“You’re certain of this?”
“It can easily be verified, but it will become very plain, very soon, if you prefer to doubt me and simply wait for what is-sss to come.”
Lucius considered what information about the rebellion and its leader were worth to him. His men would never be able to penetrate the secret networks of the natives, but the hooded figure might. If he was going to make an agreement, he was going to make sure that he could squeeze out every bit of value from it. “Here is what I propose to you, Takud,” he began, leaning forward and using his most commanding tone. “In exchange for ensuring that the entire wood on the other side of the channel from the garrison at Cardiff remains unoccupied, you will continue to monitor and report to me concerning this rebellion and this Owain who leads it, understood?”
“We have struck an agreement,” Takud responded.
“Very well,” Lucius answered. “You are dismissed.”
The hooded figure let another of the creepy, chuckling sounds come from his faceless voice and then turned to leave.
Chapter Three
The boats moved quietly up the channel under the cover of darkness. Owain had waited for a night when there was no moon to betray them to the sentries on the garrison walls. The men guiding the boats needed little more than the stars to light their way as they rowed noiselessly toward the lumbering shadow of the Cardiff garrison.
Owain had been more successful that he thought that he’d be when it came to raising a force of men to go against the Roman fortress. He had considered, initially, taking on a smaller outpost, but once he saw the numbers that had come to him in the wood and who were ready to assemble, he’d decided to attack the strongest fort in Silures.
It was an enormous risk and might cost them dearly, but if they succeeded in their venture, it would draw every able bodied man in Wales to their cause, perhaps even the Ordivicians and Demetaens to the cause of casting off their oppressors. With such an amalgamation of the ancient tribes, the Romans, who were struggling to maintain their empire, would be hard pressed to contain them and they would finally be able to drive the invaders from their land.
Using a tactic which proved successful in the Highlands of Scotland, Owain had divided his forces into four groups. They would attack the fort from the direction of each of the four winds and they would draw the Romans out of their fort. Just as the Scots had done, they would retreat into the surrounding woods and hills and get the Romans to pursue them. Once they had them on the Legions divided into smaller forces and out in the open, they’d pick away at their numbers until they wiped them out. The tactic had worked well in Scotland and, from what Owain had heard from his ancestors, had been similar to the way that the Silurians had fought them when they first invaded.
In spite of how, Cairn had tended to insult the proud men whenever he spoke to them about taking back their land, he had stirred them to step up to the challenge and a rather large contingent of the group had wanted to be a part of the division that the wolfish Scot led. It was he who would drive toward the main gate and pick at the garrison until its soldiers spilled out to pursue him.
Two other leaders had been selected to lead two more groups and Owain was in charge of the group that would slip in from the channel and enter the nearly deserted fort after the Legions had been sent out in pursuit of the others. They would raise their own banner over the fort and announce to all of the people of Wales that the rule of the Romans had met its end.
The boats pulled silently through the water past the fort and then made their way into the shore. They pulled the boats into the wood above the shore and waited in silence as the first glow of the coming dawn began to light the eastern horizon. They would stay in hiding until the other three forces attacked the fort at dawn and the Legions spilled out in pursuit of them.
“You’re sure it will work?” The smith who had been so vocal in the wood during one of those many summoned gatherings had insisted on being with Owain and no one else. Owain had come to trust the big man, knowing that though he had arrived at his decision slowly, once it was made, he would see it through to the end.
“It will work,” Owain replied.
“What if someone has betrayed us?” the smith asked.
Owain did not respond. He didn’t want to consider such a thing, not among his own people. He knew them and they knew him. He knew that their own devotion to their tribe would never waver. There would be no loose tongues among them, even among those who had chosen not to be a part of the rebellion. He pushed the idea out of his mind and focused on the gate that would appear as dawns light broke over the fort. It would be through that gate that he would lead his force. They would hoist the banner of Silures and announce their freedom.
Though it was long in coming, when dawn arrived, its peace was shattered by the clamoring of war. The rebellion had begun. He and his forces, still undiscovered, watched on as the agonizingly slow process of their battle plan took shape. The Silurian forces took some casualties, but had managed to remain intact long enough to finally draw the Roman Legions out of the fort in pursuit of them.
“You plan is working, sir,” the smith pointed out with a broad grin on his face.
“It is far from being executed to its fullest,” Owain replied. In spite of the fact that it could still fail miserably, it was difficult to deny the smile that grew on his face as he saw the tail of the column pass through the gates in pursuit of his fellow rebels, cross the open ground and disappear into the woods beyond. He was certain that it wouldn’t be long before the fort would be his to command. He whispered a command, which was passed quietly among the men, “Make ready.”
The group that followed him knew that once the command had been given, they would need to be prepared to move the moment they saw their leader start toward the fort. They would remain silent and move as quickly as possible across the open ground, hoping to go undetected as the entire fortress was focused on the other three attacking forces. They would slip through the gate and peel off in four different directions taking down any resistance that remained.
Owain looked over his shoulder at the group of men that was spread out through the wood behind him. There was fear in their eyes, but they were eager as well. Some of them might spill their blood in the battle that was to come, but it would not be spilled in vain. It would be blood that purchased the freedom of Silures; its value greater than the gold for which the Romans raped their land.
Facing the fort again, Owain took a deep breath and started forward. They were well across the open ground between the wood and the fort when Owain stopped to take a glance up at the wall. There was no sentry present. He had hoped that they would be very close to the wall before they had been spotted and had prepared the men to make their rush the moment the warning was called out. It seemed odd to him that no sentry had seen them and no call had gone out.
Instead of worrying over what was turning out to be more successful than planned, he urged his men forward at a faster pace, hanging back to watch as things developed before him and trailing along behind them. His plan was working out perfectly, until he saw movement out of the corner of his eye to the far right.
Chapter Four
“It’s a trap!” Owain screamed as loud as he could raise his voice, suddenly understanding why he had seen no sentry atop the wall and why they had been able to travel so far across the open ground unmolested. “Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!”
His command was repeated over and over again, though several of his force had already slipped through the gate before Owain had sounded the alarm. They had were quickly mowed down by the forces that were waiting for them there. From that point forward, it was a deadly race for Owain and his force of rebels.
The movement that had tipped Owain off had been the sight of a Roman horseman, prematurely allowing himself to be seen at the edge of the wood. The Roman Legionnaires that had gone in pursuit of the other force, had only ridden far enough to be out of sight and then had turned around and waited
for Owain and his force to make their assault on the fort. It was obvious that someone had told them of their plan.
Owain had little time to consider who it might be, however, because the horsemen were coming fast toward him as the troops from inside the fort gave pursuit and others suddenly appeared on the wall to rein arrows down upon them. As they sprinted toward the woods and the boats that would take them out into the channel and out of reach, Owain heard the ragged breath of someone following at his heels, with a quick glance over his shoulder, he recognized the smith. He runs well for a big man.
A few more than two dozen, of the hundreds which had been in his force, made it to the safety of the woods and hurried to launch the boats. Owain joined them in getting the boats into the water as he listened to the sound of thundering hooves coming ever closer. The boats were in the water and those manning the oars were rowing as fast as they were able, putting distance between themselves and the shore. By the time those who had been mounted reached the shore, Owain’s small band was beyond the toss of a spear. A few arrows were launched by those that carried a bow, but they did little damage and the boats continued to move out into the channel.
Looking back toward the shore, Owain locked eyes with the Legionnaire commander. The man was furious at having missed his chance to capture him. In that long moment, as the man glared at him across the water, Owain knew that the man had already resolved to hunt him down. With a nod of his head and a smirk on his face, Owain returned the challenge. That’ll be the day, Roman scum.
“Straight across the channel,” he called out, directing them to stay well away from the shore near the fort. He was certain that the Romans would not pursue them, but would keep a close eye all along the shoreline and waiting for them to land. The Exmoor Wood across the channel was their best hope for escape. Before either a boat could cross the channel toward them or troops might be alerted in Glastonbury, the band would have disappeared in the woods and been impossible to find.
That is exactly what happened. Drawing the boats ashore, they traveled deep into the woods before stopping at a spring to quench their thirst.
“What happened?” the smith asked. He was giving voice to the question that was on everyone’s mind, including Owain.
“We’ve been betrayed,” Owain responded through clenched teeth. Though he couldn’t figure out who might have done such a treacherous thing, the outcome of their plan had declared the obvious. He had been very careful; they all had, but somehow, the Romans had gotten the details of their plan and set a trap for them. Had that one, too eager horseman not given them away… Owain shook his head at the thought of what would have become of them all.
“Who among us would have done such a thing?” one of the others asked.
“Who indeed?” Owain growled, searching the faces of each of them for any sign of guilt. He found none. Perhaps whoever it was who had betrayed them was lying dead on the open field outside the fort or among those that had been captured. Worse even than that, however, he feared that whoever it had been might be enjoying a hardy breakfast inside the fort and laughing at the Sirulian’s folly.
“What do we do now?” the smith asked, interrupting Owain’s train of thought.
Owain considered the answer for a moment. “We’ll split up and hide in the wood. After sunset, make your way home under the cover of darkness. I need all of you to stay alive and be in your homes or at your work on the morrow. They will do their very best to identify us, but we must not make it easy for them.”
“What of the rebellion and taking back our land?”
“This isn’t over,” Owain spat. “I’ll find whoever betrayed us, deal with him and then summon all of you once more. As long as I live and breathe, Silures will fight for its freedom. Even if I’m the only one left to fight.”
“I’ll fight with you,” each of them said in turn as they came to him, said their goodbyes and disappeared into the wood in different directions. He looked into each of their eyes, knowing that some of them might not ever make it home. He was sorry for what their families would endure without them and he felt an enormous ache for having failed them. He would be hunted, but like a crafty stag, he would stay out of their reach until he could find a way to gather together his people once more and fight for their freedom. How he was going to do that was far from his mind as he watched all but one of the band disappear into the woods.
“You’re not going?” he asked the smith, who still stood beside him.
“I’m sticking with you,” the big man replied.
“You can stick with me until darkness falls, but then you have to go back to your family,” Owain replied. “You can’t stay with me. I’ll be known wherever I go and that will put you and your family in grave danger.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll crawl into a hole until they stop searching for me and then I’ll call everyone to try again.”
Chapter Five
“Is the leader among those who were captured, Marcus?” Lucius questioned the Legionnaire as he walked into his chamber to give his report.
“He is not, sir,” Marcus replied.
“How can you be so sure?” Lucius asked. “It isn’t uncommon for a commander to hide himself among his army to avoid being discovered.”
“I am certain that I saw him escape in one of the boats, sir.” Marcus would never forget how their eyes locked over the water that separated them as the Owain of Silures drifted beyond his reach. There was a challenge issued to him in that mocking smirk.
“If he’s in a boat, then he must come to shore somewhere.” Lucius was pointing out the obvious, but he was one who never assumed anything. “Do we have patrols set up to capture them when they come ashore?”
“They went across the channel and into the wood,” Marcus replied. “I accompanied troops to follow them, but they had dispersed into the woods. I did not want to risk having the Pict tactics used against us, so I ordered their boats destroyed and pulled my men back.”
“We’ll start a thorough search of all of the villages in the morning,” Lucius ordered. “We’ll see who is missing and start to put together a list of the rebels.”
“It has already been ordered, sir.” Marcus replied.
“Very good. We need to find out everything we can about this Owain who leads them,” Lucius ordered. “Get the prisoners talking by whatever means necessary.”
“Interrogations have begun already, sir,” Marcus answered.
“Track down Takud as well,” Lucius added, trying to think of every strategy necessary to keep the Silurian rebellion from gaining any foothold.
“Takud, sir?” Marcus asked.
“The man, dark elf, demon, or whatever sort of creature he was, which provided the information about the pending attack and its details to us,” Lucius responded.
“He proves fairly difficult to find himself, sir.”
“I suppose you’re right, but see if you can find him anyway,” Lucius replied. “Perhaps he came across some of the rebels wandering around in the wood that he wanted so desperately.”
“As you wish, sir,” Marcus responded.
“That will be all, Marcus,” he said, dismissing the Legionnaire.
Marcus did not budge from his position. It was a sign that he had something else to say, but he would not presume to speak his mind without an invitation from Lucius. Lucius let him stand for nearly a minute before he finally addressed him. It was his way of allowing his subordinate to consider carefully whatever argument or request he was about to make.
“You have permission to speak, if you so wish, Marcus,” he said finally.
“I would like permission to lead the hunt for this man.”
“Personally?” Lucius asked.
“Personally,” Marcus replied.
“Why?”
“Honor, sir.”
“Honor?”
“Yes. He challenged me personally and I must respond to it.”
“Your request is denied, Marcus. Y
ou are a leader of a Legion. You are not to leave your men to their own devices just to respond to a challenge. Use your men to get your satisfaction.”
“It is not the same, sir.”
“It will have to be sufficient. I will not grant your request. That is all.”
Marcus did not press his point further. He wasn’t happy about Lucius’ response, but it would do him no good to press him on it. He turned on his heel and strode toward the chamber doors.
***
Since Owain had parted with the smith when darkness fell six days before, he’d had little to eat and had been steadily on the move from one hiding place to the next. Though any of the homes in Silures would have welcomed him, those that belonged the tribes of Cornovii might not be nearly as sympathetic. He did not need someone who hoped to gain favor with the Romans to betray him.
He stuck near the coast and moving toward the west, but kept back away from it and well hidden during the day time. To travel to the east, though it was the best way to return to Silures, would put him right in the net of the hunters.
At night, he would come out of hiding and scavenge whatever he could find to eat along the shore, though it was mostly shellfish and small crabs that provided little sustenance. He came to recognize a particular barge that would appear from around a headland to the west in the early morning hours of one day, cross the channel and return the following day in the evening. It would not go out the following day, but would leave the second morning after.
The Dragon (Sons of Camelot Book 3) Page 2