The father of the young man stepped forward and held out his hand, Dumnoc took his wrist. “Thank you Dumnoc of the Catuvellauni, we will never forget what you have done for us this night. You have given us another chance of life, how can we ever repay you?”
“Payment is neither asked for or required my friend. Now gather your things quickly and leave this place. I recommend you travel north and make haste.” Dumnoc replied.
The man tuned and spoke to the former slaves. “You all know me and my family, like you, we have suffered at this place under them,” his eyes flicked to the bloodied mass of destroyed corpses. “My family and I will travel north to seek this Caradoc in the lands of the Silures as Dumnoc has said. I know the paths and have been there before as I used to trade with them. You are all welcome to join us if you wish; if not then I bid you a safe journey wherever you go. Think quickly and carefully because the Romans will not like what has happened here this night.”
He walked to his wife and son and then they went to find their belongings. Hushed conversations took place amongst all the others, who quickly followed them.
As Dumnoc’s warriors lit torches a short time later, the former slaves left the villa on wagons and horses. They had all decided to look for a new life with Caradoc in the mountains. The buildings of the villa were searched one last time and anything of value was taken. The villa was then set on fire and abandoned.
Chapter Four
The sun shone down warming the three men as they slowly approached the harbour on horseback at the end of the estuary. They had travelled for two days riding north taking their time and stopping at settlements along the way. Encouraged by the response of those they had spoken with, they had decided to go further and have a look at the garrison that was being established at what the Romans were calling Deva. It was situated inland along the river where they could establish a reliable supply route. It had all the hallmarks of Isca in the south located on the River Exe, where the Second Augusta were garrisoned. Deva however, was manned by the Twentieth Legion and as the three riders approached the harbour they saw the first signs of their occupation, a flag bearing a boar, the insignia of the Twentieth.
Caradoc, Ardwen and Brennus knew that getting so close to a slumbering beast was always dangerous, but after many conversations and debates about whether it was worth the risk, they had decided it was. They wanted to see for themselves just how far along the enemies defences were, what their disposition was and how the local people were responding to them. Caradoc and Ardwen had asked Brennus to accompany them, not only was he very useful to have around if things went wrong but he was also Ardwen’s half-brother on his father’s side. Two huge Roman Triremes sat at anchor in the harbour, their large sails fluttering gently in the breeze. Next to them were two supply vessels, one was being unloaded, whilst the other already looked empty.
“They probably came together with one of the Triremes or both escorting them,” Caradoc said, “it’s a pity we have nothing more than small fishing vessels then we could take the war to them at sea.”
“We can still sink them when they get here.” Brennus replied. “The problem would be slipping past the guards and getting on-board. The longer we leave it and they establish themselves, the harder it’s going to be.”
“We’ll have a good look round and then decide what we are going to do.” Ardwen said. “For the time being we’re just three traders looking to see what we can offer our Roman friends and what they can do for us.”
As they got to a more established track they watched as the unloading continued on the far side of the river, barrels, sacks, wooden crates and amphorae were lined up in neat rows as they were taken ashore. Carts and wagons waited patiently as the first supplies were loaded on to them before being taken to the newly established garrison, and then others would be distributed around the region. Caradoc and his allies knew how the pattern worked as the Roman plague spread its arms.
On the way north they had passed an enemy fort that had been established on a high rocky outcrop now miles to the south. It lay a few miles inside the border of the Cornovii tribe and over looked the mountains of the Deceangli to the west. It was a natural position for a fort, rising some four hundred feet high maybe five hundred from sea level. The main fortification covered only a small area at the flat top, probably three hundred paces square but it was secured by hundreds, thousands of dark tree trunks that made up its walls. Others lined the slopes on one side as they ran down to lower land in a great wooden arc. It ran for some length on the flat lowland before sweeping back up to the small fort on top of the outcrop. On the far side facing north, was a sheer cliff face where trees still somehow grew out of the steep rocky side. The three men had noted the small garrison located there with interest, aware that it was secluded by some miles from the main garrison fortress at Deva. Bees Stone as it was called, would make an ideal target.
As they got closer to the harbour they saw more evidence that the local people had accepted the occupiers, or at best were living alongside them. Roundhouses ran parallel with the river all the way to the enormous fort. Fortunately few people took any notice of the riders as they walked past and went about their business as if living alongside Romans was a normal way of life. Children ran, chasing each other as skins dried outside some of the houses, men talked discussing their crops or livestock, some nodding in greeting as they went by and door skins were hooked open due to the warmth of the day. It all seemed normal, and that was what Caradoc found most disturbing.
“Let’s have a chat with them,” he nodded at a group of five men who stood watching them approach, “see what they make of things.”
“Greetings strangers,” a large surly looking man said stepping forward, “what can we do for you?” He looked back at the men he had been talking with.
Caradoc smiled and brought his horse to a halt a few feet from him. “I am Morcant,” he said, “we’ve travelled here to see what trade can be done if any. We have two hundred head of cattle and the same in sheep at our homelands to the south.”
“I am Nynniaw,” the serious looking man replied, “I am the elder here and make those decisions for the people. What would you want in return?” Caradoc studied him. He was clearly well fed with a bulbous stomach threatening to burst through his light beige smock. He wore reddish leggings and boots that came up shin high and stopped just before the knees, wrapped around his calves.
Caradoc got down off his horse slowly so as not to pose a threat. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with these men that would no doubt bring the Romans running, “I was thinking of trading with your guests to be honest, I hear they pay well in gold, is that right?” He pointed at the ships in the harbour.
“The Romans eh?” He smiled. “Well I’m sure they would be interested in so much livestock. They are interested in everything else after all, where have you come from exactly, did you say?”
“We’re from the lands of the Dubunni,” Ardwen lied getting down off his own horse, Brennus stayed mounted eyeing the man and those stood behind him. “We trade with the Second Augusta there and are looking to expand.” Ardwen added.
“Really?” The man said as if unconvinced. “Well I’m sure I could arrange an appointment with one of their officials if you wish. I’m certain they would be more than happy to speak to you but I don’t want you stepping on our trade with them. As long as whatever you propose doesn’t affect us, I don’t see a problem.” He turned as if to gauge the thoughts of the men, they nodded their assent. “Obviously there would be a fee for arranging such a deal, a cut of any deal struck.” He smiled.