“What is it cousin, why have you pulled me away from our much deserved victory just as we are about to rout them?” Ardwen asked of Caratacus as they ran together.
Caratacus led him to the cover of the trees at the side of the clearing and pointed saying, “Watch what happens cousin, this is one of the things I have learned from fighting these men.” They both crouched down behind thick tree trunks and bushes and watched. The warriors made short work of the remaining men that had been unfortunate enough to find themselves isolated and caught out in the open. More spears and arrows penetrated their bodies from above and even their armour occasionally, those who weren’t hit from the slopes were struck by swords or axes. It was butchery, man against man, crude, vile and naked aggression and the Britons were winning. The last of the Romans fell with another by his side dispatched just before him but the indiscipline of their men showed as they hurriedly bent down to loot the bodies of weapons and armour.
“See here,” Caratacus said, “if those men over there weren’t occupied and distracted with those two scurrying back to them, our people would be wiped out where they stood.”
Quickly the warriors began to turn their attention to the rows of shields and ran towards them. Caratacus and Ardwen watched a few of them as they tried in vain to spear the two men who were closing the gap to safety. The next second, a flight of javelins were hurled skyward from behind the front row of waiting soldiers. They arced into the grey sky and fell, wiping out lives, in an instant they were joined by arrows that jarred their warriors backward, spinning some as they fell. The Roman spears and arrows took a deadly toll on the previously victorious Britons and their advance began to falter.
Ardwen looked on in horror as their men and women were taken from the world, bodies punctured even before they could reach the Roman lines. They both saw the two men who had been retreating dragged to safety through an area of shields that closed behind them. A trumpet sounded from somewhere in the midst of armour and the entire row of Romans began to move backward as if one giant metallic and wooden beast. Caratacus and Ardwen shouted at their archers to keep firing, they weren’t to be given a seconds respite as they retreated.
Caratacus turned and scrambled up the slope behind him quickly followed by Ardwen pulling himself up on trees and branches. He glanced back and saw that the Romans were retreating to the track that they had followed, at the far edge of the bowl like clearing.
“We’ve got to get the slingers involved when they get to that narrow break in the rock.” He shouted back at Ardwen who was already red faced from the effort of hauling himself up. Caratacus slipped on the surface and fell face down and started to slide back down the steep slope towards Ardwen, gravel and loose rock followed his fall.
He swore shouting at himself as he continued to slide trying to grasp branches and roots until he crashed into Ardwen. The two stopped still for a second, looked at each other and then barrelled back down the slope to where they had started.
Varro kept riding until he was certain they were out of sight of the attacking Britons. Eventually he slowed down and turned to see that they had followed the path into another mountainous valley some distance from where the trap was sprung. He guided them down to a small stream where he led his horse to water, Brenna and Decimus followed.
“Gods fucking teeth, this is a fucking disaster.” He said crouching down and scooping water onto his face. “Did you hear the battle beyond where we attacked? The main column must have been ambushed as well, if they were cut off in that clearing, every one of them could be dead.”
Decimus walked into the water and washed his own face, the water was ice cold, “What now then? We can either ride for help or try and get back to them and find out what happened.”
Varro looked over to Brenna who was still on her horse, the animal was drinking from the stream but she was sat staring at the ground.
“Brenna.” She didn’t reply. “Brenna.” He said again, as glazed eyes looked up to acknowledge his words. In the melee he had forgotten about her loss.
“My brother is dead.” She didn’t move, just sat staring at him. He wiped his face with the red cloth around his neck and walked over to her.
“Come, have some water.” He said.
“Will the water bring my brother back?” Tears rolled freely from her eyes down her face and fell onto her dirty skin. He reached up and wiped the tears from her face.
“Come we have to decide what to do, or his death and those of our friends will have been for nothing.” She allowed herself to be helped down and Varro put his arms around her and held her closely.
“The Twentieth are supposed to be to the north of here fighting the Ordovices,” Decimus said, “maybe we could ride for help.” Varro frowned and shook his head slightly telling Decimus that this was not the time. He leaned back and looked at Brenna her head was down facing the ground. Every now and again the sound of battle was carried to them on the wind through the valley, swords clashing, screaming or trumpet sound.
“It sounds like they’re still fighting, may the gods protect them.” Varro said. “There could be thousands of the bastards in these mountains and we walk in without the support of another legion.” Brenna pushed herself away from him.
“It would be as quick to ride back to Isca as to ride north but the Silures are blocking the path so we may never get through, where did your Twentieth legion approach the north from, do you know?” She asked.
Varro walked to the edge of the stream and marked a map in the soil with his sword, “They advanced from the east moving into the northern territories. It’s not just the Ordovices they face though as they would have had to march through the lands of the Cornova first who may have resisted as well.” He looked up at his two remaining companions. “That’s not all,” he marked the ground again, “here to the north towards Mona is the land of the Deceangli and there is no guarantee that they haven’t joined any fight to the south.”
Decimus walked from the stream shaking water from his hands, “At least the Twentieth will be at full strength, they hadn’t established any fort and were marching daily or so I heard, they’ll be better equipped and manned in comparison to the Second.”
“That’s true,” Varro said knowing the Second had left men behind to guard Isca, he looked at Brenna again, “you would stand a better chance of getting through to them than us through these lands, no-one would have reason to stop you.”
She looked back at him, “And why would your Twentieth listen to me? If they’re involved in fighting and see another Briton approach them, I may not even get close enough to speak to them.”
Varro looked over to Decimus, “Go with her my friend, leave your armour and anything of Rome here, we’ve got to go for help or those men in the mountains we came with will be destroyed.”
Decimus’ face showed he clearly wasn’t happy with the decision but started to take off his chainmail. “Very well Varro, I will go with Brenna but what will you do? Isn’t it better that we all stay together, surely three are better than two are they not?”
“Yes they are but against the odds we are likely to face, I don’t think it would make that much difference. We can’t just abandon the Legate and the men of the Second, even if it is only to witness their corpses. Besides if anyone sees you two, they will probably think you are man and wife and won’t pay any attention.” He helped Decimus remove his chainmail as he was struggling to get it over his head.
“Isn’t that all the more reason for you to go with Brenna surely?” Decimus said.
Varro looked from one to the other, “You are both dear to me but for different reasons but so are the men fighting for their lives in the mountains back there. I am better suited to staying alone and you are better suited to going, both of you. I wouldn’t rest if I were the one to go anyway.” He looked over to Staro still drinking at the stream.