Retribution

Chapter Twelve

“This is bollocks sir.” He looked at the centurion, “and I mean that with no respect whatsoever by the way,” Grattius remarked frowning as they neared the stone barrack block via the parade ground with Optio Ancius. It was just before dawn and the sun was showing signs of another day as streaks of light began to appear above.

“Orders are orders Grattius,” Varro replied, “anyway we can’t have soldiers going about stabbing each other, there won’t be any left to face the Britons.” He smiled.

“I still think it’s a job that could have waited for someone else to do or even the primus pilus. It could start all sorts of problems this between the centuries.” Grattius muttered.

“Sir if you wouldn’t mind.” Ancius interjected and stopped walking, Varro turned pausing.

“What is it Optio?” He asked curtly becoming frustrated with Grattius’ complaining.

“Well sir, Legionary Abudius is one of my men, it might be better if I went in first, you know, friendly face. Might help if you know what I mean?”

Varro considered his suggestion, “Mm you’re probably right, we’ll be right behind you, no funny business, understand?” He turned to Grattius, “And no more moaning from you.”

“Of course sir wouldn’t dream of it.” Ancius said, “Anyway he’s not got anywhere to go and I’m not risking my record for the likes of him, no. He’s got what’s coming, can’t be helped.” Ancius replied as they continued walking. The main door to the block was closed and creaked as they entered. Lines of double bunks were situated along either side of a narrow walkway down the middle of the block, the room smelt of stale clothes, sweaty bodies and wind of the human variety. Armour was piled up in-between the bunks against the wall. Optio Ancius removed a lit oil lamp from near the door frame. “Hope I don’t set off all the gas in here.” He said venturing further into the room.

“He’s down here sir,” He pointed, “lower stall.” He said indicating with his head, they followed the optio between the bunks in the dim light. A sleeping legionary rolled over and let out a loud brace of farts, another murmured an insult in his sleep.

“Oh charming.” Grattius whispered.

“Here he is sir.” Optio Ancius said faintly, pointing out the sleeping form of Legionary Abudius. He leant forward and shook him by the shoulder. He grunted and turned to face him but didn’t open his eyes.

“Abudius wake up.” Ancius said talking normally.

“Mother.” Abudius replied.” Grattius smirked.

“I’ll mother you in a moment if you don’t wake up.” Ancius said.

“Optio,” he said, trying to open his eyes, “is it morning already, what are you doing here?”

Ancius shook him again, “On your feet lad, there’s a centurion here to see you.”

Abudius squinted and then opened his eyes fully and took in the sight of the two officers with Ancius, a resigned look of recognition dawning on his face.

“Bollocks.” He muttered and swung his legs out of the bed. He went to get his equipment but Grattius blocked his route.

“Tunica and caliga only,” he told him, tunic and boots, “You won’t need anything else where you’re going.”

The young soldier looked to his optio for an explanation, “They know you killed that lad the other night son, I’m sorry but there’s no more I can do for you. It’ll be for the Legate to decide and then the Governor probably.”

“It was an accident, he came at me. I didn’t mean to kill him.” He said anxiety over his face. “What will they do to me?” He said collecting his tunic off the ground and pulling it over his head.

“As your Optio just said soldier, it’s not a matter for him or for that matter, us either. We’re here to escort you to the stockade, now get your boots on.” Varro said as Abudius sat on his bunk tying his leather laces up.

“I’m fucked aren’t I sir?” He looked up at Varro, tears in his eyes.

“It’s not up to us Legionary Abudius, are you ready?” He asked. They led the legionary out of the barrack block, just as a trumpet somewhere outside on the rampart sounded the dawn call and the others began to stir. They escorted the prisoner over to the guardhouse where the stockade was situated. A note was recorded on the log of his admittance by Varro and for the crime of which he was suspected, murder of a fellow soldier.

“Right in you go.” Grattius said opening the thick wooden door of the small cell. Abudius looked inside and saw a small thin cot at ground level, a bucket and a high window that at least let some light in. He turned to his optio and said, “Sorry,” as the door was shut behind him.

“Stupid bastard!” Grattius said as the three officers returned to the duty centurion’s bunk, while Varro gave a further explanation to the night staff.

“I wouldn’t like to be in his boots.” The centurion of the watch said after hearing the report, “The last one accused of murdering another legionnaire was executed in front of his entire century, ruined morale for months.”

“Bad business all round,” Varro said, “and for what, some dirty whore by the sound of things?” He turned to the two optios, “Right now that’s out the way perhaps we can get on with our own duties.”

Two days later, Varro and Grattius were summoned by the Governor of Roman forces in Britannia to give their assessment and knowledge of the incident that had led to the death of a legionary in their garrison, or so they thought. Optio Grattius wasn’t happy at the prospect.

“I knew this wouldn’t end with that little bastard getting locked up and now look.” He gestured with a flailing arm as they rode slowly east, “all the way to Londinium to see none other than Aulus Plautius, gods above and below, nothing good will come of this, you mark my words.” He said muttering away to himself.

“He’s a good man,” Varro said chewing on a piece of salted beef and patting his horse Staro, “I met him not long after the initial landings. He probably just wants a report first hand. After all he’s to decide whether Abudius lives or dies. It can’t be an easy decision even for him.”

“Mm maybe so but that doesn’t make it any easier, I’d rather be heading in the other direction if you know what I mean.” Grattius said taking in the countryside around them. “Been to Londinium before then?”

“No, first time. I’ve heard it’s grown significantly though since the Governor moved from Camoludunum a few years ago.” Varro replied. “It’s said to be so big there’s no wall around it, not that it’s in any danger they say, being so far east away from the conflict.”

In time they began to see unnatural objects on the horizon and as they got closer, they saw that there were huts and roundhouses in settlements, plumes of smoke rose to the heavens. The once solid tracks became mud paths the closer they got and the stench of the outlying districts grew as the roundhouses were replaced by more wooden huts and then small brick buildings came into view. They walked their horses parallel with the river Temasis Thames, said to be one of the longest stretches of water on the island, it had got its name, meaning dark, due to its dirty content. It never ran clear.

Soon they saw more troops heading west, centuries marching along in their columns, fresh faces, with new uniforms, moving along neatly, accompanied by the odd bellow from a frustrated centurion or optio keeping them in line. Before dark they took a room rented above a tavern near the centre of the city. It wasn’t the best of places but provided them with a warm meal and stabling for their horses.

They arose early the next morning and made their way to the Governor’s headquarters. After having their identities confirmed by an overzealous guard at the main archway leading to the building, they were allowed access. After waiting some considerable time in an outer office, they were called forward by a clerk.

“The Governor will see you now,” he announced,” Waving them forward, “Come, come, he hasn’t got all day you know, he has a Province to run.” He said as the two soldiers rose from their seats and exchanged angry glances with each other.

“Prick.” Grattius whispered as they approached the large door. The clerk swung it open as if he were performing on a stage and smiled at the two officers as they walked past.

“Cunt.” Grattius said loud enough for him to hear, the clerk screwed up his face as if he had just smelt something foul and stared at the optio.

“Ah Centurion Varro,” Aulus Plautius said rising from his chair, “it’s been a long time, welcome, welcome.” He walked forward and grasped Varro’s hand, “it’s always nice to see proper soldiers again,” he looked at the clerk, “dismissed.”

“May I present Optio Grattius sir?” Varro replied turning, Grattius snapped to attention.

“Pleased to meet you Optio.” Plautius said to Grattius taking his hand and shaking it thoroughly, “Please gentlemen take a seat.” He said, indicating to the two chairs by his desk. The room was decorated with frescoes on the walls, where there weren’t campaign maps showing the locations of various legions, roads, roads under construction, forts and garrisons. Tables at the side of the room were covered with scrolls and writing tablets, clearly the Governor was fully occupied Varro thought.

Plautius took a seat, “So before we get down to business, can I offer you a drink?”

“No thank you sir, we’re fine.” Varro answered. Although he respected the General, he still felt rather uneasy in his presence and wanted to be out of there as quickly as possible.

“Very well centurion, very well.” He said smiling. “I should imagine that you think you’re here to discuss that nasty business back in Isca?” He asked, “Well you’re not, the Legate will take care of that nonsense, I’m sure he’ll make the right decision and whatever that is I’ll support him fully.”

Varro and Grattius exchanged looks of surprise.

“I’ve asked you here today because I wanted to speak to you personally and the less people that are aware of this, the better.” He stood again and walked to one of the larger campaign maps draped over the wall. “This is where we are at the moment.” He picked up a long stick and indicated the areas detailing the positions of the legions progress in the west. “It’s taken us a long time to get this far, far longer than was ever envisaged when we first came to Britannia, too long in other words.” He looked back at the two soldiers. “In simple terms we’re at something of a stalemate, this Caratacus has buried himself like a Syrian tick on a dog’s arse and so far we haven’t been able to dig him out. It’s also given him the opportunity to make punitive raids across the border moving south,” he pointed to the south westerly part of the island, “Where his war bands have destroyed forts and villas,” he pointed to the central belt of operations, “and into the heart of the country, where he’s doing the same and even attacking columns and engineers.” He placed the stick down and returned to his seat, poured himself some water from a jug and continued.

“We could be stuck like this for years gentlemen, unless we do something. We’ve tried to tempt him out to face us in open battle but he’s learnt well from his mistakes of just a few years ago and won’t move. We’ve even tried taking the fight to him,” he looked at Varro, “which you know all too well with the Second Augusta and even that didn’t turn out very well.” He paused, “So now we have him virtually encircled, that’s if you can call it that, as he rules over the entire west of the island in the far west, the trouble is, it’s a vast area and one that won’t be conquered easily even by combining legions from different angles of attack.” He looked at the map again. “Even then, how many men will we lose over that terrain; mountains, hills and valleys, not to mention swamps and bogs? I tell you gentlemen it’s another disaster waiting to happen and I don’t want to be remembered like Varus, my legions butchered, my eagles, and my standards taken, forced to take my own life and beheaded and disgraced for the world to see.”

Varro looked from Grattius to the General, “What do you propose then sir and how can we help you?”

Plautius took his eyes off the maps and looked at the scrolls in front of him on the desk. It’s a problem that’s kept me awake for far too many nights but I now have two solutions, or at least I believe I have. The first of which involves you two, which I will go into in a moment. The alternative involves a co-ordinated intrusion into their territory from the south, north, east and even the west, involving the navy carrying men and equipment to the far shore.” He got to his feet again and walked towards the door, opening it, he shouted out to the clerk, “Bring them in Osterius.” He ordered as Varro heard the clerk’s chair scrape as he stood up.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this sir.” Grattius whispered but before Varro could respond his attention was drawn to the clerk who had re-entered the room. He felt waves of emotion flow through his very being as stood behind him, was Brenna.

It was nearing dawn by the time Valerius and the small group of survivors saw Isca on the horizon. They were hungry, tired and fearful of how their commander would react when he was told that the rest of the engineering party, escorting legionaries and cavalry had been destroyed. Not only that but the centuries’ standards had also been taken, some said it was better to die defending the standards than allow them to fall into the enemies hands. Valerius wasn’t too sure about that, all that mattered now was getting behind the garrison walls to safety.

As they got to within a hundred paces of the rampart, a guard shouted down at them and called for the on duty centurion. The legionary on sentry duty asked for the password but they didn’t know it as it had been changed in their absence.

“We were with the fort building party that went out two days ago.” Valerius shouted up.

“No password, no entry.” The guard shouted down as Valerius saw the plume of a centurion appear above the brick defences and question the sentry.

“Approach the gate and be recognised.” The centurion shouted down. Valerius and the eight others waited by the huge gate until it creaked open. They were quickly identified and taken inside and escorted to the guardroom.

“We’ve had patrols out looking for survivors for days,” the centurion said, “they found the site of the massacre and knew from the body count there were legionaries missing.” He looked at their ragged kit. “You can all get some sleep for a few hours and make your reports later after you’ve had some food.” He pointed to the duty bunks that had all been vacated by the night watch as the sun was about to come up.

“We couldn’t do anything sir, they killed them and took the standards.” Valerius said.

“You can’t change what happened soldier, get some sleep. I’m sure there will be time for questions and answers later.” He turned to the others. “That goes for the rest of you, get your heads down.”

As the sun came up over the mountains, Caradoc left his roundhouse with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and stretched, it was quiet. A mild frost coated the ground and glistening silver shards were everywhere, winter was coming.

“You’re up early,” Mott said behind him, holding up the heavy door skin, “can’t sleep?” She asked.

“I slept well enough,” he replied, “they’re never far from my thoughts.” He said nodding to the east. She knew he meant the Romans but didn’t want to talk about it again, it wouldn’t change anything.

“Come back inside, it’s cold out here she said,” smiling, “I’ll warm you up.”

He returned her smile, “I’ll be back in a moment.” She watched him walk gingerly, bare footed across the frosted ground. Letting the door flap drop she turned and felt the warmth of the fire warm her again and got under the fur skins of their bed. She stared at the fire thinking about their fate and how they had come to this place, and of days long before when they were safe from harm before the invaders had come. As her eyes closed and sleep took her once more, her mind felt the warmth of a summer day on her face and she was lost to the past.

After she had first introduced Cara to Edbutt and she had kissed him for the first time, her life changed. Gone was the boring dullness of everyday, as her thoughts focused on the King’s son, she felt a warm sensation now in everything she did, people she saw and wherever she went, was it love? She had heard people talk of it, but was it supposed to be all consuming, absorbing? It was as if a glow had entered her very being and although she had always been a happy person, she now felt complete, what had that boy done to her?

It wasn’t anything to do with his status that was certain. In fact she preferred that he wasn’t the heir to the land, she wanted a private life. His older brother would be king and if anything were to happen to him, Tog would replace him as heir and everything would be fine, they could have a life together. But wasn’t she getting ahead of herself? Something told her she wasn’t and that one day Cara would be her husband.

He had returned to her later that day with a tale about what had happened after he and his two brothers had left. A girl who he had described quite vividly, called Brenna had given him and Tog a warning about Adminius. She herself had felt uneasy around the older brother, it was a feeling that she could never fully explain, but this girl had forewarned them of his treachery. Cara had been concerned about the warning and had taken it seriously, Adminius had always been different he had told her, had always been the odd one out and had eventually been banished by his father.

“Mo………” She heard his voice, it was distant.

“Are you asleep again?” He asked, clearer now, she was back in the present and opened her eyes.

“I was dreaming.” She said.

He threw his cloak down, “Something nice I hope?” He asked.

She looked at his upper torso and smiled, his broad shoulders and defined muscular arms were covered in swirling patterns. She had started the tattoos herself not long after that day when they had spoken about Adminius. Mo had been surprised that he had said she could do them. He had no idea that she could draw or tattoo, but he had placed his trust in her from the start of their relationship and had removed his top, inviting her to begin.

“What are you so happy about?” He asked.

“I was just thinking back to that day when I began your woad tattoos and you jumped when the first wooden needle pierced your skin.” She smiled and he sat down beside her on the bed, she touched his shoulder following the curving patterns.

“They help define you husband, why did you let me do them that day?” She looked into his eyes.

“I don’t know, I trusted you,” He kissed her neck, “and I also knew that if you had messed them up and made me look a fool, I would have got them covered up.” She hit him playfully.

“Things were so different back then.” She said. “The biggest thing we had to worry about was the minor disputes with other tribes, the harvest and our livestock.” She looked down. “But now I feel like there’s a dark cloud on the horizon constantly threatening to destroy us, we’ve been forced from our lands, have witnessed our people killed, our animals slaughtered, what have we done to deserve this burden?”

He kissed her again, this time on the mouth, “We have done nothing, nothing except live our lives but the great cloud gets closer every day. We are hurting it though, halting their progress, making them think, we were stupid to face them as we did but we learnt and now they bleed as much as we do.”

“But can we hold them back? Keep them out of the mountains?” She asked as her hand stroked lower, he smiled.

“We will do everything we can, everything that I can to try and stop this, even ways that don’t include our people or even theirs dying.” He let his hand fall inside the fur cover she was under and cupped her breast, feeling her nipple harden against his palm.

“And what does that mean?” She asked smiling and pushing her tongue gently into his mouth as her hand traced the back of his neck, his lower head bristly from a sharp knife.

“Time will tell wife, you just have to trust me now.” He said lying down beside her and pushing himself closer to her warm body.

“Oh you’re still cold from being outside.” She said as she hooked a leg over his cold waist and drew him closer still.

Valerius and the other survivors were stood to attention awaiting the decision of the Legate as to their fate. If they were found guilty of cowardice, they would surely be executed, if the Legate believed their version of events, he may be inclined to be more lenient, what that could result in were a whole array of things.

“So having read your reports,” The Legate said, looking up from the wax tablets and examining the men stood before him, “You were isolated and were too few to have any realistic effect on the enemy once they had swarmed the engineering position and had begun to slaughter them.” He paused, was that a question or a statement? Valerius decided not to say anything not knowing whether the pause was meant to be just that or if the Legate wanted a reply.

“The enemy,” He continued looking at a tablet again, “were upon you even before those who were building the fort could form up and come to arms. The construction area was enveloped from all sides and even the returning cavalry were hopelessly outnumbered, they were stopped from reaching the post and were destroyed a short distance away.”

He looked up again, Valerius swallowed, the cavalry had given their lives trying to get to the engineers and the legionaries charged with guarding them. They on the other hand had not.

“So you men, seeing this from your position, a vantage point that gave a clear view of the building under construction and one that was easily within range of your weapons,” he looked down again and Valerius knew he was referring to his tablet, “decided that instead of engaging the enemy and aiding your fellow soldiers, you would push back further into the copse as the battle was doomed and hope not to be seen. You planned to remain there until the centuries were dead along with the engineers and then hoped to return to Isca from where you could serve Rome again.” He looked up again his eyes boring into Valerius.

“Erm yes sir, we knew we were too few to affect the outcome and our deaths would do nothing to serve the empire. It was my decision, well I suggested it sir, and the others agreed. It was the only sensible option to me at the time.” Valerius said. “Survive and return to Isca.” He added.

The Legate opened a scroll on the desk. Valerius recognised it as a century legionary record. “I see that you have faced the enemy before and with distinction Legionary Valerius. On the documented record,” the Legate continued opening the scroll, “you fought in a situation not too dissimilar from the one you faced a few days ago and yet you lived to fight another day.”

“We were surrounded on all sides sir, deep inside Silurian territory but I was not isolated on that occasion, it was very different from this incident, there, there was hope, a few days ago there was no chance of defeating a much larger force on open ground.” Valerius said realising that he sounded desperate now and knew that he had nothing to lose. The Legate was closing in for the kill. He looked up at the assembled group.

“Having read all your reports and having seen the site for myself, I am ready to make my decision.” Valerius swallowed again and felt his legs begin to tremble. Was this how his life was to end after serving his legion? Accused of cowardice in the face of the enemy, was he truly a coward for making the only sensible and practical decision at the time? No, he didn’t believe he was but another man, this man could easily decide that he and those stood with him were.

“I could easily have you executed and perhaps I should as an example.” Here it comes, Valerius thought. “But I won’t…..” He couldn’t believe it. Did he just say they would live? Valerius felt dizzy, the Legate continued, “You will be absorbed into the existing centuries, I don’t need to lose more men especially needlessly. Be warned though the Primus Pilus will be told to watch you men very carefully, step out of line even with the smallest infraction, and I will expect him to come down on you so hard that you will wish you had never been discharged from your father.” He stood. “We face a barbaric and dangerous enemy here in Britannia, one that we can’t hope to defeat unless we are all working together for the same cause.” He walked around the table to where the legionaries stood to attention.

“Perhaps we need more centuries available in the forward positions, clearly almost two hundred wasn’t enough the other day and we underestimated the strength of the enemy, it won’t happen again rest assured.” He turned, “Primus Pilus.”

“Sir.” The senior centurion acknowledged stepping forward.

“March them out and have them put into different centuries, Valerius however, I want in the first century, the rest all within the first cohorts, two will have to go together but I don’t see that as a problem.” Valerius swallowed again. So they were to live but he would now serve in the first cohort of the lead century which meant that in any given battle formation, he would be at the front, the first to face the enemy. A cohort generally consisted of around four hundred and eighty men made up from six centuries each with eighty legionaries to a century. Valerius knew that the odds of him surviving the campaign in Britannia had just been greatly reduced.

Varro stared at Brenna in disbelief as she entered the room accompanied by another female, another Briton by the looks of her clothing he assumed. The other was slightly taller, with blonde hair, attractive but with a hard pinched face, she stared at the centurion and muttered something to her companion who acknowledged her with a nod. Varro felt rocked to his very core, what was she up to and what was she doing here?

Plautius motioned the Britons forward, “Come, come,” he turned to Varro, “Centurion Varro, may I introduce Brenna? She’s one of the many leaders of the different people here in Britannia.”

For a moment he didn’t reply, he looked at her petite frame with mixed emotions, he hadn’t had any contact with her for some weeks.

“Yes sir I know Brenna quite well sir, in fact she saved my life a few years ago.

The Governor beamed, “Oh good, good, that will make things so much easier.” He said smiling and indicating for the two women to sit down. “If only all the Britons were like her eh? We’d have a settled Province by now if they were that’s for sure.” He moved back to his seat and sat down, “So tell me Centurion, how was it that this young lady came to save your life?” He stared at Varro.

“Well sir, my men and I were captured not long into the campaign, days after we’d landed actually” He thought back, his mind trying to avoid the images of his friend tied to the tree next to him. “I already knew Brenna and her brother Tevelgus and fortunately she came across us as we were being tortured, demanded we were released and managed to persuade the Britons holding us that she had something even worse in mind.”

“Well, well,” Plautius said, “fortunate indeed.” He turned to Brenna. “Oh forgive me, where are my manners, excuse me a moment.” He stood and quickly walked to the door, opening it he shouted, “Osterius.”

“Yes sir?” The clerk replied from somewhere outside the office.

“Can you bring the refreshments in now?”

“Sir.” The clerk acknowledged.

Grattius exchanged a mischievous look with Varro.

Plautius returned to his chair and continued, “And I understand this woman is a cousin Brenna and I believe I’m right in thinking that she’s a Silurian?”

Brenna looked at the two soldiers to see if there was a reaction, there wasn’t but Varro felt Grattius stiffen, “Yes,” she replied, “her name is Lita and her knowledge of the territory will be invaluable.”

“Territory?” Varro asked but at that moment the clerk returned carrying a large tray with their refreshments. Plautius raised a finger to his mouth. Clearly he didn’t want word getting out as to the reason for this meeting.

“There we are sir, if there’s anything else.” Osterius said placing the tray on one of the many tables.

“That’s all for now.” The Governor said as he watched his clerk leave and close the door behind him. “Please, help yourselves.” He said, moving towards the table himself. He picked up a cake and bit into it, “Try these they’re very good, oat and berries of some description.” He held a plate out to the two females who each picked up a cake. “Please gentlemen.” He said, forcing the centurion and optio to their feet.

“Now this is to go no further than this office.” Grattius looked confused, “The conversation we’re about to have Optio.” He added.

“Right, yes certainly sir, I wouldn’t dream of mentioning it to anyone.”

Plautius looked at the large map detailing the area to the west where Caratacus was thought to be operating from. “Now,” he picked up a smooth thin stick and pointed, “I think, well it’s my firm belief that during times of conflict such as this, that we should make every effort to reduce the loss of lives on all sides.” He pointed to the garrison at Deva and then lower; to the one at Isca. “We have Caratacus and his forces virtually surrounded but this area here,” he pointed again to the land in-between, “is vast with valley and mountains that would make any assault extremely difficult. If we do decide to go in with force, I’ll make use of the navy but that would mean taking resources from elsewhere, resources that we can ill afford for the foreseeable future.”

“So your plan sir?” Varro asked.

“Brenna’s plan actually Centurion.” He looked at the cakes, “Mm I think one of these next.” He said choosing another, “Come on help yourselves, or they go to waste or worse, that grubby little clerk will eat them.”

Varro turned to Brenna, “Would you care to explain?”

“It’s quite simple,” she said, “I want to minimise the loss of life as well. I may be seen as a traitor by some but there’s a chance we can end this war before things get worse.”

The Governor interjected, “I’ve already got raids further south, villas have been destroyed, even forts have been attacked, one manned by auxiliaries was completely annihilated, every man killed. Now they’re even venturing into the mid lands,” he pointed his stick again, “an engineering detachment with two centuries and a squadron of cavalry was wiped out here. So you see, Caratacus is getting bolder and all attempts so far to draw him out have failed. If we could get him into open battle, we could finish this but he’s not willing to risk his warriors.”

“He learnt well and quickly.” Varro said.

“He also now has Silurian warriors and those of the Deceangli, the Ordovices and the Demetae ready to fight for him.” Lita said, “And my people tell me that there are at least five thousand Catuvellauni survivors with him, all ready to lay down their lives if your legions step into their territory.”

“Which makes this mission even more important?” Plautius said, “If this fails, we could lose thousands of lives on both sides and it could go on for a long time to come, years maybe.”

“And so the plan sir?” Varro asked fully aware of the dangers of not doing anything.

Brenna answered, “We go and talk to Caratacus.”

Varro looked from her to the Governor, “We just ride into hostile territory and ask to speak to Caratacus, a man who has fought us for years, seen members of his family die, has been displaced from his own land?” He looked back to Brenna, “Well I’m glad you cleared that up.”

“I realise that it’s dangerous Centurion and I know that I’m asking you and Optio Grattius to risk your lives but we have to take this opportunity, it cannot be ignored.” Plautius said.

“How many men will I be taking?” Varro asked.

“One, you and the Optio here,” Plautius said, “to take anymore would risk provoking them and of course these two ladies.” Lita looked slightly aggravated by his words but he continued, “A small group has far more chance of slipping inside the mountains and making contact with his chieftains. Lita assures me that they are as tired of this conflict as we are so we can’t afford to miss this chance, it could bring an end to all our troubles here in Britannia.”