“Stand to. Stand to.” Shouted the Decurion as he stumbled to get to his own horse. Three feet from relative safety two arrows hit it either side of the saddle and it reared and bolted. He saw the Britons were closing on him and were now only about thirty feet away. Turning quickly he ran towards his men, some were already on their own mounts and were clearly panicking as some horses bolted and reared. One soldier he saw threw his pilum before getting on his horse.
“Run sir.” Shouted one of his soldiers as he turned his horse and held out a hand for the officer as he sprinted back the way they had come. Shrill war cries screamed from behind and he could almost feel the dog’s teeth sinking into his legs as the snarling got louder. A soldier loosed an arrow and it flew at pace passed the running Decurion closely missing him, seconds later he heard an animal yelp clearly it had hit one of the dogs but it wouldn’t help against an entire pack.
He slipped forward on the damp surface, stumbling nearly falling over but somehow managed to stay on his feet. The horse and rider were gathering speed as they began their retreat as he reached out inches from safety. Arrows flew over and all around him as spears began to land but by some miracle they all missed.
“Come on sir for fucks sake.” Shouted the soldier turning in his saddle and leaning forward leaving his arm outstretched. Valius jumped and grabbed for the arm and managed to cling on as the soldier swung him forward and up. He landed on the hard rump of the cantering horse as it sped up and bounced him up and down as he looped his arms around the cavalryman’s waist almost falling off.
“Ride. Fucking ride soldier.” He turned his head but before he could turn fully he saw the large dogs were already level with the horse, barking and snarling up at its legs, froth flying from their large sharp teeth. He wanted to reach for his sword but knew that to do so would be to risk falling. If that happened he would be ripped apart so he turned and clung on for dear life.
The horses eventually started to outpace the dogs when they got to a gallop but were soon caught up again when they reached another watery patch. As the soldiers urged their mounts through the waist high water as it splashed head high, the dogs leapt from the dry land.
Valius was suddenly aware of another attack from the front as his men began to turn and realised that they were cut off from the front and rear. Horses broke to the left and the right as dozens of animals panicked, eyes wide with fright. He knew that if they didn’t stay together they would be easy prey and picked off one at a time but also knew that man and horse were panicking as they tried to survive the onslaught.
“Dogs? Dogs?” Shouted one soldier clearly in shock as the half crazed animals bit up at the horse’s legs, growling and trying to gain purchase on their flesh.
“The bastards use them to hunt deer and bring them down.” Valius shouted as he scrambled for a javelin at the horses side. He turned as loud splashes caught his attention where it looked like the water was boiling. He saw three of the dogs had latched onto the rear legs of a horse and were trying to pull it down. The soldier on board realising the odds were against him jumped clear splashing into the water face first, arms and legs spread. Instantly the dogs turned their attention to the man releasing the horse, before the Batavian even got his head clear of the water, the dogs were on him. Valius saw the soldiers arms were pinned to his side as the three then another bit into the flesh of his legs. He screamed in agony and vaguely struggled for his sword but was dragged down as yet another large dog attacked.
“This way,” shouted the Decurion as his rider struggled to the right colliding into another horse. The confusion had allowed the Britons to get closer and they now launched numerous spears and arrows at the escaping men. Sharpened spikes penetrated the flesh of horse and man alike as the water began to turn red with blood.
Half naked warriors hurled themselves into the water as the majority of the panicked cavalry struggled to follow the Decurion. Those that had chosen to go to the left were quickly surrounded as other Britons appeared from the left side. Screams were literally drowned out as men were dragged from horses and plunged into the water by their attackers and pushed under and stabbed or drowned.
Helmets were ripped from heads and used as clubs to batter some of soldiers senseless before they were killed. Valius saw some surrendering holding their arms high weapon less. One of them he watched was run through by a long sword, the expression on his face of horrified shock. The Decurion urged the rider on, they had to escape this madness.
Caratacus withdrew his sword as the man collapsed. He would take no captives this day after seeing his brother die. Around him the enemy were cut down, those not surrounded by his warriors were torn to pieces by his hunting dogs. Soaking he saw that an element of soldiers were beginning to get away, he pointed in their direction and victimless warriors began to charge after them.
Sometime later disorientated and lost, the surviving auxiliaries had slowed their animals to a walk. They had trudged through the marshes for what seemed like an eternity and had eventually found dry land free of the bog. They rode on in silence, dirty, shocked and bloodied by the brutality and swiftness of the attack.
Valius had lost more than half the men that had gone into the watery marshland with him but he knew what was important now was survival, they would have time to mourn later. Horses had been cut down as well as men and no doubt some taken by the barbarians. The wrath he would face from the General would be nothing compared to facing the horror of the enemy in that watery grave. Images of the attack kept returning to his inner vision as his mind kept replaying men being brought down and attacked by the huge dogs. He wanted to stop and rest but didn’t dare in case they caught up with them. His surviving men didn’t complain, they all knew the risk and like him were prepared to keep going all night as long as they escaped with their lives.
Miles away to the south, the Roman Commander of the entire invasion, Aulus Plautius conferred with Vespasian. All major elements had now crossed the Medway and the vast Roman army was patiently waiting for further orders. Weapons were checked and re-supplied as were other stores, the casualty areas were reinforced and made more substantial. They planned to keep the ground they had taken.
Already trees were being felled in order to build a temporary crossing point across the river, a fortified bridge. For the time being the majority, were still having to cross some miles away from where the majority of combat troops were now gathered as only a few at a time could use the rafts. The crossing used during the battle was worn and eroded and too dangerous to use further. Inside the quickly assembled command tent the architects of the battle discussed their options. Vespasian poured a mug of wine and offered another to Plautius which he accepted.
“What would you recommend General?” asked the commander deferring to the experienced man under his command. Vespasian considered for a moment before answering, he examined the hastily drawn map in his hands. “We can either make camp here for the night or we can pursue them and cut them down sir.”
Vespasian looked around him at those listening before going further, “We’ve still got daylight for maybe another four or five hour’s sir. If we stop now it will give them chance to regroup, I think it’s better if we push on for as long as we can while we’ve still got light. However, the Batavian cohort should have returned by now and we’ve seen no sign of them.”
“Do you think the Britons have got the better of them?” The commander asked.