The singing petered out. The first of the roast meat was cut from the pig and a woman brought up another flask of mead. As she bent down a man grabbed her by the arm and fondled her arse. With a swift slap in the warriors face she freed herself and escaped to raucous laughter. Corbulo nudged the man sitting next to him. The warrior was one of the men whom had confronted him at the edge of the village. He looked pissed. Mead had dribbled into his beard.
"I am here to find my son. He is a Roman soldier," Corbulo shouted into the man's ear, "He may have come through here late last year. Do you know anything about a Roman? He was a cavalryman. His name is Marcus. He has red hair. He can speak your language just like I can. Maybe someone enslaved him?"
The man swayed slightly and for a moment Corbulo thought he was going to be sick.
"Not around here," the man replied hoarsely, "But there is a rumour that Dougal the druid is keeping someone locked up in that well of his."
The man opened his mouth and emitted a large burp.
Corbulo stared at him. "What did you just say?" he cried.
Just then someone grabbed Corbulo by his neck and tried to heave him up onto his feet. A drunken warrior stood before him grinning foolishly. The man was huge but too much drink had caused him to lose his coordination. His hand lost its grip around Corbulo's neck and he staggered backwards narrowly missing the fire. Corbulo ignored the drunken fool. His eyes were fixed on his neighbour.
"Where can I find this well, where can I find this Dougal?" he cried.
His neighbour was laughing but not at Corbulo. He was looking at the drunken brute beside the fire. The warrior was coming towards Corbulo again.
"Roman, on your feet. I want to speak to you," the man shouted slurring his words. He leaned forwards and made another grab for Corbulo's throat. A blast of bad breath struck him in the face. Corbulo leapt to his feet and smashed his fist into the man's jaw. Then he stepped forwards and slammed his foot into the man's crotch.
"Leave me alone you fucking arsehole," Corbulo roared.
The warrior made a whimpering noise. Then he collapsed onto his back. There was a moment of complete silence in the house. Then the warriors bellowed with laughter and excited shouts. The warrior whom Corbulo had struck lay on the straw floor, whimpering and gasping for breath as he pressed his hands to his crotch. Corbulo gave him an angry look before sitting down. He turned to his neighbour. The man was laughing too.
"Where can I find this Dougal? Where is this well?"
The man opened his mouth, "You know nothing do you. Dougal is our blood enemy. Soon we are going to kill him and his people."
"Where does he live?" Corbulo said with growing irritation.
"His village is called Bannatia. It's on a peninsula to the east," the warrior cried above the noise in the house, "Its fortified by three ditches and a strong wall. The sea surrounds the place on three sides. The well is inside the village. No one has ever managed to capture Bannatia. We are going to be the first."
Corbulo sat back. His eyes widened. He could feel his heart pounding away. He wiped the sudden sweat from his forehead and fumbled for the flask of mead. He took a long drink. Bannatia, the Caledonian fort on the headland sticking out into the sea. The cavalry sword, the spatha had been purchased from a man from the same place. Could the blade have once belonged to Marcus? The Prefect had confirmed that there were no cavalry units in the area. Corbulo turned to stare at his neighbour. The man was still laughing and paying him no notice. No one saw the flush of sudden excitement that had appeared on Corbulo's face. In the morning he would set off to find this Caledonian fort on its headland.
***
Corbulo was woken by a painful kick to his shoulder. It was morning and he lay curled up on the floor of the house. He glared and was about to cry out in protest when he saw six men standing over him. They looked sober and serious.
"Get up!" one of them snarled.
Corbulo rose to his feet and rubbed his shoulder. He stiffened as he caught sight of the big man whom he had kicked in the balls. The Caledonian was sober and his face was sullen and vengeful. A reddish bruise on his right cheek marked the spot where Corbulo had hit him.
"What's this about?" Corbulo muttered, "I said I was a friend."
The men moved to surround him. They looked unfriendly and Corbulo suddenly noticed that all of them were armed.
"This man here claims you insulted him last night," one of the warriors said gesturing at the big man with the bruise. "He has called you out to single combat. What is your answer?"
"Single combat? You are joking?" Corbulo exclaimed.
Agricola had forbidden single combat in his army when he'd become Governor. Corbulo's laughter ceased abruptly as he saw that the men around him were serious.
"You snivelling piece of goats liver," the big man sneered, "are you too afraid to accept my challenge? Well what can a man expect from a Roman coward. You are not a man, you are a weed under my foot. I am going to crush you."
Corbulo took a step back in alarm. He glanced around at the men.
"What if I say no?" he said quietly.
"You don't say no. You have insulted this man. He has the right to try and take vengeance for that insult," one of the men growled.
Corbulo looked around at the sleeping men on the floor and at the pig carcass and the dead fires. They were not going to let him go.
"Then I accept your challenge," Corbulo replied quietly. He raised himself to his full height but even so his head only came up to the man's jaw. He turned on his challenger. "Well you are a right piece of maggot shit aren't you," Corbulo muttered angrily. "So how are we going to settle this?"
The man with the bruise grinned.
"Each of us may choose just one weapon. The fight is to the death," he said.
Corbulo looked away. How had he managed to get himself into this mess. The Prefect had warned him about insulting the Caledonians. These barbarians took any insult, real or perceived, extremely seriously. Now he was locked into a fight that he didn't want or need. But he had to stay calm. Any show of weakness would just make his opponent more dangerous.
***
It seemed as if half the village had followed them to the meadow above the cliffs beside the sea. Corbulo had been forced to hand over his bow and arrows. That just left him with his Gladius. He strode up to the edge of the cliffs and peered down. The sea boiled and smashed into the rocks far below. There would be no escape that way. He turned and strode back into the centre of the grassy field. Corbulo looked angry and tense. His opponent was preparing himself. The warrior was holding an axe. The villagers had gathered around them in a semi circle. Some were calling out encouragement to his opponent. No one was shouting in Corbulo's defence. Was this where his long journey was going to come to an end? Just when he had a solid lead regards Marcus. Corbulo kicked at a turf of grass and glanced at the warriors axe. It was the weapon he dreaded. He had seen the damage they could inflict and it was horrible. In a skilled hand the blade was terrifying. He glanced again at his opponent. The man was younger than him. He would be stronger too and no doubt, judging from the scars on his arms, he had been in battle before. He would have to try and end the fight quickly before his opponent exhausted him.
"Go on, start!" a man's voice suddenly cried out. The villagers fell silent. Corbulo pulled his gladius from its sheath and steadied himself. Dance, keep moving, wait for the opening, strike. His opponent raised his axe in his brawny arm and bellowed something that Corbulo did not understand. Then confidently the man came towards him. His eyes were fixed on Corbulo. He was swinging his axe through the air as if the weapon weighed nothing.
"I didn't insult you," Corbulo cried out, "You were drunk. You grabbed my throat."
The warrior's dark eyes sparkled but he did not reply. Then he lunged and the axe came sweeping down towards Corbulo. He sprang aside and stumbled backwards. His opponent allowed him no time to recover. The axe came slicing through the air aimed at his neck. Corbulo ducked a
nd charged forwards but the warrior spun away avoiding the thrusting gladius. Corbulo was panting as he stared at his opponent. The man was coming towards him again. There was going to be no let up in the attacks. This man was not going to give up until he was dead. The villagers had started to yell encouragement at their man. Corbulo felt a spark of rage. This ridiculous duel was preventing him from finding his son. But he was going to find Marcus. With a cry the warrior came at him aiming his axe at Corbulo's torso. At the last moment Corbulo stepped backwards and the wild swinging blow sliced through empty air. Corbulo charged and smashed headlong into the warrior. It was as if he had hit a stone wall but Corbulo's rage had taken over. The force of his charge sent both men tumbling to the ground in a confused tangle of arms and legs. Corbulo heard himself screaming. The warrior was underneath him trying to hit him with his axe. Corbulo raised his head and smashed it into the man's skull. Pain exploded in Corbulo's head but he hardly felt it. A madness seemed to have taken hold of him. Blood weld up from his opponent's face. Corbulo just had time to catch the man's arm and force the axe blow to a halt. Both of them strained and groaned as they grappled with each other's arms and legs. Then Corbulo managed to raise his head and once more he smashed his forehead into his opponent's head. Then he did it again. He felt the warriors grip slacken. In a frenzy he hit the man again. Blood was pouring from the man's face. His opponent coughed and spluttered. The blood was running into his mouth. Corbulo freed his right hand and tore the axe from the man's hand and flung it away. Then he brought up his fist and started pummelling the Caledonian's face with blow after blow until the man was no longer moving.
"What is going on here?" a voice suddenly shouted. The villagers who had fallen silent as they had witnessed the fall of their man, turned and stepped aside respectfully as three men strode boldly into the field. Corbulo looked up. His face was splattered with blood and his hands and arms too were covered in it. He stared at the newcomers and then rose to his feet in sudden alarm.
"You!" Vellocatus cried in surprise. The slaver's eyes bulged. "You are supposed to be dead."
Beside Vellocatus, Corbulo recognised the tall Barbarian chief he had met in Inchtuthil and bringing up the rear was the auxiliary soldier who had tried to kill him. At the sight of Corbulo, the auxiliary froze and broke out in a deep blush.
"You!" Vellocatus pointed a finger at Corbulo, but the slaver was unable to add anything else. The man seemed speechless.
Behind the two men Corbulo suddenly saw the auxiliary turn and run. In an instant the man had disappeared into the crowd. Vellocatus half turned and stared at the crowd of villagers.
"Bestia, you lying piece of shit, I am going to cut your balls off!" he roared.
"I said what is going on here," Baldurix bellowed again. The shout from the Decantae chief silenced everyone.
"Kill him, he knows about the amber," Vellocatus snarled pointing at Corbulo. "He is the man we met at Inchtuthil."
"Yes I recognise him," Baldurix nodded. He gestured at the warriors in the crowd.
"Bring him to me," he ordered.
Corbulo wiped the blood from his eyes. Then as the warriors came towards him he turned, stooped, picked up his gladius and started to run. The edge of the cliffs drew closer. He heard a shout behind him. Then he was leaping into empty space, his arms and legs flailing in the air before he tumbled down towards the sea far below.
Chapter Forty Three - The chambered well
Corbulo plunged into the water and went down in a stream of bubbles. Down, down he went into a green murky world. The cold water pressed around him. His lungs ached for air. For a moment he could not tell up from down. Wildly he scrabbled around with his arms. His fingers still gripped his gladius. A huge underground rock loomed up and vanished. Then he was going up again. He burst to the surface gasping for air. His leap had landed him six or seven yards from the boulder strewn cliff face. He looked up. The cliff top was lined with people peering down at him. Then an arrow smacked into the water close to his head. Corbulo took a great mouthful of air and vanished underwater. He surfaced once more and as he did so another arrow smacked into the water close by. Instinctively he ducked his head. The cliffs were high and stretched away as far as he could see. There was no beach, just a tumble of rocks and boulders at the base of the cliffs. The villagers would have to jump into the sea if they wanted to catch him. He twisted his head and stared at the two galleys anchored further out. He could see no one aboard but the ships would be manned. He ducked underwater and swam towards the shore. Hopefully the angle of the cliffs would give him some protection from the arrows. He cut his foot on a sharp rock and cried out in pain as the salt water stung in the wound. With his hand he grasped hold of a rock and looked up. He had been right. The cliffs had a slight overhang. The villagers could not see him. He gasped and spat some seawater from his mouth. The sun was rising to the east. Bannatia, the Caledonian fort was on a headland to the east. He pushed himself off the rock and started to make his way along the shore in the direction of the rising sun.
***
Corbulo sat on the rock as the sea surged and retreated around him. The spray from the waves struck his face but he didn't seem to notice. His heart was pounding with excitement and trepidation as he went over his plan one final time. It was night and in the heavens the stars twinkled and out at sea the moon cast its dim light across the rolling waves. Beside him the dark hole marked the entrance to the sea cave. He was exhausted and weak from lack of food and rest but he had made it. It had taken him two days to find the headland. Now he sat below the cliffs at the tip of the peninsula where the land gave way to the sea. There was no beach, just a jumble of fallen rocks and boulders. Somewhere above him was the Caledonian fort. He had glimpsed it as he had swam out to the peninsula tip earlier that evening. The landward defences looked formidable and he had quickly given up on the idea of trying to get into the fort from that direction but he had seen no walls along the seaward side of the headland. Maybe the defenders judged the sea and the cliffs to provide adequate protection.
At last he stirred and turned to peer up at the cliff face. The cliffs were high but they weren't smooth. Erosion and the power of wind and water had taken their toll and the jagged face was lined with natural cracks and ledges. He started to climb. It was slow going but not too difficult and he made steady progress. The sea dropped away and soon only the wind kept him company. He froze, spread eagled against the rocks as he dislodged a stone and saw it clatter down and bounce into the sea. His ears strained to listen but all he could hear was the dull crash of the waves and the wind as it tugged at his sodden tunic. Gingerly he peered upwards. Would the Caledonians have posted a guard on the cliff top? He had not seen or heard anyone. He fumbled for the next handhold and heaved himself up. The climb was not too difficult but in the darkness he had to be careful he didn't lose his grip. He climbed on fumbling blindly for handholds and ledges, testing them with his fingers and feet. Then at last he felt his fingers touch soft grass. He heaved himself up and rolled onto the cliff panting for breath. The stars twinkled as he stared up at them. He got to his feet and crouched peering into the darkness.
As his eyes adjusted he could make out a rampart to his right. The turf wall curved away towards the cliff edge. To his left he caught sight of another wall that he had not seen from the sea. The rampart stretched away in a straight line down the edge of the cliffs and off into the darkness. In front of him, between the two walls was an open space. He rose and started forwards, slipping into the gap between the two defensive walls. After a short while a round house loomed up out of the darkness. Corbulo crouched beside the wall to listen. Nothing. Then he heard it, the gentle snoring of someone on the other side of the wall. He rose and moved on. Another house appeared and then another. The gap between the two defensive walls was widening. He was in the midst of the settlement. He paused to listen again but could hear nothing unusual. The fort was large and as he looked around he could make out the shapes of more and more h
ouses, their thatched roofs nearly touching the ground. Where was the chambered well? He moved on silently, flitting passed the houses. Then he flung himself flat onto the grass. Nearby a dog had suddenly started to bark. It was coming from somewhere to his left. He tensed expecting to be attacked but the dog did not come. The barking however continued. Corbulo rose and moved towards the noise. In the moonlight he suddenly caught sight of the animal. The dog was a sheep dog and it stood chained to a post. The animal growled and bared its teeth menacingly as he approached. Corbulo's slid his gladius from its sheath, grabbed hold of the dog and slit its throat in one swift movement. The barking stopped. The dogs hot blood spurted onto his hand as he laid the body on the ground. He turned to listen. Nothing. Then suddenly he saw movement in the darkness. Someone was coming towards him.
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