Roman Invasion Read online

  Although I was only eleven years old I had already been through the rite of Gotha, which meant spending three days and three nights on the mountain with no weapons and nothing but a covering of animal skin. First I’d had to make a knife from stone, shaping flint against flint to give me a stone with a finely sharpened edge. Then I’d had to make a shelter, and a short spear using timber from the forest.

  Cunning and bravery in the face of fear – that is the way of the Carvetii warrior.

  So, although I had no way to make shelter, or feed myself, I would show these Romans that a Carvetii showed courage, whatever happened to him.

  I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember was being woken by rain. This was not just gentle rain; this was hard, cold rain that hammered down on me, plastering my hair to my skull, sticking my clothes against my body with wet. I shifted on the wooden boards of the cart, but the ropes holding me to the rail kept me where I was. The downpour increased, soaking me through, and then I heard a squelching sound approaching the cart – someone walking over the wet grass. It was Pentheus, and he was holding a sheet of some oiled cloth, which he threw over me and then tied the edges to the rails of the cart.

  “There, young warrior,” he said. “Keep dry.”

  And then he was gone.

  Chapter VII

  The next morning it stopped raining. I expected Pentheus and Talos to pack up their tent and for us to move on again, but we didn’t. Instead, as Pentheus took the oiled cloth off me, which had kept me dry through the night, and untied my wrists, he said: “We will be staying here today. I need to check that the soldiers are building the road properly. You have a choice. You can stay here, tied to the cart, or you can come with Talos and me as we make our inspection of the work.”

  This time I didn’t hesitate before answering. Although I would have been determined to stay tied to the cart in order to show the Romans I could endure any punishment they put me through, my plan was to observe the Roman soldiers so I could report back to our own warriors about them. To go among the Roman soldiers while pretending to inspect the road-building with Pentheus and Talos would give me the perfect opportunity to spy on them.

  “I’ll come with you,” I said.

  “Good,” said Pentheus. “You might even find it interesting.”

  The soldiers were already hard at work as the three of us walked among them. Most of them were digging, using picks and shovels to break open the ground and dig up the earth. Others were on guard duty, standing at sentry positions covering a huge area around where the road was being built. While Pentheus went to talk to one of the officers, I hung back and looked at the sentries, memorizing the kind of weapons they carried and the shape of the armour they wore.

  All the soldiers looked as if they were dressed the same. Beneath their armour the cloth of their uniforms looked like it was made of wool or linen. It was dyed a deep red. I noticed they wore scarves around their necks to stop the edge of the armour from digging into their skin.

  Over their red uniforms they wore vests that seemed to be made up of lots of small metal chains fixed together. I had heard this talked about as something called “chain mail”, which stopped a sword going through it. On their shoulders and across their chests and backs were curved strips of metal, fixed together to make something like a half jacket. They also wore metal protectors on the front of the lower parts of their legs, and each had a metal helmet with a face guard across it.

  The soldiers who were digging up the ground for the road had stripped to the waist and lain down their swords and spears along with their armour and red cloth uniforms in neat piles on the ground, leaving just a dagger hanging from each soldier’s belt. But those who stood on guard protecting them carried a sword hanging from the right side of the belt to match the dagger hanging from the left, and two short-handled spears. On their feet they wore leather boots.

  I was committing all this to memory when there was a shout from Pentheus: “Bran! I thought you wanted to see the road!”

  I hurried over to where Pentheus and Talos were standing by a deep open ditch, with Roman soldiers digging and clearing earth and stones from it.

  “It’s very wide,” I pointed out.

  “It’s wide because it’s an important road,” explained Pentheus. “Lesser roads are only about half as wide as this one. But this road has to take a whole army right from one side of the country to the other.”

  The soldiers had dug a deep trench right across the width of the road. I could see it was about the depth of half a man’s height.

  “Why have they dug it so deep?” I asked. “The rain will fill it up and turn it into a river!”

  Pentheus smiled.

  “It’s to stop that happening that the trench has been dug so deeply. See there?” and he pointed to where a section of the trench had been filled at the bottom with large stones. Soldiers were walking over these stones, banging their booted feet hard upon them to tread them down. “Those large stones are to help drain the road. They are being hammered down so they will be wedged tight together.”

  He gestured for me to follow him, and we went to where a party of soldiers with hammers were breaking large rocks into smaller stones.

  “These stones will go on top of the large stones. Then, on the very top of all of this, at ground level, we lay flat slabs of stone to give it a smooth surface. It makes it easier for men and carts to travel over.”

  I must have looked confused, because Talos nudged me and looked at me with his hands held out and a puzzled expression on his face.

  “Talos has spotted that there is something about this that puzzles you,” said Pentheus. “What is it?”

  “I still don’t understand why the trench has to be so deep,” I said. “The soldiers will only walk on the surface of the road. Why does it need to be dug to half the height of a man? It seems a lot of work for nothing. When we Britons build a road we do it by cutting logs and laying them along a track, and that works.”

  “Ah, but for how long?” asked Pentheus. “After a while mud slides in between the logs and then gets stuck on top and the road vanishes. And the more a road gets used, the more that top surface gets pushed down by all those feet and those rolling wheels and the hoofs of horses, until it breaks up.” He pointed at the road under construction. “This road will not break up, not for many years, no matter how many thousands of feet tramp over it. It will not drown beneath water because the rain goes through the stones right to the bottom. And we will be digging a drainage ditch along both sides of the road and filling that ditch with stones, to prevent water getting on to it.” He nodded proudly. “Roads like these are why the Romans have conquered the world. Wide and straight. The Romans can move their army faster and in greater numbers than any other army in the world along these roads.”

  “They conquered your people with roads like these,” I pointed out. “Don’t you feel like a traitor?”

  “A traitor to who?” asked Pentheus. “My own people are now part of the Roman Empire, as yours will be.”

  “Never!” I burst out.

  “Fine sentiments, but that’s what will happen, young warrior,” said Pentheus. “That’s what’s happened to every other country in the world that the Romans have gone into. They are pushing their borders forward all the time.”

  “The Caledonians defeated them,” I pointed out. “That’s why the Romans are building this road, because they know they can’t get any further north than here. This road marks as far as they can go.”

  “Not if I know the Romans,” said Pentheus. “They’ll build this road and put forts along it and fill them with soldiers. And when they have a big enough army gathered along this line, they’ll push northwards right across the whole country. You’ll see.”

  Chapter VIII

  We spent the rest of the day camped while Pentheus walked the length of the road watching the Roman soldiers at work, making sure they dug the trench to the correct depth, checking the size of the stones t
hat were used to fill in the trench, and checking the drainage ditches at the side of the road. Talos and I went with him, and although Talos seemed interested in everything that was happening, I got bored. Once you have seen a group of men digging a hole and filling it in for half a day, there’s nothing interesting to be found by watching the same thing over and over again. Also, I was more interested in finding out about the Romans.

  At one point I tried to sneak away. We were walking along by the side of the road to watch yet another bunch of Romans digging and moving stones, and I hung back and pretended to be very interested in the way the soldiers trod the stones down in the trench under their feet. My plan was just to keep hanging about until Pentheus and Talos had gone a lot further on, and then wander off in the other direction. If anyone wanted to know what I was up to I would just shrug to say that I didn’t understand, and then point to the cart by Pentheus’s tent. But Talos was aware of what I was up to. He turned to look for me, and saw me dawdling by the side of the road, and tugged at Pentheus’s sleeve. Pentheus nodded and signalled for me to join him. Inwardly I scowled, but I ambled along to where the two of them waited for me. Talos was making signs with his hands to Pentheus, touching his fingers against his hand and his arm, and touching his face, while at the same time he seemed to be making faces at Pentheus. I wondered what was going on? Was he ill? Was he having a fit of some sort? It all seemed very odd, but Pentheus seemed to take it as normal, because he nodded. As I got to them Pentheus turned and said to me: “Talos says you’re bored with all this. Are you?”

  I looked at Pentheus, and then at Talos, in surprise. Talos says? How? Talos was dumb. Was that what all that business with making signs with his hands had been about, and the funny faces he’d been making? Now I remembered that one of the expressions Talos had given to Pentheus was of someone who was miserable. Was that supposed to be me?

  Talos had started making signs with his hands again: this time he made two of his fingers walk across the palm of his hand, like legs moving. Then he pointed to himself and me.

  “All right,” nodded Pentheus. “But only if he gives me his word he won’t try to escape.” Turning to me, Pentheus said: “Talos suggests you and he go for a walk around the camp. Frankly, I don’t think it’s a good idea. But he thinks you’ll be true to your word, if you give it. And it will give me a chance to get on with my work without having to keep an eye on you. What do you say?”

  I looked at Talos, stunned. He had said all that to Pentheus, just by moving his hands and making faces?

  I nodded quickly. This was just what I wanted! A chance to walk around the Roman camp and inspect it. To spy on the Romans!

  “I give you my word,” I said. “I won’t try and escape today.”

  Pentheus looked at me, then shrugged. “I suppose your word for not escaping today is the best you can do, under the circumstances. Very well. But Talos is in charge of you. If he tells you not to do something, or not to go somewhere, you are to follow his orders. Is that clear?”

  “I understand,” I said. “I’ll do as Talos tells me.”

  I still found it intriguing that we were talking as if Talos could speak. But then it struck me that, in his way, he could. Pentheus understood what Talos had “said” about me being bored. And I had understood Talos when he had suggested he and I go for a walk by using his fingers walking over the palm of his hand.

  Talos gestured to me to follow him, and we walked away from the road and left Pentheus to carry on his inspections. Talos pointed towards a group of soldiers who were practising with their weapons and raised his eyebrows in a question. I was getting the hang of this. He wanted to know if I would like to watch the soldiers practise. I nodded. That was exactly what I wanted to see!

  As we walked, I asked, intrigued: “How did you work out how to talk like this, with your hands and face?”

  Talos shrugged and made a gesture with his hand to show a long, long way, and I knew he meant, “A long time ago. So long I can’t remember.”

  We got near to where the soldiers were training, but a sentry wearing full armour and carrying a spear suddenly stepped in front of us and held out his hand to stop us going any further. Talos pointed towards the ground at the spot where we stood, and then held his hands wide in a questioning way. Again I noticed he used his eyebrows, making them move upwards to show a question: could we stay there and watch? The sentry hesitated, then nodded and stepped to one side so we could see the soldiers.

  They were practising fighting in pairs: one holding a wooden sword, the other a length of wood in place of a spear, so they would not get seriously hurt. For this practise the Romans had stripped to the waist and were fighting bare-chested.

  I had already noticed that the Romans’ swords were much shorter than the ones we Britons use. As I watched the Romans practise, I realized it was easier to get close to your opponent with a short sword – it looked easier to handle. A British sword is heavy and long and often has to be held with both hands and used like an axe, swinging it at your enemy. The problem is, if you miss your enemy with it, the weight of the sword swinging carries your arm onwards and leaves you open to a thrust from a spear or a slash with a sword.

  I glanced across to where the Romans’ weapons had been neatly laid out with their heaped clothes and noticed there was something odd about the handles of their spears. They were short and the wooden shaft appeared to be divided in two and joined together in the middle by a piece of soft metal. As I looked at the spear, puzzled by this, the reason for the joint in the shaft suddenly struck me. When a spear was thrown and hit something, whether a body or a shield, the shaft would bend at once, which meant it couldn’t be thrown back at the Romans. That was very clever!

  Not all of the men were practising fighting. Some were running backwards and forwards, carrying large boulders. Others were running and jumping over piles of shields while carrying their heavy bags. They were all working hard, whether they were training or practising fighting or digging the road. The only ones not hard at work were those on duty, guarding the perimeter of the Roman camp. I noticed that those on guard duty changed every so often, so that every man took his turn at digging or training or standing sentry.

  I was quite surprised by the way that the Romans just let me walk about their camp. Part of me felt annoyed that they treated me with so little regard, as if I was no threat to them at all. I assumed they let me walk around free like this because I was with Talos.

  “Right, boys. Time to get moving. We have work to do.”

  It was Pentheus, and I was startled at the quiet way he had come up behind us without my hearing him. Or perhaps my attention had been too caught up with watching the soldiers. Talos gave Pentheus a look of enquiry, and Pentheus nodded.

  “Yes, the road is going to plan. I’ve been along the whole length of it. Now we have to prepare the next stretch, which means checking out the land. There are a few rock formations ahead that may give us some problems. Talos, you and Bran get back to our tent and start packing it up. I’ve got to talk to the troop commander and make arrangements. I’ll join you at the cart.”

  With that Pentheus headed off in the direction of a group of soldiers who were gathered around a small table, talking and pointing at a sheet of parchment laid out on it.

  Talos and I headed towards the cart. Talos pointed at the cart and the tent and mimed lifting something.

  “Yes, I know,” I said. “We pack up the tent together.”

  Talos smiled and nodded.

  We were almost at the cart when suddenly there was a loud cry from about a hundred yards away to the north. We turned, and out from behind the trees and bushes rushed a party of half-naked men, their bodies painted with blue patterns, waving spears and swords, all shrieking and yelling as they ran towards us. We were under attack!

  Chapter IX

  The words the governor had said before we set off flashed into my mind: “If the party comes under attack from the Brigantes, the soldiers will have orde
rs to kill the boy immediately.” Surely, when there was an attack like this, the Romans would be too busy to bother with me? But I was wrong. The order had been given and the Romans had taken it to heart, because as the attackers came nearer, whooping and screaming and yelling, spears and swords waving, the sentry on duty nearest to me pulled his sword out of its scabbard and came running towards me, sword held high ready to chop me down. I went to dive out of his way, but Talos grabbed me by the arm and pulled me round behind him, and then stepped boldly in front of the advancing soldier, a hand held out palm forward to stop him, at the same time shaking his head. The soldier growled and grabbed hold of Talos and tried to throw him aside, but Talos wouldn’t budge. He grabbed at the soldier’s sword arm and hung on.

  “No! Leave the boy!”

  The cry came from Pentheus, who was running towards us.

  The soldier stopped wrestling with Talos and turned angrily.

  “My orders…!” he began.

  “They are not Brigantes!” shouted Pentheus.

  Just then a spear came whistling through the air and passed close over our heads.

  “Quick! Get under the cart!” shouted Pentheus.

  Talos and I broke into a run, heading for the cart, Pentheus running with us and urging us to go faster. The yells and shouts from the attackers were now mixed with shouts from the Romans who had rushed to join battle with them. When we got to the cart, Talos dived beneath it. As I stopped and got my breath back from the run, I looked defiantly at Pentheus.

  “I will not hide!” I panted. “I am a warrior!”

  “You are a prisoner!” snapped Pentheus. “Dead, you are worth nothing.”

  With that he pushed me roughly to the ground and forced me under the cart.

  “You also gave me your word you would not escape today,” he said. “Stay there, or run away and prove that the word of a British warrior prince is nothing but a lie.”