The site had been chosen as it provided a clear line of sight for the surrounding countryside and the first unobstructed view of the hills and valleys, with the mountains behind where Caradoc was thought to be carrying out his raids from. The sound of digging and men talking was a welcome distraction from the drizzle that was falling finely and soaking everything. A line of carts loaded with stone blocks, wooden poles, rope and tools was beyond the men waiting to be used as the digging continued. It was always the same it seemed wherever they went, dig first, dig second and then dig some more. Dig until you had a position from where you could defend yourselves and the rest would work itself out.
They had set out at first light arriving at the chosen position a little before midday and had eaten a brief meal before work began in earnest. The plan was to dig out the ditches and foundations first in the large square block where the installation would be sited. As a section of men dug the ditches that would provide the first line of defence around the fort, another began to shovel the disturbed earth up into packed ramparts that would form part of the wall, whilst others began to move the stone blocks into place. It was a tried and tested format for such constructions and like most it would be virtually identical to others they had built, this cut down on construction time which was vitally important in hostile areas.
Patrols had been sent out and continually scoured the land primarily towards the west looking for any sign of trouble, and a small contingent of auxiliary cavalry patrolled further out to provide a covering screen so the men could work, assured that they were relatively safe.
By mid-afternoon the drizzle had stopped, the legionaries had received a second break sometime before and were back at work. The site had already been transformed, the ramparts nearly completed, the outer ditch finished and all the stonework had been moved into place for the interior buildings; barracks, a granary, a smithy and stable area. As with all such places, space was limited inside but it wasn’t being built for comfort.
Valerius looked at the sky and estimated that the building should be secure well before dark. It had been decided by the Tribune, Tribune Celvius who was leading the Roman force, that both centuries would reside in the fort that night. It wasn’t worth taking the risk of a lone century marching back to Isca, so in the morning whilst one manned the new construction, the other would return. During the following days a fresh century would relieve the existing men and would remain in position for a calendar month, carrying out patrols and keeping an eye on the locals. This system of constructing forts and moving further into hostile territory would continue until Caradoc was either forced to fight or moved north, his only route of escape.
As Valerius took a swig from his water skin, washing down a hard tack biscuit from his pack, he heard a slight rumble. At first he thought that it was thunder as the clouds had begun to clear and spots of blue sky had appeared above, he didn’t know why but it was common for that to occur when there was a mixture of the two. He turned his head listening but the thunder continued, getting louder. He frowned and removed his helmet and walked clear of the trees looking in the direction of the sound but could see nothing, although the sound was still getting louder.
Other archers followed him and he noticed that the legionaries had stopped working on the fort. Then the noise seemed to come from all around them echoing from the surrounding natural rises of the rolling countryside. He replaced his helmet and made his way back to the small copse of trees where he had spent most of the day just as he heard the tribune shout, “Cover, to arms men, form up.”
Valerius looked to the south and saw what Celvius had seen. Appearing over a rise in the land, was a line of spears as they moved up and down clearly being held by mounted warriors. He reached for an arrow from his quiver as did the other archers.
“Stand to!” Valerius shouted, “Enemy approaching from the south.” His legionaries rushed to their kit lying nearby and hurriedly began to put it on, helping each other. Those who had been standing guard rushed to the tribune and formed up inside the partially constructed fort. The centurion who had accompanied them began rattling out orders and pointing to various positions where troops ran to. The rumble of the hooves got louder and within seconds the heads of woad covered warriors rode into view at the gallop.
“Gods Valerius,” shouted the archer nearest to him, “we can’t stay here we’re too isolated.” With that, he ran from the trees and raced towards the fort, Valerius backed up into the copse knowing he wouldn’t make it to cover before the riders were on them. Another archer and then another broke cover and ran clear of the trees heading towards the construction area. Then he heard the shouts of the Britons as they cried their war cries, some now wielding large swords around their heads, he crouched low and then saw more riders approaching from the east, more enemy.
As he lay down flat on his stomach, he removed his helmet knowing that its shine might attract the warriors. The men that had run from the trees were now halfway to the fort, some turning and stumbling, the centurion was bellowing words from the rampart but he couldn’t make them out. The other archers still in the trees looked to Valerius for instructions panic on their faces, as he was the most senior amongst them. He shook his head and indicated for them to take cover and to move away from the edge of the tree line, he knew there were too few of them to be effective.
The Britons quickly reached the running archers as they were hacked and ridden down, one turned, threw his bow to the ground and held his hands aloft trying to surrender. He was slashed at by a charging warrior with a huge blue steel long sword, the fingers of his right hand flew up into the air and then another horseman chopped down with his own blade and it sliced into his helmet, he fell in a heap to the ground.
The attackers continued galloping on as fast as their mounts would carry them but slowed as they approached the ditches at the sides of the fort. The centurion led his men up onto the ramparts hurling a javelin at one rider who was impaled and fell from his horse; he was trampled by other horses. More legionaries threw their javelins and other riders fell, but the wave of attackers was too much, as they swarmed the small building from all sides and then began to leap the ditches, their mounts struggling up the sides.
Britons jumped from their horses as the defending soldiers massed on the top of the ramparts, some with shields, others without, some cowering behind their scutums, other stabbing wildly with their pilum’s. Valerius saw the plume of the tribune behind that of the centurion’s converse horse hair moving rapidly as he fought for his life and that of his men as more warriors leapt from their mounts before the ditches and joined the attack.
A horn sounded from the west, clear and distinct over the sound of fighting and Valerius recognised it as Roman, the auxiliaries he thought, they must have heard the battle and were returning from the position where the tribune had deemed them most vulnerable, the west. He saw that some of the attackers had heard the horn and had turned their mounts to face them on the instructions of one of the warriors who was shouting orders and pointing. A body of warriors turned their horses as more did the same from other sides of the attack. They blended together like water forming and charged at the returning cavalry who were now in clear view. The auxiliaries under the command of their Decurion drew closer together as they formed a wedge. They had seen the threat and were clearly intent on punching through their lines. Three hundred paces from the battle raging at the fort, the two opposing sides clashed, horses fell, men were thrown to the ground and the auxiliaries were surrounded in seconds, their momentum stopped, as swords collided and blood was spilt. So enveloped were the cavalry that some attackers broke off their onslaught on them and started back to the first fight.