“Yes sir.” The centurion acknowledged.
“Right let’s get back inside and get cleaned up, we must both reek like smoked fish.” Vespasian said turning and heading back to the main entrance where work still went on and would for some time to come.
Some miles to the north, Varro led his small group of ten through the snow filled countryside. They looked like ordinary Britons as they followed the trail left by Caratacus and his army. It wasn’t difficult as they had left foot and hoof prints and wheel tracks on the trail and either side, so wide had been their force. They hadn’t found any bodies which meant if any others had died, they were carrying them with them.
They had slowed to a walk sometime before not wanting to exhaust their mounts and their disguises would only work if they could avoid contact with the locals, racing north after a war band would only bring suspicion. Brenna and her brother would do any talking that was necessary but they knew their subterfuge wouldn’t last forever. The cold was biting into their limbs even though they were covered in thick skins. Hoods guarded their heads but didn’t keep out either the cold or snow entirely.
Varro shouted over to Brenna, “We should find somewhere to rest for a while, make a fire and warm up. The trail won’t disappear for days with this frost on the ground. We’re in no hurry and anyone seeing us would find it suspicious if we were found following their path.”
“Very well,” she replied, “we’ll continue until we find somewhere suitable to shelter and get a fire going and some hot food, we’ll feel much better after that.”
“Agreed.” He said, he estimated that the retreating force were at most, half a day’s ride ahead. The mission was to find out where the attackers settlement was and to report back, avoiding all contact with them if possible. There was no point rushing and walking into a trap from which they no doubt would not return.
After a while they came to a small copse in a valley, it was out of the wind that had begun to develop on top of the freezing temperatures and snow, it was the last thing they needed. The snow barely covered the ground under the trees due to the thick cover overhead, as soon as they arrived and tied their animals up they went in search of suitable pieces of wood for a fire.
“Let’s get it going as soon as possible and don’t worry about the smoke, we’re just travellers caught in the storm if anyone finds us, if anyone else is stupid enough to be out in this.” Varro said looking around, “Which I doubt.”
It took a while for the flames to catch thanks to the damp wood but after a while it dried off. Later with the fire roaring and preparations made to heat salted pork and vegetables they had brought with them, they settled in and waited to see if the weather changed, it didn’t. As it was getting late they decided to pitch camp for the night so they huddled next to each other under blankets watching the snow fall from the grey sky as the fire began to cast shadows from the surrounding trees.
Just before the sun fell beyond the horizon, somewhere to the west under a snow filled sky, Caratacus and Ardwen led their army up the final valley path and into the beginnings of the settlement at the top of the mountain. They passed the cultivated areas where crops were grown on the flatter levels inside the huge basin and eventually the first roundhouse came into view. People came out to greet them and scurried about looking for loved ones searching desperately. Those related to the injured ran to the rear while those related to the dead were either struck dumb with shock or began to wail when they were told the news.
It took some time for the entire column to reach the settlement and by the time the final carts were rumbling along slowly past the roundhouse where Ardwen, Caratacus and the elders were, they were already in fresh dry clothes with warm soup in their bellies.
The dead were honoured and a total of eleven families now grieved. More had died in the wagons on the way back with four others seriously injured through sword or arrow wounds. There were more who were walking wounded but in time they would recover to fight again. It was decided that it would be inappropriate to celebrate the raids success for the time being and with everyone exhausted from either travelling or worrying about those out on the road, most settled down in their homes and simply went to sleep.
Caratacus and Ardwen however, together with a few elders stayed awake long into the night quietly discussing their next move, what strategy would they employ next, now that they knew they could defeat the invaders. They knew that Vespasian would want to avenge the humiliation of the attack and drew up plans to counter them and take the fight to the Roman officer and his Legion. They drank mead and finally relaxed as the snow continued to fall covering everything on the mountain home.
Early the next morning a long time before the sun rose, Varro awoke shivering. He was curled up at Brenna’s side with Tevelgus her brother curled into a ball under his cloak beyond her. He turned to find Decimus’ face partly hooded behind him, snow covered him still snoring oblivious to the conditions. He sat up and saw that the fire was still smouldering just and pushed himself up to his knees and stood up. Brenna groaned but turned and went back to sleep under an arm unknowingly put out by Decimus.
He stood and stretched, shivering, seeing that even more snow had fallen during the night, outside the copse it was a few feet deep now. He could however, see clearly for some way, thanks to the white all around despite the lingering darkness. He collected fallen branches and twigs from the ground under the trees and put them by the fire to dry. He broke and twisted others from low branches, pulling the leaves off, brushing the snow away and set them down beside the fire. The wood cracked as it dried and smelt quite rank. He sat down on a log, one of the few they had found the night before and stared into the falling snow.
“Humph.” Someone sighed stirring behind him. He turned to see Decimus had opened his eyes.
“Fuck a pig it’s freezing.” He said blinking himself awake, he saw Brenna and smiled, “Hello couldn’t resist could you?” He said to her sleeping face, she murmured something and opened her eyes, frowned and then suddenly sat up. Her cloak fell away and she quickly raised it round her shoulders, looking round.
“More snow then?” She said sleepily.
Varro threw another stick on the fire, “It’s a good job we found this place when we did or we’d be a few feet under it by now. Outside the copse it’s at least two feet deep, the trees kept most of it off us. It’s still freezing though as Decimus so articulately pointed out.”
She looked at him with just his eyes peeping out from his cloak wrapped round his head, “Yes I heard him dreaming last night he was talking and blabbering in his sleep about his love for a huge fat pig called porky or something. He said people wanted to slaughter and eat it but he was saying that he had grown up with it and wanted it to marry him instead.” She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Is it traditional for you Romans to have romantic relationships with your bacon?”
“Ho, ho fucking ho.” Decimus replied from under his cloak. “I’ll have you know there are some very attractive young swine where I come from.” He looked from her to Varro. “Not just pigs either, horses and even cows are known to marry their men folk and when they get too old, you eat them and get another.” He struggled up and got to his feet, “I find it makes for a quieter life than a human female. They don’t nag nearly as much and when you tire of them, you eat them, simple.” He turned and walked away from the growing fire.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if you’re not joking.” Brenna said watching him as he stood away from the group rummaging with his tunic.
“You see what I mean? A man can’t even take an early morning piss without being disturbed by a woman.” He turned laughing as others in their group began to stir.