by Tanya Allan
I knew I had no chance, as more men than I could count flung themselves at me, eventually disarming me and pinning me to the ground. I had at least managed to knock several of them unconscious in the process. Iona was also taken. I heard the officer calling to his men not to kill either of us.
Battered and bruised, but alive, we were dragged back to officer, who was now dismounted.
I stood tall and proud, meeting his eyes and waiting for his reaction.
He was younger than I anticipated, as I had forgotten that high ranks in the Roman army were often bought by wealthy parents for their aspiring youths. He was perhaps in his early twenties, with brown hair that had an unnatural curl. His armour was gaudy, denoting his rank of Tribune.
Standing five foot six, he was shorter than I by a good six inches; I also noted that his hair was already thinning. He had a petulant look about him, but possessed hard eyes.
Just behind him stood another officer; a senior centurion. My memory data on badges and marks of ranks were hazy, but I think he was a Primus Pilus. This was the most senior centurion rank, denoting he commanded at cohort level. This was a different breed entirely. I immediately recognised in him a kindred spirit. His armour and equipment was sturdy and functional, a contrast to the almost theatrical appearance of his commander.
He was older too, by at least ten or fifteen years. With his helmet on, it was hard to judge age, but his weathered face and gnarled hands indicated many seasons of battle and a lot of living out of doors.
A stocky man, a few inches taller than the Tribune, his whole demeanour was different. For a start, he wasn’t as dark as his superior. This man did not originate on the Italian peninsular. His colouring was far fairer. His skin was tanned, and what hair I could see seemed to be light brown. He was a career soldier, probably having risen in the ranks to his current level due to hard graft and being one of the best at his job.
He regarded me with a different expression than the young and proud Tribune. His expression immediately reminded me to Roger, that fist day I met him in the library at the manor.
He appraised me as I appraised him, breaking off when his commander spoke.
“Get me someone who can speak their filthy tongue,” he said to the centurion in Latin. His voice had a whiney edge to it, like a teenager who wanted his own way. I disliked him immediately.
“A man’s tongue is only filthy if the person who speaks is filthy,” I said, in perfect Latin.
The young man gaped at me in surprise, while the centurion smiled in genuine pleasure, nodding imperceptibly to me.
“How do you speak our language, wench?” the tribune asked.
“Because it pays to know your enemy, Tribune Gallinas. That is why a group of women could attack and affect the release of over two hundred warriors with hardly a casualty.”
I noticed the centurion look away, so as not to laugh aloud in front of his superior. Gallinas did not notice, as he went bright red in anger and moved to strike me.
Standing straight and staring at him, showing no fear I smiled at him.
“So, you want to show how tough you are by hitting a woman who is bound by ropes?” I said.
He stopped in his tracks, confused, but then he surprised me by bursting out laughing.
“By the gods, Gaius, have you ever encountered such a spirit before?”
“No, sir, not that I can recall.”
“What do they call you, woman?”
“I am known as Layla, but you may call me My Lady.”
Again, the centurion smiled, but at least Gallinas took it well, laughing some more.
“How can you show such spirit? I mean, you’re a captive of Rome, and I could order you killed simply by snapping my fingers.”
“How many men do you want to lose in the process, Tribune Gallinas?” I asked.
“You think you’re that good?” he asked.
“No, I don’t think I’m that good. I know I’m that good.”
The young upstart from Rome stood there, with a supercilious expression and his hands on his hips. He wore a sword, but I doubt it had left its sheath, and even if it had, I very much doubted that the pretty looking thing had been used for real.
Without turning, he asked the centurion,
“Have you a champion in the First Cohort?”
“Aye sir, Fenius.”
“Get him up here,”
“Now sir?”
“Now, yes, now. I want this warrior bitch to see what real men are like!”
“Be careful, Roman, whom you call a bitch. Were not the founders of Rome suckled on the teats of a wolf bitch?”
Gallinas regarded me with a degree of uncertainty in his eyes, while the grizzled centurion couldn’t hide the smile that played across his lips.
“They told me you carried a Roman sword. How came you by this weapon?”
“The fool who carried it no longer needed it,” I said.
Iona, who had been standing beside me in ignorance during this exchange in Latin, stared at the young Tribune in his resplendent uniform.
“Can this pretty peacock fight?” she asked me.
“No, he is supposed to be a leader, but in reality he is just a figurehead. The real leading and fighting is done by the man behind him,” I replied in her language.
“What did you say to her?” Gallinas said.
“I was telling her that you are not a real soldier, as you get others to fight for you.”
This one went home, so I watched the two spots appear on his cheeks as anger cut through reason. He drew his sword and advanced towards me once more.
The centurion held his sword arm.
“Sir, you can’t, not an unarmed and bound woman!”
For a moment, I could tell the younger man was trying to move his arm, but the centurion was too strong.
Finally, he relaxed, re-sheathing his sword. I had been right; it was a pretty thing, very shiny and completely unblemished by any form of fighting.
“No, you are right, Gaius, I was foolish to let her goad me so. Is your man coming?”
“Aye sir, but what do you intend?”
“I think that it is time that this woman, with all her airs and graces, is taught to respect the might of Rome, and the supremacy of men!”
“Sending a seasoned veteran against one unarmed woman is hardly a learning exercise, unless it is to show that we are fools.”
Gallinas didn’t like this, and turned on his centurion.
“Remember your place, Gaius, and curb your tongue.”
“Sir, you may hold command, but I have to maintain it. If you lose face, then the morale of the men will suffer. I need men who will fight without hesitation or questions, so you decide; how do you want your army to behave?”
Gallinas was obviously torn; for his pride was hurt and that was over-riding his ability to reason. As he calmed down, he began to understand what his centurion was trying to tell him.
“Very well, bring out the training weapons,” he said.
It was a relief, actually, when I saw who had been classed as their champion, as they’d made the same mistake as so many, having selected size and strength over agility and skill.
He was a big man, over six-five, so in Roman terms, a veritable giant. His complexion was dark, indicating more than just a touch of the African - with a chest like a barrel. I immediately revised my initial impression, for, as he took his armour off, I noted that he was well-muscled and lean. Perhaps he wouldn’t be as slow as big men often are.
His expression was one of genuine reluctance and discomfort. On seeing me, he looked first to the commander and then to the centurion for confirmation that he was to really fight a woman.
The legionaries from his cohort formed a circle with their shields, shouting words of encouragement, more of a sexual nature than of a combative. This was seen as good sport, for all, bar a few, were smiling and teasing their comrade.
A soldier stepped forward and loosened my bonds. I stood a moment, flex
ing my cramped and bruised muscles. Then I went through a series of stretching exercises, to bring some life back into this superb machine-like body. Having been present during the design stage, I had asked for some extra strength, over and above that they had given Jane. I had also insisted in downloading as many martial arts skills, sword skills and anything else that could possibly be useful.
The soldiers went silent as I ran through some of the more extreme exercises, such as standing straight, and stretching one leg vertically and holding it for several seconds, before changing over.
Given that I was dressed in little more than rags, as they’d removed any leather armour that I had worn, I could see the affect that I had upon the men. I smiled, as this must class as the most ultimate form of gamesmanship.
Another soldier appeared with two wooden swords. He threw one to land at my feet and gave the other to the champion – Fenius.
“You really want me to kill this man with this?” I asked, picking up the sword. It was little more than a toy.
Gallinas ignored me, turning instead to Fenius.
“Teach this wench a lesson in manners. I would have her disarmed and soundly spanked with the flat of your sword; understand?” he said.
Fenius was clearly unhappy and looked to me for some sort of help. I had to laugh as he looked so miserable.
“Fenius, what say you that we get rid of these toys, as I’m sure we’ll get some horrible splinters? Besides, if you’re to spank me, then that’s the last place I want a splinter!” I said, lifting one leg and spanking myself on the buttock.
This raised a cheer from the circle of men and the many more that crowded round to watch.
I threw the sword over their heads and into some bushes that lay beyond them.
“In any case, I don’t need a weapon to beat any man.”
Fenius looked to his centurion, who nodded. His sword fell to the earth and he half-heartedly took up a combat stance.
He never saw my kick. It wasn’t designed to hurt, just to shock, and it succeeded.
He suddenly became more alert and took me seriously.
“The art of good combat is to use the strengths of your opponent against them,” I said, as he rushed in to try to grapple me.
In the way he held his arms, he told me that he was a wrestler, not a boxer or athlete. So, ducking and avoiding his grasp, I grabbed his arm and, using his momentum, threw him onto his back, dancing clear and laughing. On laying hands on him, I could feel the hard muscles in his arm. He was a big boy, but I was better!
It was a shame to humiliate him, really, as it was not he who I wanted to shame, but his commander. With that in mind, I cut short the display by some rapid kicks and punches, rendering poor Fenius unconscious on the ground in but a few seconds. There was a moment’s shocked silence from the soldiers, but then they raised an enormous cheer for me.
Picking up his discarded wooden sword, I rolled him onto his stomach and spanked his unconscious behind once for effect. Then I threw it at Gallinas, who was forced to duck. The weapon was caught by the centurion who had a congratulatory grin on his face.
Instead of being upset or angry, Gallinas had developed a shrewd and perspicacious expression.
“Get that fool up and get him out of my sight,” he said. “You, woman, I want to know more about you.” Turning to the centurion, he said, “Have her hands bound and bring her to my tent.”
The soldiers seemed in high spirits, but it wasn’t to last. For instead of ordering the advance to recoup their lost captives and finally defeat the Brigantes Tribe, Gallinas told them to be ready to return to the fort at Eboracum. It was still early summer, despite the damp weather, so a good month of campaigning time was left to them to achieve victories and glory, not to mention pillage and loot! By ordering a return, the potential booty was denied the men.
His tent was a two chambered affair. The rear portion was obviously his sleeping quarters while the front portion was where he conducted his meetings.
He sat on a folding wooden and canvas chair. With his armour removed, he looked even weedier and younger. He wore a simple tunic with gold trim and was bathing his feet in a bowl when I was hauled into his presence.
He waved the two soldiers away. As they left, the centurion entered the tent. He’d taken off his helmet, and looked even more like a modern soldier than before. His close cropped hair was almost to his scalp. His hair was sandy coloured, another indicator of more northern European roots. He and Ed would have been drinking buddies in a different epoch.
Our eyes met and a gleam of respect seemed to flash between us. Unlike Roger, this was not a sexual thing, simply two professionals acknowledging each other.
I stood with my hands bound to my front. The knots were tight, but I knew that only a little effort on my part would render them useless.
Gallinas regarded me for a moment. I stood with my chin held up, keeping a superior smile on my face.
“Where did you learn our language?” he asked.
“In school,” I said.
He frowned.
“What manner of people educate their women?”
“A people with more foresight than the Romans. Did you not know that all men and women are equal?”
“Don’t be ridiculous; how can we be equal to mere women? How many men have you seen with child?”
“I said equal, not the same. Is ignorance a Roman quality? For if it is; then I think that you have it in abundance.”
Gaius, the centurion, pulled a short stool out from the edge of the tent, unfolding and sitting on it. He said nothing but regarded me with interest and a smile on his weathered face.
“You did not answer my question, woman. Where did you learn my language?” Gallinas asked.
Shaking my head sadly, I answered him, trying to place as much pity in my words as I could.
“If you recall, I answered perfectly well, it was only you did not like that answer, so that would indicate you asked the wrong question.”
In anger, he stood; looking ludicrous with his bare feet in a bowl of water. I couldn’t help it, I laughed. Gaius made it worse by joining me.
“Do you not realise how dangerous it is to insult me?” he asked.
“I speak only the truth. If the truth insults you, then perhaps it is not an insult, but a means by which you could rectify a fault.”
He stood there, with his hands by his side. I watched as he clenched and unclenched his fists, trying desperately to seek a way to deal with me. I took the initiative.
“Look, Tribune Gallinas, I’m tired, sore and probably smell like a horse. Ask what you will, and I’ll try to answer you. I ask one thing in return?”
“What?”
“Treat me as an equal, not as some ignorant savage.”
“You an equal?” he said, laughing. He glanced at Gaius, and stopped laughing when he saw his colleague’s expression.
“Your thoughts, Gaius; on this uppity wench?”
“Tribune, in my experience, it often pays to take a cautious route when in unknown territory,” Gaius said, meeting my gaze.
The younger man frowned.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Think, this woman is not some simpering wench from Rome, or a slattern barbarian whore who will smile at you one minute and slit your throat after you spill your seed into her belly. I have to say that she is as unknown to me as much as these mysterious and very damp isles. I say treat her with respect, and perhaps you may make progress. Ignore her, and you’ll find the fight will be hard and probably longer than you expect.”
All the while he spoke to the Tribune he maintained eye contact with me. It was my turn to nod imperceptibly at him.
“You would give me your word that you will not try to escape or harm any of us if I loosen your bonds?” Gallinas asked.
“You would accept my word, Tribune?” I asked.
He smiled, shaking his head in wonder at my nerve.
“I would.”
“I would not accept yours; for I know that you would break it in a moment of you believed it was to your advantage.”
He looked pained for a moment.
“I ask you this. Why should I try to escape now, having gone through all that trouble to be captured?” I asked.
Both men gaped at me.
“You think I was overcome by superior force at arms? Think again, think back to what happened. Did I really have to take on the whole contingent almost single handed? What purpose was the attack on you in any case, to win a great victory?”
“To free the men?”
“Why bother? In five years time your legions will be all over this land, imposing the rule of Rome so effectively that only a few barbarians in the north and west will pay you no heed. You will be here for four hundred years, so long after you and I have passed to a better place.”
“You are a soothsayer now?”
“No, a student of history. I know how the machine of your empire works. There was no strategic advantage to be had in our attack. Yes, the men were freed. That gave them and their families great comfort and boosted their morale for but a short time. I accept that my action on the bridge delayed you for perhaps a day. That is sufficient for the tribe to scatter, so you were right to order a recall, as your men would be fumbling about in these woods for weeks without finding an enemy settlement. They would withdraw as autumn settled in with no loot or plunder, so they might grumble today, but it is a fraction of what would happen in a few months. No, my purpose was different. I need to be taken to Rome.”
Both men stared at me, with confusion flickering across their faces.
“By the gods, why?”
“I have a destiny to fulfil.”
Gallinas’s bare feet had dried in the air, so he strapped on his sandals once more. Then he stood and came up close to me, wrinkling his patrician nose.
“You were right about one thing. You smell like a horse.”
“I told you.”
The Tribune stood, with his hands on his hips.
“You un-nerve me, woman. I know not how to manage you. I fear you will have to remain bound, for I am troubled by your singular lack of fear.”