Legions of the Eagle

by Henry Treece

  So Gwydion spoke to the woman, and showed her the armring that his father had worn at Camulodunum. He told her his family history, and said that his mother was a great lady of the Atrebates, farther along the coast. The stout woman became interested instantly, and together they talked about various people of the Belgae and the Atrebates, and found that Gwydion’s second cousin, Brochwel, was also distantly related to the stout woman’s old chief, Bledyn, who had died only a few months ago when he was knocked from his horse by an overhanging bough on his way to a sacrifice at Camac.

  The stout woman made the boys have some meat which she had cooked, but had not shown them before; then she insisted that they drank a beaker of her best corn wine. She said that it would keep the cold out, and do them no harm. After that, she shut the door and said that if they had said who they were before, she would not have been so rude to them, and told them that her son-in-law often made the voyage across to Vectis, although it was of course illegal, and he could be crucified for doing it if the Romans found out. She said that it would be little extra trouble for him to put the boys ashore somewhere quiet, to the west of Vectis, where the woods ran down almost to the waterside and they would be unobserved. Gwydion said that he would pledge himself to repay the man, and offered his father’s arm-ring as security until the debt was paid; but the woman said she would give him a good slap where it really hurt if he mentioned money in that house again. So the boys stayed with her, until such time as the son-in-law should visit her, when she would arrange with him the voyage they wanted to make.

  It was a very draughty little cottage indeed, its walls needing replastering so badly that the sea-wind seemed to blow straight through the wattle-sticks of which it was composed. But always there was a bright fire burning in the centre of the floor, made up with crackling dry seaweed and driftwood, and, wrapped in skins and thick lengths of woollen cloth which the woman wove herself in her leisure moments, they did not come to much harm from the cold, though it took them some days to get used to the thick smoke with which the hut was always full when the wind was blowing in a certain direction.

  Often at night, when the darkness had settled on the little cliff village, the fishermen and their wives, and sometimes their children, would meet in one house or another, and there would be singing in the firelight, and the passing of the mead-cup, and even music from the pipe or the harp. The boys learned many new songs from these evenings; that is, songs which were new to them only, for in reality some of them were very old tribal songs, dating back to the time when the Veneti were a great maritime people, whose power had made the Romans exert all their severity in wiping them out.

  The month of Januarius had come before the son-in-law put in an appearance, and the lads had come to think that they would never see this elusive young man. It was a bright frosty morning when he turned up, whistling up the side of the cliff, and bringing a bag full of fish for the stout woman, who seemed to think very highly of him, for they hugged each other so long that the boys began to feel embarrassed. Then it turned out that she had reason to be pleased, for the son-in-law brought her the good tidings that she was now a grandmother, and that her new grandson was the very Image of her, with a great mop of red hair already, and the brightest sea-blue eyes anyone had ever seen. The young man boasted proudly that this son would undoubtedly be a great warrior or a great fisherman, for he grasped at anything that was held near him, with a hand that was certainly made either for a sword or an oar.

  Once again the fisher-folk were called in to celebrate these glad tidings, and the mead cup went round the circle so often that no one thought of going out in the boats that day at all.

  In the evening, however, when the house was empty of visitors once more, the stout woman told her son-in-law of the request that the boys, Gaius and Gwydion, had made. To their relief and surprise, he just laughed and said that they couldn’t have come at a better time, for he was intending to sail in a couple of days time, if the tides were right with the wind. He told them that he was taking swords and spears and other important weapons across to the Belgae, who would meet him near Vectis by the light of the moon. He said that since the Romans were pressing them hard, their sword-smiths were unable to replace all the weapons that were needed, and that he performed this service in return for certain things, like grain, and hides, and sometimes even wine, which was difficult to get in that part of Armorica. This son-in-law was a shameless trader, who sold his wares wherever he could make a profit; he did not try to hide this, though he assured the boys that, as far as they were concerned, he did not want any recompense. Though, he added, it would he convenient if both Gaius’ father, and Gwydion’s mother, could give him a piece of paper, on which they said that he had helped them at one time. This might be useful, he thought, should he ever need support from either side. The boys pledged themselves to have such papers made, and sent to him, one day, and so he was contented.

  It seemed to them that the stout woman was a little cross with her son-in-law for this request, for she was obviously more independent than he was; but the boys well understood how, in those troublous times, these fisher-folk had to grasp what opportunities presented themselves, for it was every man’s duty to look after himself and his family, whatever the great military powers were doing.

  However, the next day the stout woman gave them both a thick overjacket of rough tweed, and a package of bread and dried fish, to see them through their voyage. She even added a flask of her most precious corn wine, to warm them up at the night-time, as she said, when the winds blew bitter-chill down that awful, cruel channel.

  So, in the late afternoon of the next day, they left her and walked along the shore with the gay young son-in-law, who told them that this was the quickest way to his boat, which was moored about five miles along the coast, in a tiny inlet which sheltered it from the prying eyes of Rome and her spies.

  The stout woman stood on the cliff-side, in the biting wind, waving to them until they were out of sight, her grey hair blowing across her kind, red face, and her ragged skirts whipped by the chill breeze that came straight from the grey and restless Atlantic.

  5. DEATH TO ALL ROMANS!

  When they saw it, the boys were rather disappointed in the boat which was to carry them over the dangerous winter seas. It rode but five feet or so out of the water, and did not seem the sort of craft to stand up against a vicious deep-sea roller. The son-in-law, who had pointed it out rather proudly, smiled when he saw the doubt in their eyes, and told them that this vessel had made worse voyages, in far worse weather, and that she would doubtless make others just as bad.

  In general form, the boat was a blunt-nosed sloop, perhaps thirty feet long, and carried a square mainsail and a small triangular foresail, made of thin hides, pieced together with stout thread and well-greased for easier furling. Only the rear third of the boat was decked, and in this area the crew had their sleeping quarters. The undecked area of the boat was covered with a rough canvas awning which kept some of the water from whatever cargo she might be carrying. As extra motive power, there were four oars on each side; for use when the boat pulled inshore and sails could not be trusted.

  The boys did their best to settle down away from the wind and the sleety rain below the small deck, crouching among the furs and skins and old woollen garments which the sailors had placed there in preparation for the night. Their guide, the son-in-law, went up on to the deck to talk with a foxy-looking, thin-faced man who seemed to have some authority in the venture and who was busy pulling the helm back and forth to make sure that it had not stiffened up or rusted in its sockets during the boat’s period of idleness.

  The other members of the crew, three sullen-looking longshoremen from another tribe, lounged about, cursing the weather and threatening never to make another trip unless their money was paid to them as soon as the arms were delivered on the other side.

  In all, they did not seem to be a very trustworthy body of men. The boys had yet to learn the type of men who en
gaged in such illegal traffic. Nevertheless, the boat pulled out well enough, some time after the moon rose, and was soon well into deep water. They nibbled at the food which the old woman had given them, to pass the time a little, and wondered how long it would be before they set foot on British soil. They even began to talk of their people, Gwydion of his mother, Gaius of his father; it did not occur to them at that moment that this mother, and that father, belonged to opposite sides in the conflict.

  Then, from above them, at the helm, they heard something which stopped their eating and conversation and brought them up with a jerk. The helmsman said, “But they’re a well set up pair of youths, Gryf. We could get good money for them. How do you know you’ll ever get your piece of paper from the fair-haired one? And what’s a piece of paper? We need money, good hard money… Roman, for preference, though I’m not particular!”

  Only then did the boys realise what danger they had run themselves into, by coming out with men they had never seen before. Then the son-in-law spoke, and his voice had lost some of its carefree jollity, “I’ve told you what I have to do,” he said. “My wife’s mother says they are to be set safely ashore. I must obey her, though I grant you these lads would fetch a good price. So forget it, and watch your steering; the patrols are liable to be out tonight, since there’s a bit of moon.”

  The boys stared towards each other in the dusk, wondering whether Gryf, the son-in-law, would have his way in the end; or whether the crew and helmsman would force him to adopt their plan of taking the boys to some market, to sell them as slaves. Then, suddenly, there was no more time to speculate on their future fate, for a shout from the crew sent the boys running to the side of the boat.

  A mile to the port side they saw a pitch-ball shoot up, a fire flare, to be answered on their other side by another, this time very much nearer.

  “What are they?” asked Gaius.

  “Roman patrol boats, son,” said a sullen seaman, spitting into the water, which was even now coming high up the side of the craft. “We may have to run for it,” the man went on. “Either that or give ourselves up, and hope to escape when they clap us in gaol. We’ve done that before now! Haven’t we, mate?” He addressed a one-eyed villain who lounged beside him, his face grim, but unconcerned.

  “We’d better not do it again,” this man replied. “We’ll lose our ears if they ever catch us again!”

  Gaius looked hard at his friend, thinking that if they were caught, poor Gwydion must take the harder punishment, for he was a runaway slave in the eyes of the law.

  Luckily they found a strong cross-wind which bore them offshore rapidly, and out into open sea. Gwydion saw that they passed close to some small islands on the starboard side, where flares seemed to be lit on hillocks, possibly to serve as beacons for incoming Roman sea traffic, for the invaders liked to have their sea-routes as well-managed as their roads, when they could, and when the barbarians did not douse the flares purposely, so as to make their Roman masters run aground.

  After a while, Gryf came to them and told them to take shelter again. Gaius said, “Is there going to be a fight?” But the man laughed, “No, we shall be striking rough water soon,” he said, as he went back to talk with the helmsman once more.

  “We dodged them,” said the one-eyed sailor. “They won’t come out as far as this; though no doubt they’ll be waiting for us when we come back! But we can deal with that when it happens.” He began to laugh and nudge his companion, who punched him back, rather hard; after which the two rolled about among the cargo, pretending to be angry with each other. The boys could see that these were very hard men, who cared for no enemy, and who fought among themselves if there were no Romans to fight.

  Neither of the lads slept much that night, for the waves rolled the clumsy craft about cruelly, until at last the sails were taken in so that the ship might not heel over completely. Even the sour-faced helmsman said that it was a bad night. But shortly after dawn broke, the boys fell into a deep sleep, partly from hunger and exhaustion, partly from the rocking motion of the craft, which had now settled down to a steady rhythm since it was making little way, and seemed merely to be bobbing up and down on the waters.

  When they woke, it was quite light, but the sea was shrouded by a heavy fog. The son-in-law brought them a bowl of broth, which had been warmed on a brazier lighted on the deck. He told them that it was great good fortune that this mist was so thick, for now they stood less chance of being seen by Roman galleys. The boys noticed that the sails were again set, and that they seemed to be making fair progress, though there was but little wind. The crew lay snoring in various parts of the boat. Gryf said, “They’re tired. They had to do a bit of rowing when you two had gone to sleep. Perhaps you’ll have to do some, too, before we reach Britain!” He laughed and then left them to eat their scant meal.

  Nothing eventful occurred that day. The boys examined the cargo, and saw that it consisted chiefly of rough swords and spear-heads. They handled some of them and decided that they were far inferior to anything that they had seen before, “Beggars cannot be choosers,” said Gwydion. “A warrior needs a weapon immediately; he cannot stop fighting to make one!” Nevertheless, he knew in his own mind that these things would cut a poor figure against the highly tempered and accurate weapons of Rome.

  Towards the bows of the vessel, there were a group of barrels. These contained oil, to be used on the seas as a means of weighing down the waves should they become too troublesome. There were also many quite big boulders, which acted as ballast, since this cargo was but a light one. All told, there was little to attract their attention on the ship, and they spent most of their time lying in the warmth of the underdeck, and consoling each other when sea-sickness threatened—which was often during that day, and especially during the night, when they ran once more into a rough sea.

  On the third day the weather cleared and the seas were kinder. The helmsman handed over his duty to Gryf, the son-in-law, and came to sit with the boys as they ate what they could, shuddering now with the chilly morning breezes.

  “We shall not be long now,” he said. “It has been a quick crossing for the time of year. Gryf and me have been out here when it’s taken us four or even five days to make this trip. You lads are lucky. You must be born for great things!”

  He laughed, yet still Gwydion did not trust him, and felt that should anything happen to Gryf, the helmsman would not have any scruples about selling them into slavery to any bidder, Celt or Roman, Still, he smiled back at the man, and decided to keep a sharp watch on him, all the same.

  As their luck turned out, that was not necessary. By nightfall they skirted the long flat island of Vectis, and ran out to sea a little to avoid any coastwise traffic. Then, as they drew nearer the wooded coastline of the country west of that island, they lay out for a while, at anchor in the shallows, to watch for the arranged signal from the shore.

  It was during this wait that the accident almost happened. A light mist had got up and shrouded the surface of the sea for a height of three or four yards. Almost at the moment when Gryf shouted, “There it is! I can see their flares in the woods!” Gaius glanced over the other side of the sloop to see a sharp-nosed launch pulling towards them silently, half-hidden by the mist. In what moonlight there was, he discerned the gleam of helmets and spears. There was no mistaking the identity of that trim craft; it was a Roman coastal patrol, and it had sighted them well and truly. They could not have pulled up the anchor, much less have got under way before it closed with them.

  The boys were excited then to the point of fear; but the sailors seemed to take it all very calmly. For a moment, Gwydion, who was more accustomed to the treachery of the tribesmen, thought that these sailors might well decide to barter their passengers for their own safety, but he did not confess this fear to Gaius. Instead, he stood with Gryf and the helmsman on the half-deck. They were silent and smiling. The crew were sitting on their haunches below the awning, as though nothing was happening of note.

&n
bsp; “What will you do?” whispered Gwydion, his teeth chattering. The son-in-law grinned and said, “It could be oil; it could be ballast!” Then he began to smile again, and Gwydion did not dare ask for further information.

  Then the Roman boat grated alongside and the officer stood up, his thick cloak pulled up to his chin, but his sword ready in his hand. Gwydion thought that he looked a very harsh man, who would show little mercy towards any enemy of Rome.

  His voice was just as hard as the boy had imagined it might be. “Stand still, all of you!” he called. “Where are you from and what have you aboard?”

  Gwydion saw that there were three archers in the launch, with their bows already drawn, as well as two spearmen, who sat alongside the rowers.

  The boats rocked on the tide, but Gryf stood quite firm, his arms folded and his mouth smiling pleasantly. “We are men of the Veneti,” he said, “and to tell you the truth we are carrying weapons to Britain, for better men than you are! Is that all you want to know?”

  Gwydion heard the Roman officer make an exclamation of anger, then so much happened all at once that he did not see it all. He suddenly felt himself dragged to the deck, and saw that Gryf and the helmsman were beside him. At the same time he heard the arrows whistle harmlessly above their heads. Then, looking down, he saw two of the rough-looking crew pitch a massive boulder over the side of the boat. It landed in the launch even as the archers were fitting the next arrow to their string. The small vessel shuddered and heaved, the archers fell sideways; even the spearmen tumbled across the rowers, their javelins flying wide. The great ballast stone had plunged through the thin shell of the launch, and already the Romans were struggling with the treacherous currents, weighed down by their heavy armour, trying bravely to make their way to the boat and pull themselves up its sides. One man, an archer, got as far as the gunwale, but the one-eyed Celt struck him heavily with a sword from among the cargo and he fell back into the water, without a cry.