“No need for that Grattius, the lad was only asking.” Varro said.
“Really, didn’t you see the smirk on the little fucker’s face? Bloody laughing stock we are and this will be the last they see of us, dressed like bloody blue nosed hairies before we vanish for evermore.” He rocked forward in his Celtic saddle and got his horse moving. “My bloody balls won’t last that long though anyway not riding on this thing.” He grabbed between his legs and re-arranged himself, “Ah that’s a bit better.” He moved about in the saddle, it was a lot smaller than the Roman style he was used to, “Bruised balls, dressed like a savage and off deep into enemy territory wonderful, just wonderful.”
“I hope you’re not going to complain all the way there are you?” Brenna asked but Grattius didn’t answer, he just gave her an angry look as she fell into line behind him.
“Take a good look at civilisation for the last time,” Grattius said as they headed slowly towards the main gate, their two mules at the rear attached by ropes, “goodbye, farewell.” He said to various pedestrians as they walked by. “We’ll see you in the next life, enjoy yours here won’t you?” He was met by frowns, the occasional grimace and a few smiles. Varro took the space behind Brenna and watched as her body moved with the motion of the horse and wished that they were anywhere else other than where they found themselves.
“Once we’re out on the track, I want Brenna and Lita up front so that they can do the talking if we come across any Britons, we‘re not going to get very far if the locals see there’s two Romans dressed as them on the move.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Grattius said, “they’ll probably be too busy pissing themselves laughing when they get a good look at us to care about where we’re going.”
And so the tone for the first leg of their mission was set with Grattius complaining bitterly about his saddle, horse, sword and clothes, until the first of the mountains came into view on the horizon and then he became quiet. Brenna led the four of them around the estuary and crossed the river where the horses were comfortable in the fast running water. They camped overnight with the mountains now a thumbs width high in the distance, the view against the darkening grey sky even more foreboding.
“We’ll get a good night’s sleep and set out at first light,” Varro said untying his blanket roll as Grattius set about lighting a fire, “I’ll take first watch after we’ve had some food, no need to take any chances.”
Their supper was eaten in silence until Grattius asked Varro and Brenna about their last experience in the mountains. The conversation didn’t improve much after they had told their stories from their own perspectives. Varro had found himself alone, isolated and cut off from his men and Brenna had found herself at the camp of the enemy, where she had been forced to kill Decimus. She explained that had she not killed him, she would have shared his fate and although it had been an awful thing to do, she had found herself with no choice, “It was him or both of us.” She had said.
“I’m stunned,” Grattius had remarked and had even stopped stuffing food into his mouth for a while, “and we’re going there?”
Varro winced as the image returned to him, the shock, disgust and brutality of that moment ingrained into his very soul. How many nights had he lost sleep over what had happened that night, he didn’t know. He had wanted to run out from behind cover, sword in hand, it didn’t matter if he survived, he just wanted to avenge his fellow soldier and friend but something had held him back. Time had taught him a valuable lesson, things weren’t always as they seemed, but that didn’t take the bitterness he felt in his heart away every time his memories brought it back.
A light drizzle woke them in the morning. Grattius was already busy packing his blanket roll and tying it onto his mounts rump. “Ah good morning fellow travellers,” he said, “a great day awaits us.” He said gesturing upward at the falling rain.
Nobody felt like eating, so within the time it took the rest of them to pack their things away, they were heading slowly west again. Before long they could all feel that the gradient of the surface they were travelling on had changed and although they weren’t at the foot of the mountains, the valleys lay before them. The wind had picked up and the rain was now horizontal at times and lashed into them in waves with the wind.
“I didn’t appreciate how much I’d actually be enjoying this,” Grattius shouted through the neckerchief he’d pulled up around his mouth, “but it’s so good that I think that I’m going to soil myself.”
Lita rode her horse closer to him, “Shut up you fool, anyone nearby will hear your big mouth.”
He turned to Varro, “I do believe she’s actually warming to me you know.” Lita shot out an arm and struck Grattius’ shoulder. “See,” he said, “it could be love soon.” She pulled her horse away and caught up to Brenna at the front. Eventually they found a shale path and followed it up as it wound its way higher and higher.
“How much further?” Grattius asked.
“Until we’re where exactly?” Varro answered, “You’ll see when we get to the top of this valley it’s not as simple as that.” Grattius screwed up his features and pulled the neckerchief higher. Sure enough when they got to the summit, out there in the wind and rain was the shadow of another valley in the distance.
“Marvellous.” Varro heard Grattius mutter under his breath, “Bloody marvellous.”
Caradoc was just settling down for an evening meal with Mott when a scout reported to his roundhouse.
“Are you certain they came from Isca?” He asked of the man who was standing before him soaked wet through to the skin.
“I followed them all the way and skirted around them at midday and came straight here. There can be no doubt, they left the Roman Garrison yesterday, four riders two women, Britons I’d say and two men, both Roman but dressed like us. They wear our clothes but they ride like them, I’m sure of it.”
Caradoc smiled, “Go and find my cousin straight away.” He stood and reached out for the scout’s hand, “You have done well my friend,” He shook the hand firmly, “Go and get yourself dry and warm.”
Varro woke with a start. He shook his head and opened his eyes and immediately felt cold and wet, he began to shiver. He peered out from underneath his blanket and saw Brenna’s form next to him, the fire was black. It must have gone out some hours before soaked through by the rain.
“Ugh,” he groaned sitting up, “does it ever stop raining here?” He asked no-one in particular.
“It helps the grass grow, which in turn feeds the sheep, the sheep feed us.” Lita said standing and shaking the water from her own blanket.
“I think I’m soaked right through to the scrotum.” Grattius said, “And no I don’t mean the thing carrying coins.”
“But the contents are just as useless around here anyway so I wouldn’t worry.” Lita said smiling.
“Give me a chance to show you and you’ll change your mind.” Grattius said as Lita’s usual frown re-appeared.
“I’d rather sleep with that mule.” She said pointing to the animal grazing away quite happily on the lush grass nearby, rain bouncing off its back.
Grattius got up, “One day my girl, I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”
Brenna came down from the high ground where she had been keeping watch for the last few hours, “Are you ready to go?” She asked the sodden group.
“Ready as ever.” Varro replied tying his wet bedroll up and then sneezed.
“I hope you’re not getting ill again?” Lita asked, “If you go down with that virus out here we’re done for.”
“Don’t worry it was a sneeze nothing more, it doesn’t mean I’m getting ill again.” He said.
“It’s not too late to turn back if you think you’re going to go down with that virus again, you were out of it for days last time.” Brenna said, concerned, “We need you at your best.”