Roman Invasion Page 2

  I had decided that, even though I was a prisoner, as we travelled I would find out as much as I could about the Romans and their fighting ways. The Romans had beaten us in battle time after time, even though they often had smaller forces than we did. Some of our people said the reason the Romans had beaten us so far was because they had stronger magic, or because our gods were angry with us and had deserted us. I did not believe this. I believed the Romans had beaten us because of the way they fought and their armour and weapons. I intended to find out as much as I could about the Romans so that I could pass on that information to our tribes. Perhaps we could find a way to beat them and drive them out of Britain.

  As the cart rattled north over the stone road the Romans had built, towards the land of the Caledonians, I sat, tied like a dog to the rail. The rope chafed at my wrists. Although I hated to admit it, this huge number of soldiers was an awe-inspiring sight: lines of soldiers six abreast, stretching as far as the eye could see, each soldier carrying a heavy bag slung from his shoulder and armed with a spear, a sword and a shield, the sound of thousands of feet marching in unison as the soldier at the front chanted out the rhythm of their march, keeping them in step. With an army of this size on the march, it would be a brave or foolish warrior who launched an attack.

  We only travelled about two miles north along the stone road, and then Pentheus called out something and his shout was repeated in both directions along the line, and the soldiers came to a halt.

  Pentheus handed the reins to his nephew, Talos. Then he jumped down from the cart and walked forward to join the officer in charge. Pentheus began pointing ahead of us along the track, and to either side of it, and the soldier nodded. I got the impression Pentheus was giving orders, which surprised me. Pentheus had to be a very important person to give orders to a soldier who was in command of an army this large, but he did not look a bit like a warrior. He carried no weapons of any sort, although I had noticed that Talos carried a knife in a sheath hung from his belt.

  The officer shouted out an order, and immediately two soldiers stepped forward to the cart and began to lift some of the wooden stakes out of the back. I tried to get in their way to hinder them, but they took no more notice of me than if I had been an insect. Pentheus had positioned himself at the eastern side of the stone road and he gestured for the two soldiers to join him there, and then for them to each hammer a stake into the ground about eight paces apart. When that was done they hammered their remaining stakes into the ground at the western side of the road, so that they made a kind of double gatepost across it. Pentheus then crouched down behind one of the stakes on the western side and seemed to be lining it up with its twin on the eastern side. He stood up, satisfied, and nodded at the officer, who gave a shouted order, and one of the soldiers set off eastwards along a narrow sheep-track over the open country, carrying two more stakes. He walked for some distance, every now and then looking back towards us. He was about half a mile away when the officer raised his arm, and I saw that he was holding a flag. At this signal the soldier carrying the stakes stopped. I was baffled. It all seemed very strange.

  Pentheus remained crouched down behind the stake on the western side of the road, lining it up with its twin stake on the eastern side, at the same time talking to the officer, who moved his flag to the left and right. The soldier in the distance copied the moves of the signal flag, moving first to his left, then to his right, then shuffling back to his left again, until Pentheus was satisfied. He nodded to the soldier in charge, who lowered the flag. The soldier in the distance hammered one of the stakes into the ground, and I suddenly realized what was happening. This was the new road being marked out. The Romans like to build their roads in straight lines so they can move their legions along the roads at a fast pace. The reason for the stakes was so that Pentheus could check that this new road leading eastward would run at right angles from the existing wide north–south stone road.

  The officer raised his signal flag again, and the soldier moved to the other side of the track, taking the other stake with him. Pentheus had moved to the other pair of stakes and again crouched down, using these two wooden stakes to line up the soldier in the distance. More signalling with the flag, and when Pentheus was satisfied the soldier in the distance banged his remaining stake into the earth.

  Finally, two more soldiers stepped forward, each carrying a coil of thin rope. They each tied the end of his coil around the stake that marked the eastern side of the stone road and then set off to the distant posts. Once they had reached them, they looped the far ends of the ropes around the posts, pulled the ropes tight, and tied them.

  Despite myself, I was impressed. It had all been done so swiftly. Just six wooden stakes and four soldiers working under the command of Pentheus, and a new stretch of road half a mile long and eight paces wide had been marked out.

  Pentheus strode back to the cart, clambered up into the driving seat and took the reins from Talos. He flapped the reins and the cart began to move forward again, turning eastwards off the stone road and onto the sheep-track, lurching more than before as the wheels creaked over the uneven ground.

  Already some of the soldiers had taken picks and shovels from their packs and were starting to dig up the area that Pentheus had marked out. I realized that the reason for bringing such a huge army with us was not just to protect the surveyor but actually to build the road as we travelled.

  The rest of the soldiers began to stamp their feet once more in time, their boots making the earth shudder, and then they began to march and we passed the soldiers breaking up the ground for the new road.

  Chapter V

  During that first day, Pentheus repeatedly stopped the cart and used the stakes and rope to make sure the road kept to a straight line and had the same width all the way along it. I remained on the cart, tied up, and looked out at the Romans as they worked, and at the countryside around us. It was country I knew well. I had played here as a small child, and hunted deer and wild boar with my cousins. Much of it was forested, especially that which ran along the banks of the rivers, but some areas were bare: moss and grass on rock and turf, and it was across this bare rocky country that the legion headed to build the road. By the time we finally stopped to make camp at the end of the day, two miles of new road were under construction behind us.

  I have to admit that by the time we stopped my stomach was aching with hunger. I was still tied to the cart and had not eaten all day. At noon the Romans had stopped for a break and I saw they took some rations – they looked like biscuits and dried fruits – out of their bags to eat. Pentheus had come to the back of the cart and offered me some of his rations, but I had simply scowled and turned my head away to let him know I was not interested in touching his Roman food. He had shrugged, and he and Talos had sat down on the ground and begun eating their biscuits and fruit. It made me feel hungry, and angry at the same time, but I was determined not to give in and ask them for anything. Now, as the cart jolted to a stop for the last time, I wondered if Pentheus and Talos would offer me food again. I had decided I would take it if they did, but I would not ask for it.

  Talos unhitched the horse from the cart and tethered the animal with a length of rope so that it could graze but not wander off. Then, while Pentheus made a tent for shelter, Talos gathered wood and made a fire.

  The Roman soldiers were busy building the perimeter for a camp, with low walls of turf and wooden stakes. I had seen them do this when they were out on patrol in Carvetii territory. If they had to stay anywhere overnight, they made a temporary camp, with defences and sentries to stop any attack; another reason why they were so hard to defeat.

  Pentheus joined me at the cart. “You don’t say much,” he said.

  I shrugged. “I am a prisoner,” I said. “Prisoners don’t have a lot to say.”

  “But prisoners need to eat. Are you hungry?”

  I hesitated, then nodded.

  “In that case you can come and join me and Talos by our fire and eat wit
h us.”

  He pointed at the ropes that held my wrists and said: “Personally, I would have untied these ropes before now, but the soldiers argued against it. They said you were dangerous and might escape, even though your mother and sister are being held hostage. Are you dangerous?”

  Inside, I felt pleased that the soldiers had said this about me, that they considered me a danger. I nodded.

  “Yes,” I said proudly. “I’m dangerous. I am a warrior.”

  Pentheus nodded in understanding, then he said: “If I untie these ropes, will you give me your word as a warrior that you will not try to escape? At least, not this evening.”

  I looked at the hills around us, at the way the sky overhead was darkening as the sun went down, all perfect for escape. Then I thought of my mother and sister, who would be killed if I ran away from the Roman convoy, and I nodded.

  “Yes,” I said. “I give my word as a warrior I will not try to escape this evening.”

  “Good,” said Pentheus, and he began to untie the ropes. “It’s easier to eat without your hands tied together. Believe me, I know.”

  I looked at him in surprise.

  “You were a prisoner?” I asked him, shocked.

  He nodded.

  “Who took you prisoner?” I asked. “The Brigantes? The Caledonians?”

  “The Romans,” he said.

  He finished untying the ropes, stepped down from the back of the cart and headed towards the small tent where Talos had got the fire going and was cooking something over it. It looked like a small joint of meat. I looked after Pentheus, stunned. He looked like a Roman. He talked like a Roman. He gave orders to Roman soldiers. Why would the Romans have taken him prisoner? And when? My head was in a whirl with this. It made no sense!

  He turned to me and called out: “Well, are you coming to eat, or are you just going to sit there?”

  I jumped down from the cart and joined them by the fire. This business of Pentheus being a prisoner of the Romans was a mystery I had to solve.

  Chapter VI

  I sat down on the grass and Pentheus handed me a wooden platter with meat and bread on it. Talos was already eating his meal, dipping his bread into the juice from the meat.

  “If we are to travel together it makes sense for us to know who we are,” said the man. “As I said before, though I am not sure if you were listening, my name is Pentheus. And this is Talos, my nephew and my assistant. He is learning to be a surveyor himself.”

  I studied Talos. Now I saw him up close he looked to be about two years older than me, about thirteen or fourteen.

  “I am Bran, prince of the Carvetii,” I said proudly.

  “You are welcome to share our food and our fire on our journey, Bran,” said Pentheus. “Is that not so, Talos?”

  I looked at Talos, but he said nothing, just nodded and carried on eating his meat and bread.

  Pentheus smiled.

  “You must excuse Talos not speaking,” he said.

  “Is it because I am a Briton he will not talk to me?” I demanded aggressively.

  Pentheus shook his head.

  “Unfortunately, Talos cannot speak in any spoken language,” he said. “However, he can make himself understood. Is that not right, Talos?”

  And he smiled at Talos, who nodded and used the fingers of one hand to point to his lips and then make a cutting gesture with a sideways movement.

  “He has had his tongue cut out?” I asked, horrified at the thought.

  Talos shook his head, spread his hands wide and shrugged in a helpless gesture.

  “Possibly something happened to him when he was born. We don’t know what,” explained Pentheus. “But he can hear as well as anyone, possibly better than many. And he is as clever as anyone else. He knows about surveying, and providing he can draw and instruct others in what to do, he will have a good career.”

  I said nothing to this, just ate my food, but Talos and Pentheus must have known what I was thinking. The Romans weren’t known for being caring to people with disabilities. Not unless that person was a high-born aristocrat. Talos was lucky to have someone like Pentheus looking after him and protecting him.

  “You said you were a prisoner of the Romans,” I said, bursting with curiosity to find out more about that. “Why?”

  Pentheus shrugged.

  “I am Greek. When the Romans conquered the part of Greece where I come from they took me prisoner. They discovered I was a surveyor and gave me a choice: work for them or die. I chose to live.” He turned and gestured at the huge number of Roman soldiers sitting around their own campfires some distance from us. “You look at them and you see Roman soldiers because they are all dressed in the same way. The same armour, the same weapons, the same way of marching. I see men from many, many different countries.” He shook his head. “The soldiers of the main legions are Roman, but most of the units are auxiliaries from Africa, from Egypt, Germany, Romania, Spain, Gaul. From all over the world. They are the soldiers of conquered nations who chose to join the Roman army. As your people will do.”

  “Never!” I burst out defiantly. “We Britons will fight until we die rather than join with the Romans.”

  Pentheus gave a little half smile.

  “The warriors who are prepared to fight to the death will do just that. And, when they are dead, the ones who are left will be the ones who will have second thoughts about dying. They will be given a choice: death, slavery, or a life in the Roman army with freedom at the end of it. Which would you choose?”

  “Death,” I said proudly. “I would rather die on my feet than live on my knees.”

  “That is because you are young,” said Pentheus. “It can be different when you have family to consider.”

  He looked up at the sky, and the way the light was fading around us. The hills and the trees were turning into one shade of dark and misty green.

  “It is getting late,” said Pentheus. “We have an early start tomorrow. We should get some sleep. You are welcome to share our tent, if you give your word not to escape.”

  I shook my head.

  “No,” I said. “Let the Romans see that I continue to be their prisoner. I don’t want them to think I am soft and would seek their shelter. I will spend the night in the cart.”

  Pentheus and Talos exchanged looks, and Talos shrugged as if to say, “It’s up to him.”

  “Very well,” nodded Pentheus. “But I will have to tie your wrists to the rail of the cart, to keep the Romans happy.”

  “So be it. I am a prisoner.”

  Talos raised his hand above his head and waggled his fingers and pretended to shiver. Pentheus shrugged.

  “As Talos says, you will be a cold and wet prisoner,” he said. “The clouds indicate rain coming tonight.”

  “We Britons are used to rain,” I said. “It is the way it is in our country.”

  “Very well,” said Pentheus.

  We stood up and I walked to the cart, Pentheus following. I looked back to see that Talos had collected up the wooden platters and was cleaning them with a tuft of grass. He looked at me and again mimed rain by waggling his fingers above his head, but this time he gave me a smile. He thought I was being silly and stubborn. I shrugged back at him, and gave a little nod to let him know I thought he was possibly right, but that was the way it was for me.

  I clambered up into the cart and held my wrists together by the rail, and Pentheus tied them to the rail with a length of rope. Unlike the Roman soldier, he did not tie them too tightly.

  “Stay here tonight without trying to get away, and tomorrow we shall only tie one of your wrists as a token gesture to the Romans,” he said.

  “I make no promises,” I said. “I am a warrior.”

  “And your mother and sister are hostages,” said Pentheus. “Give them a chance to live a little longer.”

  With that he returned to the campfire, and he and Talos put earth on the fire to put it out, and then went into their tent.

  I sat in the back of the c
art, leaning against the side. By now it was much darker. The fires of the Roman soldiers glowed brightly in the darkness for a distance of what seemed to be half a mile. Anyone watching, waiting for the chance to attack, would see that this was a huge army. Sentries would be posted at different places along the camp. No Britons would be attacking tonight, not against an army this large. They would wait until the Romans were spread out more along the line of the new road. They would wait until the hard work of building the road had tired the Romans. At least, that is what I hoped.

  As I looked along the valley at the fires and tents, I thought about what Pentheus had said about the Roman soldiers not actually being Romans, and how the Romans had spread so strongly across the whole world. I thought about Talos and wondered what had happened to stop him from speaking. And I thought about my mother and my sister, Aithne, and wondered how they were. Were the Romans looking after them? Were they being properly cared for, or were they lying somewhere with their hands bound, like me? Was the great Goddess protecting them? Was Lug ready to defend them?

  The night had begun to feel cold, but I was determined to fight it. I was a Carvetii warrior. I had been raised in the cold and the wet. I had been taught how to deal with pain and suffering by the warriors in my tribe. A Carvetii boy, especially a prince, is trained to be a warrior from an early age. He is trained to hunt; to survive in open country; to use a sword and a knife and a spear. He learns to live in the forest by day and by night, to be able to track an animal or a man without being seen.