Retribution

Chapter Seventeen

Valerius leaned over the railing of the ship and vomited into the sea as his hobnailed boots slipped on the wet surface of the vessel’s wooden decking. The boat lurched this way and that in the swell as the oarsmen struggled to turn landward against the tide and wind. This ship and the others in the fleet were packed with heavy infantry and only the amount of men crowded together stopped them from falling over. Shields and armour grated against each other as legionaries complained and looked out to the land, so close now. Another spray of salt water lashed over their heads and rained down on them, soaking tunics and weapons as they cursed the sea and the sailors who had brought them here. Looking up along the headland through bleary vision, Valerius squinted and rubbed his eyes and looked again. Did he see a figure up there on the high ground, a running figure? He couldn’t be certain as he held onto the rail and felt his stomach churn again.

“Drop the sail.” The captain of the vessel bellowed over the sound of the crashing water as it struck the starboard side, sending yet another shower of salt water onto the deck. Sailors struggled through the crowds of bodies and began untying the thick ropes, quickly they lowered the sail and the motion stalled for a moment.

“Row you bastards, get us ashore.” He shouted. His face a sheen as yet more sea water was hurled towards the ship.

“Please let it end.” Valerius begged the gods of the sea. “Just let me get to dry land that’s all I ask.” He retched again but his stomach was empty. Pollo’s large hand clasped his armour covered shoulder.

“We’re nearly there now lad, won’t be long.” Pollo shouted as the vessel dropped between waves. “Nothing like sailing is there eh? I’m lucky I used to do a lot of it back home. I can’t recall the seas being like this though, rough as a barbarians cunny eh?”

Valerius couldn’t answer or even acknowledge his friend because he knew that to even try would bring on yet more retching, so he stood wedged against the rail staring up at the green hills beyond the beach.

“What is it, have you seen something?” Pollo asked looking ashore, as the movement of the boat pressed him up against Valerius, their segmented armour scraping together. “I can’t see anything except all that lovely earth, even I’ll be glad to get my feet on solid ground, I’ve had enough of this.”

The trireme war galley that carried them, was now reaching its top speed and the shore got ever closer as the oarsmen heaved to the encouragement of the captain, who continued to hurl abuse at them. The following vessels had all dropped their mainsails and were turning inland following the lead ship. Valerius looked down at the water that was beginning to turn to foam on the surface and knew that very soon, he would be jumping into it and wading ashore, the idea didn’t soothe his nausea but at least he would have a solid surface under his boots.

“Standby Second Augusta,” Optio Crispus shouted from somewhere behind in the crush of armour and men, “not long lads.”

Two hundred yards out, all eyes were fixed on the beach ahead, it looked to be mostly clear sand, a site chosen by Plautius where he knew the vessels could ground themselves on the low tide. He knew that he was taking a huge risk but a sudden, swift strike to the rear of Caradoc’s forces could end the conflict in the west and he would be able to return to Rome a hero.

One hundred yards out now and the trireme had found another gear as it sliced its way through the grey foaming water. The swell here was less significant as the pale faces of the legionaries aboard exchanged hopeful glances that their ordeal would soon be over.

“Row you dogs, like your life depended on it.” The captain shouted, his voice cracking through the effort. Men held their pila tight in their right hands, shields hefted up in their left, half above the side rail in the event of attack.

“Get that fucking shield up.” Crispus ordered to someone near the bow. “Just because we can’t see them, it doesn’t mean they’re not there you fool.”

With an enormous crunch, the ship embedded itself into the beach as men lurched forward at the waist, and then there was a moment of silence as they waited and listened. Another trireme hurtled ashore, its occupants also waited, senses straining for any sign of the enemy, nothing.

“Ashore!” The order was given and troops climbed over the railing, dropped onto the external decking and then into the water below.

“Ugh,” Valerius muttered as the cold sea took his breath away, it came up to his chest, “gods that’s freezing.” He lifted his shield up and over his head as they’d been taught, and angled it downward, the base in the water. It was heavy enough and now the movement of the sea pushed it in all directions. Bodies splashed into the water all around him as he struggled to balance and stay upright. Men shouted, swore and cursed as they began to move forward towards dry land.

Taking large strides Valerius breathed heavily, the strain already showing on his face as he fought against the surging waves. For a brief moment he wondered about the effect the sea would have on his armour and an image appeared to him of it rusting, brown, stained and dirty and then the arrows began to fall.

“Did you know about this, about the attack?” Brenna asked Varro and Grattius after they’d been escorted back to the roundhouse under guard. Varro removed his cloak and threw it down on the table.

“Of course not Brenna, do you really believe that we’d come here knowing that Plautius was planning this? What is the man thinking? There was a real chance that Caradoc would have listened but now…” He slammed a fist down onto the table, “The idiot, why didn’t he just wait? A few days, weeks, until spring even, I don’t understand.”

“He’s used us and launched a surprise attack,” Grattius said, “in winter, using the sea to outflank them, it’s bold I’ll give him that.” He picked up an apple and took a bite, “The trouble is what do we, do now?” He asked.

“We have to escape, get away from here.” Lita said. “You heard what he said, he’ll deal with us when he gets back.”

“If he gets back, that is.” Grattius added.

“If we do that then he’ll think we knew all along.” Brenna said.

“Ha who cares what he thinks, if we stay here we’re dead.” Grattius replied. Varro pulled out a chair and sat down.

“We stay,” he looked at those around him, “we risked our lives to come here and Caradoc could have left us to die in that village. He didn’t he saved us and had us brought here, so he deserves more than an empty roundhouse when he returns.” Grattius sat down.

“I’ll agree to anything you say, but I don’t like it.” He took another bite of the apple and chewed.

“How can you eat at a time like this you great stupid lump?” Lita asked angrily.

“I’ll eat when I like woman, you heard the centurion, we are staying.” He said spitting pieces of apple out in the direction of Lita, “now shut up and calm yourself down before you burst something.”

Lita leapt forward and slapped the apple out of his hand, it flew across the room and hit the wall, “You stupid bastards will get us all killed.” She tried to hit Grattius but he held his arms up blocking her and then grabbed her wrists.

“So fiery you Britons are in your foreplay.” He said laughing as Lita struggled to break free.

“I’ll gut you like a pig.” She shouted.

“Stop this,” Brenna shouted, but the pair carried on fighting and wrestling with each other, Grattius sat laughing, Varro watching not amused and Brenna getting angrier, “I SAID STOP!” She marched over to Lita and grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away, “You are behaving like children, now stop it and shut up.”

“Alright Brenna, so what would you have us do?” Lita asked. Her face flushed.

“We stay as Varro has said, it’s his decision but I happen to agree with him anyway. Caradoc has shown some trust in us and I believe that we should return it. How were we to know that Plautius would do this? I’m convinced that he was actually beginning to listen and saw that there was an opportunity for peace even if he didn’t agree with the initial terms or how it would work.” She pulled out a chair and slumped down next to Varro. “All I’ve ever wanted was peace, I’m sick and tired of constant fighting, death and destruction, it’s getting us nowhere. People should live and work together not be at each other’s throats constantly, that goes for you two as well.”

“I was just eating an apple.” Grattius replied, feigning being hurt.

“Shut up.” Lita said.

“Enough! Why don’t you ever listen?” Brenna added and looked at the door, “I can’t even leave to get away from your childish bickering now.” She held a hand to her stomach.

“Are you alright?” Varro asked frowning. He reached out and touched her hand.

“I’ll be fine if those two will be quiet.” She moved his hand away, “I’m going to lie down.” She said smiling and got up. Varro looked at Grattius and Lita.

“No more fighting or arguing, understand?”

“Fine by me,” Grattius said, turning to Lita, “maybe you’d like to go to bed too? Give me and the centurion time to talk.”

“As long as it’s not with you.” She said standing. Grattius looked back to Varro.

“Are you sure you want us to stay here?” He asked.

“We’ve got no choice in the matter, the way I see things. If we try to leave and get caught, Caradoc will think we knew of Plautius’ plan and probably have us killed. If we somehow managed to escape and get free, he’ll still think we knew of the attack.” He put his head in his hands. “For better or for worse my friend, we stay…for now.”

Above, the skies darkened, streaked with arrows and then they began to land zipping into the water, striking armour and flesh, men screamed in pain or anger. Valerius was mildly aware of the sound of the scorpions opening fire aboard the trireme as the highly wound ropes let fly their own deadly barrage. A few marines launched arrows from bows that were previously stored beneath the ships railing. He pushed forward through the water, now waist high as others joined him. They tried to form a line, to get organised as they would on land.

“Shields, keep em up lads.” Someone shouted from the right as they created a jagged wall. He was aware of others behind him and Pollo shouting, “We have to get out of the water.” The man next to Valerius suddenly went limp and let out a sigh. He saw an arrow deep inside his flesh, somewhere below his eye line but where exactly, he couldn’t see. He fell into the water and disappeared under a swirling blend of blood and froth, he couldn’t be helped, not now. Blood swirled up, touching and merging with the cloth of Valerius’ braccae leggings, cold and warm. The volley of arrows whistled all around as the men of the Second took cover as best they could behind their shields.

They pushed forward tightly huddled together, heads low as sharp barbs buried themselves thudding into the wood of their protective shields, akin to a heavy hail storm. The scorpion crews worked like demons trying to give them cover, archers too, but they were severely outnumbered as more soldiers jumped into the sea to join the mayhem below. Those still on-board the ships could see the lines of enemy bowmen, the top of their weapons at least, as they were raised to fire over rocks, there were hundreds of them, whilst above on the hilltop, riders came into view. A marine centurion ran to the captain of the lead ship.

“Sir, look.” He shouted pointing at the dark line of riders as they came lower turning the green hillside black. “We have to warn them, get them back to the ships.”

The captain looked upward, horror in his expression, “Gods above, sound the retreat, get them back to the ships and get your men in the water, we can’t wait for the tide to turn, we’ll have to push off.”

The centurion turned and ran to the side of the vessel and began throwing knotted ropes and ladders over the side, “Sound the retreat, get the ropes over the side.”

A horn sounded but the noise of the sea combined with the constant hammering of arrows drowned it out almost completely and the men already in the water continued to advance. The centurion ordered the remaining legionaries to stay aboard and to create a shield wall around the deck. He then selected enough to make another around his men who would try to force the hull off the beach.

Valerius grimaced as he struggled with his shield and the swirling water, every now and again his shield would move to the side and he would get a view of the shore and the hail of arrows heading towards them. He grabbed the handle of his shield tighter and pressed it against his helmet, head down and pressed on, Pollo behind him still holding his harness. Men fell when arrows struck them due to the movement of the sea pushing their shields aside, others tried to drag them back towards the boat covering them with their own shields. The water was turning pink now as it merged with fresh blood but the heavy infantry pressed on, the men of the first cohort unaware that the retreat had been sounded.

Caradoc raced his horse down the path leading to the water’s edge, a procession of riders behind him, snaking their way towards the battle raging below. His face contorted in rage, he drew his sword and shouted as loud as he could, “Fire arrows, burn the ships.”

At first there was no change to the defence of the beach and so he repeated the order again and again until his voice was hoarse, and then he saw a lit arrow take to the grey skies, followed by others. They arched heaven bound and then began to fall, some into the sea but others onto the decks of the Roman ships, where panicked crewmen ran to put them out. Reaching sea level, Caradoc didn’t jump from his horse but rode it into the sea still shouting encouragement to his warriors.

“Rise,” he shouted, circling the large sword about his head, “rise and kill the invaders.” His men roared and whilst horsemen raced into the water, archers moved from behind the rocks so that they had a clear view of the enemy. Now they fired straight, the men in the sea were easy prey, others appeared on foot, carrying small circular shields; they ran after the horses wading into the sea screaming for blood.

Caradoc charged his mount straight into the flimsy shield wall he found before him, men were cast aside, some struck by arrows as they fell, others cleaved open by his mighty sword blows. Water spewed up, engulfing the Romans and reducing their vision as they fought to stay on their feet and fight back. More horsemen reached the enemy line as their riders hacked and slashed at the men below. Cries of anguish merged with those of pain, as the legionaries struggled to punch their swords upward at their attackers.

From the lead ship, the captain could only watch on horrified as waves of riders rode out into the sea and broke through the Roman lines. On-board, marines and sailors fought the flames caused by the fire arrows, whilst a few archers fired back. The scorpion crews were running out of ammunition now and some abandoned their weapons in favour of defending their vessels by other means. Some leapt into the water and heaved, pushing at the hulls, trying to pry them free of the sand bank. Of those, some were hit by fire arrows that slammed into their unarmoured backs, they fell into the water, the flames fizzing out, dying like their victims.

“Butcher them all.” Caradoc shouted, Ardwen now by his side swiping his blade into the invaders.

“Leave none alive.” He shouted as other men and women took up their battle cries. Some wore tunics but some had thrown them off when the order had come to enter the water, knowing it would reduce their movement. They had abandoned them and ran half naked towards the advancing lines of the Romans. Taught, sinewy and muscular torsos covered in blue tattooed patterns ran, raising their legs but soon, were waist deep and wading further, screaming, faces contorted in rage pleading with their gods for the death of the enemy.

Valerius stabbed forward from behind his shield, trying to stay on his feet just before a horse hit him and knocked him backwards. Sea water rushed into his open mouth and nose, the salt strong as he struggled to get up, he saw the blurred image of horses legs through the bubbles. His heavy armour seemed to suck him further down with its weight. He heard garbled voices as he felt his back land on the floor of the seabed and then an almighty hoof, pinned him there. Letting go of his shield, he tried to stab out at the leg with his sword but missed, striking only more water. Beginning to panic, his head felt like it was about to burst through a lack of air, he shook his head from side to side. His gladius was knocked from his hand by another hoof and spun away, he grabbed the leg stopping him from moving just as it released him, but another intake of water dulled his senses and he saw the blackness of death engulf him.

The triremes still out at sea, beyond those being attacked, were blocked from getting any closer to the battle, as Plautius had decided upon a relatively small cove for his landing. After exhausting their ballista bolts and conventional arrows, they were rowed closer to the beached vessels and tied onto those not already aflame and pulled them free. The ships had little choice but to abandon the men still in the water, a few lucky souls managed to climb up the ropes of some triremes sides or their ladders, but most were left to be cut down.

Pollo held onto one such rope as the oarsmen struck deep and fast and pulled clear of the avalanche of arrows that were still falling. His fingers were numb with cold as he clenched his teeth against the icy grip of the water. He looked down at the unconscious figure of Valerius he held in the other hand as he began to shout up at those on the deck.

“Stop, stop the boat.” He yelled but wasn’t sure if they could hear him against the sound of the battle and the crashing of the waves against the hull. The hand in the water now had no sensation, he couldn’t feel his fingers and willed them to keep a grip of the strap he held on his friends back. Then, just as he was about to give up hope of anyone hearing him, he felt himself being lifted as he rose higher against the side of the ship. He could just make out heads peering over the edge of the outer decking plate and hauling him and Valerius up.

“Pull you bastards. I’ve got another man here.” He shouted as he was hauled up and over the edge, other hands reached down and grabbed the unconscious form of Valerius and took his weight.

“This is a ship not a bloody boat.” The captain said, as he laid Valerius flat on his stomach and began pushing his open palms onto his back.

“What are you doing, is he dead?” Pollo asked shaking his numb hands and staring at the pale face being forced against the wooden ledge with every push. The captain knelt over Valerius’ back and kept pumping, ignoring Pollo’s question. Suddenly sea water gushed out of his mouth and he began to cough uncontrollably, eyes still closed. The captain kept pumping.

“Come on lad, you can make it, get it all out.” He pushed again, shoulders high, arms straight and pushed down again and again. Valerius sounded as if he was choking and then he gasped, spluttered and coughed some more, his eyes flickered open, he was alive.

It was like being woken from a deep sleep, he went from being in a serene place, to one of pain, blurred images and mumbled words. He tried to open his eyes, where was he? Still in the water, trapped under the horse, dead? He coughed and felt sea water rush out of his nose and mouth, it stung, he couldn’t breathe, he struggled but something was pressing down on him. Trying to raise his head, he thought he saw Pollo looking down on him, he was mouthing words but he couldn’t hear them. He moved his head trying to raise it from something solid, was that the ship’s captain above him? He coughed again uncontrollably and felt bubbles of air in his throat and nose, struggling to breath, he blew out through his nose, it hurt but it cleared his airway. The pressure lifted from his chest, but he continued to cough as he was rolled onto his side.

“I thought you were dead.” He heard Pollo’s voice suddenly clear.

“He was lucky you saved him, unlike those poor swine.” The captain said.

Pollo looked back towards the receding shoreline and saw men still fighting for their lives, but they were surrounded, engulfed by warriors on foot and on horseback. White plumes of sea water splashed up as men slashed and stabbed at each other, the legionaries of the Second Augusta had no chance against such odds, but still they fought.

Caradoc, seized by battle rage looked around him, eyes wide with menace and hatred. There were still small pockets of resistance here and there. He pushed his horse forward into a group of surviving Romans, maybe five of them, who had somehow retained their shields. Leaping from his horse, he caught them by surprise as they were concentrating on those to their front. The man underneath him buckled and fell beneath the water level, he stabbed down and felt the reassurance of his blade enter flesh and grate against bone. He got his footing and spun round, the tip of his sword slicing into an enemy’s neck, blood sprayed out a red hue in the air. Serenity took over as the scene played out before him as if he were watching from elsewhere, stabbing, thrusting and parrying blows and then all he could hear was his own heavy breathing. Warriors stared at him in surprise and admiration, the enemy dead, sinking under the weight of their armoured shells.

“You bloody fool, you could have been killed.” Ardwen shouted, still on his horse.

“Then you would take my place.” Caradoc replied fury in his eyes as he looked for more men to kill but those who still struggled were too far away. In moments the resistance died, as did those who had come aboard vessels to attack them from the sea. He turned and began wading back to the shore.

“Strip them of their armour and recover anything we can use.” He ordered, “We haven’t seen the last of them.”

As the daylight began to vanish from the small gap in the smoke hole above them, Varro, Grattius, Brenna and Lita heard horses approaching, riding fast. Pensive looks were exchanged between them but there was nothing they could do. The horses came to a sliding stop outside and there were mumbled commands given, were they to be dragged outside and tortured for information, they didn’t know.

The door skin was brushed aside and Caradoc entered quickly, Ardwen behind him. They were both covered in sweat from the ride back to the hill fort from wherever it was they had confronted Plautius’ attack. The four of them stood up.

“We killed them, burnt three ships and stopped them getting onto dry land.” Caradoc said breathing heavily. “There were more ships, at least five more, but they couldn’t get to the beach.” He pointed at Varro, “Your friends’ bodies line the sea floor. The rest are being dragged ashore as I speak, to be stripped of anything we can use against them.”

Varro looked down at the floor, Grattius looked angry and Brenna and Lita stood there red faced.

“We knew nothing of this attack Caradoc, you have to believe us.” Brenna said almost pleading, “Why would we come here if we knew that they were planning this? It doesn’t make sense does it? Do you think we would throw our lives away for what, just for the possibility of being here? Come on Caradoc, you’re a man with a good head, you know we wouldn’t do that don’t you?”

The barrage of questions seemed to knock some of the anger out of the Celt leader as he stood there contemplating what she had said. Looking at him now they could see faint traces on blood on his face and neck, presumably from the fighting earlier.

“We could hold them captive,” Ardwen said, “keep them here and have them to use as hostages later. It would be better than letting them go, so they can work against us.”

Caradoc half turned his head and half looked at floor, “We could cousin or we could let them go and show that we are better than they are. That we don’t break our promises as they do.”

“Promises, what promises have we made, what are you talking about?” Ardwen asked.

“I assured them that they would be safe whilst they were here, inside Silures’ territory. As King I have a responsibility not just to my people but to behave as they would expect and set an example. It is a matter of honour cousin, surely you can see that?”

Ardwen stalked forward and stared at the two women, “What I see are two whores, two whores who like the taste of Roman cum nothing more.” He laughed, “They probably do both of them together and then each other.” He closed the gap between himself and Brenna and stood almost nose to nose, “You might look like something special bitch, but you still bleed like the rest, you whine like the rest and you shit like everyone else. I can see through you, I can see into your heart and it’s black, black as pitch.” She looked down. “Know this whore,” he turned to Lita and approached her, “If I were king and not my cousin, I would have you fucked by my men every way possible and then given to the women. Then I’d have you splayed open, attached to a cart and driven back across the border as a warning to all the other whores who are taking Roman cock.” He turned to Varro and Grattius, “And as for you two, even your gods themselves would weep for what I would do to you.”

“Enough Ardwen,” Caradoc said, “enough, I don’t want to hear anymore and whilst I lead, there is no more to be said, I will not harm them, leave.”

He turned and looked at his cousin and sneered, venom in his words “Very well cousin, this time I will listen but be warned if anything like this happens again, I may not be so patient. If my man hadn’t seen their fleet, we could have all been dead by now, villages and settlements set on fire, women raped, children taken for slaves and men slaughtered. We can’t afford to be civilised towards a people who have no honour, a people who smile while talking to you and plot behind our backs, there is only one way to deal with such snakes, remove their heads.”

“I hear you Ardwen believe me I do, but I promised these people safety. I also think that they’re telling the truth and they have been used as we were, now go cousin leave me to talk to them.”

Ardwen stared at each of them in turn, his eyes silently saying that they were lucky their fate lay with Caradoc, he turned, lifted the door skin and left.

“You are a man of honour Caradoc.” Varro began.

“Shut up and sit down, all of you.” Caradoc ordered, they did as they were told, whilst he paced up and down. “I don’t know what your Governor thought he was doing but he has made a grave mistake. I was willing to discuss terms, even willing to go and speak with him, but now after this, this betrayal, I see that there can never be peace with Rome.” He raised a hand to his head and wiped at the dried blood. “For decades we lived in peace with Rome, we traded, we bought her goods, yet it was never enough, they always wanted more. I lived my entire life listening to the words of a brother who wanted to bow down, a brother who also betrayed me and my people, is that what it’s like to be a part of Rome? Is it such a cesspit of dishonesty, deceit, murder and lies, a place where you can’t trust anyone, a place where you are always looking over your shoulder, watching for a blade?” He shook his head. “It is a good thing that Plautius showed his real personality, his real intent after all. He doesn’t want peace, he wants domination and he wants my people as slaves to serve Rome, not be a part of it.” He pointed at Varro and Grattius, “It won’t happen and you can go back and tell him that, as long as I lead, there will be war and if I die another will take my place.” He stopped pacing, “He must think me a fool, a fool who lives on raw butchered meat and milk, a barbarian. Isn’t that how you regard us Roman?” He looked at Varro. “As a weak, uncivilised people who live in the mud, in a land of constant rain, up to our heads in filth?”

Varro caught his eye but thought better of speaking. He knew that what he said was true, most Romans regarded them as inferior, a people to be governed and manipulated, to be used. His relationship with Brenna and other Britons had showed him that there was a different side to the Celts of Britannia. They were most certainly related to the Celts of Gaul and elsewhere but he had come to learn that was a good thing. Like some Romans there were good and bad in all people. Caradocs’ words brought him out of his thoughts.

“You still have my word that you will be safe whilst in these lands, I will provide an escort for you tomorrow. I want you to return to this Plautius, this man of Rome and tell him these words; there is no need for them to be written down like these lies.” He pulled the scrolls that they had brought with them out of his tunic and threw them on the fire. “Tell him that I won’t be fooled again and that I was so close to giving him the peace the required; the peace that would have allowed him to return to Rome, as a hero, and to have his victory. No more blood would have been shed by our swords and no more sons of Rome would lie rotting on our soil.” He walked to the door. “Do you know that Ardwen and I had even said that we would concede certain things if it meant peace, no more war?” He smiled, “How stupid we were to believe that we could trust such a people. No doubt the emperor would have drained our land of its wealth, sold our people into slavery and kept us under the heel of his legions boots. I’m glad in a way that he decided to attack, because now we know where we stand, there can be no peace, we can’t live with serpents. Tell Plautius this when you go back, the retribution I have sought and gained so far in raids across the Roman made border, will pale into insignificance compared to what he has brought upon himself now. Burning forts and destroyed villas will be the last of his concerns. Your people started this war, we neither wanted nor desired it, we considered ourselves friends with your empire but still you came to murder and rob.” He lifted the door skin, “You won’t see me without a blade in my hand again and I won’t be talking to you like this, if we should meet. Tell Plautius, I’m coming, if he’s lucky he’ll be back in Rome, if not, he’ll die by my hand.” He went to leave.

“Caradoc,” Varro said stopping him, “I can’t even begin to understand how you must feel, but please know that we knew nothing of the fleet, I promise you.”

“In another life,” Caradoc said, “we could have been friends, brothers. If your leaders were like you, there would be no war, of that I’m certain. I believe you and I think that you’re a man of honour.” He looked at Grattius and the others, “Of the company you keep, I couldn’t say the same, but I have been known to be wrong, I can admit that.” Grattius was tempted to speak but didn’t.

“Goodbye Centurion Varro, may your gods go with you, and watch over you and your friends here, but for the others, I will show no mercy. No act will be beyond my reach or conscience now. I will seek to destroy everything that Rome stands for here in Albion. My warriors will strive to strike at the very heart of everything they hold dear.” He smiled, “It’s probably better this way, no more pretence with dreams of peace. Plautius will either die or return to Rome having failed, empty handed. I vow this will happen on my father’s spirit.” He took one last look at those listening to his words and then ducked under the door skin and left the roundhouse.

An eerie silence fell over those sat near the table, no-one spoke for a while, Grattius poured some water from a jug into a cup and drank it, not saying a word. Brenna stared at the table, Lita looked at her and Varro gazed at the floor.

“Well,” he said eventually, “we’d better get our things packed up and get ready to move out tomorrow.”

“Thank Mithras I say,” Grattius said, “the sooner we’re back behind our lines the better, no offence ladies but you know what I mean.”

“None taken,” Brenna said quietly, “the sooner we’re out of here the better. Ardwen and the others may be content to listen to Caradoc for now, but it wouldn’t take much for them to turn and take matters into their own hands.”

“Do you think we’re safe tonight?” Lita asked.

“I think we’ll be safe until we get across the mountains and back into friendly territory, you heard what he said. It’s after that I’m more concerned with.” Varro said.

“What do you mean by that?” Grattius asked.

“He’s already struck at will along the border and deep into Roman occupied lands but now, now he knows it’s a fight to the death. He’s got nothing to lose, one way or another he that knows Rome wants this land and will do anything to get it. If that means wiping out all those that live here, then so be it. There’s nothing to hold him back anymore, or others. Word will spread of the failed attempt by the fleet, of the trick that Plautius tried to employ, even if it’s not true. It will give them heart and encouragement to rise against us and they are everywhere we are. If every Celt here decides to rebel, there’s nothing, even five legions could do about it and the Governor may have just given them the reason that helps them decide to do it.”

Brenna stood up, “What you say is correct, but it won’t happen, not with all the tribes anyway, some are more than happy to live this way, under Roman rule, but others will never stop fighting. I’ve told you before that this war will go on for as long as you Romans are here. Some battles they will win, others you will be the victors, but you will never completely dominate a people that don’t want to be beaten. It’s not in our nature to lie down and let ourselves be kicked and beaten, we fight back, we always will.”

“And yet you work with us.” Grattius said.

“I work alongside you Optio, there is a difference, I want peace, but not through any means. I can live side by side with any kind of people, irrespective of where they come from as long as there is harmony, some sort of common understanding. What I will not do is live as a slave or as something thought of as inferior. Centurion Varro has shown me that not all Romans are evil and wicked, we have spoken of this many times and I believe his words, but there is still doubt. Not that he is lying or is trying to deceive me or my people but that those above him, your superiors, have different plans for Albion and her tribes. Your Emperor Claudius clearly thought that invading this island would be easy and yet he’s already been proven wrong. Four long years ago, the legions arrived on our soil and still you haven’t taken the southern shores entirely, never mind the west and the north. I doubt that we’ll ever see an end to the conflict here during our lives if Rome decides to stay. As it is, the Roman way is to dominate and take from others, so it is the way of the Celts to resist and to fight until our dying breath. We are a proud people and will not, cannot live like animals, ruled over by others. This is what you face Optio, we accept the fate the gods have given us and although I want peace and will work by your side to achieve it, others will not, ever.”

The rest of the evening was spent in virtual silence, Caradoc had arranged for food to be brought to them and some rations were packed away for their journey the following morning. They ate with little conversation between them, except for Grattius who occasionally spoke about the food they consumed. No-one was drawn into replying however, a depression had fallen over the others as they realised for the first time, there was now little hope of a lasting peace.