Varro wasn’t expecting the question and searched for an answer.
“Let me tell you what I believe, Centurion Varro and if I’m right you will agree, although you might not say you do.” Caradoc looked up at the ceiling as if looking for inspiration, “The Emperor as you call him, we would call him a King, one day decided that he needed a victory over what he regarded as a barbarian people. He consulted with his friends and politicians, these men in the Senate, and looked at his maps. The mighty Roman Empire had expanded in all directions and it was already bigger than any other body of land known to man, at least that we know of. Despite this he wants more, the Senate wanted more and so they stuck a dagger in the land they call Britannia and decided to take it. Now I don’t know why you decided to come west, when I say you, I mean Rome. Don’t think I mean you because you are a soldier who loyally follows these instructions.” Caradoc looked down at the faces around the table once more. “The problem now though, is that it wasn’t a quick or decisive victory was it. How long have your boots been on our soil now, nearly four years by my calculations and that’s a long time. So if I refuse to meet this man before he goes home, he will be replaced by another, no doubt the same sort of man, another man charged with conquering this land, probably another General am I right?”
“I should imagine so yes.” Varro replied.
“This man will, I’m sure, have studied the problems that your legions have encountered so far, but will be arrogant enough to think that he can do better. He will arrive with a head full of ideas on how to defeat us but we will resist, we will fight and some of us will die, but so will a lot of his men, men like you.” Caradoc turned and shouted towards the door, “Ardwen, could you please bring some water, my throat is getting dry with all this talking.” A mumbled reply was heard from beyond the door.
“The problem for you and your kind now Centurion Varro is that we are prepared for you, we are ready for your legions. I no longer fight with just my own people, I fight alongside the tribes of the west and for that I thank you because Rome has done something they never could; it unified them. They are a proud group of people, a fierce group of warriors and whilst I accept you have ways of fighting in large numbers that we don’t, I learnt from those mistakes, and I don’t like making the same ones over and over again. I also believe that you would find it a lot more difficult to fight in these valleys and mountains, they are well suited for large scale ambushes of the legions.” At that point in the conversation, Ardwen entered the room with two teenage girls carrying water jugs. Suddenly, there was a disturbance of some sort behind him.
“What’s all the shouting?” He asked walking quickly back towards the door but before he could get there, a warrior barged the doors open and ran inside panting.
“They’re here, they’re here.” He shouted breathing heavily.
“What are you talking about man? Have you lost your senses?” Ardwen asked.
“Romans,” he blurted, “hundreds of them, maybe thousands.”
“You’ve lost your mind, how is that possible you fool?” Ardwen demanded.
“The coast to the west,” the warrior panted, “ships, they’ve come in ships, many ships and they’re bigger than anything I’ve ever seen.”
Caradoc stood, his face twisted in rage and pointed at Varro, “What trickery is this? I knew I couldn’t trust you.”
Varro and those in his group all stood as one, “I know nothing of this Caradoc, you have to believe that.” he turned to Brenna.
“He doesn’t, I would know if he did, it must be Plautius.” She said.
“Seize them and have them guarded.” Caradoc ordered of Ardwen, he faced Varro, “Whatever they are doing here, they will fail, is this how Rome negotiates, treacherous bastards.” He turned to the warrior who had reported sighting the Roman fleet. “I want to know where exactly and I want to know how many.” He grabbed the man’s arm and directed him towards the door he had come through only seconds before, then he stopped and turned to face Varro. “I swear on everything that I hold dear, I will crush the men in those ships and then I’ll come back and deal with you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Valerius leaned over the railing of the ship and vomited into the sea as his hobnailed boots slipped on the wet surface of the vessel’s wooden decking. The boat lurched this way and that in the swell as the oarsmen struggled to turn landward against the tide and wind. This ship and the others in the fleet were packed with heavy infantry and only the amount of men crowded together stopped them from falling over. Shields and armour grated against each other as legionaries complained and looked out to the land, so close now. Another spray of salt water lashed over their heads and rained down on them, soaking tunics and weapons as they cursed the sea and the sailors who had brought them here. Looking up along the headland through bleary vision, Valerius squinted and rubbed his eyes and looked again. Did he see a figure up there on the high ground, a running figure? He couldn’t be certain as he held onto the rail and felt his stomach churn again.
“Drop the sail.” The captain of the vessel bellowed over the sound of the crashing water as it struck the starboard side, sending yet another shower of salt water onto the deck. Sailors struggled through the crowds of bodies and began untying the thick ropes, quickly they lowered the sail and the motion stalled for a moment.
“Row you bastards, get us ashore.” He shouted. His face a sheen as yet more sea water was hurled towards the ship.
“Please let it end.” Valerius begged the gods of the sea. “Just let me get to dry land that’s all I ask.” He retched again but his stomach was empty. Pollo’s large hand clasped his armour covered shoulder.
“We’re nearly there now lad, won’t be long.” Pollo shouted as the vessel dropped between waves. “Nothing like sailing is there eh? I’m lucky I used to do a lot of it back home. I can’t recall the seas being like this though, rough as a barbarians cunny eh?”
Valerius couldn’t answer or even acknowledge his friend because he knew that to even try would bring on yet more retching, so he stood wedged against the rail staring up at the green hills beyond the beach.
“What is it, have you seen something?” Pollo asked looking ashore, as the movement of the boat pressed him up against Valerius, their segmented armour scraping together. “I can’t see anything except all that lovely earth, even I’ll be glad to get my feet on solid ground, I’ve had enough of this.”
The trireme war galley that carried them, was now reaching its top speed and the shore got ever closer as the oarsmen heaved to the encouragement of the captain, who continued to hurl abuse at them. The following vessels had all dropped their mainsails and were turning inland following the lead ship. Valerius looked down at the water that was beginning to turn to foam on the surface and knew that very soon, he would be jumping into it and wading ashore, the idea didn’t soothe his nausea but at least he would have a solid surface under his boots.