“I don’t think that’s smoke from the columns camp fires for some reason, it looks different, too black, it doesn’t look normal.” Marcus remarked.
“I think you’re right.” Varro replied looking at the dark plumes rising into the sky above them in the clear blue air as they drew closer.
“Maybe they caught the butchering bastards and set them on fire.” Veranius remarked.
“I very much doubt it Veranius, crucified them maybe but I wouldn’t have thought the General would stoop to their barbaric levels.” Varro said.
They continued on, watching all around them, their imaginations producing huge men with axes in the woods waiting for the right moment to attack. Varro knew that the approach to the column was always the most dangerous. Whilst they were so close to safety and security they knew nothing of the enemy positions and so could walk directly into a trap at any moment. If the Britons had been massing for a large attack they would be close and it would be virtually impossible to get to the main force.
Eventually the fortified positions came into view and they could see soldiers moving about in camp and outside the boundaries. Dark smoke was billowing from somewhere in the centre of the position and horsemen galloped here and there no doubt carrying out different orders.
“This doesn’t look good.” Varro said to no-one in particular as riders came out to challenge the approaching men.
Some hours later, the dead buried and with preparations to move forward taking place, Varro made his report to Vespasian who was sat reading reports from other scouts. The tent was modest by a General’s standards, a bust of the Emperor Claudius and the Legions eagle standard, the only sign of grandeur. A large map of the land was spread out on a table.
“We came across a hunting party of no-more than twelve men General. They were two days ride further west. They attempted to engage us armed with spears and swords.” Varro pointed to relevant areas on the map laid out on the table before him. “Other than that we saw no large force or organised resistance. There were a few settlements, one where druids were performing some bizarre ritual and actually burned a young boy to death in a large wooden frame.” He paused. “We found another band after rescuing another lad, they were friendly and were led by a man called Tevelgus and his sister Brenna. They gave us food, shelter and rest and let us stay at their settlement.”
The General rose from his seat after listening to his verbal report. “The druids have been sacrificing the lives of their people to appease their gods for decades maybe longer, we will need the location of their settlement exactly so we can make an example out of them. I wouldn’t want our men blundering into any potential allies like this Tevelgus and blood being spilt. Our previous expeditionary forces have confirmed that the druids are the spiritual leaders of many of the tribal regions and although some have their differences and boundaries, the druids remain consistent throughout. Superstition and fear are used to control their people, anyone found not complying or living outside their rules are persuaded to change their attitude shall we say. If they don’t abide by the druids decisions or orders they are either sacrificed and thrown into a peat bog or something else equally awful.
The druids don’t exactly rule the people of this land in the usual sense but they are very influential in various ways and hold a lot of power. It’s been that way for centuries, always behind a veil of secrecy and tribal elders, offering suggestions and ensuring their own way is abided by one way or another. They are said to have a large island called Mona somewhere to the north-west just off the coast where their spiritual emissaries receive their own instructions in order to control the tribes. It is one of our objectives in time and this infestation we will destroy along with any other impediment that tries to resist us.” He looked up.
“Centurion Varro you have done well to find this information, it is essential we form alliances with this Tevelgus and people like him, he will also have information about the druids local to the area and other regions. We march again soon but you and your men can get some rest and re-supply. If you find any sign of this Caratacus I want to know immediately, I vow that he will pay for the lives he’s taken.”
The General thanked Varro again before he left the tent, his men were waiting nearby, sitting on storage sacks, their horses feeding from nose bags. He explained the situation and their orders, “I suggest we get some sleep on the sentry wagon before we ride out again.” He looked up at the valley around them. “Things are going to get interesting around here.”
On horseback hidden under trees, scouts sent out by Caratacus watched as the Roman war machine packed up all its equipment and began to move forward, once again moving west like some enormous metal covered snake. A golden eagle glinted near the front of the line carried by one man, reflecting the day’s bright sunshine off it as did other objects; a boar was one of many carried throughout their column. One of the watching men eagerly observing their number was not a warrior but druid. He spoke to himself in whispers, almost trance like as two other men turned to look at him. They both respected and feared the man who wore no colouring to his skin or lime in his hair. He was thin with straggling hair and a long grey beard. As one, the group turned and encouraged their horses to walk away leaving the druid watching the Romans below.
After some rest aboard one of the rattling, bumpy carts, Varro led his men along the column. He never ceased to be impressed at the uniform patterns as the legions marched, Centurions with their traverse crests in front of them or to the side, shouting at any man who fell out of line even by the smallest margin. The standard bearers carried the various unit insignia just behind the Centurion so orders could be relayed quickly to the marching troops behind them. Optio’s further back were keeping an eye on the men and the ground all around them. An almost rhythmic crunch, crunch reverberated along with the soldiers as their boots hit the ground. With the mornings sun shining off their armour and helmets he wondered how anyone could fail to be overawed by their presence and fear their power. One someone however, was this Caratacus and the Britons who accompanied him. They were clearly un-impressed and weren’t afraid but so far they hadn’t faced them properly, army to army. Instead they had nibbled away at the legions men, tactically winning minor victories and then vanishing into the surrounding countryside, which he hoped was about to change.
As Varro and his men drew level with the leading elements of the enormous convoy of men, wagons and horses, he saluted the Generals standard, brought Staro up onto his hind legs and then galloped away, Veranius and the others following. They slowed to a canter after a while to preserve the animal’s energy.
“If they find Brenna’s settlement again we’ll try to forge an alliance and also try to find out what they know about Caratacus and his war band.” Varro said.
“Do you really think after just one night of passion, she’ll be willing to turn on her own people Varro? Your cock must have extra special seed inside it if that’s what you believe.” Veranius commented as he trotted alongside smirking at his superior.
“You are obviously underestimating my passion my friend,” he replied smiling, “I’m sure if it had been you, she’d be ready to fight alongside that barbarian right now. Fortunately it wasn’t however and I’m certain she’ll be willing to accommodate me again and not just inside her bed.” He laughed out loud tipping his head back as he had the last laugh and had embarrassed his second in command with the others listening and laughing along with him.
The humour was brought to an abrupt halt as they rode around the next curve on the track into a vast clearing. They stopped instantly as they stared at the lines of Britons arranged in front of them…..there were thousands of them.