“Check you horses.” He ordered as the remaining soldiers jumped from their mounts. Regular cavalry units wore heavy armour a tactic that had come into being after the Roman army had come into contact with a Sarmation tribe called the Roxolina. The Roxolina had used the cataphracti armour, when going into battle, the legions had been so impressed with their equipment, armour and horsemanship that they had created their own. It demonstrated a respect for people and cultures outside the Empire and had proven invaluable in preserving soldiers and horses lives and of course helped in winning battles and ultimately wars.
Varro and his men had virtually the same equipment as the men in the ranks of the legions but didn’t have the same heavy solid body armour because their task was to cover large areas of land in as short a space of time as possible and the armour of the heavy infantry would have slowed them and their horses down. Instead they had chainmail linked armour that covered their torsos and their horses had a hardened leather equivalent of the regular cavalry that covered vulnerable areas against sword or spear thrusts. It wouldn’t stop a direct assault but many a horse’s life had been saved by the thick leather armour.
He made sure the bridle constructed of an iron curb that made up the bit in the mouth wasn’t causing any problems. The curbs had been designed to get an instant response for Cavalry and had a bar in the mouth and one under the animals chin. He ran his hand along the nose band over the horse’s muzzle and under its chin. Staro showed no sign of it being uncomfortable, his large brown eyes watching Varro, everything seemed to be in order.
The horse’s kit had been checked before departing Gaul but there had been no time to properly check the equipment immediately after they had got off the ship as more troops had piled ashore behind them and it had been tactically astute to move off the beach as soon as possible. This was their first opportunity to make sure everything was in working order in what looked to be a safe area. They were in a clearing and out of range of any weapons that could be lurking in the nearby woodland or so they hoped.
As the sound of bird song in the trees grew louder, Veranius and Decimus approached a shaded area of grass before the woodland. They could see only large tree trunks, branches and leaves before them rustling in a slight breeze. Veranius had led them to the track on the left side of the clearing. He had decided that if an ambush party were waiting for them, they didn’t want to be riding towards its centre where they could be quickly encircled and trapped.
His hands moved over the chainmail covering his chest, he pulled on the links at his sides to make it more comfortable. When the linked vests were first put on, they felt very heavy but the cavalry soon got used to them, when they were in the correct position, they hardly knew they were wearing them. He looked around, his hand dropped to the hilt of his sword as the cool of the shade engulfed him.
Decimus followed at a distance behind. In the event of attack, both horses would need at least two lengths to turn and gallop to safety. It would be pointless just the two of them trying to fight if they got into trouble with another group after finding themselves outnumbered. Their task was to ensure the way was clear and report back in the event of trouble, not to take on enemy forces, in that event they would return to the clearing at speed.
Decimus adjusted his helmet so he could see up into the tree tops. The unit had been issued with standard cavalry helmets with only the eyes, nose and mouth visible. Decimus turned his head fully, watching for anything that might be a threat.
The woodland seemed vast and full of small wildlife, all of which could be heard but not seen. Along the worn paths they wound their way through the trees like small streams disappearing and re-appearing in the walls of leaves and branches. He checked the two small throwing spears tied to his horse, they were only about four feet in length so they could be carried at the side of the animal and not wound others because they were too long, especially if they were riding in formation. All the men that served under Varro were proficient throwers of the pilum and could accurately hit a target some distance away.
The air was full of differing scents from the plentiful plant life around them, it seemed almost serene. They knew that the land they were now on was split into different tribal areas just like Gaul had been. Over twenty main tribes were known to inhabit this vast island and they were now in the area known to be dominated by the tribe known as the Cantiaci, one of the tribes heavily influenced by Caratacus of the Catuvellauni and his brother who were both vehement opponents of Rome. The Catuvellauni were a large tribe, said to be the second largest in all Britannia. Varro and his men were not there to confront them if they found them but were to scout for their presence along the coastal routes as the main force came ashore.
Three other large tribes were known to inhabit the southern shores of the island and they were sure they would come into contact with all of them at some point, hopefully one tribe at a time. The Atrebates and the Durotriges were known to live in the centre of the southern shoreline and the Dumnonii dominated the south west. Numbers amongst the tribes were invariably inconsistent and depended on who you spoke to and where the intelligence had come from but it was known that each tribe could call many thousands of warriors to their banner. The majority of these people however, were not professional fighters but farmers who answered the call to arms when required from their chieftains.
After a short time Veranius and Decimus reached a clearing where they could once again feel the warmth of the sun on their skin.
“Go back and get the others, tell Varro the area is clear.” Veranius instructed Decimus. He didn’t reply but just nodded and turning trotted off back down the track. Veranius searched the trees around the clearing and moved forward, he didn’t see or sense any movement. A little further into the ground that was clear of trees he found a small brook where clear water ran. He led his horse to it and the animal drank, ears twitching. Veranius got off and removed his helmet and scooped water up into his cupped hands. It was cool to the touch and refreshing when he splashed it over his face and rubbed his neck.
“That's nice hey boy?” He said to the horse that turned and looked at him and then returned to the water for another drink.
“This place isn’t so bad is it? It’s even warm and sunny, those fools back in Rome said it was freezing here and animal skins and fur had to be worn to keep out the cold.” He sat on a large rock, “Maybe it was winter when they came eh?”
He took out his dagger, a weapon nearly a foot long and known as a pugio or pugiones dependant on which region of the empire the soldier came from. The bone handle was smooth and comfortable in his hand with its T-shaped pommel at the base. The blade was made of cold sharp iron and slightly stretched in a triangular shaped wedge. Almost day dreaming in the warm sunlight, he suddenly had a vivid image of the last time he had used it in combat. Under normal circumstances it would have been his sword that was used but in a battle against a Germanic tribe he had dropped his spatha as his legions flank was outnumbered and overrun, their shield wall shattered. Colliding against the side of another horseman he had found it impossible to keep a grip of his spatha’s hilt and it was knocked from his hand.
The ferocity and speed of the savages had been so shocking that they had almost overwhelmed the three lines of well trained and disciplined soldiers. They immediately began to collapse with the weight of the huge fur clad tribesmen lashing and screaming at them with axes and huge swords. He remembered back to a loud drumming sound that intruded upon the madness, it came from somewhere behind them but was drowned out by the wild cries of their attackers and clashing weapons.