Адриан Голдсуорти - The Encircling Sea

Bran moved, climbing the last couple of feet and peering over the lip. Then he scampered up and over and was lost from view. Ferox followed, muttering curses under his breath, blaming Trajan, Crispinus, damned women, and all the gods and goddesses for bringing him here. The stern silence of the Silures no longer mattered so much to him compared to venting his rage and frustration. He climbed on, the top seeming no closer, and suddenly the boy appeared, staring down and smiling.

At last Ferox scrambled over the edge. He was breathing like a hound after a long chase, and moving like an old man. Bran was crouched behind a wattle fence that crossed the grass in front of them. Beyond was the building, long and broad, but a lot lower than he had expected. There was no sound apart from the angry gulls, the wash of the sea and his own panting. He pushed up on all fours and crawled over to some boulders, where he sat, resting his back. The boy was puzzled and came over.

‘Shall I tie the rope?’ he whispered. There were some low rocks, but none were big enough to hold the weight. ‘You will have to move.’ Ferox realised that the only place was where he was resting. He smiled and forced himself up. Once he was standing it was easier. He drew his sword and went over to the fence. Peering over the top, he saw a patch of cultivated ground around the house and a couple of pigs rooting around for food. There was no door in the building on this side, and no sign of anyone, but the house blocked his view. He moved along to the end and could see more buildings dotted around the slopes below, and he ducked because a couple of women came out of one. They did not seem to have noticed him.

While the others started to climb he rested. Brigita was first, then the boy with the thin moustache, and next the brown-haired woman. With the aid of the rope, none of them seemed to have picked up as many cuts and scars on the way as the Roman.

The others frowned when they heard the shouting getting louder, but Ferox knew the barritus. ‘They are just starting,’ he whispered, but it was frustrating because from up here they could not see what was going on. At least it should keep the defenders busy, but as the rest of them came up the cliff the noise grew indistinct and certainly drew no closer. Between them they brought a helmet, cuirass and shield, which the mother had provided for him. It was a scale shirt, clumsy and a little tight, but better than nothing. The helmet was an iron legionary one, with studs on the cheek pieces, a deep and broad neck guard, and embossed shapes meant to look like eyebrows in front. He tied it in place, wishing he had the woolly hat as padding. The shield was small and square, and had a black eagle painted on it.

When it came, the scream blotted out all other noise and seemed to go on forever. One of the lads looked back and went pale. Ferox peeked over the fence, saw no one, and then ran to the edge.

‘It was a bird,’ Brigita said. ‘It flew straight into his face and he slipped.’ The twisted shape of one of the young warriors lay on the little beach.

Ferox was tempted to go on and let the rest catch up, but with so few of them it was foolish to split up for no reason. Still, it would do no harm to look in the house. He whispered to Brigita and the lad with the moustache to follow and then pulled himself over the fence. One of the pigs squealed because he landed beside it. He went to the back wall of the building and waited for the others. He guessed that the entrance would face south, and they came around the corner and saw it ahead of them. Ferox gestured at the youth to go to the other side. Looking downhill, he could not see much apart from other buildings and thatched roofs, and the top of a tower. Pirates were on the top, and he saw one throwing something down. The wind had veered, blowing from behind them, and it was hard to hear anything. Then trumpets blared and he heard a great shout. The Romans must have resumed their assault.

He hefted his shield and walked towards the entrance. At least it was not a roundhouse, where he would have to duck to get through the low door, and his reason told him that no one should be waiting to kill him as he burst in. He still wondered, and took a deep breath before he kicked the door hard and it flew back. There was firelight in the house, which was like a long hall with a fire in the middle. He ran in, the air thick with the smell of damp rushes and wood smoke. A girl of no more than ten stared at him wide-eyed. An old woman, her long, thin hair white under the layers of dirt, turned around.

‘Who are you?’ Ferox was wearing the black cloak and trousers taken from dead pirates, and he guessed the woman assumed he was one of the band. ‘Come closer where I can see you.’

Brigita came into the hall and no one would mistake her for one of Harii. The little girl gasped and ran to cling to the older woman. A male voice shouted out in anger, and Ferox knew it at once and felt his rage coming back. He went to one of the bowers fenced off from the main hall, and as he reached it the drapes were wrenched aside. Genialis appeared, his young face more than usually cruel in its anger.

‘You!’ he said in surprise as much as horror.

Ferox punched Genialis with the boss of his shield, sending him back, and then punched him again to knock him down. A woman screamed, then another, and Ferox saw that there were two naked girls in the little room. One had a black eye and both scrambled away and crouched by the wall, whimpering. Genialis was on the floor, bare apart from a blanket half-draped around him, and trying to wriggle away. Ferox jabbed with his sword, stopping the point inches from his face. The youth froze.

‘I’d be doing your father a favour if I killed you,’ Ferox said.

‘Cniva is my father.’

‘Then I won’t do him a favour.’ Ferox pulled his sword away, and stamped hard on the youth’s leg. Genialis screamed, so he kicked him in the crotch. ‘Quiet,’ he yelled. The lad sobbed, but said nothing.

There was no one else in the house. They found rope and tied the boy up, and Ferox set the warrior with the moustache to watch their prisoners. ‘If he speaks or moves, just kill him,’ he said, and repeated it in Latin to make sure that Genialis understood. Brigita whispered something to the young warrior that made him grin.

‘He will do it,’ she said.

‘Good.’

There was a yelp and Ferox saw that the old woman had kicked Genialis as he sat with his back to the wall. She kicked him again and spat in his face. Then she went in to the naked girls and spoke softly to them. It was clear that these people had no love for Cniva’s son, and he wondered if they were captives kept as slaves.

‘We will leave one of the younger lads here as well,’ Ferox decided. That left him with half a dozen boys, the three warrior women, Brigita and Bran, although he would try to keep the boy away from the fighting if he could. ‘Will your mother stay with them?’

‘She goes where she wishes,’ the queen replied, and it was clear that she wished to stay with the main group.

Ferox had them go through the stacks of firewood and find a few branches to make into torches. By the time they began to walk downhill towards the rest of the houses, a swirling wind whipped at the flames. He could hear shouting and horns blowing. There was no sign of anyone abroad in the settlement, so they walked towards the houses. Ferox led, with Brigita beside him. The others came as a single rank after them, with the mother and Bran at the rear. A tethered goat bleated at them from outside the nearest building.

The nearest building was a smaller version of the main hall, and again lacked any windows. Half a dozen more houses clustered behind it, narrow and muddy alleys threading their way through the jumble of buildings and fenced gardens. Ferox led them into the nearest. There was still no sign of anyone, giving the place an eerie, abandoned air. A woman appeared in a doorway, and she had the same dull and fearful gaze of the ones in the house with Genialis. He nodded amicably to her and she vanished.