“They’re Britons sir, about twenty of them.” The soldier replied.
“And?” Varro asked, beginning to feel himself get annoyed by the crumbs of information he was getting. He couldn’t keep going in and out every time someone came to the gate. The optio on duty out there was more than capable of dealing with visitors surely?
The soldier saw his frustration. “One of them asked for you sir, by name. She said you would know her.”
Varro frowned, “Come on man out with it, who is this mysterious Briton?”
“Brenna sir, she said her name was Brenna and that you would know her.” The soldier replied.
Varro felt rocked, dazed, as if the man’s words were blows.
Chapter Two
When Dumnoc was absolutely certain that everyone in the villa was asleep, he led his party down the slope on foot very slowly. In the distance at the opposite side of the dwelling he could just make out Drustan’s raiding party as they also approached the stone and concrete structure from another direction, small figures moving carefully and silently. Behind both groups walked warriors leading their horses in case a quick escape was required. As he got to the bottom of the sloping rise of the bank and onto level ground he paused, and held his hand up to stop those behind him and listened, nothing moved. It was quiet, peaceful except for the sound of a mild breeze that touched his skin and whispered through the nearby trees. He smiled staring at the villa once more looking for signs of life, but there were none to be seen. He moved again. As he got to within a hundred paces of the structure, where the light walls stood out against the dark night, he could smell smoke from the still burning fires inside, he signalled for the archers to take their places ready to fire. They ran past him slowly and fanned out in a line, ten paces from each other, he was taking no chances. Drustan would be doing the same with his own bowmen at the far side of the complex. He slowly withdrew his long sword from its sheath, looked back at his men and women once more and nodded them onward.
Reaching the wall, he placed a hand against it, feeling its texture, listening a final time for any movement inside. The wall was rough and hard against his skin not smooth as he had expected, he could hear nothing. His warriors stretched along the wall’s length silently and waited for his signal. Placing his head against the wall it felt cool, nothing moved inside, he was sure. He waited until he saw that Drustan’s warriors were in position as they slowly emerged from the gloom at the corner of the building and stood waiting. Raising his sword, his warriors began to climb the walls helped by each other as they climbed up onto interlinked hands and were pushed upward.
He walked to the gates with Drustan now at his side.
“It can’t be this easy.” Drustan said quietly.
Dumnoc looked at him through the gloom, clearer now they were close to the almost white wall. “We haven’t begun killing yet. I think things are about to change.”
Drustan smiled as he looked at the gate and gave it a gentle push, testing its strength. Through a small gap they could see that it was bolted from the inside by means of a wooden bar that ran from each door to the frame on the either side. Suddenly they heard movement and the bar lifted. They stepped back feeling their hearts quicken. The door on the left opened. It was Acheon one of the men who had followed Dumnoc down the slope.
“All is quiet.” He whispered carefully putting the squared elongated piece of wood to the side on the grass. Dumnoc walked into the villa’s open space where everything looked alien to him. The grass was short and stone paths led round the courtyard with two others dividing the space in the middle making a large cross in the ground. In the centre was a statue of a naked woman, her hands held flowers over her breasts. He turned and waved his warriors inside slowly putting a finger to his lips warning them to stay quiet. When most were in he told a remaining few to wait by the gate.
“Nothing leaves understand, nothing?” He whispered. One of the men nodded acknowledging his order. He turned back to the interior and breathed in listening to the night, knowing that the silence was about to be shattered, an owl hooted somewhere in the distance. He slowly walked to the statue, watched by those now standing by the doorways to the villa and those at the gate, he stood taking in the form of the female statue which was made of some sort of pale stone. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. He reached out and touched it, it felt smooth, cold. He wondered if her body had been carved and sculptured from a living being or if her form came from one of their gods. Whichever it was it didn’t matter now, he raised his sword and with one almighty cleave removed her head completely. The peaceful night was shattered instantly as screaming warriors hacked and kicked their way through the wooden doors of the building.
Claudio Vertuna had gone to bed that night with his wife after telling his little girls a tale about an ogre that lived in the caves outside Rome many centuries before. Their eyes had grown wide as he told them by the glow of a single candle, that the ogre had started to steal sheep as the seven hills of the great city grew, encroaching into his land. The farmers had complained to the Senate, ‘how were they to feed the people and provide wool if this was allowed to continue’ they had asked. Men were sent out on horseback to find the ogre but never returned, only their bones were found later, he told his children, the ogre had eaten them.
“What happened next? Please tell us more.” His eldest daughter Valeria asked hiding underneath her covers, her sisters cuddled next to her watching their father.
“The champion of the city rode out when the men didn’t return. He carried a great lance but when he also failed to return, the city closed its gates and barricaded them all in. They waited for the ogre to come to them.” He looked at his daughters, fright over their faces.
“What did the ogre do, did he go to the city?” Valeria asked, her two sisters looking from her to their father.
“After a week the people grew restless. ‘We can’t stay here bottled up like butterflies in a net’ they said, ‘we demand that something is done’, they said.” He took a sip of his wine.
“And so a very brave young man told them that he would go and find this ogre and would free them from their fear.” He put his goblet down. “Well as you can imagine the people laughed and howled. ‘How will you slay the ogre they asked, you are but a boy. Even our champion didn’t return so how do you expect to accomplish such a task’ they asked him. Do you know what he said?”
Three low voices answered in unison, “No.”
“He said, ‘I am Reman descended from Remus who founded this great city and I will kill the demon with this.’
“What?” Valeria asked, “With what, what did he have Papa?”
“The boy held aloft his dagger.” He raised his arm copying Reman, the girls looked up as his hand wrapped around the imaginary handle. “The people laughed even more and went home but Reman was true to his word and three days later, he returned to Rome carrying a large head in his hands.”
The girls gasped as one and lent forward, eyes like saucers. ‘How did he do such a thing?’ “The crowds asked as they ran from the gates asking him, cheering his name. At first he wouldn’t say until a large crowd had gathered around him. ‘Alright, alright,’ “he said, ‘listen.’ “The crowd went quiet as Reman told his tale. He had spent two days walking the northern forests until he came across a huge cave on a hillside. Outside the cave were the bones of men, many men and swords strewn in all directions. He told them that he found the biggest sword and searched the cave for the beast but it was nowhere to be found and so he hid in a tree and waited and waited for it to return.” He looked at his daughters. “Well young ladies I think that’s enough for one night, time for you to go to sleep I think.”