Адриан Голдсуорти - Brigantia

‘It wasn’t a standard-bearer or a centurion or anyone else who should have given a lead. One eager tribune was trying to urge them on, but even he faltered. Words wouldn’t make them go on. And it wasn’t vengeance either, not then. My horse seemed faster than the rest. She was a good one, could keep running all day. Swam quickly too and soon I was ahead of the rest of the turma and alongside one of the barges full of legionaries. I could see their faces. They were pale, teeth clenched. As the last prisoner died it went quiet again and red boy strode towards the surf. Two of the women came with him, both naked and pretty enough if you don’t mind crazy. Red boy raised his arms and opened his mouth to curse us again, and it was as if even the waves were deathly quiet.

‘Then someone on the barge farted.’

Ferox laughed. ‘What?’

‘I’m telling the truth. It was like thunder and went on and on. This lad broke wind. You know what army bread is like, especially on campaign. Red boy stopped. Maybe he heard it too or maybe it was greater magic than his. ‘Longinus, you mongrel,’ someone said. Men groaned, and then they laughed. It broke the spell. I don’t know why or how, but it did. ‘Now they know we’re coming!’ someone said, and they laughed again. There was noise again, our noise – the clank of armour, the little jokes and curses the lads make when they’re nervous. I didn’t hear any order, but the rowers started to pull again on that barge, and when they saw it go so did the others. Then the whole army was moving and I felt the current pulling me and the horse into the shore. Red boy turned and ran. The rest didn’t and started shrieking again, but even they did not sound so convinced. I reckon they really believed their magic would stop us, turn us into smoke or something. When it didn’t they couldn’t quite believe as hard and as we splashed ashore they just stood there yelling. That was when the rage for vengeance really started. Only time I saw anything like it was weeks later when we smashed Boudicca. The lads just wanted to kill. At least Boudicca’s warriors fought back hard. These lads, and those mad lasses too, they just died. We hardly lost anyone in the fight – that day or in the nine days we were on Mona. Warriors would ambush us, then seem to give up and let themselves be slaughtered.’

‘Longinus?’

‘I reckoned it was as good a name as any when I needed a new one. That lad’s bowels did the empire a service, but you won’t find it in Paulinus’ report or any history. You won’t find red boy either. He ran fast and we didn’t catch him, that day or afterwards. Some of the lads were saying he was a Roman who’d joined them. I guess because he spoke Latin. Still, you know that there are more rumours in a camp than flies buzzing around the horse lines.’

They were almost at the far shore. Ferox realised that Claudia Enica had gone to reassure one of her greys so must have heard most of the story. She noticed his gaze and winked.

‘Ever thought you would come back here, Longinus?’ she asked.

‘No, lady, but life’s like that. You rarely get what you expect.’

The ferry ground onto the shingle of the beach. The boat did not come quite so far in, and one of its occupants splashed through the water to reach the shore. He was to guide them to a campsite further along the coast, and the boat would pull up on the beach near there.

Some of the Batavians helped shove the ferry off. Ferox watched it go. The mainland was clear, little plumes of smoke from farmsteads and a bigger cloud where Segontium lay out of sight. Over all stood the mountains, the sides dark with shadow, the edge of a different world.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Vindex had appeared beside him. ‘Back when we were in the tower I didn’t feel so cut off.’

‘Come on, centurion. We have work to do.’ Crispinus was eager as he sat on his horse next to Arviragus. ‘May as well take a look around while the rest make camp.’

Mona was bigger even than Ferox had expected and they did not stray far that first day. They came across the patches of scorched ground the centurion had spoken of very soon. There was a lot of woodland, every few miles a hut or two. The inhabitants were small as a rule, the men with beards, which was a rare thing among the tribes. Their dialect was odd, so that the Brigantes understood very little of what they said and even Ferox struggled.

For two days they spent most of the time in the saddle, as Ferox tried to make sense of the descriptions left by Prasto. They went inland to the higher ground, which helped, although there were so many folds and little valleys that he knew that he was missing a good deal. There were also few tracks and a lot of trees as well as thick, thorny hedges that criss-crossed the country and seemed to make little sense as field boundaries. Since it was almost the end of October, the days were getting short, which gave them less time to search. The fourth day began with driving rain. The prince and the tribune insisted that they keep searching. That was the only day Claudia Enica did not ride with them, and instead she stayed in the little tent set aside for her. The next day was the same, with no reward for long hours of suffering. Two of the Batavians and one of the Brigantes developed a fever overnight.

‘The prince is worried that you are not really trying,’ Crispinus told Ferox as they ate a cold meal. ‘We seem to be getting nowhere.’

‘What would you have me do, my lord?’

‘Find a way, Ferox, as you have done before. Get lucky if that is what it needs.’

‘This is not a place for good luck, my lord. And I have little to go on.’

Crispinus took a spoonful of stew and then wrinkled his nose in distaste. He stood up, short enough to do so without crouching, and went to the door of the tent to empty the rest of the bowl outside. Coming back, he patted Ferox on the shoulder. ‘Do what you need to do. But know that this matters more than I can say. The price of failure will be high. Not just for you, but for the one you care about most. Think on it. Now, I must brave the elements to answer a call of nature.’

The sun shone the next morning, although a high wind kept driving rain clouds across the island. For a while there would be a deluge, then clear blue skies before the next one came in. Ferox led them to marshland covering miles. The soldiers from Segontium said that they had never been in there, although they did know that the boggy country stretched to the sea. A shepherd was no more informative.

‘We don’t go in,’ he said through his wild beard. ‘If a sheep strays we leave her, for it means that the gods demanded payment.’

‘Ask him about the old days.’ Arviragus was leaning down from his horse, looming over the small man. ‘Was this a holy place?’

Ferox tried, but could sense that the man’s fear of speaking far outstripped any fear for his life. That meant that the place was special, and it could fit with Prasto’s description – as could half a dozen other spots they had seen already. Would it match what Acco had said? ‘I don’t think he can tell us any more, my lord,’ Ferox said, looking up at the prince.

‘Soon find out.’ Arviragus gestured to his bodyguard and another Brigantian. ‘Persuade this fellow to talk. When he is ready, call us and we’ll come and ask questions.’

Ferox watched glumly as they dragged the man into the trees. ‘We won’t learn anything we don’t already know, my lord.’

‘We shall see. May as well eat while we are waiting.’ The soldiers gathered wood to make a fire.

Ferox went over to sit beside Vindex. The scout was unimpressed. ‘Useless bastard,’ he muttered. ‘Give me the sister anytime.’ Once again the lady had remained in their camp.