The three men looked at each other again and Caradoc could see that Brennus was getting agitated by Nynniaw’s attitude. He looked at Brennus glaring, imploring him to calm down. They entered an unguarded door and walked along a well-lit corridor thanks to lots of windows along the external wall. Caradoc took a mental note of the windows realising that they were just too small for a grown man to climb through. He led them up a set of stairs and into a large room where a man sat behind a desk.
“Good day to you secretary Pulmos.” Nynniaw said in an ingratiating manner.
Pulmos looked up almost dismissively, “Ah Nynniaw, these must be the men from the south you told me about take a seat, the Quaestor will be with you presently.” He said and returned to his scrolls. They waited for some time until a door to the right finally opened and two middle aged men appeared, both wearing togas.
“Thank you Quaestor,” one of the men said. “I will ensure that business is sorted out properly.”
“See that you do, I don’t intend to have this conversation again Aprilus.” The bigger of the two men said. Aprilus nodded and made for the exit rubbing his hands nervously.
“Ah Nynniaw,” the Quaestor said turning, “here again I see and you have brought the livestock merchants with you, good, please come in.” He said ushering them in to his office with a wave of his hand.
Nynniaw hurriedly got up, followed more slowly by Caradoc, Ardwen and Brennus. The Quaestor took his seat behind his large desk, there were none for visitors.
“Now to business,” he said, “forgive my abruptness gentlemen but you have caught me at a very busy time. If I didn’t have to go round wiping other men’s arseholes, my life would be a lot easier.” He looked up at the men with Nynniaw.
“So, two hundred head of cattle and the same in sheep, is that correct?” He asked looking at no-one in particular.
“Yes it is.” Caradoc replied. “We trade with the Second Augusta usually but they have more than enough stock for the rest of the year. One of the soldiers down at Isca said that you may be interested.” The Quaestor was already looking down at the table reading one of his many scrolls.
“Good,” he said without looking up. “And how would this affect your trade Nynniaw and the locals, would your people be happy for these gentlemen to provide us with meat?”
“As long as it doesn’t adversely affect our own trade then we have no objections sir. To be honest it will mean more food for our people because as you know, some went hungry last winter and we had so few livestock left.” Nynniaw was going to add, after you took all our livestock but thought better of it.
“Very good that’s settled then.” He looked up from the table. “If you can get them up here and in one piece and they’re all healthy obviously,” he paused, “I’ll take them off your hands for a good price.”
“What’s a good price?” Ardwen asked.
The Quaestor looked at him as if he were something foul on the sole of his boot, “A good price will depend on the quality of the animals.” He stood and walked to the door. “Now if that is all gentlemen, I’m very busy and have got an awful lot of appointments to get through today.”
As they were ushered out of the office another group were waiting to see him as if to emphasise his point.
“Thank you for your time Quaestor.” Nynniaw said bowing. They left the secretary’s office and descended the stairs. “Well I think that went very well don’t you?” he asked them without giving them a chance to answer. “Once I’ve taken my money for arranging your deal, you’ll still be in pocket don’t you worry.”
“Brennus grabbed his shoulder and spun him round, he almost fell down the steps. “What are you talking about?” He glared at Nynniaw. “You didn’t mention anything about us paying you money.”
“Nynniaw tried to lean away from the angry Silurian. “You can’t expect me to set up a deal for you like this and not get paid. I’ve given you my time, my experience, knowledge, accommodation and of course an invaluable appointment with the Quaestor, these things don’t come free you know.”
“It’s alright Brennus,” Caradoc said, “We’ll pay Nynniaw for his trouble, don’t worry about it. Besides if it weren’t for him we wouldn’t have got to see the inside of this magnificent garrison would we?”
Brennus blushed suddenly remembering that the entire visit was a ruse. “Oh yes, well if you say so.” He shoved Nynniaw and let the matter go. He took them back to the settlement straight away having either forgotten about taking them to see the baths, or was unhappy that Brennus had manhandled him.
“Well my friends,” he said, “that all went very well indeed. Now don’t forget when you return with your livestock to send a rider forward to find me first and I’ll arrange for somewhere for them to graze.”
“And how much will that cost?” Ardwen asked smirking.
“Oh nothing, nothing,” he said, “Well I’ll add it to my costs eh?” He smiled like someone Ardwen wanted to punch.
“Thank you for everything.” Caradoc said, “We’ll be seeing you soon.” He grasped Nynniaw’s wrist. “You have been more help than you’ll ever know.”
The three warriors retrieved their mounts and headed south.
As soon as they were clear of listening ears Caradoc said, “That was convincing, you two being upset at that Roman churl taking our money.”
Ardwen smiled, “I forgot for a moment it was all make believe. Still he won’t doubt our word now eh?”
“You should have let me cut his tongue from his head.” Brennus said. “Then he wouldn’t be able to stick it up the Quaestor’s arse ever again.”
The three men laughed and kicked their horses into a gallop.
“Stand to!” Cammius ordered as men ran from the barracks through puddles and mud to climb wet ladders. Night had fallen completely now but fires could be seen burning in the woods, where the enemy had concentrated their force. Cammius had ordered his men to construct torch posts that now lined the fort’s walls and despite the rain, animal fat kept them alight, scutums covered others from a few feet above. The flames from the torches allowed partial visibility below where an eerie half-light existed and seemed to feed on the fort’s defences like a fiery tide. Arrows were launched from every side towards the defenders, some fell, most were lucky and a few saw arrows glance off their helmets or shields.
“Jupiter’s balls,” Cammius shouted hurling a heavy spear down into a wooden cover that was nearing the walls, it penetrated with a satisfying thud. “Where did this lot appear from? There are twice as many of them than there were before.”
No-one answered as men fired and hurled projectiles at the covered warriors, every now and again one would fall out from cover, injured with a javelin or with an arrow in a leg or foot. They didn’t live long.
“They’ll find it a lot harder to climb this time thanks to all the rain.” Varro shouted as he threw another spear, it landed square in the shin of an attacker who screamed and fell unseen under the cover he had been holding.
“Hold,” Cammius shouted, “cease fire. Wait for them to try and climb up, we need to conserve what we’ve got.” He picked up another pilum. “Wait until you’re certain of a target.” He shouted as the soldiers drew closer to the edge, as more arrows were sent their way, hitting an unfortunate few and missing others. Cammius watched from behind his shield as one arrow careened off the side of his helmet and ricocheted into the fort somewhere behind him, landing unseen.
“Wait for it lads, hold.” He shouted, as he saw his men’s faces eager to return fire, to launch a volley of their own.
“Now, loose!” He screamed, as deadly hails of javelins were hurled from above onto the now unshielded Britons who were desperately trying to scale the walls. Shrieks of pain and anguish met their ears as the enemy fell back to the ground. One landed on the top of the large wooden shield he had used previously to get close, a pila piercing his shoulder. He tried to rise as an archer fired an arrow into his screaming face, embedding itself between the nose and upper lip. He fell back again and was finally silenced as a scorpion bolt entered his head from the side as it bent at an unnatural angle. The corpse fell from the wood and into the mud and blood that was now the surface the Britons were fighting against, as well as the defenders. Another attacker was speared by a javelin that hit him on the right cheek the sharp weapon sank deep, exited his neck at the rear and embedded itself into his back. He fell, eyes wide in shock.