Anthony Riches - Wounds of Honour

‘So, brothers, let me outline our alternatives. We face a stark and simple choice: either we try to live in peace alongside their rule, and suffer eventual defeat and enslavement, or we fight now and push them off our lands. We can still gain a lasting peace on our own terms, but the Romans will only ever respect strength. Offer them weakness and we will all be in chains inside five summers.’

He fell silent, watching the faces in front of him. After a moment the chief of the Votadini, an elderly man whose eldest son stood behind him to steady his arm, spoke out softly.

‘You give us convincing words, Calgus. We all know of the Romans’ desire to take our lands, we all lost sons and brothers the last time they tried to pen us up like cattle. We all wish to avoid this, and we would be willing to fight in response to your summons even were we not bound to follow you into battle. But still I fear their legions. Three generations before us have failed to defeat them in open battle, even with the advantage of superior numbers. Our victory in forcing them from the northern wall was the result of many attacks on small detachments of their soldiers, a war of striking and hiding and having the strength to ignore their reprisals. It was a victory, but it was not won on any field of battle. How will our warriors deal with their way of fighting if we take the field against them now?’

Calgus inclined his head with respect for the wisdom of the question.

‘By dealing with their strength one unit at a time, Brennus. First we’ll smash their forts along the North Road, and bring the Wall cohorts to battle by attacking the wall itself.’

The old man tilted his head.

‘And if they decline to fight us? If they choose to keep us at arm’s length, and wait for their reinforcements?’

Calgus laughed sharply.

‘Exactly what we must expect them to do. Only a fool would throw a single legion and their auxiliary rabble into battle against our great forest of spears. Which is why I have formed a plan to ensure that they have no choice but to engage us, and most likely in groups of less than their full strength. A plan, my brothers, of the utmost simplicity. Yes, a swift strike down the North Road by our eastern warband, burning out their forts all the way down to Noisy Valley. By destroying Noisy Valley we deprive them of supplies, we keep them on the back foot, and we strengthen our arms with whatever we can take. While they dither as to our next move, we’ll split the warband to left and right, burn out the forts to east and west, then pull back into the north, taking what plunder we can carry. We can trust in our unexpected retreat to drag them along behind us, hot for vengeance. At the same time our second warband, and our main strength in horsemen, will strike at their undefended forts in the west. They will burn out Fort Cocidius and cross the Wall to destroy the Hill and Fair Meadow. This threat in their rear will fix the auxiliaries and prevent them joining with the legion. Brothers, we must put them off balance and keep them that way, continually rushing their forces to the newest point of danger. And when the opportunities present themselves, as they will, we will strike hard and destroy their cohorts piecemeal.’

Another of the tribal kings spoke out, stepping into the firelight.

‘We agree, Calgus, although I still say that this is a strange kind of war to fight…’

‘I understand. In past days we would have gone straight for their throats, dashed ourselves against their shield wall as we have a dozen times before, and lost warriors by the thousand in futile battles that could only end one way. We know their legions are meat grinders, made to fight in one way and only one way, in a battle line where they slaughter our warbands from behind their shields. They will never choose to fight man to man, because man to man they know they can only lose.

‘This way we avoid confronting their legions face to face until the moment is right, when we’ve bled them a dozen times, razed their forts to the ground and made them charge round the land in search of us. We strike where they are weak and we avoid their strength until we’re ready to deal with them, when they march into a trap of our patient making. Then, my friends, we will take so many heads that we’ll make mountains of their skulls. After that there will be no choice for them but to negotiate a settlement. Their southern legions will be needed in their own areas soon enough, or the entire country will go up in flames. Victory, and peace on our terms — I trust that would meet with your approval?’

The Dumnonii chief nodded reluctantly.

‘Where you lead I will follow, Calgus. Just don’t wait too long to bring my tribe some glory, or all the promises of future slaughter I can make to them won’t keep them in hand.’

Calgus laughed, putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder.

‘Caradog, you need wait no longer. I’ve put you and your tribe at the tip of the spear tonight. You’ll be beheading Romans before the sun rises again, even if it’s only the pitiful few that haven’t already run off down the road to the Wall.’

Brennus snorted.

‘And their Sixth Legion will sit idly by and let all this happen?’

Calgus’s smile broadened.

‘Ah yes, the infamous Sixth Legion. I have something special planned for Legatus Sollemnis and his men.’

One of his retinue approached respectfully, whispered into the tribal leader’s ear and withdrew. Calgus pulled an amused face, raising his hands in apology.

‘I must ask you to excuse me. I have a visitor.’

He left the circle, his bodyguard of picked Votadini warriors clustering around him as he made the short walk back to his tent. At the door he was met by one of his advisers, an elder of proven wisdom who had stood alongside his father in his day.

‘It’s a Roman. He rode up to the scouts and asked to be taken to you, said that you would be expecting him. I have him under guard inside, two spears at his throat. If he twitches in the wrong way our men will kill him immediately… I asked him what he wanted, but he refuses to talk to anyone but you. Shall I have his throat slit?’

Calgus shook his head quickly.

‘Not this one, Aed. This one’s the key to our victory. I knew that he would come to me at this time — in fact I’ve been depending on it all these weeks. So pass the word, the man that so much as looks at him the wrong way will be joining his ancestors after a long session under my knife. This one gets safe passage, and no questions.’

Nodding his thanks, he entered the tent. The newcomer was standing at the far end, the two warriors tasked with his control watching him down the shafts of unwavering spears. Crossing his arms, Calgus looked the newcomer up and down, taking in his air of complete relaxation.

‘I’ve been expecting a visit from a Roman these last few days, but if you’re that man you’ll know I have no way to be sure you’re the same person.’

The Roman tossed a small object to him. Catching it, Calgus recognised the gold shield brooch that had been taken from him after their first meeting in the forest months before.

‘Proof enough. I have to salute your courage. Not only putting yourself in my hands when I might well still be smarting for vengeance for the murder of my companions, but riding into this camp, at this time…? Brigantia herself must be smiling on you for you to have got this far without losing your head.’

The other man smiled confidently.

‘Fortuna smiles on the man who knows when to take the right risk. I’ve taken that risk to offer you a bargain we can both profit from. Your gain, you will recall, will be two things you’ll value over any other prize. A legion’s eagle standard, and the head of a Roman general. If you kill me now you’ll never see either, or hear the information I’ve brought to convince you of my sincerity. If you’re still interested.’