by Griff Hosker
Nodding Lucius said, “What is your plan?”
“Exactly the same, leapfrog back with as many as I can. Now go! May the Allfather be with you.”
The centurion was shocked to see that he had fifty men with him some wounded more than others. He had seen the bodies of his men littering the field and a glance over his should told him that First Spear was defending the line with just over two centuries. He hurried the men on as quickly as he could for he knew that soon the survivors would be upon his heels. The wound in his shoulder was still oozing blood and he hoped that he would not pass out before he reached the farm. He saw one of his men seated at the side and he dragged him to his feet. “Come on soldier. These barbarians will have your bollocks as a trophy.”
“What’s the point we are all as good as dead anyway?”
“There’s dead and there is torture. While you breathe you move.” He dragged him to his feet. “Move soldier, enough good men have died already today.”Lucius had to admit that this uphill section was hard on legs which were weakened by the exertions of the run. It was with some relief that Lucius saw the barred gates of the farm loom large in front of him. Someone inside must have seen them for they swung open and Gaius raced out with some of his men to help the wounded. Lucius was impressed that the old soldier did not bother to ask questions which suited Lucius as he had not the breath to speak.
Once the gate was barred shut Gaius came over and helped Lucius towards the house. The centurion shook his head. “There will be more men coming. And we need to send a message to Morbium. It is a large warband. More than a thousand.”
Gaius took it in quickly. He grabbed one of his young farm workers. “Aelraed, get a horse and ride to Morbium. Tell the Prefect that this is a large warband and his men have been badly mauled.” The boy looked confused. “Just repeat my words and he will understand.” Gaius grabbed his own bow and shouted, “Cato, get archers on the wall and prepare to support First Spear.”
Gaius had twenty armed men in the farm and they quickly manned the walls. Lucius gathered as many men still capable of fighting as he could and dressed them in two lines behind the gate. “When First Spear gets here he will be hard pressed by an enemy close on his heels. We open the gates and I want a volley over the heads of our men and then form a shield wall on each side of the gate. They bought us time let us return the favour.”
They all heard the clamour of battle long before they saw anything. Gaius was in the tower above the gate and he shouted down a commentary. “They are about four hundred paces from the gate, unbar it. Archers shoot as soon as you can see a target. Centurion, there are not many survivors.”
Lucius hefted his shield so that it was tight against his wounded shoulder. The pain helped him to focus. Suddenly he heard Gaius shout, “Open the gate!” The men at the gate quickly swung it open. The sight which greeted them shocked the Centurion. There were less than fifty survivors and they were all covered in blood and gore, whose, it was hard to tell.
“Forward! Release!” Above their heads they heard the flight of arrows as their own javelins thudded into the eager barbarians. Lucius stepped forward as did his men and they locked their shields. The auxiliaries flooded through the gate while First Spear, his helmet now gone and blood dripping from a scalp wound, walked slowly backwards. Lucius could see that his shield was badly hacked in places but he still moved purposefully. As Gaius’ arrows took out any that approached one warrior took his axe above his head and ran hard for First Spear. Despite the arrows which struck him he continued to run at the brave auxiliary. First Spear waited and then plunged his sword forward taking the warrior through the throat. The barbarians halted as their champion fell and the last of the auxiliaries stepped through the gate to the sanctuary of the farm.
First Spear looked at Lucius and Gaius. “Thank you gentlemen. That was a close run thing. A few more paces and they would have had us.”
Later, after they had been fed and watered, the three of them joined Cato at the gate to work out their options. “I don’t think we will get any help from Morbium.”
“You are right there Gaius which means we are left to ourselves for our defence.” They glanced around at the pitiful remains of the six centuries. Many of the soldiers had succumbed to wounds and they were left with a total of ninety men who could fight whilst outside there were around a thousand barbarians.”I think all we can do is make it too expensive for them to kill us. We have already bloodied their nose. If the Governor can send men from Eboracum…”
Gaius shook his head. “He will want more intelligence than our first message. No First Spear you are right. It is up to us. I wish we knew what their leader was thinking.”
******
Faolan was less than happy. He had lost far more men than he had expected. The fight at Glanibanta had convinced him that the Roman soldier was not a worthy opponent. The events of the morning had proved him wrong. He knew that this was the farm of the sword and he was now close enough to almost taste it. With the sword and the plunder already collected he could return to Hibernia and claim his throne. Looking at the fortified farm that was easier said than done. Already they had lost twenty warriors trying to attack the walls. He had to admit it was well made with ditches lined with lillia and ramparts lined with deadly archers. They had a day in which to reduce the defenders for, after that, relief would probably be on its way. He called a meeting of Angus and Loegaire. Hopefully their experience would find a solution.
******
“The time has come!” Caronwyn embraced her young Brigante prince. “There is a rebellion.”
All of Eboracum was aghast at the news. Stanwyck’s population had been massacred; the few survivors brought tales of terrible warriors wielding axes slaughtering innocents in their beds. The fact that the Governor had no troops to send emboldened the would be rebels.
“I will see my father and see what he says.”
Caronwyn looked at him with undisguised scorn. “And I thought you were a man. When you said you wanted to throw off the Roman yoke then you were a man. Now you are just a frightened little boy who has to ask his father’s permission.” Gaius Brutus brought back his hand to strike the red haired beauty but he stopped as the knife was placed at his throat. “You would die choking on your own blood if you struck me. Go and ask your father but remember, the longer you wait, the less chance you have of success.”
The young man, quite shocked at the threat of violence from what he had seen as a subservient girl, fled and Caronwyn laughed. He was pathetic. It did not matter if he was successful or not, as long as he struck it would make others believe in the possibility of change. That was the message her mother had given her. She sought out Morag. “Come we can leave.”
Morag looked surprised. “They will fight?”
“I believe so but it is important that we return to Manavia for I have important information for my mother and we can do no more here.”
As they left she would have been gratified that her words had stung Gaius Brutus into action. He had bearded his father. “Now is the time father! If the Romans had power they would have sent a force to punish these barbarians. They have not. Do we wait to be slaughtered in our beds too? Or do we seize power? My men are ready. There are two thousand warriors willing to fight the Romans and if we capture Eboracum then we are half way to victory.”
Reluctantly the trader agreed. He was torn between ridding Britannia of the Romans and losing his son in war. If they failed then they would lose everything including their lives. It was a gamble and Antoninus was not a gambler. He had to have some insurance. “My son I agree and give you my blessing if you will agree to one condition.”
The young warrior, now grown into a man with a man’s body looked sceptically at his father. “What condition?”
“Wear this.” He took, from a wooden box, a helmet. It gleamed and shone in the firelight. Gaius Brutus’ eyes widened with joy. “I had it made when you began your training. It is a helmet fit for a warrior.”
Taking it almost reverently from the box the warrior looked at it from all sides. It was a thing of beauty made from a single sheet of metal, there were neither seams to rupture nor edges to catch blades. It covered the whole head and yet the eye pieces had been cleverly made to enable to the wearer to see well and not run the risk of a deflected arrow. When he put it on, Antoninus breathed a sigh of relief. His son was unrecognisable in the anonymous yet startling helm. If things went awry as long as his son escaped the battlefield, their part in the revolt would remain a secret and if his son died, well that would be the end of the old man’s world anyway and he would take the poison he had paid Morag to brew.
“I will wear it with pleasure father.” He was pleased with the helmet for it marked him as different. When he and his ’General’ went into battle, it would be as warriors, and not rag tag brigands.
******
Angus had had enough of this raid. Had he not promised Morwenna to stay until the end, he would have left with Conan and the slaves. This Faolan was like a dog with a bone. The best of the beast had been picked clean and yet he insisted on chewing the remains. Already some of the Irish had drifted off to brigandage and robbery, had they been in a regular army it would have been called desertion but here it was down to each man to choose. Their casualties were increasing and Angus feared what would happen if they came upon an organised force which was expecting them. Hit and run was the way of the raider and they had tarried too long in this land of roads and organisation.
“How long to break into the farmhouse?”
Angus shook his head in disbelief. Faolan was determined to get into the farm at all costs. “Why? We would lose many men if we did so.”
“There is something in the farm I want.”
“The Sword? I am not sure it is there. They would have used it as a rallying cry.”
Faolan agreed with Angus but he remembered Morwenna’s words. The farm was the home of the sword bearer. If he slaughtered all in the farm then the sword would follow him no matter where he went. Like Angus he was ready to leave but he had one more throw of the dice left. “How long for us to break in and not lose too many men?”
Angus sighed. He would need to come up with a good plan which would facilitate their departure. His eye was caught by the huge stand of trees. “Chop down that tree and make a ram. Attack them tonight when the men are rested and then use fire arrows to set the place alight. I would not want to be here this time tomorrow for even the slow armoured Romans will have sent reinforcements by then.”
Faolan agreed with the Manavian and set Loegaire to chopping down the tree. “Rest those not engaged in cutting down the tree and make sure they are fed for when the tree is down then we will end this. Those cutting down the tree can rest when we attack.” They had plenty of food looted from Stanwyck and Faolan wanted to travel lightly and quickly when they left.”
Inside the farm a heated debate was taking place. “I am not throwing you out First Spear; I am offering you a chance to save you and most of your men.”
The centurion was an honourable man and he did not want to abandon this brave old soldier and his men. “What makes you think we can escape undetected?”
Cato pointed towards the Hibernians, clearly visible from the tower upon which they stood. “We can see that they are to the south. They have not encircled us,” he shrugged. “Either they are incompetent or fear being attacked by relief from Morbium. The way north is clear.”
“In which case why cannot we all leave?”
Gaius shook his head. “They would see that we had deserted the walls. Do not worry, First Spear, I will ask for volunteers.” He gestured at the litters with the wounded. “It is their only chance and, to be honest, I am being selfish. If you get to Morbium then there are more men to protect my family and they are more valuable to me than these stones.” He lowered his voice. “Cato and I have said our goodbyes. It is time to meet my comrades and the Allfather.”
First Spear could see the sincerity and recognised the wisdom. He nodded. “I promise you I will protect your family for as long as I live.” He clasped his arm and then descended. He turned to Lucius. “Gather the men and prepare them. We are leaving.”
Within a short time Lucius had all the men readied. First Spear looked on in amazement as every one of Gaius’ men refused to leave, knowing that they were going to die. “You had better go. I can hear chopping in the woods so they are planning something. When they realise you have left they may depart themselves.”
First Spear shook his head, “You know that is not true. But we will honour you. Come Lucius let us get the men moving.”
“Sorry sir but I am staying.” Before First Spear could say anything Lucius lifted up his armour to show the wound. “I am finding it hard to breathe. This is a death wound. I would slow you up and I would like to die honourably, with my sword in my hand amongst these brave fellows.”
First Spear understood and he clasped his arm. “May the Allfather be with you.”
The ramparts seemed deserted and sparsely guarded by the twenty odd men who manned it. The auxiliaries ghosted silently northwards leaving only the buried comrades who had fallen and those who were about to fall. Gaius looked at Lucius. “Well Centurion it looks like we will be greeting the Allfather together.”
“For my part I am honoured to be in such illustrious company as two of the men who rode with Marcus’ Horse. My story will now be told alongside yours but my name will live on.”
“Your comrades will tell of your bravery Centurion and that is our reward; it is good to know that those who fought with us will remember us and in that we live forever; just as I remember those who fell before me, and await me, Ulpius, Decius, Macro and Marcus.”
Suddenly the air was filled with flaming arrows which descended like fiery rain. At the same time they heard the roar as a hand picked band of warriors threw themselves and their ram at the gate. Even had First Spear and his men remained they could have done little. Every man was forced to hold his shield above his head to protect himself from the arrows which allowed those with the ram the freedom from attack. The gate was a strong one but, at the second attempt it burst open and the frustrated warriors burst in, eager to wreak revenge on those who had stood in their way. As they filled the courtyard they were bemused. Where were the defenders? They were answered by the arrows which poured on their unprotected backs. Had Faolan left his archers to continue their deadly torrent then the defenders would have been less effective but, having seen the gate open, he had ordered all of his men through the gate.
“Stay on the ramparts. It is our only hope.”
The Brigante defenders kept firing at the barbarians who were largely unarmoured. Had they had unlimited ammunition they could have held out for longer but as the quivers emptied the attackers were able to climb the rickety ladders to the ramparts. The first few who made it were despatched easily, they were isolated, but as more and more men made the ramparts the outnumbered defenders fell. None asked for quarter for they knew they would be given none and they fought on despite the life sapping wounds they endured. They fought in double trust, first as the oathsworn of Gaius and secondly to protect their families now sheltering in Morbium. The more of these barbarians they killed the better the chance of survival their families had.
It was fitting that the last three were Gaius, Lucius and Cato. One glance at Lucius told Gaius that the brave Centurion had but minutes to live. The savage slash across his stomach showed his intestines which rippled out to hang like a strange armour. Saluting with his sword the brave centurion hurled himself at the three warriors who were advancing on them. The four crashed to the ground ten paces below. Lucius and two of them lay dead and the third had a broken back. Gaius and Cato stood back to back. The warriors who advanced had to do so in single file for the walkway was narrow. Below, Faolan hurled his curses as warrior after warrior fell to the two calm old men who were buying time for First Spear. It was only a matter of time before they woul
d fall for Cato, although a trooper was not a swordsman and, inevitably he fell. As in life he died without fuss, silently but with sword in hand. Gaius knew that he was alone as the body slid down his back. Now surrounded, he smiled and roared out his challenge. “Come on you whorsesons and meet the steel of the last warrior who fought for Cartimandua!” Oblivious to the blows he took he hacked his way forward, discarding the shield which was chopped to shreds. Taking his pugeo out, he still advanced despite the deep cuts which were slowly sapping his life’s blood from his body. Finally one of those standing below, with Faolan, took the opportunity to hurl a spear which embedded itself in his side, the impetus of the missile throwing the lifeless body over the palisade to lie untidily across the discarded ram.
The silence which fell over the bloody battleground seemed unreal and supernatural. As Faolan glanced around he saw that there was but one auxiliary and the rest were farmers. They had been held up by old men and boys! That thought made him wonder about the treasure of the sword. They would not have fought that hard if they were defending but stones. “Search the farm, dig up the ground. I want all the treasure and weapons you can find.” As his men set to, eager to gather plunder, Faolan turned to Loegaire. “Prepare our horses and my guards. If the Romans return I want to be able to escape quickly.”
“And the sword?”
“If it is not here then our destruction of this place will make it follow us. I would prefer to fight them on ground of my choosing in the west.” He gave a wry smile, “I think we have outlived our welcome here and we have enough now for the throne.”
“Aye we do.”
******
When Decius and Ailis saw the remnants of the cohort bringing their wounded through the gates they knew the worst. Their father and husband had joined the Allfather, meeting again Gaelwyn, Decius, Macro, Marcus and Ulpius. They had mixed emotions for they knew that it was the death he had sought but they were sad for themselves and their loss. It was they who were left to mourn. As First Spear entered and saw them he and his signifier stood to attention and saluted. It was as fitting an end as could have been wished.