“Sir,” Marcus cut in, “we can scout around them.” He said gesturing with his arm the direction he suggested to the left. Varro nodded in acknowledgement and they began to move away up a gradual rise on the forest floor. Some moments later they began to hear horses and carts. Moving carefully through the trees above their quarry the first of the Britons came into view. They were clearly wary of their surroundings as they were looking up into the trees canopy and the foliage as they walked.
“It has to be the main body of the enemy force. We must have bumped into the stragglers back there.” Varro said as they continued to watch the Britons. “Come on let’s get out of here.” He turned Staro quietly and moved off, the others following.
Varro opened his eyes slowly, vague memories stumbled through his thoughts. He sensed before he saw and felt that he was being restrained, arms outstretched, wrists tied as well as feet. As his eyes slowly focused, shouting became audible as if he were emerging from water, who was it, where were they? He was dizzy and his head hurt from somewhere near the left temple. He tried to shake off the dullness but it made his head thump even more, with sharp stabbing pains. More noise, voices shouting, faces, blurred faces came into view, unfocused. He closed his eyes tightly as if that would help him focus but it was to no avail. He heard screams from nearby. He turned to the left and could make out other figures standing with their backs against trees like him, he was on his feet, facing outward.
“Varro.” A voice, a familiar voice called to him. Suddenly he was struck by something hard, it rocked his head back against the tree trunk he now realised he was tied to as his senses became sharp once more through a fog of pain.
“Varro!”
The voice called again. He opened his eyes to see a sea of faces before him. Faces daubed in blue streaks, swirls and stripes, limed hair sticking out, taunting and mocking. Two of his men were tied up against a tree to the left. Veranius and Decimus were as bruised as he was and were standing watching the barbarians before them, the Britons spoke in an unknown language, their voices rough and harsh, guttural.
“Thank Mars you’re alive. I thought they’d killed you for sure.” Veranius said, spitting blood from his mouth and wincing. A Briton, female, stepped forward and bent down looking at the blood. She stepped into it merging it with the soil with her foot. Varro looked at her muscular frame, her arms daubed with the blue war paint, bare legs and breasts, her crotch and lower legs the only areas that were covered.
Seeing he had regained consciousness she walked over to him and muttered something but he didn’t understand a word she said, her breath was rank as she spat words into his face. She grabbed at his balls, squeezing them and laughing as did others gathered nearby. He realised that he was stripped naked, his clothing and armour nowhere to be seen, what the fuck had happened? She waved a sharp knife in the other hand whilst squeezing and pulling on his testicles with the other.
They had heard rumours of Britons stripping men of their flesh when they were captured, their genitals cut from them and sewn into their mouths, tongues cut out, ears and noses cut off, burned and eaten before them. It was a fate worse than death being captured by these primitive bastards but that was where they found themselves, they here and they’re worst nightmare was realised. The women were said to be more terrifying than the men, taking revenge for the deaths of their families and loved ones. Women warriors whose hatred and scorn was taken out on the men who had wounded and killed their own, were now given the chance to take blood for blood.
Varro saw men watching in the background sat on a raised bank, he and his men were being used for entertainment. They were not delirious with pleasure as the women seemed to be but sat there just watching with something akin to sympathy etched across their faces. They chewed on stripped pieces of meat and chatted with each other as the entertainment continued.
“The others, where are they?” Varro called out.
“They managed to escape when they ambushed us.” Veranius said struggling against the rope binding him to the tree. The female saw him and walked over, spitting in his face. Veranius returned the gesture and was punched squarely on the nose, it crunched under the impact. Before he could register the pain another blow pounded into his face, followed by another with the flat of her palm. The female withdrew her hand, her palm already blood spattered with red snot and blood. Veranius gagged trying to breathe through his shattered nose, snorting out blood quickly to try and clear his airway.
“I hope they rode back to get help because if they didn’t we’re going to go to our gods here this night.” Varro said watching the woman as she walked over to Decimus. She grabbed his manhood and stretched it, gathering in his balls as well she removed her knife from a belt and placed it against his organs. His head jerked back as he tried to move away from her blade, she laughed, letting go as his head dropped in relief. They would tease their prey before they mutilated them it seemed.
“Stay the fuck away from us you dirty fucking diseased cunt.” Shouted Veranius. Instantly the woman turned her attention to him.
“Veranius, keep your fucking mouth shut unless you want that dirty cunt to cut your cock off and eat it raw before your dying eyes.” His commander ordered.
“They’re going to kill us anyway so why delay it sir?” He looked at the Briton before him almost pleading in his eyes for a quick death as she ran the sharpened blade down his chest opening a long slicing cut.
The previously vanished memories of the ambush began to return to Varro in flashes, the attack that had come without warning and that had brought them to this point. They had been guiding their horses through a twisting trail through shaded woods when the Britons had struck. Had they been pushed into taking this route by the bowmen or had it been a coincidence, Varro didn’t know. What he did know was that once the ambush was sprung, within seconds he and his men were captured or fleeing for their lives. They suddenly found themselves surrounded at the front and both sides. As they tried to turn quickly in the confined space, more Britons cut off the rear. Marcus and Lucius charged their horses at the linking line of barbarians and half jumped their animals through the gathering horde.
Marcus’ mounts front hooves clipped the forehead of a screaming enemy, knocking him out cold instantly, even before he hit the ground. Mud flew into the air from the animals feet as the ambush tightened its grip. The horse carrying Lucius romped into the gap created by the falling native and the two galloped away. Wooden clubs were wielded by the screaming warriors as they aimed for the heads and arms of the remaining riders whilst others behind them held large spears. As Varro realised the intention was capture and not kill, a blow to the head took him from the frenzied world he had found himself in.
Veranius spat the contents of his bleeding mouth at the female as she shrieked into his face pressing the knife into his stomach, her own now covered in his blood and spittle.
“Noooooo!” Shouted Varro as his second in command braced himself. He managed a half turn to his commander as the blade pierced his flesh entering his body with ease as she leaned on the handle. Sweat glistened from the Romans head as the knife sunk deeper and he howled in agony. Varro was aware of the face of Decimus behind his wounded friend but didn’t focus to look at him. Veranius could do nothing except scream. As the knife reached the hilt, the woman let go of the handle and let it stay where it had sank to and she spat at Veranius.
“Fucking cunt, you fucking whore.” He shouted his voice still strong, his head dropping, eyes looking at the blade embedded in his stomach.
“Hold on Veranius, just hold on. Don’t do anything else to intimidate her or she’ll have your fucking balls off as well.” Varro shouted almost pleading, the woman looked at him as he said it and placed her hand on the knife handle again.