Roman - The Fall of Britannia (22 page)

Prydain was
dumbstruck.

‘
You
are throwing me out?’ he gasped in disbelief.

Scipio stopped
and stared at Prydain for a while before continuing.

‘
That depends on you,’ he said.

‘
I
don’t understand,’ said Prydain

‘
I
have a proposal for you, Maecilius,’ he said. ‘I am willing to take
that streak of defiance and bend it into a form we can use. I
command a unit that is made up of men like you. Outsiders,
renegades, and insubordinates. But they are also excellent
soldiers, and after undertaking training totally different to what
you have experienced so far, become the spear point of the Roman
army. Interested?’

‘
Yes, Sir,’ said Prydain immediately.

‘
I
thought you would be,’ said the Centurion. ‘This is the deal. Your
training will start immediately. We don’t take any shit, Maecilius,
any nonsense and you’re out. No second chances,
understand?’

‘
Yes, Sir.’

‘
Good. Get your kit and come with me,’ he said, holding out
his hand, ‘welcome to the scouts.’

----

Chapter 15

Two months had
passed since the battle with Hanzer, and finally the day had come
when the Ninth Hispana’s battle training ended and they made their
way to the coast to join up with the other legions. Cassus and his
comrades were at the peak of fitness, their muscles hardened from
constant exercise. Their kit was packed, weapons sharpened, and
every soldier was impatient for the invasion to begin. At last,
after several false starts, they finally embarked and the enormous
invasion fleet set sail for Britannia.

Cassus listened
to the sound of the oars dipping into the gently swelling sea,
strangely soothed by the groan of oak against iron. He sat
shivering against the walls of the ship, and thanked the Gods that
the crossing had been calm. It wasn’t just the fact that on the one
occasion he had actually been on a ship he had been impossibly sick
that worried him, but the knowledge that, as every legionary knew,
troop carrying was not the strongest skill of the Roman navy and
the chances of ending up as fish food were very high in his
eyes.

Back in their
assembly camp, the sailors had taken great delight in stirring up
the soldier’s fears with tales of sea monsters, giant waves and how
terrible was death by drowning. Fights often ensued when the wine
flowed too freely around the Gallic docks, but the sailors gave as
good as they got, for though they were not legionaries, all had
trained in the auxiliaries and were used to fighting in the many
skirmishes still taking place on the seas around the empire.
Finally, the time had come and all four legions boarded the armada
of ships lying at anchor in the port of Gesoriacum.

This was where
the sailors came into their own. This was their world and they took
command of the situation, instructing the nervous soldiers where to
sit in order to balance the ships. The bravado of the famous
legionaries diminished as they solemnly took their place in a
situation where they had no control whatsoever. Some lost their
breakfast as the time drew near and the nerves kicked in, whilst
others prayed silently to their personal Gods for protection and
courage.

The twelve
Triremes brought from the Mare Nostrum, lined up close together in
the darkness. The top deck of each triple layered ship had a
ballista mounted in the bow, the giant crossbow that could fire
their limestone projectiles hundreds of yards across sea or land.
Each ship was manned by a team of marines who were permanently
stationed on board and supported by twenty Sagittaria, the archers
ready to suppress any initial resistance with a hail of iron tipped
death.

A Century of
fully armed Legionaries from the feared first Cohort, sat shoulder
to shoulder in the lead ship, filling every available inch of the
open deck ready to disembark at a moment’s notice. Below them sat
two levels of sweating, heavily muscled rowers. Paid freedmen and
just as well trained in their own field as any infantryman and
veterans of many conflicts. The lower deck, usually manned by a
third layer of rowers had been cleared to allow the carriage of
thirty cavalry and their mounts. These were the initial landing
troops, tasked to secure the beach before the bulk of the invasion
force.

Following the
Triremes the troop ships came. Simpler in design with a single
hold, and powered by only one bank of rowers, they were packed with
the supporting Cohorts of the legion along with the
auxiliaries.

Finally, the
cargo ships came; a mix of whatever vessels had been sent by Rome
or could be sequestered along the shores of Gaul, each filled to
the brim with the essential supplies necessary for an expeditionary
force of this size.

Even though the
commanders were confident of self-sufficiency within days of
landing, they still carried enough stores for weeks of unsupported
campaign, by which time; the huge stockpiles assembled back across
the channel would have been brought over by the never-ending relay
of cargo ships. The second and third waves would include the camp
followers, bribing their way onto merchant ships to follow the
soldiers across the sea, for wherever the legions went there was
usually coin to be made.

General Aulus
Plautius stood in the bow of the lead Trireme looking toward
Britannia, the sound of the breaking waves the only indication they
were near their objective. The strength of the opposition was
unknown on the looming shore, and as the sun had yet to rise, no
one could yet see any reception party waiting for them.

Plautius knew
that the barbarians would not just roll over and submit. On the
contrary, he fully expected a bloody confrontation and knew that
Julius Caesar had twice been repelled from these shores. He would
not make the same mistakes and had prepared as well as any man
could for the expedition. He was confident in his force and had
planned for any eventuality, but he was not a stupid man and other
preparations had been made. Those preparations were about to come
to fruition and he stood in the van of the huge Roman invasion
fleet, confident, arrogant, but patient as he awaited the right
time to commit his overwhelming force to the annals of
history.

----

A mile away from
Plautius on the shores of Britannia, a young boy wrapped himself
tighter in his sheepskin wrap as his father added more wood to the
fire. The weather was dry but very cold and he would be glad to get
back to his family’s hut. Their instructions were clear. The minute
they saw any sign of an enemy ship, they were to light the bonfire
they had prepared on the cliff edge. Many such bonfires were built
all along the coastline and should there be an attack, a line of
beacons would be lit and over ten thousand warriors could be
anywhere along this stretch of Britannia within an hour. He yawned
widely but the pleasure of the stretching muscles was interrupted
as he saw something far out to sea. He stared again, sure that he
had seen something. Suddenly it was there again, a flashing light
where no such light should be.

‘
Father,’ he said. ‘Look.’

His father threw
another few sticks on their campfire and stood up, his eyes taking
a few moments to adjust to the darkness after the glow of the
flames.

‘
What do you see?’ he asked, and stared out at the inky
blackness.

----

The young boy
was not the only one to have seen the light and two legionary
scouts crawled through the damp grass in the darkness toward him.
They wore no armour and their tunics were dyed black, but Roman
soldiers nonetheless. They and their colleagues had lain hidden for
days, deep in the centre of inaccessible thickets along the coast,
eating only Buccellatum and sipping sparingly from their
flasks.

The plan was
simple. When the fleet was offshore, the signal would be given and
the scouts would take out as many of the warning pyres as possible,
ensuring that the invasion fleet was guaranteed a secretive
landing. Now the long awaited signal had come and the fifty scouts
who had landed far down the coastline in the depths of a rainstorm
several nights ago, prepared to carry out their lethal
orders.

The soldiers
crawled slowly forward until they were less than five metres away
from their target. With hearts racing they both leapt up and ran
toward the two men alongside the fire. There was no fight, the
surprise was absolute and father and son died together, their
throats slit before they knew anything was wrong. A few yards away,
two more warriors died in their sleep as Pugios were thrust into
their wrapped bodies over and over again. For miles down the
coastline, the scene was repeated and within minutes, all potential
warning fires were thrown over the cliff edges and into the sea
below. The mission had been successful and the Centurion in charge
of the scouts sent his own signal to the fleet. The way was clear
for the invasion to start.

Out at sea,
General Plautius gave the order everyone had been waiting for.
There was no fanfare, and no special speeches. The order was passed
down to double the stroke and the oarsmen bent their backs into
their task, all thoughts of subterfuge discarded as they increased
the speed to force the ship far up the shingle beach.

----

Chapter 16

‘
Stand by!’ called the ship’s commander, and all the waiting
legionaries got to their feet, holding their shields as high as
their chins in case of enemy archers. ‘Brace!’ he shouted and
despite gripping the sides, all the soldiers jolted forward as the
front of the ship ground to a shuddering halt. ‘Marines go!’ he
shouted and ten of the crew climbed over the side to drop into the
surf, each carrying metal stakes and ropes to secure the ship to
the beach.

‘
Shallow water, Sir!’ called a voice in the
darkness.

The commander
nodded to Severus.

‘
Safe to go,’ he said. ‘Good luck!’

Severus’s voice
sounded calmly over the commotion as the oars were stowed by the
rowers.

‘
Raven Century!’ he called, referring to them by their own
nickname. ‘Disembark.’

The men in front
of Cassus shuffled forward and climbed over the sides of the ship,
lowering themselves by rope into the surf below. Cassus caught his
breath as he landed up to his chest in the freezing
water.

‘
Move it!’ hissed Remus behind him as the soldiers waded onto
the beach. Within a few minutes, the Century was together again and
ran to the top of the hill. The night was still relatively quiet
despite the hundreds of wet men now racing to take their
positions.

At the top of
the hill, the front line dropped to their knees and crawled the
last few feet to the ridgeline, keen not to present a profile to
any unseen watchers on the other side. Centurion Severus and Optio
Remus were the first to peer over the crest and into the lands of
Britannia.

‘
See
anything?’ asked Severus.

‘
Nothing to worry us,’ said Remus, ‘though those fires must
warm a thousand warriors.’ They stared at the looming shape of a
mountain in the distance, the base of which was dotted with the
fires of an encamped force.

A sudden
movement caught Severus’s eye and his hand flew to the Pila lying
at his side. A group of shadowy figures were approaching along the
hilltop, crouching so not to be seen by unwelcome eyes. Suddenly
they stopped, dropping to the ground and out of Severus’s
view.

Severus drew his
Pugio, and using his shield as a drum, struck three times with the
hilt, a full heartbeat between each strike. A second later, a
similar sound came out of the darkness, a pre-arranged signal
designed to identify friendly troops. Happy that the silhouettes
were Roman, Severus called out to them.

‘
Watchword?’ he whispered into the darkness.

‘
Thunder!’ answered the hidden figure, using the name of
General Plautius’s favourite horse.

A figure crawled
out of the darkness.

‘
Severus!’ asked the shadowy figure, ‘is that you?’

‘
Hail, Scipio,’ said Severus, ‘your mission was successful, I
see.’

‘
Of
course!’ said the scout Centurion. ‘Though you lot took your bloody
time. What kept you?’

‘
We
are here now,’ said Severus, ‘The fleet unloads behind me. What of
the enemy?’

‘
A
couple of thousand strong back in the forest,’ said Scipio. ‘Mainly
foot soldiers and some cavalry but nothing worth worrying about.
What’s the plan?’

‘
First two Cohorts will advance before dawn,’ said Severus.
‘We will stand guard while the rest of the legion builds a
defensive position. Are there any sentries between us and that
river?’

‘
All
guards in this valley have gone to meet their gods,’ said Scipio.
‘Their arrogance meant that they thought their precious island was
easy to defend and that they were safe on top of their
cliffs.’

‘
You’ve been busy,’ said Severus. ‘Do you need
anything?’

‘
We
could do with some hot food, but apart from that, we are
fine.’