Varro stopped throwing javelins for a second as he saw what he knew could only be a shield covering the battering ram approaching the gates.
“Ram,” he shouted, “They’re going for the gates.”
Cammius saw the danger, “Archers and scorpion crews, concentrate your fire on the ram, take their legs out.” He ordered, his voice cracking through all the shouting. Scorpion bolts and arrows quickly disabled the oncoming ramming crew as their legs were hit. The large shield buckled and fell to the ground at the front with Britons trying to take cover behind. More missiles smashed into the wood as javelins joined them. The men at the rear suddenly dropped the shelter and turned for the cover of the trees, arrows followed them as some fell wounded into the sanctuary of the darkness.
The Roman defenders made short work of those still trying to climb the walls, those that weren’t wounded or killed before they reached the top, were stabbed as they tried to enter the fort and fell away. Soon a horn blast ordered their retreat and those on the ground withdrew. The injured lying prone and unable to move were left where they lay until archers put them out of their misery.
“Hold your fire.” Cammius ordered turning to Varro, both men were soaked and panting for breath after their exertions. “That should keep them away for a while.” He looked around the defences. “Right men let’s get the injured to the infirmary.”
Varro said, “That just might be their last attack, they’d be fools to try again.”
“Never underestimate the enemy.” Cammius said as he lifted a legionary under his armpits and helped carry him to a ladder. “The trouble with barbarians is they don’t know when they’re beaten.”
“Come on,” Varro said, “Let’s get him down,” looking at the injured soldier who was unconscious, “and get out of these clothes.”
Dumnoc had watched as his people ran back into the trees as bowmen covered their retreat. One, a young man suddenly fell forwards dropping his sword. As he landed Dumnoc saw that an arrow had hit him right in the middle of the back of his head, he died instantly.
“Get back out of range.” He shouted as others ran past him, “Get to the fires where the druids are, they will help those who are hurt.” He waved at them as two others dragged another beyond him by the arms, his legs trailing in the mud. The injured man looked terrified as he tried to scream at a scorpion bolt that had punctured his chest from the rear, blood poured from his wound but he couldn’t form any words.
Dumnoc felt fury and anger at what he had witnessed, at what he had asked these people to do, at their suffering. He had lost count of those dead or dying and wanted nothing more than to leave this place. The Romans had built their fort well and he now realised that this was a mistake. They had revelled in their victory over Restormel and should have slipped quietly away but buoyed by the destruction of the smaller fort, they had gone a step too far. He looked up at the burning torches where legionaries stalked the walls and ground his teeth in frustration. Soon re-enforcements would come looking for the patrol he had seen riding in through their gates, knowing they were not a resident troop, it would only be a matter of time before others came searching for them. He was running out of time and had suffered too many casualties, turning he followed his retreating warriors further into the woods.
“Make sure the men stay alert, they shouldn’t need any reminding after what they’ve been through, but I don’t want to take any chances.” Cammius said instructing an optio. “We must have nearly broken their backs but you never know and get the last of the pila up there on the walls.”
“Yes sir right away.” The optio saluted, turned and left the room at a trot.
“Help me out of this will you?” Cammius asked Varro, struggling with his armour. The two officers helped each other out of their armoured shells and quickly removed their damp tunics. Cammius placed his segmented armour over a standing wooden cross designed for the purpose, as Varro draped his chainmail over the back of a chair. They looked at each other wearing just their breeches and boots and laughed.
“These can come off as well.” Cammius said as he undid the tie holding his trousers up and whipped them off. He hurled them into a corner where they landed with a wet thump.
“Vestius.” He shouted.
“Yes sir?” The ever present Vestius answered running into the room, he halted suddenly seeing his commander virtually naked.
“Find me a towel and a fresh pair of breeches and the same for Centurion Varro here before we freeze our bollocks off and get that fire lit man.” He said indicating the dead ash in the grate.
“Certainly sir, right away.” He replied and left quicker than he had arrived.
“How’s your shoulder?” Cammius asked looking at Varro’s wound.
“It doesn’t feel that bad at the moment but I’m sure it will stiffen up again soon, I didn’t even have time to think about it during the attack.” Varro replied.
“Good, that’s good.” Cammius said easing himself into a chair. “Sit, sit please.”
“I need to take these off.” Varro said undoing his breeches and removing them. Cammius picked up an amphora.
“I think we’ve deserved this Centurion.” He said, grinning as he leaned forward pouring the golden liquid into two cups on the table, as he felt water drip out of his boots. “These two can come off as well.” He removed his boots and hurled them towards his tunic.
“Damn these barbarians, couldn’t they wait for more civilised weather conditions before launching an attack?” He emptied the cup in one go and poured another. “I can’t see them coming back tonight after the hiding we’ve just given them. Their dead are everywhere out there and it’s going to take a day to clear them all up. Varro removed his boots and sat down picking up his cup, he too drained the contents without stopping just as Vestius re-appeared carrying fresh breeches and tunics.
“I’ll be back with the wood in a moment sir.” He said realising the two centurions were now completely naked.
”Good man.” Cammius said and then took another drink, he looked over at Varro. “I’ll bet you didn’t think you’d be in a position like this when you rode down here eh?” He asked smiling.
“Bollock naked?” he grinned, “With another centurion in the middle of the night, or being under siege inside this fort?” He replied pulling on his fresh breeches.
“Either, well both, I suppose is as unpredictable as the other I would say.” Cammius said.
“You’re correct on both counts, we all thought we’d have a nice quiet ride down here and go back without witnessing anything, how wrong you can be?” Varro replied.
Cammius topped up their cups. “So what’s it like being in the explorates? I should imagine you and your men are used to seeing your fair share of action.”
Varro frowned, “Most people just think we’re regular cavalry or maybe messengers until they see we’re not auxiliaries, in answer to your question though, it’s good I enjoy it. I’ve always ridden and when the opportunity came to join the equites legionis and do something different than shouting at soldiers, I jumped at the chance. After nearly ten years I looked to do something different and found it. Things can get a bit hairy sometimes, especially when we’re in the middle of nowhere with no support, but I wouldn’t change it for the world,” he hesitated, “well almost anyway.” He took some more wine.