Later as the sun rose high up into the sky, clouds began to appear and the next few hours were taken up removing the dead, who for the time being were placed at the rear of the fort. The wounded were carefully helped off the ramparts and taken to the infirmary. Those who could walk went by themselves or with each other if they needed help. The cost of the attack was high, eleven dead, five more were likely to die and nearly thirty wounded, some of whom were capable of fighting on, others who would require specialist treatment something the medics couldn’t give them. They were kept comfortable, injured limbs and torsos were bandaged and those that were suspected of being broken or fractured were put into splints.
Varro climbed down and removed his helmet. Wincing he tried to remove his chainmail but found it impossible with his wounded shoulder.
“Let me help sir!” Shouted a legionary running over to help him get his chainmail off as Varro almost fell over grimacing in pain.
Varro bent forward and the soldier pulled his armour over his head, it slammed to the dusty ground. He pushed his blood stained tunic off his shoulder and saw that he’d been lucky. The arrow had penetrated his skin but not too deeply, a small neat hole at the entry point was covered in blood and it hurt like hell.
“Better get that seen to sir, you don’t want it getting infected. Looks like it’s just a flesh wound though, you should be okay in a few days.” He pointed to the infirmary. “Get it bandaged and padded when the medics have finished with the badly injured.” He removed Varro’s neck scarf and rolled it into a ball. “Hold this on it for the time being, get the blood stopped eh?”
Grattius came running over, “Bastards got you did they sir?”
Varro smiled in gratitude at the legionary who had helped him. “Thank you.” He turned to Grattius, “Is anyone else injured, our men I mean?” He asked.
“Came through without a scratch sir, the lot of us, ‘cept for you of course, lucky eh?” Grattius replied.
“Good, that’s good.” He raised his arm testing the pain and movement.
“Better to rest it for a bit eh? Take it easy sir?” Grattius said. He looked over to the temporary infirmary where a line of walking wounded was already beginning to form.” Get yourself in there sir.” He walked over to the line. “Right you bastards there’s a wounded centurion here, make way.”
“It’s alright Grattius.” Varro said. “I’ll take my place in the queue. Go and check the men and see if Cammius needs any help will you.”
“If you’re sure sir, I could stay here with you if you like?” He replied.
“No go and find Cammius,” Varro said, “I’ll be fine. He needs you more than me at the moment, do whatever he asks.”
“Burial detail.” Varro heard an optio shout at the rear of the fort near the corpses of the fallen legionaries.
“Sir.” Grattius acknowledged and ran back to the nearest ladder. Varro slumped against the wall more through sudden exhaustion than the pain of his wound and waited to be treated.
As the morning turned to afternoon, more clouds gathered over the small fort and rain began to fall, light at first but as the hours wore on it got heavier. Sporadic arrows were launched from the woods, keeping the sentries heads low and reminding the defenders of the situation, the enemy was still there.
“At least they won’t be able to torch the walls eh, not with this lot falling?” Cammius said to Varro looking up at the sky. “So if you’re correct, if we can survive tonight, we should expect to see a relief force sometime tomorrow night?”
“I should think so.” Varro replied. “Its standard procedure if a patrol hasn’t been heard from, they’ll come I’m sure.”
“Good, good, how’s the shoulder?” Cammius asked.
Varro looked down at the padded wound. “It’s not too bad, arms a bit stiff.” He stretched his left shoulder up. “I’ll be okay. At least it wasn’t my right one so I can still hold a sword.”
“No shield though eh, so that means if the bastards get in again, you’re no good to me.” Cammius said looking at his shoulder, where a small amount of blood had seeped through the white bandage. “Hopefully we’ll be able to hold them off anyway without your help. They must have taken just as many casualties as us if not more.” He looked at his cup on the table. “More I’d say because there must be about twenty of them lying dead outside as well.” He looked at Varro, “It all depends on how many of them there are out there I suppose and how strong a desire they have to take this place. We’ve done better than those poor sods at Restormel that’s for sure.” He took a glug of water from his cup. “Ugh water, still at least its fresh, got to keep a clear head though. Good job we’ve got the well or we’d be in trouble. So what do you think our friends out there will try next?” He asked Varro.
“I don’t know,” he replied, “maybe they’ll realise that it’s a nut they can’t crack and just disappear. One thing’s certain though, as soon as I’m out of here I’ll be doing my best to track them down.”
“Maybe it would be better if they attacked again.” Cammius said. “They can throw themselves at the walls all they like and we’ll keep stopping them, we’ll kill more of them than they do of us and they’ll give in eventually.”
“Yes but if they have hundreds out there it won’t matter to them because they’ll keep whittling us down until there’s no-one left to fight.” Varro replied.
“Mm good point, do they view life so recklessly?” Cammius asked.
“It’s not about life so much as honour. They see us as occupiers who are repressing their people and taking their land, they’ll do anything they can to stop that.” Varro said.
Cammius frowned. “I know a little about them through a few I know.” Varro went on but not willing to say who it was he knew or why. “They believe we betrayed them after years of peace between the Empire and Britannia, years of trade and relative prosperity. They see us as thieves, liars and betrayers and those out there will either get what they want or die trying.”
“Really?” Cammius replied. “Well I don’t know about any of that, but what I do know is that they’ve chosen the wrong soldier to fuck with this time and I’ll do everything I can and so will my men to ensure they don’t take this fort.”
“And so will I, and my men obviously. I’m just telling you what I’ve been told. I’m sure we would do the same if they were on our soil.” Varro took some water.
“Yes I suppose you’re right,” Cammius replied, “but we’re just soldiers and it doesn’t pay to get too close to the enemy or our so called allies for that matter. Too much thinking will get you killed, that’s why I try and avoid it.” He laughed. “Bollocks to it, a little wine won’t hurt hey?” He said reaching for the amphora nearby.
The tension had dropped somewhat around the fort, since the savage fight to repel the attackers. It was always the same during a battle and the men settled into a routine of checking weapons and stocking up on others where they would be needed most. With the rain still falling, the chance of fire damage was all but gone for the time being, but the buckets remained in place just in case, Cammius was taking every precaution he could. Sounds could be heard from the forest as the Britons made their own preparations for another assault as sentries watched from the walls avoiding the occasional arrow fired in their direction.
“I doubt they’ll come again whilst it’s light, once its dark maybe, if they’ve got any sense anyway. They’ll know they haven’t all that much time before someone comes looking for my patrol and then they’ll be gone.” Varro said.
“The best result would be for them to try again tonight, lose a lot of their people and then for the survivors to get caught by some of our cavalry before they can slip away. They’d be cut to pieces.” Cammius replied.
“Their leader doesn’t seem naive, certainly not from the way that first attack went anyway, I even saw some of them wearing helmets and mail that they’d taken from Restormel.” Varro said.
“Yes I saw that as well, quite disturbing, good job they don’t know how to form testudos isn’t it? They’d have had more success with one of them than lurking under that wood they nailed together.” He grinned, “I don’t suppose anyone survived at Restormel. What do you think the chances are?” Cammius asked.