Roman - The Fall of Britannia (26 page)

‘
Tell him this!’ he said. ‘And make sure you repeat exactly
what I say. You are already a dead man. All that you have left is
the manner of dying. If you tell me what you know, the death will
be quick and your head will hang on a chieftain's saddle, a sign to
your Gods that you were a worthy opponent. If you don’t talk, you
will die slowly and your flesh fed to the pigs of the forest. Make
your choice!’

The man’s head
sagged a little as if he was deep in thought before he looked up
again at Togodumnus and answered through his shattered
mouth.

‘
Unlike your barbarian Gods, mine will greet me whatever my
fate,’ he said. ‘Death is death and pain is fleeting. Do your worst
barbarian, you have your answer.’

Silence fell as
Gwydion translated and everyone looked toward Togodumnus waiting
for the explosion of rage that would surely follow.

‘
Burn him,’ he said, and the two warriors dragged him out of
the tent into the darkness.

----

Outside, the
archer was stripped naked and tied spread eagled to a wooden frame.
A rope was thrown over an overhanging limb and the frame was
hoisted upright in front of a low fire, tilting forward until the
smell of singing body hair told them he was close enough. They
secured the rope in position, watching the man bake slowly above
the fire.

It was only a
few minutes before they heard his first cry of pain in the King’s
tent, though it seemed to Gwydion that he was the only one to find
the sound disturbing. He had seen many men die and this was just
another enemy, but the manner of death was repugnant to him. The
man’s cries turned to screams as his flesh roasted, begging his
Gods for death and release from his torment. Gwydion’s discomfort
was suddenly interrupted, when another of Caratacus’s warriors ran
into the tent in obvious panic and looking around the interior for
the King.

‘
What is it?’ asked Caratacus standing up quickly.

‘
The
Romans, Sire,’ he cried between gasps of breath, ‘they are
here!’

‘
Here, what do you mean here?’ he said. ‘They are miles
away.’

‘
No,
Sire, their advance units have reached the far banks of the river.
Our warriors are fighting them as we speak.’

‘
How
many?’

‘
About five hundred, Sire, the Romans are trying to take the
bridge.’

‘
They cannot take the bridge,’ said Togodumnus. ‘Our forces
are disorganized, we will stand no chance. We must send more
warriors across.’

‘
No!’ said Caratacus. ‘They will be concentrated in too small
an area.’ He paused for a few seconds before adding ‘burn the
bridge!’

‘
Sire, we still have men on the other side,’ said the
messenger.

‘
It’s too late for them,’ said Caratacus. ‘They will buy us
some valuable time. Fire the bridge and cut the lines, they must
not take the crossing. The rest of you, mobilize your clans along
the bank. Togodumnus, get me spear throwers. We have to hold them
while the rest of our people cross the Tamesas.’

Gwydion turned
to leave the command tent, but paused as he heard the next sentence
from the King’s brother.

‘
Let’s hope your people are better at being sacrificed than
you are at intelligence gathering.’

Gwydion
turned.

‘
Sorry, Sire,’ he said, ‘I don’t understand.’

Togodumnus
ignored him, but the ever-present Druid stationed just inside the
tent flaps explained.

‘
Caratacus’s armies will be aided by the strength of the Gods
in just three week’s time,’ he said. ‘At the celebration of the
solstice, the elders will make a sacrifice.’

‘
What type of sacrifice?’ asked Gwydion, already dreading the
answer.

‘
The
most powerful,’ said the Druid. ‘And your tribe have the honour of
supplying the chosen one.’

‘
I
thought the chosen one had to be taught the ways of the Gods,’ said
Gwydion. ‘The solstice is in fifteen days, surely this is too short
a time for the instruction to be given.’

‘
We
already have someone,’ said the Druid. ‘She was given freely by the
Blaidd many months ago, a pure girl with extraordinary golden hair
as I understand. The Gods can’t fail to be impressed.’

‘
Be
gone!’ shouted Togodumnus and Gwydion fell through the entrance to
the tent, his mind racing as he struggled with the implications. He
stood outside the tent for several minutes, watching the chaotic
scenes as men ran everywhere, organizing their arms and defences.
In amongst the mayhem, Gwydion again heard the pitiful cries of the
dying Syrian as his charred skin peeled from his flesh. Everyone
was preoccupied with preparing for the forthcoming battle and the
area quickly cleared of warriors leaving only Gwydion and the dying
archer. The victim turned his charred and sightless face toward
Gwydion.

‘
Please,’ he begged in broken Latin, ‘help me!’

Gwydion looked
around the clearing and realizing they were alone, approached the
dying captive. He was the enemy and deserved to die, but he was
also a warrior who had only been doing his duty. There was no
honour here and no man warranted such a fate. He withdrew his sword
and placed the tip under the rib cage of the tormented man. The
Syrian felt the point of the blade against his flesh and realised
relief was at hand.

‘
Do
it!’ he said through blistered lips and Gwydion thrust his sword
upwards into the Syrian’s heart.

The archer’s
head flung back and his mouth fell open as the pain ripped through
his body and as he died, Gwydion cut the rope with a swipe of his
blade, releasing the body to fall into the flames. He looked around
and wiped his blade on the wall of the tent before running off to
find his own men.

----

Gwydion raced
through the woods to the camp, his hands fending the branches away
from his face as he took a shortcut through the thicket and burst
into the clearing where his troops were bivouacked. All around,
women and children were making their way northwards to the Tamesas,
eager to reach the ferries and bridges that would carry them to the
safety of the other side and the road to Camulodunum. Warriors
raced in the opposite direction, toward the banks of the Medway to
face the Roman army.

Gwydion’s
followers span around at the noise, their hands reaching for their
swords, their instincts sharpened by the sudden downturn in
events.

‘
Gwydion,’ shouted Cody, ‘where have you been?’

‘
No
time for that,’ answered Gwydion brushing past him. ‘Gather your
things, we are getting out of here.’

‘
What?’ asked Cody incredulously, ‘surely we are needed
here?’

Gwydion started
to saddle his horse.

‘
We
were sent here to help Caratacus throw the invaders back into the
sea,’ he said. ‘So far, the Romans have landed tens of thousands of
heavily armed soldiers, built a string of fortresses along the
coast and we haven’t fired an arrow in anger. Even as we speak,
they are in the process of slaughtering Catuvellauni on the other
side of the river while Caratacus’s chariots lie idle.’

‘
But
Caratacus’s army outnumber the Romans tenfold. The invaders stand
no chance.’

Gwydion grabbed
Cody by the tunic and dragged him close.

‘
You
listen to me, Cody,’ he said. ‘When I was in Caratacus’s tent, I
heard the reports from his clan leaders. Thousands of Romans are
marching toward Camulodunum. They have hundreds of cavalry,
thousands of heavily armoured men and machines that throw fire
across the sky. They have wiped out dozens of villages on the way
here, receiving only a handful of casualties in return. When there
were no more men to kill, they turned on the women and the
children, slaughtering everyone they could ride down. No-one was
spared, do you hear me, no one!’

‘
That may be so,’ said Cody pulling himself free from
Gwydion’s grasp, ‘but if everyone runs, then the Romans will walk
unopposed to Camulodunum.’

‘
We
are but ten men, Cody,’ said Gwydion. ‘We will make no difference
to the outcome of this fight. I cannot make you leave, but you have
your own families back in the hills to defend and when the Romans
turn their face to the Khymru, you should be there to defend your
own kin. There is no honour in a futile death here. If your blood
must spill, then let it enrich the soil of our youth, not
Catuvellauni soil’

‘
You
speak like you are not coming with us,’ said Cody.

‘
I
am also leaving,’ said Gwydion turning his attention back to the
securing of his saddle, ‘but not back to the Blaidd, I ride to
Mona.’

‘
Why
Mona?’

‘
I
believe Gwenno is to be offered in sacrifice by the Druids. I will
not let that happen.’

The men fell
silent. Gwydion’s love for Gwenno was common knowledge and they all
had a soft spot for the girl.

‘
When?’ asked Cody.

‘
Solstice,’ said Gwydion simply and ducked into his tent to
retrieve his few possessions. When he emerged, the whole group were
waiting for him.

‘
We
can’t let you do this,’ said Cody. ‘Even if you are successful,
what will you do? They won’t let you settle down anywhere, you will
be branded a coward and an outlaw. The Druids will send word around
Britannia and you will be hunted down like an animal. There will be
nowhere you can hide.’

‘
I’ll worry about that when it happens,’ said Gwydion, tying
the final knots on the fastenings securing his equipment to his
fidgeting horse. ‘ I will not stand by and let Gwenno be sacrificed
to avoid that which cannot be avoided.’ He vaulted onto his horse.
‘I am leaving.’ he said. ‘My fate is written. Stay and fight, or
leave and defend your families, the choice is yours, now get out of
my way!’

‘
Wait!’ said Cody. ‘A few more minutes will not make any
difference.’

The group walked
a little distance from the mounted Gwydion and talked rapidly
discussing the options, eventually coming back into the fire-lit
clearing.

‘
We
are split, Gwydion,’ said Cody, ‘so every man will follow his own
heart. Some swords ache to taste Roman blood and will fight
alongside the Catuvellauni. The family men will return to the
Blaidd and will defend their clans. I have no ties back home and
have no wish to die defending Catuvellauni lands, so I will ride
with you and meet my fate alongside yours.’

‘
I
cannot ask you to do that,’ said Gwydion, ‘the cause is mine and
mine alone.’

‘
You
forget that I also grew up alongside Gwenno,’ said Cody. ‘She
deserves a better fate than the axe-man’s blade.’

Gwydion stared
at the man who was willing to live the life of an outlaw and suffer
a probable early death to help him in his quest.

‘
My
mind is set,’ said Cody. ‘I ride with you!’

‘
Thank you,’ said Gwydion, simply.

‘
Didn’t have a choice,’ said Cody. ‘You wouldn’t cope without
me to hold your hand, now get lost; I have a horse to
load.’

----

Chapter 21

Willow sat on
the edge of the bed, wiping her eyes between sentences as she
explained what she knew about Gwenno’s fate.

‘
All
the poems and stories you have been learning,’ she said, ‘they are
all messages to the Gods. Usually they are chanted at the
gatherings of the Druids, but sometimes they are taken in person by
the chosen ones.’

‘
How, Willow?’ asked Gwenno earnestly, ‘how can someone speak
to the Gods when they live in the otherworld?’

‘
It
is possible, Miss,’ she said, ‘but only those who have remained
pure can enter the gates of Afallon.’

Gwenno wracked
her brain. Although women in the clan had little to do with
spiritual matters, she had overheard the name Afallon mentioned
occasionally back in the Blaidd, when the warriors were drunk
around the fires.

‘
But
isn’t Afallon just a small island of the coast to the
west?’

‘
All
I know, Miss, is that all the messengers are taken there by the
Druids after they have gone through the Henge. There lies their new
kingdom, the lands that are your birth right as the chosen one. You
will take your rightful place alongside those who have travelled
before.’

‘
But
that cannot be,’ said Gwenno. ‘The island is too small, much
smaller than even this one. How can so many people be given lands?
There will not be enough to go around.’

‘
You
must be wrong, Miss; many have travelled the path before
you.’

Gwenno’s mind
was racing. None of this added up and the more she heard, the more
worried she became.

‘
This Henge, you told me about,’ she said, ‘tell me again what
happens there.’

‘
Well, Miss; there is a great ceremony where the Druids pay
tribute to the chosen one. You will wear the cape and travel
through the stone gateway before you are taken to
Afallon.’