Retribution

Chapter Sixteen

“Centurion Varro I presume?” Caradoc stepped forward.

“Ugh, erm no….” Grattius stuttered turning and pointing at the roundhouse, “He’s inside, ill.”

“No he’s not.” Grattius turned fully and saw Varro leaning against the door frame to the roundhouse. He was pale and wrapped in a blanket, Brenna ran towards him.

“Get inside now you stupid man or you’ll catch your death.” She reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders, Caradoc smiled.

“Listen to her Centurion. Women know what’s best for us, even if we don’t sometimes. Get inside and get well, our talk can wait.” He spoke to Ardwen, “I’ll leave some men here to make sure there isn’t a re-occurrence of this.” He looked down at the dead Britons, “I don’t want to have to murder more of my own people.” Looking up at Grattius he added, “I may need them to kill Romans, some day.” He was about to reply when Lita nudged him.

“Don’t say a word.” She whispered, her elbow was sharp in his back.

“What is your name Roman?” Caradoc asked.

“Grattius, Optio Grattius.” He said almost adding the word sir and coming to attention. Caradoc studied him and walked closer, he pushed the hood off his head. It was almost shiny in the morning murk and rain.

“Stand easy soldier, I wouldn’t want you to sprain yourself.” Caradoc said.

“You speak our language well.” Grattius said.

“My brother was educated in Rome, he taught me well.”

“Where is your brother now, in the mountains with you?” Grattius asked.

Caradoc smiled, “My brother? My real brother is dead, killed by Romans like you after the battle of the two rivers. He died well though, a warrior’s death.” He paused. “It broke my heart to see him wounded so badly, his chest punctured in so many places.” He looked down but kept talking. “What matters is that he died defending his people, his land, he died with honour.” He looked back up and directly into Grattius’ eyes, “The other one, my eldest brother died by my own hand, his name was Adminius and he was a traitor. He betrayed everything we stand for and deserved a coward’s death after declaring his loyalty to Rome.”

He stared at Grattius now, dark eyes unblinking. “I must leave, bring your friend when he is well enough to travel, this one knows where to come.” He gestured towards the elder’s son. “Don’t worry Roman, I will guarantee your safety for the duration of these talks, you and those with you will not be harmed, you have my word on this.” Caradoc moved quickly to his horse and jumped up, “Thirty warriors will stay in this area, if you need anything speak to them.”

Varro coughed as Brenna wrapped the blankets around him back inside the roundhouse, “You should have stayed in bed, it was stupid to go to the door in your condition.”

“I couldn’t ignore our host could I?” He said and coughed again, he lay down. “So that’s the great Caradoc? He’s not what I expected.”

“And what did you expect of a man who has united the western tribes?” Lita asked, “Don’t say a barbarian? I’ll be disappointed.”

“I don’t know exactly, he seems like a man who may listen to reason that’s all.” He said wiping his mouth with a cloth. Brenna got him a cup of water.

“Drink.” She said offering him the cup. “You need to drink as much as possible remember?”

“As long as it’s not got any more of that dung in it or whatever it was that old crone brought me.” He replied taking a sip.

“Made you well didn’t it?” Grattius asked, “Or nearly, it appears to be helping anyway. I’d rather eat my own shit than be as ill as you were.” Varro smiled.

“I’m glad our situation hasn’t dampened your wit, my friend.” Varro said and drained the cup. “I was out of it for a while,” he looked around, “where are we exactly?”

“Lita found the elder from this village and a small party of hunters after you collapsed, we brought you to their dwelling.” Brenna said, “His son went to find Caradoc and got back just in time.”

“He was very good looking don’t you think?” Lita said smiling.

“Caradoc?” Varro asked, “I suppose so but not my type really, Brenna pushed his shoulder laughing.

“Yes he was.” She added.

“If you’ve all finished your, ‘oh how wonderful was the rebel king’ conversation, we’d better go and find some food for later.” Grattius said.

“We still shouldn’t go wandering about out there, even if we’re being guarded.” Lita said, “I’ll go and ask the elder’s son and see what he suggests, it’s better to be safe.”

A few days later Varro was well enough to travel and the four packed up their things and thanked the elder and his family for their hospitality. It turned out that Caradoc had left his cousin Ardwen with the group of warriors to make sure they were safe and he provided them with an escort to where Caradoc was located. The rain had finally stopped falling during the night and glorious sunshine shone overhead for their journey through the mountains. Although it was still cold when they were in the shade, the sun warmed their exposed skin when they were out in the open. Through valleys and across rivers they trekked virtually in silence with Ardwen leading the way, his men following behind. Varro and Grattius exchanged uncomfortable glances every now and again as they got deeper inside enemy territory, each step taking them further and further away from safety despite the assurances they’d been given.

“There’s no going back now.” Grattius said quietly.

“It’s got to be done, not that we had any choice in the matter anyway.” Varro replied.

“Caradoc is a man of his word,” Ardwen said, “if he says that you’ll be fine and are not to be harmed, then that’s exactly what will happen. We keep our promises,” he said, “this isn’t Rome.”

The two soldiers didn’t reply and Varro saw Lita smile as they rode on. Eventually they rode adjacent to an enormous ravine and Ardwen pointed, “That’s where we’re going.”

The others in the group looked up and saw tiny plumes of smoke rising up into the azure sky, some distance away on a mountain top.

“I would have had us blindfolded for the journey.” Grattius said.

“Maybe they don’t care that we know where they are.” Varro replied.

“You’re right Centurion Varro, we are not hiding here. This is free land, our land and even if you were to go back and tell your leaders where we are, there are many thousands of spears and swords between here and them to stop them.” Ardwen said. “Remember you face us now and the Catuvellauni, those that you didn’t destroy when you first arrived anyway. No tribes within these lands will bow down to your emperor Claudius as they did in the east.”

It was a sobering thought as they slowly made their way upward and the smoke rising into the air multiplied from the mountain fortress where Caradoc waited. Long before they arrived at his location, they started to come across smaller settlements. Ardwen named the people along the way, the names of tribes that Varro and Grattius hadn’t heard of. Faces stared at the small party as they rode on, clearly word had already reached them of their arrival. Some stared in hatred at the two short haired men dressed like them, whilst others looked on with curiosity, the two women were ignored.

Eventually they crossed one final river and joined a well-worn path and the ground levelled out, the horses stopped working so hard and the panorama opened up before them. Huge grass covered ramparts hid the settlement inside, beyond the first was another and then another. The tiny figures of people could be seen on top of them, watching as the riders approached.

“Why do I feel like throwing up?” Grattius said to Varro under his breath.

“Tip of the spear my friend,” Varro replied, “tip of the spear.”

“Just behave normally if you can manage it.” Lita said kicking her horse forward level with Ardwen. She spoke in their tongue.

“What did you say?” Varro asked. Lita turned her horse around and faced the two men, “I told him that it was nice to be home.”

“What? You said what?” Grattius asked.

“You heard me; this is my home, where do you think I came from?” She said her face neutral. “Some swamp or some hut somewhere?” She asked. Grattius pulled up.

“Wait a moment,” he struggled to control his horse who could feel the sudden tension, “you mean to tell me that you knew all along where to find Caradoc? You double crossing bitch.” He spat the last words out.

“Hold on Grattius you misunderstand.” Brenna said, “We made no secret of the fact that Lita is from here, that she’s Silurian.”

“That’s right Grattius, if I had known he was here then this is where I would have brought you. Do you believe him stupid enough to stay in one place?” Lita said. “With your legions waiting to pounce?” Her horse spun round. “This is but one mountain fort, there are many as there are many tribes in these lands, I didn’t betray you, you fool.”

“Alright let’s just calm down and get inside shall we?” Varro said, “you’re talking is beginning to give me a headache.”

They rode through a gap in the ramparts and followed Ardwen as he led them along the track and upward, coiling around the perimeter of the huge mountain fort. In time they rounded a corner between high grassed banks and came out into an opening, the interior of the fort, it was huge. Smoke billowed upward into the air from hundreds of roundhouses, there were ploughed fields, animal pens containing, horses, cows, pigs and chickens. The clanging of a blacksmiths hammer, no, two hammers could be heard somewhere in the distance. Off to the left they had an archery range where men and women alike practised with bows, firing arrows at least three hundred feet into large straw filled targets. Beyond the bow range there were lines of warriors holding square shields and walking into each other, thrusting through the gaps with wooden swords, Varro and Grattius exchanged more worrying looks as they went deeper into the city-like fortress.

“And there are more of these?” Varro asked Lita.

“Yes there are a few,” She replied, “though not all are as large as this.”

“Come,” Ardwen said, angling off to the left, “we’ll stable the horses and go and see Caradoc.”

A short time later Ardwen led them to a large wooden building, tall straight timbers made up the walls, between each was packed hard crammed mud, Varro thought that it resembled the concrete they themselves used. A high roof angled into a V at the top where there was a large carved wooden effigy of a ram charging.

“What does that signify?” Varro asked.

“The charging ram? It’s said and thought that’s where Caraodoc’s name originated from, many generations ago. It is now the symbol of our combined people although the Deceangli, Gangani, Ordovices, Cornovii, Demetae and my own Silures retain their own unique patterns. These your legions have not faced in battle yet,” he smiled, “maybe that won’t happen if your talks are a success.”

He led them to two large doors, there were no guards controlling entry, on opening them Varro and the others saw into the interior, it seemed bigger on the inside. Large square windows allowed good lighting inside and there were two large fires in the middle of the floor located at either end, providing heat and banners of various tribes displayed on the walls. Thick wood tables lay in-between the fires and at the far end was Caradoc sitting talking to other Britons. Caradoc rose and approached the new arrivals.

“You made it,” he said extending a hand to Ardwen and to each of the guests in turn, “I trust your journey was uneventful and that you are feel better Centurion Varro?” Varro took his hand. It was a firm, strong greeting.

“Welcome to all of you, please,” he extended his hand to the waiting tribesmen, “let me introduce you to the kings who lead our allies and tribal chieftains.” Although the two soldiers didn’t receive such a warm welcome from the others, they merely nodded a greeting; there was no open hostility toward them. “Take a seat and I will arrange some refreshments.” They were shown to a table nearest the one seating the waiting Britons, while drink and food were brought in for them. Caradoc took his place at the head of the other table.

“Please eat, drink you must be thirsty from your journey.” He lifted a large jug and poured a dark fluid into an ornately carved cup and took a drink. “We can discuss your General’s proposal afterward.” He smiled, lifted his cup and raised it in the direction of his guests. “Welcome.”

The meal was eaten in virtual silence on Varro’s table while the Britons and Caradoc laughed and joked, speaking in a language that was unfamiliar to the Romans.

“It seems our hosts are very relaxed.” Grattius pointed out.

“They have every right to be,” Varro said, “they are a long way from the reach of Plautius and even if he decided to march on them in spring, it would take a long time to fight their way here, weeks, months, maybe even years. It would appear that they have amassed quite an army of many thousands to face us and there is the terrain to consider.” Varro took in their surroundings and looked at the banners on the walls bearing different animal insignia, Ravens, Wolves, Bears, Horses and Boar and some he didn’t recognise. Gold and silver ornaments were displayed on small tables along the walls, vases, jewelled cups and plates, weapons and shields adorned the walls between the banners. The warriors sitting with Caradoc wore their hair long, some tied up at the back. Nearly all had torques around their necks and arms, as did the King. Most had blue swirling tattoos curling around their thick biceps and at least three had them, extended to their faces, making them look fierce and extremely primitive. Young women brought more food and ale, Varro and his guests were offered wine, Roman wine that Varro avoided wanting to keep his wits sharp, although Grattius indulged remarking that the wine was good.

“Where do you think they got that from?” Varro asked of the wine.

“It’s probably from the raids they have been making into Roman territory.” Lita said with a contented look on her face, “What?” She asked seeing the expressions on the men’s faces. “You must know about the raids surely? It’s well known that Caradoc has war parties deep inside your lines. I’ve been told they’ve even destroyed a number of forts and villas that your people built to enslave the local populations.”

Varro bit his tongue not wanting to make a scene in front of the assembled Britons but Grattius couldn’t resist saying something.

“I think you’ll find that most of those families that were murdered were treating the slaves they had very well.” He said.

“And I think that YOU will find Optio Grattius, that all of those people were free people before your armies arrived and that the land they worked, used to be theirs.” Lita replied stabbing a knife into a chunk of meat and carving it as Grattius imagined her doing to his chest, at that moment, if she were able.

“And that,” Brenna began, “is just one of the obstacles that you’re going to encounter when you begin talking to Caradoc. The self-appointed Roman Governor of Albion…sorry, Britannia,” she corrected herself, “may have come up with some ideas to try and pacify him but there has already been a lot of blood spilt. The Roman army is not here at the invitation of our people and even if, as you claim it was in some circumstances, the behaviour demonstrated so far has been less than friendly to say the least.” She finished her drink, “What exactly does he propose in his message?” She filled her cup again, “Will he allow Caradoc to rule the west without Roman overseers? I can’t imagine that he would agree to anything less and I cannot see that he would agree to pay any tribute or taxes, so just what does Plautius propose to make us all one big happy family?”

Varro looked at her angrily, “Look Brenna I’m just here to relay the message that’s all. I took no part in creating its content, as I’ve said before I’m a soldier just like him.” He pointed at Grattius who was back to eating large chunks of meat off the end of a knife, “We do as we’re told and when we’re told. Sometimes we like what we do and sometimes we don’t but, we have no choice, that’s all there is to it. I will reveal the contents of the scrolls to Caradoc at a time of his choosing and when he’s ready to sit and listen.” He looked at the Britons on the other table, “I don’t think that this would be a good place to discuss such things in the present company but I’ll leave that to the King to decide.”

Lita leaned forward, “So you know what the scrolls say?” She asked.

“I just said that I wasn’t prepared to discuss it now but I wouldn’t have come all this way not knowing what I was carrying. Any number of things could have happened to the scrolls, so I felt it best that I and Grattius for that matter knew what they contained.”

“So Caradoc isn’t going to be happy about their content?” She asked.

“I didn’t say that and there’s no point in continuing this conversation because you, just like everyone else, will have to wait to hear what is written on them, they are for Caradoc.”

At that moment a door at the rear of the hall opened and a group of large hunting dogs, accompanied by young men entered. The dogs ran inside, noses twitching at the smell of the cooked meat.

“Here.” Caradoc shouted and every dog stopped in its tracks, turned and went to his side, there were at least ten that Varro could count. They were taller than the dogs he was used too, the dogs the legions used to herd their cattle, sinewy but clearly powerful. Caradoc looked over to their table.

“Do you like dogs?” He asked of no-one in particular.

“We use them to herd our animals on campaign but they’re shorter, stockier than those.” Grattius said, he got up and approached them, all but one were now lying down. The dog that wasn’t was sat erect and watched Grattius’ every move as he got closer. The animal growled and showed its white teeth, lips curling.

“Careful Optio Grattius,” Caradoc warned, “he can be very protective.” This dog was male and had grey and black flecked fur, its face wolf like. Its black eyes stared at the Roman as he went down on one knee.

“Hello boy.” Grattius said, the dog didn’t move but a growl rumbled from somewhere deep inside.

“Shhhh dog.” Caradoc ordered, the animal’s head half turned, ears twitching, the others just lay watching. “We use them for hunting and even sometimes in battle Optio Grattius, have you ever seen a man get taken down by a dog?”

“I’ve seen the results,” Varro said, “after the battle of the rivers some of our auxiliaries were attacked by them.”

“You were there?” Caradoc asked.

“I was and I went looking for the men in the swamp after the fight, when they failed to return,” Varro said, “there wasn’t much left of some of them. There were pieces bitten out of them, they stood no chance, it must have been an awful way to die.”

“Yes I’m sure it was, nearly as awful as the people they had cut down before they entered the swamps including my brother.” Caradoc said. “Death is death though don’t you think Centurion Varro and if you are fighting for your very survival, you will use any means necessary?”

“I wouldn’t use dogs.” He said.

“Really, but you use those giant bows that fire long arrows and impale my people by the handful, if you are looking for a fair fight, I think you’ve come to the wrong place. After all, it is you and your soldiers who are the invaders here is it not? We didn’t ask you to come from Gaul, in fact we didn’t want you to come but you came anyway, despite years and even generations of peace between our two people.” He paused taking a drink. “In fact I think you will find that we were at peace and there was trade, exchanges of information. Even my traitor of a brother was educated in Rome.” There were nods of agreement from the other Britons. “Despite this, your Emperor decided to send his ships, carrying men like you to kill and butcher our people, why did he do that?”

“I’m just a soldier Caradoc and I follow orders, I don’t question them, it’s not my place.” Varro replied, Grattius had given up trying to be friendly to the dog and had returned to his seat.

“Do you not have your own mind Centurion?” Caradoc asked but went on before Varro could reply, “We heard your men refused to board their ships and had to be persuaded, is that true?” Varro looked at Grattius.

“It is true.” He replied.

“You were lucky that they delayed you because as it was before, a great army waited to greet you on the southern shores, you probably wouldn’t have got onto dry land if you had come when you were supposed to.” Caradoc said biting into a chunk of meat.

“We’ll never know that now will we?” Grattius said.

“We know what happened before when your great Caesar came to our shores, he was pushed back into the sea when he first came. Then on the second attempt, he was harassed and attacked so much that he gave up and returned to Gaul again and never came back.” Caradoc said.

“Are we here to discuss history?” Varro asked, “Or are we here to talk about the present and how we can avoid more bloodshed?”

Caradoc looked up from his meal. “You are the one who has come to us, are you not?” Caradoc said, “We are content to fight to protect our land, our people, after all you have left us no choice, what would you do if the circumstances were reversed?” He asked.

“I’d fight.” Varro replied.

“So, what are these words of wisdom that your leader has said that will persuade us not to fight?” Caradoc asked. Varro picked up the bag containing the scrolls.

“They are here. Shall I read them, now?” Varro asked. Caradoc looked around the table at the faces waiting for his response.

“We will hear these words, but not now.” He said, “I think that it is probably wiser to discuss this with a head clear of ale. Thank you but we’ll talk of it tomorrow, the grog has a tendency to addle the brain and conjure up all manner of things. Please accept my apologies for the talk of Caesar, you are correct, it is history and what is important now is the present. Rome would do well to make an ally of us Varro and we would certainly be more valuable as allies than enemies. It would be of benefit to us all in the long term, I just hope that Plautius has the right offer or we’ll find ourselves no further forward.” He drained his cup. “We want nothing more than peace with the empire but we won’t be subservient slaves, especially on our own land,” he paused, “I’m doing it again,” he smiled. “Tonight we eat and drink and welcome you to our home, tomorrow we’ll discuss your scrolls and their content.”

The next morning the sky had cleared and although a thin frost lay on the ground, a warm sun shone overhead. Varro and his party had been housed quite comfortably overnight in a secluded roundhouse and guarded, as was to be expected.

“Gods teeth, my head hurts.” Grattius moaned wrapping his cloak around his shoulders. “What did they put in that grog?” He asked of no-one in particular, “You don’t think they poisoned us do you?”

Brenna gave him an annoyed look, “If they wanted us dead, don’t you think we would be already? Why waste time with potions when they could just overpower us and kill us?”

“Mm good point,” He replied, “so today’s the day then I suppose, when the fate of Britannia is decided.” He bent down to tie his boot laces. “Do you think they’ll feed us this morning?”

Before anyone could answer, three young Britons entered the building carrying wooden trays. On plates there was bread, cheese and slices of cooked meat, they placed them down on a table, stared at the occupants and then left without saying a word.

“Ah that answers that then.” Grattius said striding forward and picking up a plate and piling it with food. “I’m starving and perhaps this will help clear my head as well.”

After breakfast, Varro led them outside into the morning sun, a group of warriors armed with spears and long swords greeted them and they were led back to the hall where they had eaten the night before. Caradoc was waiting for them, he was alone.

“Good morning to you all.” He said standing. “Please come, take a seat.” He indicated to the chairs that had been occupied the night before by kings and chieftains. “Let us get down to business Centurion. I am eager to hear your general’s plan for my people.” Varro removed the scrolls from a leather case and he and his companions sat down.

“Won’t your war council be joining us?” He asked.

Caradoc smiled and leaned forward, “They trust my judgement and will abide by whatever decision I come to today, they have already left for home.” He looked from Varro to Brenna.

“Tell me how you and Lita came to work for the Romans?” Caradoc asked.

“I thought we were here to discuss the proposed treaty?” Varro said before Brenna could answer.

“We have time to discuss that as well but I’m curious to know how a person can turn on their own kind. What is it that causes that to happen?” Caradoc asked looking at Brenna and Lita.

“When they first came with their ships and soldiers,” Brenna said, “we didn’t know what to do. Our initial response was to fight and to join the others who were resisting, but this man rescued a boy from our settlement. Druids were going to burn him alive as they had done to another to satisfy their gods.”

“Their gods, do you mean your gods?” Caradoc asked.

“The druids do want they want, when they want, to who they want, they have no regard for others, just what they believe to be right. They rule over me no more than you, or these Romans. I want to live in peace but greedy men always want more don’t they?” She stared at Caradoc her dark eyes boring into his.

“You have some spirit Brenna, I like that but I sense there is something more between you and the centurion here?” He looked at Varro who reddened slightly.

“Are we also to discuss our relationships as well today?” She asked an inkling of anger in her eyes. “You are correct,” she said before Caradoc could reply, “I have found Centurion Tiberius Varro to be a man of honour and a man of his word and yes, I have very strong feelings for him, is that a problem for you King Caradoc?”

“No, not for me, but others will not like it that you share your bed with a Roman.” He replied.

“Then tell them to say that to my face.” She said. “Now can we please talk about what we are here to discuss?”

“Very well,” he turned his attention to Varro, “please continue.”

Varro laid flat the first scroll and placed four weights from the case on the four corners, they were marked with small images of eagles. “The first detail is a greeting to you, King Caradoc from the Governor of Britannia, General Aulus Plautius, who coincidentally is due to leave these shores soon, very soon and he would like an amicable end to hostilities.” He looked up.

“And how does the General propose we go about this when he and his men,” he pointed a finger, “such as you, inhabit my land.” The atmosphere chilled slightly.

Varro removed the second scroll, “The General wishes to meet you in person to discuss the finer details. He guarantees your safety, if you agree to accompany us back to Londinium.” He saw that Caradoc was about to say something but went on. “He proposes that you are to retain the land here and that you will remain King and become an ally of Rome. He says that even the Emperor Claudius respects you and the resistance that you have garnered and demonstrated against his legions.” Varro looked up to see how Caradoc was reacting but he sat there impassively, one eyebrow raised, he waved a hand for him to continue. “As a Province of Rome, you and your people will benefit…”

“Province, I have heard this word before.” Caradoc interrupted, “Does that not contradict the term ally?” He looked at the faces around the table, Grattius shrugged, he went on, “An ally, within my meaning of the word, is an equal, a partner but this word Province has a different meaning, am I right?”

“There are many Provinces within the Empire, all living happily under the protection of Rome.” Varro said.

“And they are all left to govern their own lands, control their own populations? Rome doesn’t require payment in taxes, crops, gold and people as slaves? Rome doesn’t dig into these people’s mountains and valleys searching for rich materials to steal and take away back across the water?” Caradoc asked.

“Different Provinces have different agreements with the Senate. I couldn’t say what yours would be. That would be a matter for you and in the first instance the Governor to discuss. These talks would decide that future treaty, hence why he has asked you to meet him in person. General Plautius leaves these islands this year and he doesn’t want to return to Rome with a war still raging and Roman lives being lost. It would be to his advantage to return with a peace treaty in place or at least with discussions ongoing, a mutual agreement for both sides, where you and he are happy with the content.”

Caradoc sat back in his chair and bit the inside of his mouth, leaning forward he said, “You see Centurion Varro, this is where my people and I have a problem, Rome invaded us, we didn’t invade Rome and now because your General is going home, he wants peace. He wants to be received by Claudius, the man who caused this invasion to happen, as a hero, a hero of Rome, is that not true?”

Varro shifted in his seat, “These are the terms I have been asked to put to you. This is how Rome works,” he paused thinking, “I cannot change where we are. The rights and wrongs of the invasion of Britannia are not a part of this discussion. You can take that up with the General.”

“Albion,” Caradoc said, “this island and those around it are known by its people as Albion, not Britannia. That is a Roman word, a word that we do not recognise, maybe that is something else I would discuss in this imaginary conversation with the Roman Governor of the Roman Province of Britannia.”

“I’m certain that he would discuss any subject you would wish to be aired, any grievances you may have. Aulus Plautius is a man of honour, he is a soldier first, a politician second.” Varro replied.

“A politician, I don’t know this word, but I suspect that it means a man who has found himself in a position of power, not through his ability, but to further himself and those around him. If these politicians were there for the benefit of their people, would they tax them so much, work them so hard, whilst they live in luxury? Why aren’t all the people of the great Roman Empire equal? You have different levels in your society don’t you Centurion Varro? Whilst these people in power eat well, are warm in the winter, dress in the finest clothes and gather with their friends to rule over the greater population, how are the common people living? Is there hunger in your world? I would say from what I am told that there is. Are there entire populations sold into slavery to serve these people and their kind?” Varro attempted to answer but Caradoc continued, “Are families separated and sent to different corners of the Empire? Again the answer is yes isn’t it?” He shook his head. “You see, this is where I have a problem, we would never be equal, we would always be regarded as inferior and we would always be used like animals. The young men, what would happen to them? Is it correct you use them in your army, create legions and use them to invade other lands?” He leaned back again frowning, “You see the problems that you and this man of honour have made? Apologies, you are just soldiers as you say, following orders, your Emperor Claudius is responsible for this, he and his Senate. Tell me, did they believe that this would be a quick victory?”

Varro wasn’t expecting the question and searched for an answer.

“Let me tell you what I believe, Centurion Varro and if I’m right you will agree, although you might not say you do.” Caradoc looked up at the ceiling as if looking for inspiration, “The Emperor as you call him, we would call him a King, one day decided that he needed a victory over what he regarded as a barbarian people. He consulted with his friends and politicians, these men in the Senate, and looked at his maps. The mighty Roman Empire had expanded in all directions and it was already bigger than any other body of land known to man, at least that we know of. Despite this he wants more, the Senate wanted more and so they stuck a dagger in the land they call Britannia and decided to take it. Now I don’t know why you decided to come west, when I say you, I mean Rome. Don’t think I mean you because you are a soldier who loyally follows these instructions.” Caradoc looked down at the faces around the table once more. “The problem now though, is that it wasn’t a quick or decisive victory was it. How long have your boots been on our soil now, nearly four years by my calculations and that’s a long time. So if I refuse to meet this man before he goes home, he will be replaced by another, no doubt the same sort of man, another man charged with conquering this land, probably another General am I right?”

“I should imagine so yes.” Varro replied.

“This man will, I’m sure, have studied the problems that your legions have encountered so far, but will be arrogant enough to think that he can do better. He will arrive with a head full of ideas on how to defeat us but we will resist, we will fight and some of us will die, but so will a lot of his men, men like you.” Caradoc turned and shouted towards the door, “Ardwen, could you please bring some water, my throat is getting dry with all this talking.” A mumbled reply was heard from beyond the door.

“The problem for you and your kind now Centurion Varro is that we are prepared for you, we are ready for your legions. I no longer fight with just my own people, I fight alongside the tribes of the west and for that I thank you because Rome has done something they never could; it unified them. They are a proud group of people, a fierce group of warriors and whilst I accept you have ways of fighting in large numbers that we don’t, I learnt from those mistakes, and I don’t like making the same ones over and over again. I also believe that you would find it a lot more difficult to fight in these valleys and mountains, they are well suited for large scale ambushes of the legions.” At that point in the conversation, Ardwen entered the room with two teenage girls carrying water jugs. Suddenly, there was a disturbance of some sort behind him.

“What’s all the shouting?” He asked walking quickly back towards the door but before he could get there, a warrior barged the doors open and ran inside panting.

“They’re here, they’re here.” He shouted breathing heavily.

“What are you talking about man? Have you lost your senses?” Ardwen asked.

“Romans,” he blurted, “hundreds of them, maybe thousands.”

“You’ve lost your mind, how is that possible you fool?” Ardwen demanded.

“The coast to the west,” the warrior panted, “ships, they’ve come in ships, many ships and they’re bigger than anything I’ve ever seen.”

Caradoc stood, his face twisted in rage and pointed at Varro, “What trickery is this? I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

Varro and those in his group all stood as one, “I know nothing of this Caradoc, you have to believe that.” he turned to Brenna.

“He doesn’t, I would know if he did, it must be Plautius.” She said.

“Seize them and have them guarded.” Caradoc ordered of Ardwen, he faced Varro, “Whatever they are doing here, they will fail, is this how Rome negotiates, treacherous bastards.” He turned to the warrior who had reported sighting the Roman fleet. “I want to know where exactly and I want to know how many.” He grabbed the man’s arm and directed him towards the door he had come through only seconds before, then he stopped and turned to face Varro. “I swear on everything that I hold dear, I will crush the men in those ships and then I’ll come back and deal with you.”