Caledonia

by William Kelso

"Silver for precious stones," Corbulo said hastily.

  The bearded man shrugged. "I didn't see anything in your boat."

  "We were robbed," Corbulo said slowly, "they took everything we owned."

  "Is that how he got injured?" the disfigured man said gesturing at Marcus.

  "Yes, it happened a few days ago," Corbulo exclaimed.

  The house fell silent and Corbulo was aware of two sets of shrewd eyes studying him in the dark red flickering fire light.

  "Not very smart to lose your entire stock to a robbery," the pock marked man muttered.

  "No," Corbulo admitted with a resigned look.

  "There are no Roman forts around here," the bearded man said spitting once more onto the ground. "The closest Roman forts are to the east across the mountains. If you are heading south then the fastest route would be through the mountain passes. But he," the man pointed at Marcus, "won't get far with that leg. You are welcome to stay here until it mends. My name is Sceolan," he gestured to the man beside him and the woman examining Marcus's wound, "He is my younger brother and she is my woman. We will share what we have with you but if you touch her, I will kill you. Is that clear?"

  Chapter Fifty Five - The warning

  That night Corbulo could not sleep. Something was worrying him but he couldn't put his finger on it. For a while he listened to the gentle snoring and to Marcus muttering in his sleep. The five of them lay scattered about on the soft animal skins and the fire was burning low. The young woman had cleaned Marcus's wound with vinegar and had bound it with a strip of cloth from Marcus's tunic. She had told them that they should rest for at least two days to give the wound a chance to heal. Corbulo wasn't sure. Two days was a long time, a lot could happen in two days. He turned over on his side and stared at the dying fire. The woman lay curled up beyond it. Corbulo looked at her and froze. The woman had her eyes open. She was looking straight at him. Corbulo opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again. Silently she stared at him from across the dim fire. Then she closed her eyes and turned over onto her other side. Corbulo looked away and as he did so he remembered why he was worried. Sceolan had not bothered to take up his offer of redress. The man had been so quick to offer them his extended hospitality. Such generosity. It just didn't feel right.

  Corbulo finally fell asleep and when he woke he found Marcus prodding him with his foot. Through the doorway he could see that it was light. The woman was pottering around in the corner and there was no sign of Sceolan or his brother.

  "The younger one rode away at dawn," Marcus whispered in Latin, "I watched him go north. He looked like he was in a hurry. I don't like it. Something is going on."

  "He rode away on horseback? They have horses?" Corbulo replied looking up at his son.

  "Yes, they keep them on the land," Marcus nodded.

  Corbulo looked undecided. Then he glanced at the cloth tied around Marcus's leg.

  "We will leave tomorrow at dawn," he muttered in Latin. "See if you can speak with the woman. There is something odd about her."

  "I will try but Sceolan keeps an eye on her all the time. I don't think she is his woman at all. I think she is a slave."

  Corbulo glanced at the woman but she seemed not to have understood a word of what they were talking about.

  Then Sceolan was standing in the doorway.

  "Come," he said beckoning to them, "There is some good fishing to be had. You like fish don't you. We will cook them tonight."

  Corbulo nodded and rose to his feet. The mist had cleared and it was a fine day with a blue sky and a gentle southwesterly breeze. A fish net lay on the ground and Sceolan handed it to Corbulo. The lake was empty and silent and there was no sign of anyone on the water. The island itself had been built about twenty paces from the shore. Corbulo glanced round the side of the house. Their log canoe was still where they had left it.

  That evening as they ate their fish Sceolan explained that his brother had gone off to visit relatives and that he would be back by around noon tomorrow. Marcus's leg was healing and he seemed to be growing stronger with every day. Corbulo had decided not to tell his host that they would be leaving at dawn. It would be best if they simply slipped away when the others were asleep. It was dark when Corbulo was woken by a gentle shake. He opened his eyes and sat up. Close by he could hear Marcus still muttering in his sleep. He rubbed his eyes. A figure stood silhouetted in the doorway. Then the figure vanished. Corbulo rose as silently as he could and glanced in the direction where he'd last seen Sceolan lie down to sleep. In the darkness he could just about hear the man's gentle snoring. Carefully so as not to trip over anything he moved towards the doorway. Then he poked his head outside and looked around.

  The moon hung high in the sky and in its light he caught sight of the woman standing beside their log canoe. She raised a finger to her mouth and beckoned him over.

  "You must go," she whispered, "Eoin has not gone to visit relatives. He has gone to fetch help. They will be here by dawn, not noon." She shook her head. "They are planning to enslave you. That is what they do. You are in danger. Leave now while you can."

  Corbulo nodded in agreement.

  "Why are you helping us?" he whispered.

  The woman fumbled for his hand and pressed something into his palm before closing his fingers around the cold hard object.

  "I am a slave," she whispered, "My village is on the coast just north of Deva. These men came one day in their ships. They raided the coastal settlements and kidnapped me. I have been here two years. The ring I have given you. Please, take it to my father in his village. He is a bee keeper. My village is known for its honey. You will find it. Tell my family that I am well, tell them that Efa and Dylis are fine and that we miss them."

  "Come with us," Corbulo said at once.

  But the young woman shook her head.

  "No, I can't leave my child behind, Dylis is with Sceolan's family. I won't leave her behind. But you must go. Sceolan keeps his horses in the meadow over there. Take them." She paused and swallowed nervously. "There has been fighting to the south," she whispered. "Sceolan was lying when he said there are no Romans around here. A few days ago we heard that the Romans had landed two days ride south of here and destroyed the Caldonian fort at Dun Deardil. The Romans are building their own fort on the coast."

  "Fighting?" Corbulo muttered.

  The woman nodded. "Sceolan said that the Romans came from the sea and attacked the fort and destroyed it. He says they are busy buiding their own forts. He says that Roman ships come and go all the time. If you make it you will be able to get home on one of those ships."

  "What about the war bands, won't they be flocking south to attack the Romans?"

  The woman shrugged, "I don't know about such things," she whispered, "but you can make it if you ride hard for two days. Follow the lake. After this lake you will come across another. Keep following the water and it will take you to Dun Deardil. Now go, please."

  Corbulo and Marcus crept through the meadow towards the two horses that stood tethered to a tree. The beasts turned to look at them inquisitively. Clumsily Corbulo tried to mount one of them only to slither off. Marcus however was more successful and with practised ease swung himself onto the animals back.

  "Walk them," his son said firmly, "We don't want one of these horses to break their legs in the dark. When it gets lighter we will trot and make more distance. Trust me, I know how to handle a horse."

  Chapter Fifty Six - Ride hard and don't look back

  Dawn found them riding south along the western shore of the lake. Marcus had led the way through the dark picking out the trail that ran alongside the water and Corbulo had become impressed at how easy and confident the boy handled himself in the saddle. As the morning had worn on Marcus had begun to mix up their speed, trotting for a while and then slowing to a walk before trotting on again. At noon Marcus ordered them to take a rest and for a while they led the horses by hand down the path. The two of them spoke little, each alone with his own thoug
hts but it was clear that the rest on the man made island had done Marcus a lot of good for his strength was returning. It was just as well Corbulo thought. All that morning the sense of pursuit had been growing on him and every few minutes he had turned to look back but had seen nothing.

  They rode on feeling the wind start to blow against them.

  "How long can you ride one of these animals before they collapse?" Corbulo called out to Marcus who was riding ahead.

  "That depends on the horse," Marcus replied. "These scrawny horses are nothing compared to the horses that the army buys in Gaul. But if we had to trot without rest," he paused to do the calculation, "over this terrain and assuming the terrain stays like this I would say we could do forty or fifty miles before they are broken."

  Corbulo looked impressed and patted his horse on its neck. Then he looked up at the mountains to the west. They were snow capped. What more lay beyond those mountains? What lay beyond the great western ocean? There had always been a small part of him that had wanted to know how far from the edge of the world Britannia really lay. They were close. He could feel it. He could feel the great unfathomable, restless power of the ocean pressing into the land. Beyond the outer ocean that encircled the world lay the domain of the Hyperborians, the beasts of the deep and the home of the gods. No one had ever been there and returned. As a young man he'd avidly read Livy and Polybius but his favourite book by far had been Pytheas's, On the Ocean. The Greek explorer from Marsillia had travelled around Britannia and Caledonia and had left a book filled with his detailed observations. When Corbulo had read a copy, the book had already been over four hundred years old.

  It was late in the afternoon when they came to the end of the lake. Ahead of them at the southern tip of the lake the land turned marshy. Without hesitation Marcus led them on in a south westerly direction and soon Corbulo caught sight of the second lake that the woman had talked about. The forests were growing more abundant the further south they went and the ground remained flat and they made good progress.

  They had just reached the crest of a steep hill when something made Corbulo glance over his shoulder.

  "Marcus," he cried out in alarm. From the ridge they had a fine view to the south and north. Emerging from the forest, beside the first lake, a couple of miles away behind them, were tiny figures on horseback.

  "I see them," Marcus cried, "They've got hunting dogs and spare horses. Damn it, they are coming on fast."

  "They don't look like slavers to me," Corbulo muttered uneasily. "This looks like something else. Come on let's go. Ride hard and don't look back."

  They wheeled their horses around and started off down the hill at a fast pace. Corbulo's cheeks burned with sudden despair. They would not be able to hide from those war dogs nor were they likely to outrun their pursuers. There only hope lay in reaching the Romans at their beach head beside the sea but that was still at least a days ride away. He glanced at Marcus ahead of him. His son was concentrating on finding the right path through the trees. Corbulo felt a cold savage resolve. If the worst became inevitable then he would not allow them to take his son. They would die together and meet each other in the afterlife.

  They thundered through the trees. The track through the forest was fairly clear and Marcus was pushing the pace now. They burst out of the trees and into a colourful meadow.

  "We ride without stopping, until the horses are broken," Marcus cried out. "We are going to make it. Maybe we will lose them in the dark."

  Corbulo didn't reply. He glanced up at the sky. He had forgotten that dusk was approaching. He glanced back over his shoulder. But their pursuers would not rest during the night.

  They rode on with the lake to their left. The bleak, barren mountains crowded around them like rows of spectators in the circus maximus. His horse snorted and nearly slid on a rock sending a shower of stones down the slope. Again Corbulo glanced over his shoulder but the hills and the forest hid their pursuers. How many of them were there? He hadn't had time to count them all but there were enough to handle two fleeing fugitives. He was sure of that. He stared at the spear strapped to Marcus's back. That, the small knife he'd taken from the farm and his gladius were the only weapons they possessed. It was going to be a rather decidedly one sided fight if it came to it.

  Soon the ground levelled out and they began to move faster. Marcus had set a blistering pace and seemed to have no difficulty in picking a path. Corbulo blew the air from his cheeks. The boy was impressive on a horse. Damn impressive. The realisation brought about a sudden feeling of guilt. What did he really know about Marcus? He had hardly been there to see his son grow up. Now it was as if he was seeing the young man for the first time.

  "How far to the sea?" Marcus cried.

  "At least a day's ride, that's what she said. We just have to keep going," Corbulo shouted. "We ride through the night, we can't stop. Can you find a path in the dark?"

  Marcus looked away and didn't answer as they galloped on. They entered another wood and Corbulo caught glimpses of the lake through the trees. They rode on without speaking and slowly the daylight slipped away like spectators leaving the Circus. As it grew dark Marcus began to slow their pace. The horses were exhausted. White foam clung around their mouths and their flanks were heaving and covered in sweat and dirt. Just as the first stars appeared in the night sky Corbulo heard the faint baying and barking of dogs.

  Marcus had heard it too. He snatched a glance over his shoulder. His face was concentrating hard.

  "They are closer," he cried.

  In the dark branches scraped and scratched at their arms and legs and one low hanging branch nearly knocked Corbulo to the ground. The forest seemed to go on forever and to Corbulo it seemed like a disorientating mass of trees and undergrowth that stretched off in every direction but somehow Marcus seemed to keep them going in the right direction. Corbulo marvelled at his son's ability to keep to a path in the dark. Every muscle in Corbulo's body was tensed but he didn't feel tired, fear was making him feel more alive than ever.

  "Marcus," he called out, "If it comes to it and we have to fight. I want you to know that they are not going to take me alive. I have come a long way to find you. I am not going to let them take you."

  "I know, I know," Marcus said. "But we are going to make it. This is not our time. You will see."

  "Since when have you become such an optimist?" Corbulo growled.

  "I always was," Marcus cried, "We're going to make it, now be quiet and save your breath and let me concentrate."

  Corbulo blushed at the retort but he did as he was told. Behind them the baying of the dogs sounded closer. Corbulo glanced over his shoulder. Burning torches were moving through the darkness behind them. Their pursuers were riding hard.

  ***

  All that night they rode without rest, guided solely by the moonlight and Marcus's unfailing instinct. They flitted past trees and huge boulders that had crashed down the mountainside long ago. But however fast their progress, their pursuers seemed to be gaining on them. During those long dark hours Corbulo marvelled at his son's courage and strength. The boy had become a man. He was seeing a side of Marcus that he just had never known before and as the darkness dragged on his pride and respect began to grow.

  At last the first lazy glimpses of dawn appeared in the sky. The two horse men rode on along the shore of the lake. They didn't speak. As the light grew they pushed on into open meadows and fields. It was an hour later that Corbulo saw his first corpse. The man lay on his back in the grass. As he thundered past Corbulo caught sight of an ugly gash in the man's chest. He twisted his head to get a better view of the man but the grass concealed the body. What had the woman told him? There had been fighting to the south. He blinked and turned to look at the horizon ahead of them. If the woman was right they were riding straight into a war zone.

  As the light grew Corbulo rubbed his weary eyes. To the south smoke was rising up into the sky. Was that from Dun Deardil, the Caledonian fort that the Romans had destroyed?
There was no way of knowing. Marcus looked like he was glued to the back of his horse. He had been leading them now since they had set of from the island in the lake. Suddenly his son cried out a warning and pointed to their right. A troop of men were running parallel to them a few hundred paces away. They looked like a Caledonian war band and they were heading in the same direction. Corbulo stared at the men. The warriors had seen them.

  "Keep going," Corbulo yelled, "We stop for nothing."

  Marcus cried out to his horse talking to her in words that Corbulo could not catch.

  How much further? How much more could their horses endure? The brutal reality could not be ignored. They were not going to make it. The odds were against them.

  A few minutes later Corbulo saw another group of men coming towards them from the opposite direction. The group was pulling a cart along upon which lay a number of wounded men. Corbulo and Marcus stormed past the men. The Caledonians stared at them but made no effort to try and intercept them.

  "We must be close," Marcus shouted, "Don't you dare give up on me now old man."

  Corbulo shook his head in weary disbelief. The arrogance of youth he thought. The young thought the world belonged to them. He slapped his face to drive away the exhaustion that was gathering. The smoke on the horizon. What did it mean? How far did they still have to go? The land before them was open but on both sides of the lake the hills were just stepping stones to the mountains beyond. Grass and heather covered the barren slopes and across the lake he could make out the white stain of a waterfall cascading down a gully.

  Behind them Corbulo heard the sound of barking dogs. The noise sounded horribly close by. He twisted his neck and blushed at the sight that met his eyes. Half a mile or so behind him his pursuers were coming on. There were twelve of them and they were riding their horses like mad men, their cloaks flying in the wind. A pack of war dogs was racing between them, baying in anticipation.

  "Fuck," Corbulo whispered. The dogs by themselves could tear him and Marcus to pieces within seconds.