“This is a ship not a bloody boat.” The captain said, as he laid Valerius flat on his stomach and began pushing his open palms onto his back.
“What are you doing, is he dead?” Pollo asked shaking his numb hands and staring at the pale face being forced against the wooden ledge with every push. The captain knelt over Valerius’ back and kept pumping, ignoring Pollo’s question. Suddenly sea water gushed out of his mouth and he began to cough uncontrollably, eyes still closed. The captain kept pumping.
“Come on lad, you can make it, get it all out.” He pushed again, shoulders high, arms straight and pushed down again and again. Valerius sounded as if he was choking and then he gasped, spluttered and coughed some more, his eyes flickered open, he was alive.
It was like being woken from a deep sleep, he went from being in a serene place, to one of pain, blurred images and mumbled words. He tried to open his eyes, where was he? Still in the water, trapped under the horse, dead? He coughed and felt sea water rush out of his nose and mouth, it stung, he couldn’t breathe, he struggled but something was pressing down on him. Trying to raise his head, he thought he saw Pollo looking down on him, he was mouthing words but he couldn’t hear them. He moved his head trying to raise it from something solid, was that the ship’s captain above him? He coughed again uncontrollably and felt bubbles of air in his throat and nose, struggling to breath, he blew out through his nose, it hurt but it cleared his airway. The pressure lifted from his chest, but he continued to cough as he was rolled onto his side.
“I thought you were dead.” He heard Pollo’s voice suddenly clear.
“He was lucky you saved him, unlike those poor swine.” The captain said.
Pollo looked back towards the receding shoreline and saw men still fighting for their lives, but they were surrounded, engulfed by warriors on foot and on horseback. White plumes of sea water splashed up as men slashed and stabbed at each other, the legionaries of the Second Augusta had no chance against such odds, but still they fought.
Caradoc, seized by battle rage looked around him, eyes wide with menace and hatred. There were still small pockets of resistance here and there. He pushed his horse forward into a group of surviving Romans, maybe five of them, who had somehow retained their shields. Leaping from his horse, he caught them by surprise as they were concentrating on those to their front. The man underneath him buckled and fell beneath the water level, he stabbed down and felt the reassurance of his blade enter flesh and grate against bone. He got his footing and spun round, the tip of his sword slicing into an enemy’s neck, blood sprayed out a red hue in the air. Serenity took over as the scene played out before him as if he were watching from elsewhere, stabbing, thrusting and parrying blows and then all he could hear was his own heavy breathing. Warriors stared at him in surprise and admiration, the enemy dead, sinking under the weight of their armoured shells.
“You bloody fool, you could have been killed.” Ardwen shouted, still on his horse.
“Then you would take my place.” Caradoc replied fury in his eyes as he looked for more men to kill but those who still struggled were too far away. In moments the resistance died, as did those who had come aboard vessels to attack them from the sea. He turned and began wading back to the shore.
“Strip them of their armour and recover anything we can use.” He ordered, “We haven’t seen the last of them.”
As the daylight began to vanish from the small gap in the smoke hole above them, Varro, Grattius, Brenna and Lita heard horses approaching, riding fast. Pensive looks were exchanged between them but there was nothing they could do. The horses came to a sliding stop outside and there were mumbled commands given, were they to be dragged outside and tortured for information, they didn’t know.
The door skin was brushed aside and Caradoc entered quickly, Ardwen behind him. They were both covered in sweat from the ride back to the hill fort from wherever it was they had confronted Plautius’ attack. The four of them stood up.
“We killed them, burnt three ships and stopped them getting onto dry land.” Caradoc said breathing heavily. “There were more ships, at least five more, but they couldn’t get to the beach.” He pointed at Varro, “Your friends’ bodies line the sea floor. The rest are being dragged ashore as I speak, to be stripped of anything we can use against them.”
Varro looked down at the floor, Grattius looked angry and Brenna and Lita stood there red faced.
“We knew nothing of this attack Caradoc, you have to believe us.” Brenna said almost pleading, “Why would we come here if we knew that they were planning this? It doesn’t make sense does it? Do you think we would throw our lives away for what, just for the possibility of being here? Come on Caradoc, you’re a man with a good head, you know we wouldn’t do that don’t you?”
The barrage of questions seemed to knock some of the anger out of the Celt leader as he stood there contemplating what she had said. Looking at him now they could see faint traces on blood on his face and neck, presumably from the fighting earlier.
“We could hold them captive,” Ardwen said, “keep them here and have them to use as hostages later. It would be better than letting them go, so they can work against us.”
Caradoc half turned his head and half looked at floor, “We could cousin or we could let them go and show that we are better than they are. That we don’t break our promises as they do.”
“Promises, what promises have we made, what are you talking about?” Ardwen asked.
“I assured them that they would be safe whilst they were here, inside Silures’ territory. As King I have a responsibility not just to my people but to behave as they would expect and set an example. It is a matter of honour cousin, surely you can see that?”
Ardwen stalked forward and stared at the two women, “What I see are two whores, two whores who like the taste of Roman cum nothing more.” He laughed, “They probably do both of them together and then each other.” He closed the gap between himself and Brenna and stood almost nose to nose, “You might look like something special bitch, but you still bleed like the rest, you whine like the rest and you shit like everyone else. I can see through you, I can see into your heart and it’s black, black as pitch.” She looked down. “Know this whore,” he turned to Lita and approached her, “If I were king and not my cousin, I would have you fucked by my men every way possible and then given to the women. Then I’d have you splayed open, attached to a cart and driven back across the border as a warning to all the other whores who are taking Roman cock.” He turned to Varro and Grattius, “And as for you two, even your gods themselves would weep for what I would do to you.”
“Enough Ardwen,” Caradoc said, “enough, I don’t want to hear anymore and whilst I lead, there is no more to be said, I will not harm them, leave.”
He turned and looked at his cousin and sneered, venom in his words “Very well cousin, this time I will listen but be warned if anything like this happens again, I may not be so patient. If my man hadn’t seen their fleet, we could have all been dead by now, villages and settlements set on fire, women raped, children taken for slaves and men slaughtered. We can’t afford to be civilised towards a people who have no honour, a people who smile while talking to you and plot behind our backs, there is only one way to deal with such snakes, remove their heads.”
“I hear you Ardwen believe me I do, but I promised these people safety. I also think that they’re telling the truth and they have been used as we were, now go cousin leave me to talk to them.”
Ardwen stared at each of them in turn, his eyes silently saying that they were lucky their fate lay with Caradoc, he turned, lifted the door skin and left.
“You are a man of honour Caradoc.” Varro began.
“Shut up and sit down, all of you.” Caradoc ordered, they did as they were told, whilst he paced up and down. “I don’t know what your Governor thought he was doing but he has made a grave mistake. I was willing to discuss terms, even willing to go and speak with him, but now after this, this betrayal, I see that there can never be peace with Rome.” He raised a hand to his head and wiped at the dried blood. “For decades we lived in peace with Rome, we traded, we bought her goods, yet it was never enough, they always wanted more. I lived my entire life listening to the words of a brother who wanted to bow down, a brother who also betrayed me and my people, is that what it’s like to be a part of Rome? Is it such a cesspit of dishonesty, deceit, murder and lies, a place where you can’t trust anyone, a place where you are always looking over your shoulder, watching for a blade?” He shook his head. “It is a good thing that Plautius showed his real personality, his real intent after all. He doesn’t want peace, he wants domination and he wants my people as slaves to serve Rome, not be a part of it.” He pointed at Varro and Grattius, “It won’t happen and you can go back and tell him that, as long as I lead, there will be war and if I die another will take my place.” He stopped pacing, “He must think me a fool, a fool who lives on raw butchered meat and milk, a barbarian. Isn’t that how you regard us Roman?” He looked at Varro. “As a weak, uncivilised people who live in the mud, in a land of constant rain, up to our heads in filth?”