that was falling finely and soaking everything. A line of carts loaded with stone blocks, wooden poles, rope and tools was beyond the men waiting to be used as the digging continued. It was always the same it seemed wherever they went, dig first, dig second and then dig some more. Dig until you had a position from where you could defend yourselves and the rest would work itself out.

They had set out at first light arriving at the chosen position a little before midday and had eaten a brief meal before work began in earnest. The plan was to dig out the ditches and foundations first in the large square block where the installation would be sited. As a section of men dug the ditches that would provide the first line of defence around the fort, another began to shovel the disturbed earth up into packed ramparts that would form part of the wall, whilst others began to move the stone blocks into place. It was a tried and tested format for such constructions and like most it would be virtually identical to others they had built, this cut down on construction time which was vitally important in hostile areas.

Patrols had been sent out and continually scoured the land primarily towards the west looking for any sign of trouble, and a small contingent of auxiliary cavalry patrolled further out to provide a covering screen so the men could work, assured that they were relatively safe.

By mid-afternoon the drizzle had stopped, the legionaries had received a second break sometime before and were back at work. The site had already been transformed, the ramparts nearly completed, the outer ditch finished and all the stonework had been moved into place for the interior buildings; barracks, a granary, a smithy and stable area. As with all such places, space was limited inside but it wasn’t being built for comfort.

Valerius looked at the sky and estimated that the building should be secure well before dark. It had been decided by the Tribune, Tribune Celvius who was leading the Roman force, that both centuries would reside in the fort that night. It wasn’t worth taking the risk of a lone century marching back to Isca, so in the morning whilst one manned the new construction, the other would return. During the following days a fresh century would relieve the existing men and would remain in position for a calendar month, carrying out patrols and keeping an eye on the locals. This system of constructing forts and moving further into hostile territory would continue until Caradoc was either forced to fight or moved north, his only route of escape.

As Valerius took a swig from his water skin, washing down a hard tack biscuit from his pack, he heard a slight rumble. At first he thought that it was thunder as the clouds had begun to clear and spots of blue sky had appeared above, he didn’t know why but it was common for that to occur when there was a mixture of the two. He turned his head listening but the thunder continued, getting louder. He frowned and removed his helmet and walked clear of the trees looking in the direction of the sound but could see nothing, although the sound was still getting louder.

Other archers followed him and he noticed that the legionaries had stopped working on the fort. Then the noise seemed to come from all around them echoing from the surrounding natural rises of the rolling countryside. He replaced his helmet and made his way back to the small copse of trees where he had spent most of the day just as he heard the tribune shout, “Cover, to arms men, form up.”

Valerius looked to the south and saw what Celvius had seen. Appearing over a rise in the land, was a line of spears as they moved up and down clearly being held by mounted warriors. He reached for an arrow from his quiver as did the other archers.

“Stand to!” Valerius shouted, “Enemy approaching from the south.” His legionaries rushed to their kit lying nearby and hurriedly began to put it on, helping each other. Those who had been standing guard rushed to the tribune and formed up inside the partially constructed fort. The centurion who had accompanied them began rattling out orders and pointing to various positions where troops ran to. The rumble of the hooves got louder and within seconds the heads of woad covered warriors rode into view at the gallop.

“Gods Valerius,” shouted the archer nearest to him, “we can’t stay here we’re too isolated.” With that, he ran from the trees and raced towards the fort, Valerius backed up into the copse knowing he wouldn’t make it to cover before the riders were on them. Another archer and then another broke cover and ran clear of the trees heading towards the construction area. Then he heard the shouts of the Britons as they cried their war cries, some now wielding large swords around their heads, he crouched low and then saw more riders approaching from the east, more enemy.

As he lay down flat on his stomach, he removed his helmet knowing that its shine might attract the warriors. The men that had run from the trees were now halfway to the fort, some turning and stumbling, the centurion was bellowing words from the rampart but he couldn’t make them out. The other archers still in the trees looked to Valerius for instructions panic on their faces, as he was the most senior amongst them. He shook his head and indicated for them to take cover and to move away from the edge of the tree line, he knew there were too few of them to be effective.

The Britons quickly reached the running archers as they were hacked and ridden down, one turned, threw his bow to the ground and held his hands aloft trying to surrender. He was slashed at by a charging warrior with a huge blue steel long sword, the fingers of his right hand flew up into the air and then another horseman chopped down with his own blade and it sliced into his helmet, he fell in a heap to the ground.

The attackers continued galloping on as fast as their mounts would carry them but slowed as they approached the ditches at the sides of the fort. The centurion led his men up onto the ramparts hurling a javelin at one rider who was impaled and fell from his horse; he was trampled by other horses. More legionaries threw their javelins and other riders fell, but the wave of attackers was too much, as they swarmed the small building from all sides and then began to leap the ditches, their mounts struggling up the sides.

Britons jumped from their horses as the defending soldiers massed on the top of the ramparts, some with shields, others without, some cowering behind their scutums, other stabbing wildly with their pilum’s. Valerius saw the plume of the tribune behind that of the centurion’s converse horse hair moving rapidly as he fought for his life and that of his men as more warriors leapt from their mounts before the ditches and joined the attack.

A horn sounded from the west, clear and distinct over the sound of fighting and Valerius recognised it as Roman, the auxiliaries he thought, they must have heard the battle and were returning from the position where the tribune had deemed them most vulnerable, the west. He saw that some of the attackers had heard the horn and had turned their mounts to face them on the instructions of one of the warriors who was shouting orders and pointing. A body of warriors turned their horses as more did the same from other sides of the attack. They blended together like water forming and charged at the returning cavalry who were now in clear view. The auxiliaries under the command of their Decurion drew closer together as they formed a wedge. They had seen the threat and were clearly intent on punching through their lines. Three hundred paces from the battle raging at the fort, the two opposing sides clashed, horses fell, men were thrown to the ground and the auxiliaries were surrounded in seconds, their momentum stopped, as swords collided and blood was spilt. So enveloped were the cavalry that some attackers broke off their onslaught on them and started back to the first fight.

The ramparts of the fort were now covered with Britons as those closest to the defenders fought like demons, hacking, slashing and screaming at their enemy determined to take their lives. The Roman legionaries fought on, those who didn’t have their shields had disappeared from view, no doubt dead and trampled underfoot by the hordes swarming up the slope. Valerius saw the centurion’s plume jolt backwards as he too vanished from sight, quickly followed by the tribune as the Britons took the top of the rampart and began hacking at the men below.

The battle became a slaughter and Valerius knew he could do nothing about it, although he recognised that he that had made the right decision, he still felt shame as he backed further into the trees. As he did, he was aware of the mounted Britons who had ridden out to meet the auxiliaries, now riding back to the engulfed position where the survivors still fought on. In moments it was all but over and through thick bushes he watched as about ten soldiers were dragged over the raised embankment, they must have been the only ones still alive and were thrown down into the ditch where they had previously been digging.

“What are we going to do?” Valerius jumped, he hadn’t even heard the other soldier crawl towards him.

“Just what do you think we should do?” He asked. “They’re dead, there’s nothing to be done except lie here and hope they don’t see us.” He replied anger flaring in his eyes. “Or we’ll be next.”

They looked out as severed heads and limbs were thrown from the ramparts to great cheers from the warriors surrounding the construction site, some put on helmets taken from the dead legionaries, others carried swords and armour as they danced about celebrating their victory. The survivors were dragged out of the ditch and lined up, some bloodied looking terrified, others defiant. The leader of the Britons pointed at them shouting something that Valerius couldn’t understand, the other Britons laughed.

“Please don’t kill them.” He said to no-one but himself and then thought that it was probably better to die here than to be taken prisoner and made the play thing of these barbarians. He watched on as the chieftain argued with those around him as he gestured to the mountains to the west, he assumed they were debating what to do with their prizes. A short time later, the soldiers were stripped down to their tunics and tied together, with ropes around their necks, Roman ropes, and were led away.

Some of the Britons began collecting the equipment together that the soldiers had been using, and put it into the carts, no doubt to be carried off west as well as the prisoners. Some of them then began digging away at the compacted mud of the ramparts, ruining the work done previously, as more dead bodies were dragged free of the structure. They were stripped bare and left lying face down in the mud.

Caradoc and his warriors had spent a few days relaxing beyond the western border after the successful raid on the fort at Beeston. As promised, Elud had joined the other Britons and had been more than happy to arrange for the distribution of Roman prisoners throughout the territory. The victory over the enemy hill fort was greeted with joy by the tribes and the standing of Caradoc was elevated to new heights when the prisoners were given to the local chieftains to be used as slaves. Elud had shown no signs of regret in leaving his sister and was settling into his new way of life well. Casualties had been low in comparison to the occupiers and had demonstrated to those who were dubious of the Catuvellauni’s leadership credentials, that he was the right man to lead them against Rome.

So far from the enemy, life was almost normal as people went about their daily business of growing crops, looking after their livestock, bringing children up, hunting and fishing, but there was always a dark cloud on the horizon and Caradoc knew it would never go away until the occupiers were either destroyed or were forced to leave Albion. He had heard news via messenger of the successful annihilation of another fort in the south by Dumnoc and his warriors, and of the siege of the other garrison but they had come at a cost, many lives had been lost as Dumnoc had battled the occupants of the second fort. However, he had reconciled himself that losses were to be expected against such a force who, lived for war, unlike his people.

More prisoners had also been brought in after two full centuries had been wiped out together with their cavalry support whilst trying to construct a new fort by an Ordovices war band, who were themselves now fully committed to the war. Although things were going well, he knew these were small victories compared to the enormous task that faced him.

Today however, that was put to one side as he, Ardwen and Brennus and a few others were to go out hunting wild boar in the valleys shaded by the mountains. They had set off early on horseback at first light and were now some distance from the settlement they were currently occupying in the heart of the west. He had decided that to stay in one place was too dangerous, so he and his closest family and friends moved around regularly to avoid the enemy discovering their location. With allies in all the tribal regions now, they were accepted by all the tribes who had allied themselves with the Catuvellauni leader.

The day was bright but the first chill of autumn was in the air as they reached a large forest said by Ardwen to be rich in boar. They had brought a pack of hunting dogs with them, who were now panting heavily, tails wagging and eager to chase the quarry they somehow knew, they would be after that day.

“We can start here if you like?” Ardwen said. “The forest isn’t too thick and we can manoeuvre well enough. I’ve started here or hereabouts before and have been fairly successful. It depends on what you want to do, let the dogs lead or take them into the forest and let them flush the boar out, make them come towards us.”

Brennus laughed, “Whichever it is, I’ll get more than you today so it doesn’t really matter.”

“We’ll see.” Ardwen got down off his horse. “The thing with hunting boar is that they are clever little beasts and,” he looked up at Brennus, “you’re not.” Now he laughed.

“Have you two always been like this?” Caradoc asked.

“Like what, oh I see, me being better than Brennus you mean, of course. He tries, well sort of, but ever since he was small, if you can believe he ever was, he’s been just that, a trier. He was still being weaned by his mother when he was fifteen summers gone.”

Brennus got down off his horse, “And after those fifteen summers I was suckling on your mother’s breasts, enjoyed it and all she did.” He laughed again.

“Alright you two let’s start from here then shall we.” Caradoc said changing the subject. “Who’s going to run with the dogs?”

Ardwen raised his arm, “I will, they’re afraid of that oaf anyway,” he said looking at Brennus, “he’d only lead them into trouble.” He untied the rope from the back of the saddle they had been secured to.

“Right then if someone would like to take my horse,” he handed the reins to one of the others in the hunting party, “I’ll be off.” He looked down at the dogs whose excitement was building. “Come on then my beauties.” He said and walked to the edge of the forest.

“Be careful and don’t get too far ahead.” Caradoc warned.

“I know, I’ve been doing this since I could walk.” He replied and disappeared into the undergrowth.

“We’ll give him a while to get ahead and then follow. It’ll probably take the dogs a while to pick up a scent anyway.” Caradoc said. As soon as he’d finished the sentence, the dogs bayed indicating that they’d picked up a scent.

“That was quick.” Brennus said.

“I told you I was good!” Ardwen could be heard shouting from somewhere in the forest. The rest of the hunting party crashed into the trees on his trail. It wasn’t difficult to follow him thanks to the barking of the dogs and Ardwen shouting at them to slow down every now and again. He was no doubt getting pulled along by the dogs on the rope he’d attached himself with. Caradoc had learned a long time ago, back in his own territory that there was only one place to be when hunting boar and that was on a horse. They were quicker than a running man and could not only sense danger from animals such as boars but they could avoid them when they turned as well. He also knew that Ardwen would be getting scratched to pieces as he was dragged through the foliage. He led the rest of the party deeper into the forest as the dogs yapped and barked at their quarry, leaning low on his mount to avoid branches.

“This way.” He shouted as he guided his horse onto a thin path running along the forest floor where he could build up speed.

“We’re gaining on him,” Brennus shouted, “but I think he’s over there, that way.” He nodded to the right.

“This path runs level and we can go faster using it.” Caradoc shouted in reply kicking at his horse for more speed. An excruciating yelp broke through the canopy of the trees just then. It could mean only one thing. Within moments the rest of them had caught up with Ardwen who was crouched over one of the dogs. The others were straining against the rope trying to continue the chase.

“What happened?” Brennus asked.

“It turned and went for the dogs,” he said, “hurled this one into the air. It looks bad the tusks must have got him.”

Caradoc jumped down from his horse. The dog was lying on its side panting heavily, it didn’t raise its head but he saw its eyes turn as he approached. Blood was pulsing out of two large gashes in its chest. The other dogs were nearly pulling Ardwen over in their excitement to continue the chase, seemingly unaware of the other dog’s injuries. Caradoc knelt down by the injured animal’s head where he put a reassuring hand.

“There boy take it easy.” He said as the dog whimpered. “He won’t last long he’s losing too much blood.” Caradoc said to Ardwen.

“I know but I’m not leaving him to die on his own. That was the biggest boar I’ve ever seen,” he looked down at his wounded hound, “nearly as big as Raider here.” Ardwen replied.

Brennus grabbed the rope holding the other dogs back. “I’ll go and track it while you stay here with him.” He said looking at the stricken hunting dog. Ardwen didn’t argue, he just let the rope go. Brennus crashed off into the bushes dragged by the wailing hounds.

The injured dog’s breathing slowed, his big black eyes looked round one final time, flickered and then he was gone. Caradoc saw that Ardwen had tears in his eyes but he quickly turned away trying to hide his face.

“I’ve had them all from pups,” he said, “they were in the same litter, but he was the best. Never knew when to back down, I always told him to choose his fights.” He said.

Caradoc stood, “Come on let’s make sure his death wasn’t in vain.” He ran after Brennus. Ardwen patted his dog on the head one last time, “I’ll be back for you boy,” his voice cracked. “I won’t leave you here.” He wiped his eyes, stood and ran after Caradoc.

It took a while for the dogs to gain on the boar after the injury to Raider and the chase went on for some time, but now Caradoc could see the large hairy dark brown back of the animal as it careened through the bushes and undergrowth. Brennus and the dogs had been overtaken and were falling back with the huntsman gasping for breath, his job done.

“It’s mine!” Ardwen shouted as he crashed past Caradoc on his horse.

“Be careful.” Caradoc shouted back as the tail of Ardwen’s horse disappeared into the leafy bushes. He kicked at his mount once more trying to pick up extra speed as branches whipped at his face, arms and legs. He clung onto his horse praying he didn’t fall off, he knew a boar could do as much damage to a man as it could to a dog, especially if you were unfortunate to face one on the ground. A memory flashed into his mind of a childhood friend who was attacked by a large rogue boar in his homeland, the boy was lucky to survive and had carried the scars to manhood. He quickly dismissed the image from his mind and concentrated on the task in hand as he heard Ardwen shout.

Breaking into a clearing Caradoc saw that he was now one horse length behind Ardwen but couldn’t quite believe what he saw next. His cousin climbed up onto the back of his horse and hurled himself forward and off the animal’s rump. Time seemed to slow briefly as Ardwen screamed bringing his spear down with both hands towards the charging boar. He landed with a thump and a flurry of dust, Caradoc heard an inhuman scream and quickly pulled on his reins desperately trying to stop his galloping horse. Before it was stationary he cocked his head over his mounts head, leapt out of the saddle and to the side, landed and rolled, the momentum allowing him to get straight back to his feet. He turned quickly towards Ardwen who was stabbing down furiously with his weapon repeatedly, blood spraying up from the mortally wounded boar who still screeched. As he approached Ardwen, he saw the boar’s legs twitching frantically as it squealed again trying to get up but it was to no avail, Ardwen continued stabbing until there was no sound and the animal moved no more. Panting for breath, Ardwen collapsed over the dead creature, he was covered in sweat and blood as his chest heaved for air.

“I think you got him.” Caradoc said just as Brennus fell out of the foliage behind them, dogs straining to get to the carcass.

“Well done……!” Was all Brennus managed before his legs gave way and he fell flat on his face exhausted. Later with Raider buried and a leg of the boar roasting over a fire, the men recounted the hunt.

“You could have killed yourself leaping from your horse like that.” Caradoc said to Ardwen.

“He wasn’t going to get away after killing Raider. I’d have given my own life as long as I took his.” He replied with a distraught expression on his face, turning the leg over on a spit.

“At least he died doing something he loved.” Brennus added. “He was a good dog.” He turned patting the others who had dragged him through the forest, they were now tied to a tree and were sat salivating at the smell coming from the cooking meat, drool dripping from their panting mouths. “These are good hunters as well. I thought they were going to drag me straight into a tree trunk at one stage today, they were that keen to get to it.” Brennus added.

Ardwen didn’t respond, he just sat there staring at the flames and watching fat drip from his victim. Caradoc threw a drinking skin towards him, it landed near his feet.

“Take a glug of that my friend, it’s not water.” Ardwen reached out and took the skin and drank heartily. The hunting party ate their fill as did the dogs and they camped out overnight, before heading home the next day.

Miles to the south Dumnoc had identified his next target, despite the dead and injured after the attacks of the two Roman forts, his determination to do as much damage to the enemy had not diminished. He had returned to his adopted settlement where he worked as a tanner, telling the man he worked for that he had been home as his mother had suddenly taken ill. For a few days he had kept his head down and got back into the routine of working for a fellow Briton who provided leather and hides for the local area including the Romans. Dumnoc had questioned his motives for working with the occupiers but the man had simply said that he had to support his family. It angered him that a man who had survived quite easily before the invasion was now lying about having to trade with the Romans, Dumnoc vowed to ensure that his family would lose their provider if things didn’t change. After the destruction, loss of life and theft of land he had witnessed, nothing less would do, as far as he was concerned if his fellow Britons weren’t part of the solution, they were part of the problem.

Ten days after returning to work for Bricius he had been given a day off and had gone out on his horse. A few miles to the south and clear of any settlements, he had come across a team of Roman engineers who were carrying out the initial work in order for a road to be constructed. It was a small party of about fifteen soldiers who were using strange tools and planting markers into the ground after ensuring the new road would be in a straight line. They used thin wooden pieces of wood that were joined together in a frame from which weights hung on rope, these weights were aligned with others further forward on other frames and then the markers were staked into the turf. Miles to the rear other engineers were doing the hard work of digging and bringing gravel and stone forward. Dumnoc knew that the advance party were vulnerable and planned to hit them with a war band of twenty five, which should be more than enough especially if they could use the element of surprise and were far enough away from any support. He would have to limit himself to such tactics until such times as his numbers grew from reinforcements sent by Caradoc.

He was surprised that these engineers weren’t guarded by legionaries considering the attacks of late. They were either becoming over confident or were too stretched to provide covering patrols, he suspected. During the morning he had ridden by them counting their numbers and making sure there weren’t any sentries hidden nearby, and had done the same thing, later in the afternoon. It was as he suspected, they were alone and isolated.

Returning to Bricius during the evening, he helped with some work and then turned in, getting an early night before the raid on the engineering party. He planned to sneak away from the settlement a few hours before dawn and meet up with his war band at a pre-arranged place a few miles short of their target’s location. He dressed quickly and quietly slipped out of the roundhouse he occupied and rode to get his weapons. Feeling a sense of excitement and fear he recovered his sword, spear and shield from where he kept them hidden by three large oak trees and then met up with the others. After a brief discussion with them about how he wanted the attack to proceed, they set off looking for the engineering party.

When he suspected they were close, they began walking their horses, leading them by their reins. He knew the soldiers wouldn’t be far from the last place he had seen them and would have travelled directly in one straight line as they had a tendency to construct their roads. Sure enough over the next rise, he saw their tents in the rolling countryside below, three of them, there were two men on guard standing off to one side.

He indicated for the others to stop where they were below the height of the hill so they wouldn’t be seen and pointed at two of the older warriors, telling them to follow him. He crouched down and went forward dropping to his knees and then crawled along slowly on his stomach, the two others following.

“We’ll have to take the sentries first.” He whispered looking across the plain. Despite the darkness, the tents were visible as there were lamps glowing inside and one was a short distance from the two guards.

“It would be too dangerous to get any closer, we’d be seen and they would raise the alarm.” Dumnoc said thinking aloud. “Some of the men have bows with them, you,” he said addressing one of the men, “Crawl back and bring four bowmen with you, I’ve got an idea.” The man did as he was told, returning a short time later with the archers.

“I want two of you to take the man on the right and the other two to shoot the one on the left but not until I give the word, you are to stay here with me.” He turned again to the man who had brought the archers, “Now go back and get the others, I want you to encircle them but from a safe distance as best you can. Once the arrows fly, we’ll move in but not before, do you understand?”

He nodded, Dumnoc said, “Once you have them in position give the signal and we’ll take the sentries down, then the rest of us will move in and deal with the others, clear?” He nodded again and moved off. Dumnoc lay there waiting for what seemed like an age with the four bowmen who had spread out slightly giving themselves space for when the order came to fire at the guards. Just as he got so frustrated that he was about to go and find out what was going on, he heard the hoot of an owl, the signal that the rest of the war band were in position.

“On your feet,” He said to the archers, “Remember to fire together or as close as you can and don’t miss.” He turned back to the guards and waited, listening to a slight breeze. The Roman sentries were about one hundred and twenty paces from their position, easily within range of the arrows. The bowmen waited for the breeze to settle and then loosed their missiles, there was a faint twang as their drawstrings relaxed and within no time they were lost in the dark. The archers loaded more arrows but they weren’t required as one of the soldiers dropped to the ground instantly, within seconds dark figures appeared from all around and descended on the tents. The second guard was seen clutching at his face and staggering towards the nearest tent, but he was brought down by a warrior who jumped on him from behind.

Dumnoc rose and ran seeing the Briton who had felled the legionary thrashing downward with his axe, the noise of the contact on his armour was quite loud but then he saw him roll him over and begin to pound his face with the bladed weapon. Dumnoc was certain that the sound would wake the other soldiers but knew that if it had it was too late as they had reached the tents.

He stopped short by a few feet, quickly looking at the warrior who had leapt onto the guard and could see his face splattered with blood, another sliced the throat of the other prone man who had two arrows in his face. The three tents were completely surrounded. Dumnoc walked over to the lamp the sentries had near them and picked it up, walking back towards the tents, he threw it at the one in the middle. It landed on the side of the slanting roof, at first nothing happened, and then the oil began to run down the sides of the goat skin surface, the flame caught and it burnt. From within the structure the other soldiers quickly began to stir and then he heard the others in the two tents on either side were waking up.

The legionaries were allowed to exit the tents, fear on their faces as they realised what was happening. One tried to speak but was struck on the side of the head by the shaft of a spear, the sound was loud as it thumped against his skull and he fell to the ground moaning and grasping at where he had been hit. They were lined up on their knees terrified, the battered man dragged up, they looked at Dumnoc who stood in front of the others. He stared back at them and then knelt down and picked up some dirt. Standing again, he rubbed the soil between his fingers allowing some of it to fall, staring at the captured men.

“You come to our lands, kill and enslave our people, take our gold, silver, remove our cattle, sheep and goats and you build your roads.” He said speaking in Latin, looking at their markers. “What shall we do with you?” He asked.

One of the men replied, “Let us go please, we’re just soldiers, we were sent here to put the markers out for the engineers that’s all. We’re not involved in the fighting and we haven’t even drawn our swords since we’ve been in Britannia.”

Dumnoc struck him hard across the forehead and he toppled over landing on his side groaning, “Our land is called Albion not Britannia Roman.” The man got back on his knees. “It matters little to me or these warriors you see before you whether you have drawn blood on our people or not. The roads you help to build move your soldiers through our lands so to us you are all the same.” He looked at the other legionaries on their knees. “How much mercy did you show the Catuvellauni when you first came to our shores? How many tribal kings have taken your gold with promises of land, treaties?” He paused. “Albion was a friend of Rome for many years, we traded peacefully and your Emperor betrayed that trust by sending men like you to kill us, to steal our land and enslave our people.”

“Please.” The legionary begged, the others looked at him expressionless, “We don’t want to hurt you, we were told to come here. We don’t have a choice when we’re ordered by our officers. We’ll leave, just please let us go I beg you, we’re engineers, we just build things.”

“And what if you are told to return? You will do as you are asked, you just said that, you are a soldier, you have no choice.” Dumnoc said. He turned to the assembled warriors stood watching, they stared expectantly at him waiting to be told to execute the prisoners.

“Remove their right hands,” He instructed, “that way they won’t come again.”

Some of the legionaries screamed and tried to fight or escape but they were quickly overpowered. Others were simply too shocked by what was about to happen to them and awaited their fate in silence. As Dumnoc turned and began to walk away, the screams intensified, he suspected that even the quieter ones were now voicing their pain.