“We’ll go and have a look from the edge of the trees. The men can wait here while we do it.” Varro said.
“Oh good I was hoping you would suggest that.” Grattius replied sarcastically grinning at his centurion. Varro didn’t reply and told the rest of the men to remain where they were but if he and Grattius were attacked they were to make their own way back to the safety of the fort.
“It gets better.” Grattius responded.
“Tip of the spear, remember my friend.” Varro said winking and began walking forward with Grattius close behind. Reaching the foliage before the wood, Varro stopped again and listened for any sign of the enemy. He turned to Grattius who shrugged.
“Nothing.” He said.
Varro looked back to the walls of the fort where Cammius shook his head and indicated that there was still no movement beyond his position. Varro turned and peered into the undergrowth, another dead body lay on its stomach just inside the bushes with a scorpion bolt buried up to the feathers of its shaft in the centre of the back.
“What can you see?” Grattius whispered moving from foot to foot nervously.
“Nothing except another dead Briton, I can’t see anything else, the trees and bushes are too thick.” He whispered back without turning still looking into the shadowed cover.
“Good now let’s get back inside.” Grattius said.
Varro stuck his javelin into the undergrowth and examined the corpse prodding it. He saw that blood had risen to the top surface of the skin in a spotted pattern on the naked back and he knew that it indicated it had been there for a while.
“Come on let’s go back, there’s nothing else to see and we aren’t going to achieve anything stumbling about out here.” He said. They turned and got the troops back to the safety of the gates that were quickly closed and barricaded once they were inside.
As the sun started to fall, a full cohort came along the track cutting through the woods, the men on the ramparts cheered and the gates were quickly opened allowing them inside where conditions were slowly getting worse, especially with the seriously injured. With four hundred men in addition to those still fit to fight, it meant the injured could be evacuated to Isca and patrols could be sent out to scout the countryside for the Britons, it also meant that the ravaged auxiliary fort Restormel could be restored and the dead buried. The corpses outside the small legionary fort were piled up and burned, the smell was awful but it was something that had to be done as quickly as possible in order to prevent disease. That night for the first time in many, most of the resident occupants got a good night’s sleep as the men of the cohort volunteered to mount the guard around their defences.
The next morning mounted troops set off in three different directions; Varro had chosen to take his men to Restormel to see the damage for himself. The tracks and woods were eerily quiet on the way and once in a while they came across a dead Briton abandoned by those who had decided to leave so quickly. As they got to the clear ground before the wooden walls of the fort, the devastation was apparent for all to see. A large hole now existed along the front approximately fifty paces from the actual gate, where now only smashed wood and charred remains stood at odd angles. The auxiliaries must have been attacked in the same manner as they had been only here the Britons had succeeded in getting beyond the defences properly. The heads of some of the defenders were impaled on the wooden stakes on the top of the walls, they’re eyes already gone, more than likely eaten by crows or other carrion.
“It doesn’t look like they stood a chance.” Grattius remarked looking at the damage.”
“This isn’t going to be pleasant but someone has to do it, come on.” Varro said clicking Staro forward. He stopped again a few yards short of the entrance when the smell hit him.
“Scarves.” He shouted as they all lifted the material over their faces and mouths. He got down off Staro. “Grattius, leave your horse with Balbus, let’s have a look inside first.”
Grattius got down off his mount looking none too pleased and handed the reins to the legionary, he resisted the urge to say something to his commander knowing it wasn’t a good idea in front of the men. Varro led the way inside where he was surprised to see a few wooden buildings still standing, the shells at least, he could see the roof had collapsed through the now none-existent doors. He held the material of his scarf against his mouth and nose as the smell threatened to penetrate the cloth.
“Gods it stinks in here.” He commented mumbling and moving forward. Inside the shell of one of the old barrack blocks they found the majority of the men who had been forced to retreat there. Charred, blackened bodies lay, some now skeletal through the heat of the fire, others with limbs missing burned away by the intense heat. Open jawed skulls, teeth still white lay amongst ashes with white bones, their mouths open wide in terror as they had been when they died.
“The poor bastards didn’t stand a chance once they were in here.” Grattius said looking around.
“It was either that or face capture and torture, I suppose.” Varro replied, “Personally I don’t know which would have been worse.”
Every step they took, they had to pick their boots up high to avoid spraying dust clouds of ash and were careful putting them back to the surface. It was impossible to account for all the men who had once manned Restormel. Outside and along the defence’s walls that were still intact, they found more headless corpses than those that were still in one piece. Clearly the fight for the small fort had been savage and the defenders had eventually lost, there was however, evidence of dead Britons outside and a few inside, so the attackers hadn’t had it all their own way.
“This could have been us quite easily.” Varro said. “At least we were warned when they were attacked here, I doubt we’d have been so fortunate if they’d come to us first with the element of surprise.”
“What are we going to do about the dead sir?” Grattius asked.
“We’ll do our best for them, we would want the same, there’s no point in waiting for a burial party to get here from Isca, it will be tomorrow by the earliest.” He looked around at the devastation, “They sent a scout back as soon as the cohort got here so there will be a few hundred more troops with us tomorrow. We’ll let Cammius know what we’ve found after having a look round the outlying area and we’ll do what we can, even if it’s just to get them all in one place.”
They checked around what was left of the rest of the small outpost and found virtually nothing of any worth, it had been stripped bare by the raiders and picked clean save for ruined weapons, they had taken the livestock, pay chest, weapons, armour and horses and were now probably miles away. Varro and his men searched the countryside nearby but found nothing in the mud except for a few more dead, who had now become victims to the local wildlife who had taken chunks of flesh from them.
It took a few days for the dead Britons to be burned, and burial in a mass grave for the soldiers who had fallen. More reinforcements arrived from Isca and soon the injured were evacuated safely there and reports were presented to the Governor. The entire fort at Restormel was knocked down and taken apart and rebuilt with larger, stronger defences and manned by legionaries not auxiliaries. Two full centuries now manned both forts as plans were drawn up to build others in line with the suggestions by Cammius. The Britons had come close to destroying two reasonably well fortified and defended positions and it couldn’t be allowed to happen again, and every step was taken to ensure it didn’t. Ten days after the cessation of hostilities Varro, together with Cammius and his men, slowly made their journey north and back towards Isca. Fresh troops watched them leave from the defences as the small convoy of men, horses and wagons departed, some wishing they were going with them.