Roman - The Fall of Britannia (40 page)

‘
Do
you think they see us as different tribes?’ shouted Caratacus. ‘To
them, we are but a single barbarian race to be killed, raped or
sold into slavery as they see fit, the name of the tribe is
irrelevant. We share a common purpose and need to stand shoulder to
shoulder against the invader. At last light, we will leave this
valley and make speed to the land of the Deceangli. Those who would
follow me will need a horse and enough bread for one meal. Leave
everything else for those we leave behind. If we travel hard and
the Gods are with us, we can be in the camp of Idwal by tomorrow
night.’ He turned to Holler. ‘You will check each man who steps
forward,’ he said, ‘I only want fit men who can ride and can still
wield a sword.’

‘
Yes, Sire,’ said Holler.

‘
You
would give a servant sway over a warrior,’ sneered Blennus. ‘I
don’t recognise his authority or come to think of it, yours!’ He
stepped forward and drew his sword, but before he could assault
Caratacus, the King flew across the clearing and charged into
Blennus, driving him to the floor. Holler leapt forward to aid his
King, but was held back by another warrior.

‘
Leave him!’ he said.

‘
But
the King is already wounded,’ said Holler. ‘He can’t
win.’

‘
He
is Caratacus,’ said the warrior, ‘and Caratacus does not
lose.’

The two men
wrestled on the floor, Blennus’s sword lying in the dust, having
been dislodged in the fight. Caratacus got the upper hand, managed
to twist himself on top of Blennus, and gripped his throat, cutting
of his airway. Blennus’s hand crept down to his waist band and drew
his knife. He drove it into Caratacus’s side and the King rolled
off in agony. Blennus staggered to his feet, coughing and
spluttering as he caught his breath.

Caratacus
withdrew the knife and scrunched his tunic against the wound in
pain. Both men looked at the sword and both staggered toward it,
each determined to gain the advantage. Caratacus got to the blade
first, but as he bent to pick it up, Blennus kicked him in the face
sending the King flying backwards. Caratacus sprawled in the dirt,
his hands clawing at the earth.

Blennus picked
up the sword and stood over him panting for breath.

‘
Stand up!’ he said.

‘
Finish it,’ said Caratacus.

‘
I
will not kill you while you grovel in the dirt,’ said Blennus.
‘Stand up and die like a King.’

Caratacus stood
up and stared at the young warrior chief.

‘
You
were a great King, Caratacus,’ said Blennus, ‘but your time is
over.’

‘
You
are wrong,’ said Caratacus, ‘it only just begins.’ Suddenly he
threw a handful of gravel he had picked up whilst on the ground
into Blennus’s face, causing him to flinch for half a second, but
it was all Caratacus needed. He launched himself forward and
punched the warrior with a swinging right arm. Blennus’s jaw was
smashed sideways and though he staggered back, he did not fall. He
turned his head back toward the King, his lower jaw completely
wrecked and hanging loose by the tendons, blood pouring from his
mouth as he stood in shock.

Caratacus drove
the flat of his foot forward onto Blennus’s knee, smashing it
backwards and tearing the ligaments causing the man to collapse in
agony. The King stepped forward, still nursing his side before half
collapsing on top of the younger man. He sat astride his chest and
stared into the young warrior’s terrified eyes.

‘
You
have balls, Blennus,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘I’ll give you
that.’

Without another
word, he grabbed the warrior’s hair and drove the back of his head
down onto the rocky ground, over and over again until his shattered
skull spewed its contents over the valley floor. The rest of the
warriors looked on in silence until the King’s rage abated and he
hung his head in exhaustion. Holler ran over and helped him to his
feet, examining the wound as he did. Caratacus turned to the
chieftains.

‘
Does anyone else challenge my authority?’ he asked. When no
answer was forthcoming, he continued.

‘
Then nothing has changed,’ he said, ‘I am still King and we
ride at dusk’.

The group split
up and Holler led the King back into the cave to see to the
wound.

‘
You
are lucky, Sire,’ he said, ‘it is but a flesh wound.’

‘
Sew
me up, Holler,’ he said,’ we have a long ride ahead of
us.’

----

Chapter 36

After being
rescued from the sea, Gwenno, Prydain and Gwydion had been taken to
the fisherman’s home. They sat huddled around the fire, exhausted
and weakened from the freezing sea, desperate to feel the heat on
their skin and scooping spoons of hot stew greedily into their
mouths. They were given a heavy blanket each and shown into the
attached barn where their horses had been stabled for the past two
days. After stripping out of their wet clothes, they wrapped
themselves in the warm blankets before laying down on the hayrick
to rest, and within minutes, all three fugitives were fast
asleep.

Gwydion woke
reluctantly from his dreamless sleep, his shoulders shaken by
someone in the darkness.

‘
Gwydion!’ called a voice gently, ‘wake up, I have some
food.’

Gwydion opened
his eyes slowly and looked around, momentarily confused as to his
whereabouts, but as he became accustomed to the gloom, the memories
soon came flooding back.

‘
Gwenno,’ he said, ‘you’re awake!’

‘
I
have been for hours,’ she said. ‘Sit up; Hivel has provided us with
food.’

‘
Hivel?’

‘
The
fisherman’s wife, she has been really helpful.’

Gwydion sat up
and looked around the stable. Across from him, Prydain sat on a hay
bale concentrating on his own plate of food, his blanket draped
over his shoulders. A freshly baked loaf of bread lay between them,
along with a flask of ale and a couple of simple wooden cups. His
mouth watered at the aromas and he took the bowl eagerly from
Gwenno. Two pieces of fish lay steaming at the bottom, surrounded
by a mixture of tiny beet and turnips. Gwydion was surprised, as
despite the family’s meagre means, the meal was a relative feast.
Ignoring the supplied knife, he dipped his fingers into the food
and ate hungrily.

‘
Where’s yours?’ he asked.

‘
I
have already eaten,’ she said, ‘hours ago.’

‘
You’ll need more than just that soup,’ said Gwydion, ‘we have
a long way to go before dawn.’

‘
I
have had two meals since the broth,’ said Gwenno. ‘At breakfast and
midday.’

‘
I
don’t understand,’ said Gwydion.

‘
The
sun has risen and set since we fell asleep,’ she said, ‘you have
slept the day through.’

Gwydion stopped
eating and stared incredulously.

‘
We
can’t have,’ he said.

‘
She’s right,’ said Prydain, ‘I have checked.’

‘
We
have to get moving,’ said Gwydion, ‘where’s my clothes?’

‘
There,’ said Gwenno, ‘washed and dried. Like I said, Hivel
has been great.’

Gwydion put his
food aside and got dressed quickly.

‘
Why
did you let me sleep?’ he asked, untying his horse from the rail.
‘They will be coming after us and we need as much distance between
us as we can.’

‘
The
need is not so urgent,’ said Gwenno. ‘Hivel has been to the village
and the talk is that there is a large search going on around the
coastline of Mona. I don’t think they believe we have crossed the
strait.’

‘
Still,’ said Gwydion, reaching for his saddle, ‘we should
take advantage of the lull.’

Prydain joined
Gwydion at the horses.

‘
Finish your food,’ he said.

‘
We
have to go!’ he answered.

‘
Gwydion,’ said Prydain, ‘eat. We don’t know when we will next
have the chance, I will saddle the horses. Five more minutes won’t
make a difference.’

Gwydion relented
and returned to his food.

‘
We
have to take advantage of the dark,’ he said. ‘If we ride hard, we
can be back by dawn.’

‘
Back where?’ asked Gwenno.

‘
Back to the Blaidd,’ said Gwydion. ‘We need fresh horses and
supplies.’

‘
Don’t you think the Druids will look there?’ asked
Gwenno.

‘
Probably,’ said Gwydion, ‘but if we ride hard we may get
there before them. I can get horses from my father and Erwyn will
give us provisions and coin, I’m sure he will.’

‘
Give me a few minutes,’ said Gwenno, ‘I want to say goodbye
to Hivel.’ She walked to the nearby hut just as the fisherman’s
wife was coming out of the door.

‘
We’re leaving now,’ said Gwenno, ‘I just want to say thank
you for what you have done for us.’

‘
It
is nothing,’ said Hivel,’ and after some hesitation held out a
small parcel wrapped in Hessian. ‘Take it!’ she said, ‘But don’t
open it until you have cleared the mountains.’

‘
What is it?’ asked Gwenno.

‘
You
will see,’ she laughed, ‘my husband doesn’t know, but by the time
he realises, you will be days away.’

‘
It
should be us giving you gifts,’ she said, ‘not the other way
around. How can we ever repay you?’

Hivel took a
deep breath before replying, tears welling in her eyes.

‘
Many years ago, my daughter was also chosen,’ she said, ‘but
there was no one to help her. Aiding you has been a great comfort
to me. Waste no more time on ritual or ceremony Gwenno, life is for
living. Grasp every breath and live every minute as if it is your
last. Do this and your debt to me will be repaid.’

‘
I
have known you but one day, Hivel,’ said Gwenno, ‘yet already I
love you as I do my own mother. Take care, and one day I will
return to thank you properly.’

‘
Live well, Gwenno,’ said Hivel and retreated into her humble
hut.

‘
Ready?’ asked Gwydion.

Gwenno nodded
and joined the two men at the horses. Within minutes, they were
riding hard toward the mountain range separating them from the
lands of the Deceangli.

----

Chapter 37

Plautius sat at
his table with his officers. His headquarters had been established
and a secure stockade built to house the legion. Vespasian had
taken his legion north and he was busy imposing Roman will on the
local villages while Geta’s legion had retuned south to meet the
Emperor. They had consolidated their victory and extra guards had
been posted, not just on the fort walls, but throughout the
surrounding countryside to ensure any rogue bands of warriors
thought twice about foolhardy attacks on their
positions.

Camulodunum was
an hour’s march away and though it was still intact, it was poorly
defended and ripe for the taking. Plautius had held his army back
from the final sacking of the city. Claudius was on his way and the
Emperor had given strict instructions that he and he alone, would
take the surrender of the capital of Britannia. Messengers had kept
Plautius informed about the progress of the Emperor and the last
week had been hectic, whilst the preparations were being made. But,
despite the honour and the total domination of the enemy by
Plautius and his forces, the insistence of the Emperor to place
himself in the front line placed the General in a
quandary.

He had sent
envoys into Camulodunum and had received assurances that the
collective tribal Kings would surrender to the Emperor in return
for continued local governance of their own people. Plautius was
happy with this arrangement, as peaceful domination was always
preferable to military might. The problem was, it only took one
rogue warrior to take the chance to strike a blow against Rome, and
the Emperor could be wounded or even killed. Plautius knew that all
the security arrangements in the world could be undone by a fanatic
intent on glory, and while Claudius was in his protection, his own
life depended on his safety. He needed an unbreakable guarantee
that the chieftains would behave, and to that end, he had called a
meeting with his staff.

‘
Claudius is two days away,’ said Plautius. ‘He and his
entourage are being escorted by a Cohort of Praetorian Guard, but
worry not; I have sent Geta to ensure his safety.’

A ripple of
laughter rippled around the gathered officers. Every one of them
despised the Praetorian Guard. They seldom left the safety of Rome,
served lesser periods than regular troops and were far better paid
than the average legionary.

‘
Claudius will take the surrender of the city three days from
now,’ he continued. ‘Most of the lesser chieftains are already
here, but we lack the main man. Any news on Caratacus?’

‘
There was rumour of him gathering an army, Sire,’ said a
Tribune, ‘but it has come to naught. He has fled westward with less
than five hundred men. Do you want to send a Cohort in
pursuit?’