The track they were following was covered in shadow but the sun was now bright and looked warm on the mountain further up. With the shadow came the cooler air and Varro involuntarily shivered as he felt a slight breeze find its way under his tunic and chainmail, sweat trickled down his spine. He turned and saw eager expressions watching him from behind, eyes darted from him to beyond searching for any signs of movement. The hooves of the horses were quieter than usual due to their slow pace but every once in a while a hoof would strike a rock or a piece of shale and send it skipping over the ground bouncing and making noise that made them all cringe. The sound it caused echoed up around the natural walls that now seemed to envelope the scouts.
He turned forward again and slowed Staro's pace even more as he approached a sweeping corner. There were thick trees on the slopes on either side of the worn path covering the steep banks and making it impossible to see if anything lurked in the darkness beyond. He felt his heart beating stronger, faster, pulsing blood through his veins, it almost felt like his chest was about to explode.
From somewhere further around the corner he suddenly heard signs of movement. Something had moved, a rock or a piece of shale and he heard it bouncing over the broken surface. He swallowed and stopped his horse raising his right arm, indicating for those behind him to do the same. He didn’t dare turn around again but sat still in his saddle straining his ears moving his head from side to side listening and half closing his eyes in concentration as he sought out more information. The only thing he could hear now was his mounts tail swishing about behind him and his breathing.
“Shhhh boy.” He whispered and very slowly lifted his leg over Staro’s rump and climbed down in one swift movement. He risked a look backward now and saw Decimus waving his hand in an upwards motion asking him to get back in the saddle. Varro put his finger to his lips warning them to be quiet as he saw those behind Decimus leaning out to see what was happening up ahead, trying to see why they had stopped. He pulled his shield from the horse and stood still listening.
He slowly walked in front of Staro almost tip toeing trying not to make any sound on the littered surface and stood still raising his hand for him to stay where he was. The horse looked to the side at the long grass at the base of the trees and Varro nodded his head forward and down quickly in frustration frowning at his horse and raised his hand higher. Staro whipped his head up quickly and then back down again showing his disappointment at being told not to move and eat the grass. Varro didn’t truly know if that meant he understood what his master wanted from him or not and mentally tried to tell the horse to stay still, pleading in his own mind for him not to move or make a sound.
He turned slowly and faced the corner where the track vanished from view, almost in the same movement he took a step forward, crunch, the shale noisily moved together grating as his hobnail boot compressed it down with his weight. He brought his other foot forward and then listened hovering it above the ground before he gently laid it down, it grated slightly as it landed but it was barely audible. He didn’t dare turn to look around to see if his horse was still standing still, although for a second he thought he heard his tail swishing again.
Crunch!
He froze, eyes flashing from left to right bringing his shield higher and then stared at the bend in the path in front of him on the track. He felt for the hilt of his sword and slowly wrapped his fingers around the handle and pulled it slowly up trying to avoid the familiar rasp as it cleared the scabbard. Pulling it clear he took another step forward praying that his boot didn’t make too much noise, it didn’t this time, the contact was almost imperceptible with the stony surface. He took another and started to lean over to the right trying to see along the path round the bend.
Crunch!
He froze again and could now feel his heart pounding in his chest and a vein somewhere on his right temple pulsing so hard with pressure that he shook his head trying to clear it. Suddenly the single crunch was joined by another and then another. Something was definitely moving towards him building up speed, he crouched pointing his spatha lower, aiming its sharp tip at whatever was moving out of sight, his grip tight on the handle of the weapon. He saw a flicker of white and movement and then it came into full view. It was a lamb, a fat fluffy one. It stared at him and stood stock still as it took him in bleating loudly as if it was as shocked as he was.
He gasped, “You fucking fat furry woolly little bastard.” Varro almost shouted in relief smiling. He turned to the others and raised his shoulders laughing quietly and then heard something else, something violent. It was the sound of branches and leaves being struck by something heavy above him and on both sides and then like the sound of heavy rain, the arrows and spears began to fall.
Chapter Twenty
Caratacus and Ardwen had watched and waited whilst the enemy had slowly marched up into the valleys and mountains, snaking their long column past what he hoped would be beyond any safe point of return. Caratacus had said that he wanted to wait until they were so far into the territory, that they would find it impossible for them to get out again. When that time came he intended to close off any route of escape and destroy the soldiers who had marched into this land intent on killing them.
He had surveyed the route himself several times when it became obvious which track through the mountains they would be forced to take as there were so few now and once there, were committed. They would find a change of direction virtually impossible because there were very few and of those that existed, they twisted through the valleys for mile after mile. He believed that even if some were to escape the slaughter he planned, they would easily be hunted down. They could of course, attempt to scale up even higher slopes at either side of the long worn tracks but their horses would soon tire and falter and the result would be the same, destruction.
After so many defeats and the enforced retreating Caratacus had at last found a place where he believed he could fight the enemy on equal terms thanks to the terrain he found himself in. The enemy had the advantage of weapons still but here that advantage would be removed by virtue of the land and twisting narrow mountain paths. This would be the first test of his beliefs where even if they were outnumbered, the valleys, hills and mountains would give him a much better chance for success. He had been pleased to see Vespasian himself riding with his soldiers, the black plume of his helmet distinct amongst the others of white and red. He would have to try and ensure that the Roman Legate was either killed or captured, he hoped the latter as he would make a good bargaining piece with Rome. His warriors were briefed accordingly but if he were to be killed, his head would make a nice trophy impaled on a spear for all to see.
As the Romans had camped so far away from the higher ground the day before, it had given Caratacus and Ardwen time to call more warriors forward from the surrounding settlements and word had even been sent to the northern tribes. Although fairly dispersed through the valleys and mountains, there were more than enough to guarantee that they now outnumbered the advancing soldiers by at least three to one. If the Demeta, Ordives and Deceangli tribes joined them as well, they would be able to stop the invaders from gaining a foothold in this part of the world. He also had the advantage of having Ardwen and his people with him as they knew these mountains better than the goats and sheep that wandered the slopes, the enemy were at a distinct disadvantage in every sense and he hoped to make that tell.