“Cover the drums with a skin and have one man march beside the drummer counting paces. I reckon the first camp we went to was around three thousand paces away. Add the same again to the other camp and to the main body. Have them count to six thousand, and then another four hundred just to make sure. At six thousand, four hundred launch the attack.”
He nodded.
“That would work. Even if the beats are slightly out, they’ll be as close as makes no difference.”
It was still raining when we set off. The muted drums banging out an easy rhythm so the legionaries kept pace. They were remarkably quiet considering the amount of metal each man carried. My small unit slipped away from the main body, taking position as agreed. I felt the familiar feeling of adrenaline start to pump. This was what I was used to!
We had a drummer with us. He simply clicked his stick on the side of his drum as he marched and the man beside him counted the steps. We were in position around the exact mark I anticipated, so the man kept clicking. He stopped on the right mark, so we readied ourselves.
The sky above us was just beginning to show that it might think about getting light soon. However, the rain clouds meant that it wasn’t a very enthusiastic thought.
We heard sounds of combat emanating from various sites, all at the same time. I tried to imagine the legion marching almost silently against the enemy encampments. In a way, I was sad not to be a spectator, as marching legions in precision time, with shields at the ready and pilum deployed must be quite a sight.
I ensured we were deployed using the trees as cover with bows at the ready. Sure enough, the retreat could be described as ‘in disarray’. The warriors were fine when facing numerically inferior forces locked in a fort, but when facing what must have appeared the very might of Rome itself, it’s a very different beast.
The legionaries are not trained to take captives, or to fight to wound the enemy. They fight to win, in an effective and efficient manner. However, my quip about slaves was a very true one. The Empire was built on slavery. The daft thing was even some slaves had slaves, as it was a complex social system. Captives from battle rarely made good domestic slaves, as they were often rebellious and prone to assassinate their masters. However, there were many avenues for such people, as I intimated, the games always required new gladiators and the large navy needed oarsmen for the galleys. The spoils of war were such that the legions always benefited for the taking of captives that would eventually end up on the slave markets of the Empire.
I heard the first trumpet blast from the first camp we had scouted. That meant they had finished and were moving on towards the main foe around the fortress.
Shortly after that, the second blast signified that the other camp was clear and so we knew we were likely to receive some visitors shortly
Receive them we did. These were the opposite of the regimented and disciplined legionaries. These were scared rabbits, fleeing for their lives. Many were wounded and more than half were not carrying their weapons, grateful, no doubt, to feel that they had at least escaped the slaughter that many of their comrades had experienced.
Our arrows changed their view. Not knowing which way to run, as they could barely see us in the trees. They had no way of knowing whether we were six or six hundred.
They decided not to test us, turning to the north and continuing to run. It was interesting that none even attempted to surrender. They knew that the legions generally do not take captives. They are costly to feed and look after and slow down any march as well as being a potential security risk. It was only well after the actual combat did the legion contemplate taking captives.
There were no more following, so we gave chase, using our arrows sparingly and retrieving spent ones when we could. The rain stopped as dawn broke. A red sky gleamed from the east, and the panorama revealed that the battle was most definitely won.
We could hear cheering from within the fort. As I approached, leading my small unit, the gates opened and the soldiers marched out with their centurion at their front.
By the time the sun was up, the legionaries returned, marching a significant number of captives before them. These men were stripped naked, as was the custom, and roped together. There were also women and some children, taken no doubt from the camps. These were not stripped, but roped together. I wondered how many had been raped by the legionaries. Some commanders were stricter than others, but I guess they had not yet had time.
I say significant, but actually, there were far more tribesmen dead than were alive. Few of the legionaries had fallen. I saw a line of men waiting for the surgeon to patch up less serious wounds, and only a few men were on the ground with more serious injuries; perhaps ten, no more.
Iona was grinning, with blood on her sword. It was not a battle, as the enemy were at no time organised to offer more than token resistance.
“The girls did well!” she said.
“They did what they were told, yes. But this was not a true test. This was not a fight, but a slaughter,” I said.
“Then thank the Gods!” said Gaius, as he appeared on his horse along with Gallinas.
“A great victory, as you foretold, woman,” the young man said.
I opened my mouth to tell him some home truths, but he was off again, riding to meet the besieged troops as they came to meet him.
“He’ll take all the credit for this,” Gaius said, dismounting.
“Of course he will. I wouldn’t expect anything else. Did everything go to plan?” I asked.
“Perfectly. He was singing your praises so much I thought your head would be three times the size when we would see you. I am pleased it isn’t.”
“So am I. At least he might take me more seriously now.”
“Oh, he takes you seriously. He’s talking about taking you and these captives to Londinium and then on to Rome, to display his new corps of warrior women. He ordered the women to be taken so you can train more.”
I nodded. That was all part of the plan.
“You’re not surprised?” he asked.
“Should I be?”
He shook his head.
“I have no idea. I’ve learned never to prejudge you.”
“Are you coming too?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager.
“Do you want me to?”
I attempted to act nonchalant, as if it mattered not, but failed.
“Perhaps,” I admitted.
Grinning at me, he nodded and walked off.
“What was that about?” Iona asked.
“How do you fancy a trip to Rome?” I asked.
Chapter Eight
I was in London, again!
This was a very different city to that I recalled visiting as Jane. No, what I found in the first century was hardly even a city by the standards of the nineteenth century. It was more like two settlements. There was a large one on the north bank of the Thames and a small one where the borough of Southwark is today to the south. One bridge spanned the river, linking the areas and facilitating the passage of goods by wagon.
Following its foundation in the few decades before I arrived, early Londinium occupied the relatively small area of half a square mile, roughly equivalent to the size of present-day Hyde Park, with a fortified garrison on one of its hills. In the year 60 or 61, the rebellion of the Iceni under Boudicca forced the garrison to abandon the settlement, which was then razed by the British tribe. Following the Iceni’s defeat at the Battle of Watling Street, the city was rebuilt as a planned Roman town and recovered within about a decade.
When we arrived in early autumn of the year 100, it was fast becoming the biggest city in this region. I have no idea as to the population, but would hazard a guess at around forty to fifty thousand people.
The majority of the buildings were made from local timber, of which there was an almost endless supply. It was quite surreal when we marched south to see vast swathes of the countryside covered with forests.