Адриан Голдсуорти: The Encircling Sea

They turned sharply, following the path around the next thatched house, this one built from timber framing, with big patches of the whitewashed mud daub missing. The place reminded Ferox of villages he had seen on the Rhine and Danube, and he had never discerned much sense of order in those either.

A woman almost bumped into them, going the other way, so that she dropped the bundle of firewood she was carrying. She was young, little more than a girl, and had the slim face and limbs of a Hibernian.

‘I’m sorry, lord,’ she gasped, flinching back from the expected blow. Then she saw Brigita, and the red-headed warrior woman and her mouth opened. She ran, leaving the wood where it lay. The redhead raised a javelin, but Ferox beat it down.

‘No. We’ll do more good if we make Cniva nervous. She’ll tell of enemies within their walls, and he will not know how many. Come on.’ He led them back the way they had come and they took another of the narrow paths, running between two houses whose eaves almost touched. It led them to another barn-like building next to an open space and beyond that another cluster of houses. Ferox could see the top of the gate-tower behind them, so they must be getting close.

Three men appeared at the far side of the narrow clearing. One’s bare head hung low, and the others had their arms around his shoulders to help him along. All three were clad in the black and drab colours of the pirates, with the wounded man in scale armour and the others wearing mail and bronze helmets of the simple patterns often issued to auxiliaries.

Ferox ran at them, shield up and sword raised. A javelin thrummed in the air beside him. As the men looked up the missile struck one of the carriers in the chest. The man gasped, pulling free, and the wounded man slumped down. The third reached for his sword, but Ferox was on him before he was ready. The pirate crouched away, tipping his head so that he could not see his attacker. The centurion slashed, avoiding the top of the helmet and cutting into the pirate’s neck above his mail cuirass. Blood sprayed as he wrenched the gladius back up, but the man was already falling and there was no need for a second blow. Brigita drove her javelin into the eye of the injured man and had to put a foot on his chest to yank it free. The redhead was kneeling beside the one she had hit with her throw, dragging his helmet off. Her sword was on the ground beside her.

‘No time for that now!’ Ferox said, guessing that she wanted his head. With an expression of mild disappointment, the young woman picked up her sword and sliced through the man’s throat.

A shout came from behind, and they turned to see that two pirates had opened the big door of the barn. The young warriors swarmed around them, jabbing and cutting with more frenzy than skill. They went inside, leaping over the dying pirates, and there were more screams.

‘Keep an eye open,’ Ferox told Brigita, pointing at the mouth of the alley from which the three men had come. By the time he reached the barn the warriors had finished. There must have been a dozen injured Harii and Usipi on the straw of the barn with a man and some women tending to them. The last of the men died as he came into the building. A lad with the face of Eros was still twisting his spearhead in the pirate’s belly. Poets often spoke of the beauty and innocence of youth, but rarely rejoiced in the viciousness that lived in many. Still, that was something for Ovidius to debate when it was all over, and none of these men deserved mercy.

Another of the lads dropped his shield and javelins and grabbed a girl, who looked barely a year or so older. With a quick motion, he ripped the top of her dress down. She did not scream and that was odd, and no doubt told a story of the lives these slaves had with their masters.

Ferox ran over and smacked the boy on the side of the head, using a fist still clutching his sword. He must have hit harder than intended, for the boy fell. One of the others laughed, and the lad glared up at him, looking more than ever like a child. A voice cut over the laughter. The mother said just one word, and it gave the youth a harder blow than Ferox’s punch. He stood, picked up his weapons, and then, oddest of all, he gave a little bow to the girl and scampered off with the others. The mother was already outside. Brigita and the redhead came back to join them as five pirates appeared, led by an older man with a long, brown beard that spilled out of the cheek pieces of his helmet and fell almost to his waist.

‘Form with me.’ Ferox pushed himself through the rest and stood, shield braced. Brigita and the redhead came up on his left and the other two women on his right. A glance to see they were there showed him the bare breasts of the one with brown hair, and it added to the unreal quality of this day. The boys split and joined them on either side. ‘Come on!’ he shouted, and charged. Javelins were thrown, and one of the pirates reeled, spitted through the thigh, while another had two missiles strike his shield and burst through the board. Ferox was screaming in anger and the others joined in, a strangely high-pitched battle cry. He headed for the bearded man.

The enemy stood their ground, and most of the chargers stopped, apart from one boy who flung himself bodily at the pirate on the far left of the line, sending them both sprawling. The black-clad man next to him reversed his spear and rammed it down, pinning the boy to the ground. A moment later one of the other lads stabbed under the pirate’s guard, striking the fringe of his long cuirass. The armour held, but the blow was hard and forced the man back.

Ferox’s shield banged hard against his opponent’s. The bearded man had his sword at eye level, elbow bent and waiting for the chance to jab. Ferox had taken the same guard, and they eyed each other warily, feinting without committing to a blow. The pirates were outnumbered from the start, and scattered so that sometimes two came against one. The redhead almost managed to slip her spear past a man’s shield, and when he moved to block it, Brigita thrust her sword into his belly. Rings snapped as the point struck, but they took enough force from the blow to stop it being fatal. The man grunted with pain and slashed at the queen, and then the redhead’s broad spear point took him in the leg and he sank down. Brigita cut again, the sword making a dull clang and leaving a dent where it struck the helmet. The other woman drove her spear through the pirate’s boot and foot, and when he shrieked in agony his head went back and the queen stabbed him through the throat.

The bearded leader realised that his men were losing, so attacked, jabbing at Ferox’s eyes. He swayed out of the way, jerking his shield up so that the rim struck the man’s arm. His own jab was stopped, the point catching on the edge of the helmet’s cheek piece, but the two blows unbalanced the man. Ferox followed up, using the round wooden pommel of his gladius to beat the pirate in the face. He felt teeth and bone snapping, struck again and the man sank to his knees. Ferox kicked him over and a moment later one of the boys appeared and hacked again and again at the pirate’s bloodied head. The blows struck the bronze helmet, which must have been a good one because after three or four the blade of the boy’s sword had bent out of shape. The pirate moaned, and Ferox killed him with a stab to the throat. Blood spurted higher than he expected, most of it spraying over the boy, who was laughing hysterically.

All of the pirates were dead. The fair-haired woman had a small cut above one eye, and one of the boys a longer graze along his right arm, but no one was badly hurt and only the one boy had died. The mother remained behind, watching, and if he had had more time Ferox might have resented her scrutiny. She was the only one still carrying a torch, and he guessed that the lads had dropped the others in their excitement. Bran stood beside her like a faithful hound.