Retribution

Chapter Four

The sun shone down warming the three men as they slowly approached the harbour on horseback at the end of the estuary. They had travelled for two days riding north taking their time and stopping at settlements along the way. Encouraged by the response of those they had spoken with, they had decided to go further and have a look at the garrison that was being established at what the Romans were calling Deva. It was situated inland along the river where they could establish a reliable supply route. It had all the hallmarks of Isca in the south located on the River Exe, where the Second Augusta were garrisoned. Deva however, was manned by the Twentieth Legion and as the three riders approached the harbour they saw the first signs of their occupation, a flag bearing a boar, the insignia of the Twentieth.

Caradoc, Ardwen and Brennus knew that getting so close to a slumbering beast was always dangerous, but after many conversations and debates about whether it was worth the risk, they had decided it was. They wanted to see for themselves just how far along the enemies defences were, what their disposition was and how the local people were responding to them. Caradoc and Ardwen had asked Brennus to accompany them, not only was he very useful to have around if things went wrong but he was also Ardwen’s half-brother on his father’s side. Two huge Roman Triremes sat at anchor in the harbour, their large sails fluttering gently in the breeze. Next to them were two supply vessels, one was being unloaded, whilst the other already looked empty.

“They probably came together with one of the Triremes or both escorting them,” Caradoc said, “it’s a pity we have nothing more than small fishing vessels then we could take the war to them at sea.”

“We can still sink them when they get here.” Brennus replied. “The problem would be slipping past the guards and getting on-board. The longer we leave it and they establish themselves, the harder it’s going to be.”

“We’ll have a good look round and then decide what we are going to do.” Ardwen said. “For the time being we’re just three traders looking to see what we can offer our Roman friends and what they can do for us.”

As they got to a more established track they watched as the unloading continued on the far side of the river, barrels, sacks, wooden crates and amphorae were lined up in neat rows as they were taken ashore. Carts and wagons waited patiently as the first supplies were loaded on to them before being taken to the newly established garrison, and then others would be distributed around the region. Caradoc and his allies knew how the pattern worked as the Roman plague spread its arms.

On the way north they had passed an enemy fort that had been established on a high rocky outcrop now miles to the south. It lay a few miles inside the border of the Cornovii tribe and over looked the mountains of the Deceangli to the west. It was a natural position for a fort, rising some four hundred feet high maybe five hundred from sea level. The main fortification covered only a small area at the flat top, probably three hundred paces square but it was secured by hundreds, thousands of dark tree trunks that made up its walls. Others lined the slopes on one side as they ran down to lower land in a great wooden arc. It ran for some length on the flat lowland before sweeping back up to the small fort on top of the outcrop. On the far side facing north, was a sheer cliff face where trees still somehow grew out of the steep rocky side. The three men had noted the small garrison located there with interest, aware that it was secluded by some miles from the main garrison fortress at Deva. Bees Stone as it was called, would make an ideal target.

As they got closer to the harbour they saw more evidence that the local people had accepted the occupiers, or at best were living alongside them. Roundhouses ran parallel with the river all the way to the enormous fort. Fortunately few people took any notice of the riders as they walked past and went about their business as if living alongside Romans was a normal way of life. Children ran, chasing each other as skins dried outside some of the houses, men talked discussing their crops or livestock, some nodding in greeting as they went by and door skins were hooked open due to the warmth of the day. It all seemed normal, and that was what Caradoc found most disturbing.

“Let’s have a chat with them,” he nodded at a group of five men who stood watching them approach, “see what they make of things.”

“Greetings strangers,” a large surly looking man said stepping forward, “what can we do for you?” He looked back at the men he had been talking with.

Caradoc smiled and brought his horse to a halt a few feet from him. “I am Morcant,” he said, “we’ve travelled here to see what trade can be done if any. We have two hundred head of cattle and the same in sheep at our homelands to the south.”

“I am Nynniaw,” the serious looking man replied, “I am the elder here and make those decisions for the people. What would you want in return?” Caradoc studied him. He was clearly well fed with a bulbous stomach threatening to burst through his light beige smock. He wore reddish leggings and boots that came up shin high and stopped just before the knees, wrapped around his calves.

Caradoc got down off his horse slowly so as not to pose a threat. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with these men that would no doubt bring the Romans running, “I was thinking of trading with your guests to be honest, I hear they pay well in gold, is that right?” He pointed at the ships in the harbour.

“The Romans eh?” He smiled. “Well I’m sure they would be interested in so much livestock. They are interested in everything else after all, where have you come from exactly, did you say?”

“We’re from the lands of the Dubunni,” Ardwen lied getting down off his own horse, Brennus stayed mounted eyeing the man and those stood behind him. “We trade with the Second Augusta there and are looking to expand.” Ardwen added.

“Really?” The man said as if unconvinced. “Well I’m sure I could arrange an appointment with one of their officials if you wish. I’m certain they would be more than happy to speak to you but I don’t want you stepping on our trade with them. As long as whatever you propose doesn’t affect us, I don’t see a problem.” He turned as if to gauge the thoughts of the men, they nodded their assent. “Obviously there would be a fee for arranging such a deal, a cut of any deal struck.” He smiled.

“Of course friend, I’m sure we could come to some arrangement.” Caradoc replied knowing that no such deal would ever be struck and wishing he could cut the fat man’s throat. “Now is there somewhere we could get some refreshment? It’s been a long couple of days.”

“Yes, yes follow me.” Nynniaw said turning. “You can stable your horses and we’ll take you to where you can have your fill of food and brew, as much as you like and all for little expense.”

Brennus got down off his horse and they led them to a corralled area where the locals had their own horses. A young man came out of a roundhouse near the gate and Nynniaw arranged for stabling. Caradoc and his men removed their saddles which the young man took inside the roundhouse after which the horses were led into the field. A few of those already there came over to see who the new arrivals were.

“We can arrange for lodging if you wish?” Nynniaw said. “I don’t know how long you intend to stay but it may take a while for one of the administrators to come and see you, I can’t guarantee it will be today, we have a roundhouse for guests you can use.”

“That will be fine, we’re in no rush.” Caradoc replied. “Besides it will give us time to see how things are here with your guests. I hear they are intending to push into other territories to establish more encampments and roads.”

Nynniaw replied, “Yes I suppose they are, they’ve already taken over the slate quarry to the west and I hear they’re digging into the salt mine further south somewhere.” He led them further along the track past other thatched houses until they got to an area that was distinctly starting to look different. Men wore togas and had short hair, buildings were made of wood and groups of soldiers marched in sets of eight or more.

“It took some getting used to but the men of the Twentieth Legion aren’t bad. We still have problems from time to time but they’re showing us different methods of farming and medicine. Things are improving for everyone.” Nynniaw said. He took them to a stall further along the street with a broad bench outside. Amphorae vessels were propped up against a corner.

“What will it be gentlemen?” Asked a man from behind the counter, speaking with a strange accent, he was about thirty years of age and obviously Roman. Caradoc studied his face and clothing. He had intelligent eyes and a pleasant demeanour. He wore an almost white coloured toga that was belted at the waist. He wore no blade or dagger.

“I have wine fresh off the boat,” The man continued as he held out his hand indicating the amphorae, or if you want something more local, I can arrange that as well?”

Brennus looked at Ardwen and Caradoc, “Wine, not watered I think,” The other two nodded agreeing, “Three then.”

The man behind the stall put four kiln made cups onto the bench, Caradoc picked one up. Of late he was used to using wooden cups or those made from horn although they had previously had Roman made drinking vessels before the invasion, when the Catuvellauni still traded with them, but that was a few years ago. It was smooth and cold to the touch, he examined it expecting it to be engraved with ornate hunting scenes or something else but it was plain. The stall holder picked up a medium sized amphora and filled their cups, clear golden liquid poured into them. He put the base of the jug into a hole drilled into the bench so they could help themselves.

He saw Caradoc looking at the cups. “They’re locally produced.” He said. “The clay along the estuary is just the right consistency.” If you go further along the river past the garrison you’ll see where it’s found.” He smiled at Caradoc. “If you want anything else, just ask.” He smiled again and went into the back of the stall.

“We thought they would treat us badly when they first arrived,” Nynniaw said. “Well you hear all sorts of tales don’t you? Raping women, killing the men or taking them for slaves but to be honest we haven’t experienced anything like that. Yes there are a few that are unhappy with their presence and they want their tribute obviously in the way of crops and slaves, but if they leave us alone I’m happy. I just don’t understand why some resist, we can all get along.”

“Isn’t them being here enough?” Brennus cut in. He looked Nynniaw directly in the eye.

“We don’t want trouble here.” He said taking a mouth full of wine. “We’re content as long as they leave us to get on with life.” He looked around. “And generally they do.” He wiped his mouth and put his cup down. Turning to Caradoc he said. “I’ll see if I can find an administrator and see what can be done about the livestock you want to trade.” He stood. “In the meantime please enjoy our hospitality.”

He left taking his friends with him. Brennus finished his cup of wine and half whispered. “Did you hear the way he said ‘our hospitality’ they’ve accepted the occupiers already, I doubt we’d get much help here if we decided to attack Deva. These sheep would probably fight on their side instead of helping us.”

“They aren’t like us that’s for sure,” Caradoc said, “but I wouldn’t condemn so quickly though. We were given no choice but to fight. They came looking for us because we wouldn’t bow to them and wanted to live independently. These people didn’t have the same problems and probably rarely saw anything other than goods or trading by the sound of things.” He finished his wine and filled their cups. “We’ll speak with this administrator and get a lay of the land and see how things are from their point of view, you never know we might end up the same as these people.” He smirked.

Ardwen said. “That will never happen for one thing I doubt they’ll ever forgive us for giving the Second Augusta a bloody nose and we wouldn’t want to live like this anyway, second to their whims and orders and paying tribute.”

“If these people choose to live with them then as far as I’m concerned they are as bad as them and will be treated as such.” Brennus said.

“If they ally themselves with them then yes you’re right but if they have chosen to live like this, so they are not destroyed then we shouldn’t hold that against them.” Caradoc said. “We’ll see how things are but for the time being our best target is the fort to the south in Cornovii territory, if we can hit that hard it will be a good start. With Dumnoc attacking in the south, it will unbalance them and they won’t know where they’re safe. A major victory is something we need though like this garrison at Deva. But in the meantime hitting their patrols and villas will have to suffice. Impatience will get us nowhere except dead, patience is an ally and we have to use it well just as they do.”

“I understand what you’re saying Caradoc.” Brennus said, “It just turns my stomach to see our people welcoming them as they have.”

“It does mine as well but for the time being we’ll enjoy our wine and find out as much as we can. Why don’t you go and see if you can find somewhere for us to stay tonight, that house the fat one spoke of?” Caradoc asked Brennus.

“Me?” He asked. “I’d prefer to wait until Nynniaw gets back and taste more of this wine, he said he knows somewhere, he can show us where it is.”

“Alright but in the meantime no more talk about what our intentions are, understood?” Caradoc asked.

“Don’t worry I don’t intend to risk our lives so easily.” Brennus answered.

The days of confinement in the garrison had finally passed and Varro was able to ride free to a degree with his men once more. He had come to terms with the death of Decimus as best he could and realised that Brenna had no choice in the matter, if she hadn’t taken his life, she would be dead also. He didn’t like the circumstances of how it had come about or why but there was nothing he could do about it.

With all their equipment checked, cleaned and polished and any defects replaced, they rode south to liaise with the forts, villas and settlements to make sure everything was in order. With no specific plans to march against the Silures for the time being, they were to consolidate the ground they had already taken, which for small squads like his own could prove equally as dangerous as open warfare, if not more so.

He had already got used to the men who had replaced those who had died when the Second Augusta had made an expedition into the west under Vespasian. The legion of men together with their auxiliaries had been badly mauled and their humiliation was compounded when the survivors were only saved by the intervention of the Twentieth. Vespasian himself had been injured after being hit a by an arrow and had returned to Rome and subsequently retired from the army.

Riding with Varro was Optio Julius Grattius who was from Sicily, the port town of Syracuse on the south east coast. He was considered a veteran who had been in the army for nearly as long as Varro, twelve years. He was from equestrian stock from a prominent family in Sicily but had voluntarily joined the army as a legionary. As well as being an excellent rider he was also a good archer and carried his bow with him wherever he went. The other two members of Varro’s part of the contubernium eight man squad, were legionaries Balbus and Verus. Leading the remainder was Optio Gaius Marius with legionaries Facilis, Eprius and Maenius. As they were carrying out a routine patrol they didn’t plan to split the unit as they would ordinarily if they were scouting ahead of a marching column.

Varro had been ordered to ride south and to check on one villa in particular, it was owned by Vanutius Friscus, who lived there with his wife, a number of freedmen and their slaves working the land and raising crops. The local fort had heard nothing of them for some weeks and had been too busy with their own duties to investigate further. After the attack on another villa in the region where the occupants had disappeared completely, and the freedmen were killed, Varro wouldn’t be taking any chances.

It took them the best part of the day to get to the large valley where the farm was located, they hadn’t seen anything untoward on the way and the villa looked quiet as they surveyed it from a distance but that in itself was suspicious. If everything had been normal, the workers would be out in the fields but there were none. The usually light coloured walls looked dark and burnt.

“We’ll go down as far as the external gate where the long straight path starts towards the villa.” Varro said. “Once there Marius, you and your men can wait and the rest of us will go and have a look, understood.” The men acknowledged their order as Varro clicked Staro further down the slope. Nothing moved within the buildings of the villa that they all watched as they approached, nor was there any movement in the surrounding countryside. At the gate Optio Marius and his three men stopped whilst the other four continued slowly forward, their horses barely moving.

Varro’s eyes scanned the walls of the compound. The main gates he saw were wide open. He could make out something on the ground inside but from where he was, he couldn’t identify the shape. Twenty paces from the entrance he stopped and listened but there was nothing to hear except the sound of the country, birds in the distance; the whisper of a slight breeze and the breathing of the horses. Listening again, he heard the sound of flies, lots of flies and knew that was a bad sign. He debated whether or not to dismount and walk the rest of the way but decided against it knowing that if there were hostiles inside, they stood a better chance of getting away if they were mounted. He nudged Staro forward again, pausing at the gate one last time. He could now see a tangle of bodies on the floor and dark stained grass with stones underneath where they lay. Then the smell hit him, pungent, rich and sweet, the smell of rotting flesh. The soldiers quickly removed their neck scarfs and put them over their noses and mouths.

The remains of three people lay inside, hacked to death, two men and a woman. He looked back to make sure Marius and his men were alright, the optio raised his hand. Varro dismounted and led Staro to the stable but it was empty except for hay, presumably put there for the now missing horses. The rest of the men brought their own mounts inside.

“Looks like we’ve found the illustrious Friscus and his wife and one of their men I’d say looking at those injuries.” Grattius said, tying his horse to a wooden fence post.

“Let’s go and have a look round, we’ll leave the horses here for now, Marius will let us know if something happens.” Varro said.

Walking back outside they examined the corpses, they still had their hands tied behind their backs, it was clear they had been executed. Varro pointed to the slaves’ quarters and then at Balbus and Verus who went off to check them. He looked at Grattius and nodded for him to follow as he made his way to the charred residential part of the villa.

He put his hand to his nose trying to stop the smell of burnt flesh and whatever else had been inside, before it was set on fire. The window skins were none existent now, presumably they had caught fire as well, and the walls were pitch black and covered in soot. The only thing that was recognisable but had partially melted, was an old iron standing candle frame, it was bent over where it had succumbed to the heat. Varro led the way into what would have been the freedmen’s quarters, inside were the skeletal remains of at least six bodies, most of the flesh was gone except for a few meaty bits and black scorched bones remained.

“We’ll ride to the nearest fort and report our findings. They can come out and bury the bodies.” Varro said. “I don’t want us hanging about round here any longer than we have to, we’re too few and exposed if whoever did this returns.” He walked outside again and into the sunshine where the air was clearer.

“Nothing in the slaves quarters sir, they’re empty.” Balbus reported.

“I didn’t think there would be. I imagine that whoever attacked the villa either took them along or set them free. This is the second attack of this type and I would guess that at least twenty disgruntled Britons were involved.” Varro said to his men. “Come on let’s get the horses and get out of here.”

“Do you think it’s locals that are responsible for this sir?” Grattius asked.

“I don’t know it’s either a few men slipping away at night or some group coming into the area, either way I’d have thought the patrols would have picked them up. We’ll go to the fort and let them know what we’ve found. We’re going to have to do something about this that’s for sure.”

As the daylight was beginning to fade, they sighted the fort, Statio Deventiasteno Station at the narrows of Deventia, a few miles to the north. It lay on a slight rise amongst flatter ground and was very small, probably only covering about two acres all told. The land around it had been cleared and it stood out against the forests surrounding it, an unnatural feature. Two soldiers stood guard above the main gate and acknowledged the visitors as they rode towards them two abreast along the worn path. The gates were opened and they went inside where a legionary came to greet them, and to take care of the horses. Varro saw that the fort was of typical century layout containing four small barrack blocks for the men, a stables, the latera praetorii in the centre contained the principa headquarters block and the officer’s quarters in the praetorium, adjacent to the barracks was a granary where just outside there was a man sized grind stone and mess facilities. To the rear of the compound was an area set aside for livestock where pigs, chickens and a few sheep lived next to each other in separate pens. The inside of the walls to the exterior, which were originally traditional wooden posts, were re-enforced with thick layers of compacted mud and every twenty feet there were ladders leading to the walkways where the guards patrolled. Over the main gate was a small covered area big enough for four men at a squeeze, where those on duty could shelter from the weather. Four small scorpion torsion catapults were stationed on each corner in the event of attack. They were covered with a wooden roof to provide shelter for their crews that would usually consist of two men on each.

“Centurion Varro!” A voice shouted. He pulled on his reins and caused Staro to stop and leapt down, handing his reins to the soldier.

“Centurion Cammius.” Varro said offering his hand. “I didn’t know you were in command here, I thought you were still at the garrison.”

The two men had known each other for some time but had only met at briefings and in passing. Cammius was a century centurion, infantry born and bred from the fourth cohort and wasn’t usually in a position to mix with the cavalry as he spent most of his time with his men.

They shook hands, “No, I’ve been here for the last month living in the middle of nowhere with the men of my century. It’s incredible how much more you find out about each other when you’re so close.” He smiled. “Too close as far as some are concerned.” Cammius smiled, he wore just his white tunic but still had his sword and dagger attached to his belt.

“Vestius,” he shouted to a legionary, “make sure you look after the men’s horses and then get them some refreshments, I’ll be in my office with Centurion Varro here if you want me for anything.”

“Sir.” Vestius acknowledged.

“Come on, I’ll show you where I spend most of my day.” He turned and led Varro into his office. It was well lit by three large windows. On the wall behind his desk were large maps showing different sections of Britannia, one showed the country overall, another the region where the Second Augusta were at Isca Dumnoniorum, and the last map showed the area around the fort itself detailing the south east of the country and the land pertinent to the forts area of responsibility.

Cammius sat down and indicated for Varro to take a seat at the opposite side of the desk. Vestius knocked at the door.

“Excuse me sir, your wine.”

“Gods balls that was quick Vestius, I hope you’ve looked after those horses and Varro’s men first?” He asked as the legionary handed him a medium sized amphora.

“Tublius is seeing to them sir, he loves em, the horses that is not the men, wants to join the cavalry one day he said. He’s already taken the men to get some food at the cook house.” Vestius answered bowing slightly and leaving the officers in peace.

Cammius poured himself and Varro a drink into plain brown pot cups. “So what did you find at the villa?”

Varro looked at him with little surprise, Cammius added, “I assumed that was your first port of call as we haven’t seen anything of that strange little fella Friscus.” He raised his eyebrows. “Is he dead?”

Varro took a drink, “I think he is, there were three corpses in the courtyard, hacked to death and more inside the building itself, but they’d been set on fire so there wasn’t much left of them. One of the three outside was female and I assume was the wife of Friscus. There was no sign of the slaves and all the horses and wagons were gone from the stables. So, any of our people are dead and all the slaves have vanished, they could be anywhere by now.” He took a sip of wine. “Mm that’s the good stuff. I thought you’d be on the vinegar and piss out here on the frontier.”

Cammius laughed, “It’s not that bad although the thought of being a full day’s ride from Isca keeps you alert I can tell you. We’re just over sixty five miles from help,” he looked at the maps then back at Varro, “but obviously you know that because you rode here.” He looked back at the map showing Isca. “If we were manned with a few century’s as I should be, we’d be able to cover more ground with patrols but I hear the hairy bastards are up to their games all over the province. It means that places like this won’t be up to strength until things quieten down or we get reinforced, which is unlikely to happen for some time.”

“So how are you finding it here?” Varro asked and then finished his wine. Cammius indicated for him to help himself and he filled his cup.

“As things go to be honest not too bad, these little fortlet’s are quite cosy and as I said, you get to know the men a little better.” Cammius began. “We’ve got another two weeks to push and then we’re heading back to Isca, most of the men can’t wait. Apart from patrols we’re obviously confined to barracks, inside its guard duty, training and not much else. The locals come and have a nosey about but these rural areas have no real system of Government so we’re left to our own devices. It’s a shame because I’m told there’s good fishing to be had at the local river.”

“We passed it on the way. Do you have much contact with the auxiliaries at Restormel?” Varro asked.

“Daily as per orders but they’re in a smaller place than us would you believe.” He pointed to the map. “The forts were put here originally to keep an eye on any movement up and down the peninsula which is all well and good, or it would be if we a had a string of them from coast to coast but of course we haven’t yet, early days they say. Constantly the hairy bastards are moving from north to south or vice-versa and we can’t tell who they are really, friend or foe, or what they’re up to. They could be out hunting legitimately or going off to ambush a patrol or attack a villa. The sooner we take all their weapons away the better it will be except for those allied to us, but can we trust them? Maybe things will change now that Friscus has met a grisly end.” He filled his own cup. “Mind you it doesn’t surprise me it happened to be honest, word was, he was treating his slaves like shit and threw a load of Britons off the land he took. Ripped their settlement down and booted them off the land with the help of his freedmen. Sounded like a complete arsehole to me. You can’t expect to come onto someone else’s land and behave like that. Some people have no concept of what they’ve let themselves in for or who they’re dealing with.”

“I’m sure the Governor won’t be happy. Things had just about settled down around here and within the space of a few days we’ve lost two villas, the families that ran them and all the slaves that went with them.” Varro took another sip of wine.

“I take it you’re staying here tonight?” Cammius asked. “There’s no point in setting off back now we’re already losing the light eh?” He swung his head to the window. “May as well have some food, some more wine and get a good night’s sleep, set off first thing.” He looked back at Varro. “What do you say?”

“Good idea because tomorrow we’ll be heading south before we go back to the garrison anyway, see what the locals have to say about the attacks, nothing I should imagine but the question has to be asked.” Varro said taking more wine.

“Vestius.” Cammius turned and shouted. The legionary came scuttling in.

“Yes sir.” He said.

“Centurion Varro and his men will be staying here for the night. Can you arrange bedding and accommodation for them? We’ve plenty of room eh?” He said.

“Yes sir.” Vestius answered.

“Oh and how about one of those pigs? They are ready for eating aren’t they? Bloody things think they own the place anyway and our replacements will be bringing their own stock so we may as well have a feast. Have Cornelius slaughter the fattest one there and tell him to get it roasting on the spit.” Cammius ordered.

“Sir.” Vestius could be heard answering as he shuffled out again.

“That’s very good of you.” Varro remarked, “The men will enjoy that.”

“Think nothing of it, that’s one of the many benefits of being in a place like this you get to choose what and when to eat unlike back at the garrison.” He looked around the room, “Has some benefits a place like this see?” He finished his wine. “Come on I’ll show you around.”

Varro finished his wine and followed Cammius out into the evening sunshine. He saw a thick set legionary leading a fat pig with a carrot into one of the sheds. He assumed that was Cornelius with the night’s dinner.

“I’ll show you the view from up above the front gate although we’re only on a slight rise you’d be surprised at the view.” Cammius said proudly. “The engineers did a good job choosing this location.” He led the way to the gate and then up a fairly steep ladder banked on the rampart. The two legionaries on duty jumped to attention when they saw him.

“At ease, at ease gentlemen, you’ll sprain something leaping up like that.” Cammius said laughing. The men smiled and relaxed. “You see what I mean?” He said to Varro pointing out into the countryside.

He was right about the view, they could see for miles in both directions, to the east Varro could make out the coast. “If you look over there,” Cammius said pointing, “you see that huge bushy tree sticking up from the rest?” He asked.

Varro adjusted his position. “Well,” Cammius said, “that’s where our auxiliary friends are, four miles away as the crow flies. They can see the coast like we can,” he turned to the sea, “well just anyway. Do you see what I mean about more forts? If we just had three more fortlets, we would see everything that moved down here.” He looked around the base, “Mind you that would be doing it properly eh? What do we know we’re only soldiers after all?” He smiled. “Come on I’ll show you rest of the place.”

Later with the unfortunate pig cooked and still roasting, the officers sat at a separate table from the men and dinner began in a room that had been cleared for the occasion. Cammius made a toast to the Second Augusta and Mithras and everyone stood repeating his words. Sixty of the men detached to Statio Deventiasteno were present, the rest were either on the walls or on standby in the small guardroom. They would eat a duty supper later, no doubt consisting of lots of leftover pork. The roasting pig was slowly turned on a large spit by Cornelius as soldiers helped themselves to large pieces of meat using their daggers. Most had served themselves and put fresh vegetables on their plates and were settling down to eat when they were disturbed.

“Sir, sir.” Vestius shouted running into the large room.

“What is it Vestius? This had better be good I’m just about to tuck into this food and I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast you know?” He looked back at his plate, his mouth watering.

“The signal torches have been lit at Restormel.” Vestius reported.

Varro looked at Cammius. He knew that signal flares were only lit in the case of an emergency. “Fuck it.” Cammius said picking up a chunk of pork and stuffing it into his mouth. “Come on Varro let’s take a look, it’s probably nothing, bloody auxiliaries.” The men sat round the tables looked at the centurions expectantly.

“You men stay here for now, if need be I’ll call you out, no point in us all going hungry.” He got up with Varro following. “Vestius you’re with us.” The legionary nodded. Outside the smell of burning wood was faint but clearly discernible in the dark night air. The optio of the guard had called out the reserves from the guardroom and most were now standing looking towards Restormel. Cammius and Varro ran towards the nearest ladder.

“All round defensive positions men, eyes open, mouths shut unless you have anything to report.” He ordered, “Come on move it and get on those fucking scorpions just in case eh? It could be a diversion remember and if you’re all stood with your dicks facing in one direction, the hairy bastards could be scaling the walls opposite.” Cammius shouted whilst climbing the ladder with Varro behind him. Scurrying boots were heard elsewhere running to get into an all-round defensive position.

“Now Optio Travelus,” Cammius asked reaching the top of the ladder, “what’s so important that my dinner has been disturbed, there’s some tasty pork on my plate I’ll have you know. What are those damned auxiliaries up to?”

He didn’t need to get a reply to see what the problem was. Looking out over the now dark countryside, he could see that it wasn’t just the signal flares that were alight, the whole fort was ablaze.

“Fucking hades hole.” Cammius said as he saw flames rising into the night sky.

“Looks like the entire place is on fire.” Varro said.

“The signal flares were lit first, they must have had time to do that before the rest of the place went up sir.” Vestius said.

“Well I would say that whoever took care of that miserable shit Friscus is at Restormel right now.” He looked at Travelus. “Call them out Optio. I want every man with full kit on the walls as soon as possible, armour, pilums and sharp teeth as well.” Cammius said.

“Sir.” Trevalus said acknowledging the order and running to the edge of the wall to shout instructions down.

“There’s nothing we can do for them I’m afraid.” Cammuis said looking at Varro. “You haven’t got enough men and I haven’t got enough horses for us to make a difference if they’re under full scale attack.” He looked back at the flames in the distance. “There’s a full complement of auxiliaries over there, the same amount of men we have here, only they can help themselves now, the poor bastards.” The flames grew and the fire was reflected off the watching faces.

“Even if we went out as a full Century with you in support we could get caught out in the open and cut to pieces.” He said to Varro.

“I’m afraid you’re right, all we can do now is to wait for sunrise.” Varro said confirming his fellow centurion’s words. “Mithras, please help them.”

Dumnoc had chosen his target carefully and had decided on the smaller fort of the two, Restormel. He had managed to gather one hundred and twenty warriors together for the assault and knew there was a risk of re-enforcements coming from the larger installation only four miles away but the enemy wouldn’t know what they faced. He had ultimately thought that although the flames of Restormel would be seen and no doubt their signal indicating that they were being assaulted, he knew the Romans would be wary of venturing out in the dark where they could be ambushed. Nonetheless he had positioned a proportion of his force directly in-between the forts in case the enemy came to the assistance of the Restormel soldiers.

He had waited until the last patrol had returned to Restormel before launching his attack. The fort was small and only a few miles away from the larger installation where full time legionaries were stationed, so he knew re-enforcing this fort in the dark wasn’t viable, it was another reason for deciding upon this one first. Another was that it contained auxiliaries, which he hoped wouldn’t fight to the death or would perhaps surrender. He had observed the fort for a number of days as he always did when carrying out a reconnaissance of a potential target and at one point had walked straight into a patrol who asked what his business was in the area. He had already prepared for such an eventuality and had produced a rod and line and said he was going fishing. He was from the local settlement and had lived here all his life. The patrol had searched him for weapons and upon not finding anything except for a dagger had allowed him on his way.

It was the same patrol he had watched entering the fort as the gates were closed behind them now. He had seen the signal flares and knew that if they were lit before he could get enough people inside, the chances of reinforcements rose significantly, but he was still willing to take the chance that the full time soldiers wouldn’t leave the safety of their walls. Subsequently he had waited until all was quiet except for two soldiers walking the walls, but they were quickly subdued as the first of his warriors had quietly scaled the defences. Here the ground outside wasn’t as well cleared and sterile as the land outside the legionaries fort and scrub and wild plants had allowed them to approach on their stomachs, all twenty of them from the opposite side from where the two guards stood talking together. One auxiliary had been dispatched immediately, his throat cut, the other had run and managed to light the signal flare using a torch, he was killed within seconds afterward.

It was too late to stop another small group of warriors from getting inside Restormel and opening the gates. Dark figures quietly scurried forward from the cover of trees and stormed inside. A shout went up in Latin, followed by the clash of swords which was brief. The fighting inside was carried out clinically and those on duty were silenced as they ran from their guardroom but not before alerting those caught sleeping. Those disturbed from their slumber however, didn’t have time to get their chainmail on. Most were caught inside the barracks where they could do nothing but eventually barricade themselves in. The wooden buildings containing the men were set on fire and burnt instantly, killing the men inside through smoke inhalation before the flames torched their flesh. The armoury was looted of pilums, swords, shields and bows and three scorpion crossbows were taken. The livestock was quickly herded out of the fort and allowed to roam free. They would be rounded up later if possible. Dumnoc didn’t have time to mess about herding them away. He watched as the small exodus of warriors and weapons left the burning fort. He saw one of his lookouts approach from the direction of the other Roman emplacement.

“They were alerted and called to arms but they haven’t left. They are just standing watching the flames.” He reported.

Dumnoc smiled, “Good,” he said, “now let’s move on the larger fort.”

The majority of the stolen weapons were loaded onto wagons and driven away, they would be buried so they could be used later; some were taken by the warriors who ran towards the next target. Dumnoc urged calm in his people as they jogged through the dark night, the flames of the fort behind them casting shadows everywhere, acrid smoke getting lighter.

The warriors stopped inside the cover of the trees looking up at Station Deventia. From this distance they knew the defenders wouldn’t risk wasting their ammunition as they didn’t have a clear target. The helmeted silhouettes of the soldiers on the walls stood around stationary, waiting for the attack they must have known was coming.

“Begin the preparations we discussed earlier.” Dumnoc ordered to those around him, a group of men ran back further into the trees. “We have as long as it takes so there’s no hurry. Their garrison at Isca Dumnoniorium won’t even know there’s anything wrong until their patrol doesn’t return tomorrow and by then it will be too late. Then they’ll wait another day before sending more of their legionaries out to find them.” He said to no-one in particular. Within a short time he heard the reassuring crack of axes begin as they struck tree trunks in preparation for the next phase of his attack. It was his most ambitious plan so far and knew that if he could destroy both forts, and kill all those within, it would send out a message of hope to the repressed population of Britons not only on the peninsula but across the island as a whole.