Адриан Голдсуорти - Brigantia

Arviragus smiled and seemed to grow taller as if some of his spirit returned. He walked towards them as his men appeared. Four troopers of the royal guard came from another house and stood on his right. Another, along with Brigantus, a chieftain and another warrior joined him on the left. The warrior was naked in spite of the cold, his body a whirling network of blue woad, and Ferox remembered this man in his black chariot. He dragged Crispinus by a chain, and the tribune crawled like a dog. The warrior kicked him, until he lay down next to the wall of a pen, moaning.

There was no ditch around the farm, or even a wall or fence, and the courtyard between the pens and houses simply opened up into the meadow where the three men stood.

Gannascus gave a deep-throated chuckle.

‘Oh well,’ Vindex muttered, and they started to walk forward as the Brigantes came for them.

Sepenestus loosed an arrow. The trooper on the far right raised his oval shield to block it, but did not realise the appalling power of the archer’s bow at this range. The arrowhead was slim and pointed, similar to the head of a pilum, and it drove straight through the shieldboard and into the man’s eye. A second arrow was in the air, and the next trooper held his shield up firmer and further from his body, so that when the head came through it did not reach him. He shook from the impact.

Ferox had borrowed a cavalryman’s oval shield from a Batavian trooper, and it was much lighter than a scutum. There was a notch on the blade of his gladius, courtesy of the man with the torc, and he had not had time to work on it. The memory the battle had faded, as it always did, and there was little left of the wild joy he had felt when he had brandished the aquila as a club. His own helmet had been trampled and bent, so he had also borrowed a fur-topped one from the same soldier.

Another arrow banged against the trooper’s shield, making him stagger again. Then the next went under the rim and struck just above the knee. That was wonderful shooting in the gloom, and the man gasped, dropping his shield and spear to clutch at his leg. He was hit again, hard in the chest, and fell.

Arviragus yelled and ran at Ferox, the others taking up his cry. One of the troopers threw a spear at Vindex, who deflected it with his shield. The other cavalryman had a sword and the scout parried the blow with his own blade. Gannascus bounded forward, lunged with his own spear to spit the chieftain, who fell, gasping for breath. The German barged Brigantus out of the way with his shield as he reached for his sword. The bodyguard was showing none of the speed he had been famed for in his days as a gladiator.

The naked man was on Ferox’s right, the prince on his left, and both watched him. He feinted at the warrior, who stepped back and then slashed at him as he tried to turn and attack the prince. Their swords met, throwing off sparks in the darkness, and the prince cut faster than he expected, giving him a glancing blow on the helmet. Ferox’s head rang.

Each of them faced two men as Sepenestus watched for a clear shot. Vindex managed to give one of the troopers a cut on the chin, but before he could regain his balance, the other one slid his blade past his shield and punctured his mail shirt. Gannascus was forcing his two opponents back, moving with a speed truly uncanny in so big a man. His shield was scarred by their blows, but he kept coming, pounding them with it.

‘Never trust that bitch!’ Arviragus spat the words at Ferox. ‘She’d kill any man without a thought.’

Ferox did not reply. He had realised that the warrior was faster than the prince, so now he loosened his grip on his shield, wanting to use the prince’s taunts.

‘Don’t trust Crispinus either. He’s done more than you know. Hanged a girl at Vindolanda. Humped her first, though. Only a slave, but still… Bet he’s rutted with my sister as well!’

Ferox bellowed, trying to sound enraged, and, letting go, he hurled the shield at the prince, something only a madman would do. Arviragus flung up his own shield to block it and went back. As he did so Ferox dived and rolled, swordpoint under the warrior’s guard as he pushed it deep into his groin. The shriek was piercing, and he yanked at his sword, taking a moment to tear it free.

Gannascus killed the trooper as the man was distracted by the scream of agony. One of the men facing Vindex tried to work around him and took an arrow in the back. The scout hooked his shield around the edge of the other man, ripped it away and rammed his sword into the man’s chest, snapping the scales of his armour.

Ferox was pushing himself up, and then was beaten face down onto the ground by a sword slamming against him. He rolled away, but felt a bitter stab of pain as the point went into his side.

‘Poisoning bastard!’ Ferox had never heard Vindex so full of rage. ‘That was my father.’

‘I did not do it,’ Arviragus maintained, but his voice trembled.

Vindex came at him, arm whirling as he slashed down again and again. The prince took the blows on his shield, which started to split as the relentless scout came after him. Ferox pushed himself up. Gannascus had beheaded Brigantus, but stayed back, understanding that this was something Vindex had to do on his own.

‘It was him!’ Arviragus gasped. ‘Not me!’ He sounded like a child caught stealing apples. His shield collapsed into fragments. He lunged desperately, and Vindex was so wild that he had left a gap and the sword broke mail rings and came back red. Arviragus smiled, and then the scout stabbed him through the mouth. Vindex held the corpse upright for what seemed like a long time. Then he spat in his face and let him fall.

Ferox was sitting up, his back and side burning with pain. Vindex sat beside him, hand clamped to his side, which was clearly the nastier of the two wounds he had taken. A pale face peered out at them from one of the huts.

‘Trouble?’ Ferox asked.

‘They may help. Unless they are bound by oaths to the prince. Then they probably won’t be so friendly.’

Gannascus went over to the corpse of the prince and prised off the torc.

‘My king sent me for this,’ he said.

‘Take it.’ Ferox said. He had always suspected Tincommius wanted more than to simply help his Roman allies. He did not care. ‘Tell him to keep it.’

‘We go now.’

‘I’m not going to stop you!’

‘No, you won’t, but some Romans might try, so we will not give them the chance.’ Gannascus came over to stare down at them. ‘You will live,’ he announced. ‘Probably.’ He gave them a big grin. ‘I hope we will not be enemies one day.’

‘I’ll try to send you the girl,’ Ferox said.

‘Keep her. I don’t think she would like the north very much. And she’s fond of that boy of yours.’

‘Philo?’ Ferox had not had the slightest idea, and it felt odd that the massive German had realised what he had not seen.

‘Farewell. You are my friends always.’ The grin was back. ‘Unless the king says otherwise. Farewell.’ He and the archer strode off, going back to the horses

Ferox and Vindex sat in silence side by side. The scout began cutting up his cloak to bandage their wounds. There were faces in the doorways, and hopefully soon the people would come and help them. He doubted that they owed any particular loyalty to the prince, and the Brigantes were hospitable folk as a rule. Crispinus still crouched by the pen, muttering to himself, and he wondered what they had done to him and whether his wits would ever return. The prince’s words were in his head, but he did not have the energy to think about them.

‘Still think this was a good idea?’ Vindex said.

Ferox laughed, and his side hurt, which only made him laugh the more.