Chapter Twenty Six



Verenus hadn't been apart of the Roman party that had rode out to meet the leaders of the Silure tribe, but he did witness it. He had been amongst the first ranks on the front line drilling the men when he caught sight of the riders breaking away, Aquilla in the lead.

He watched as they met the British leaders, undoubtedly in regards to conditions of surrender. He felt a sharp pang of longing to know what was being said. At such a distance, sound was drowned out and the details of the people themselves was lost.

But Verenus could hardly mistake one of the tribesmen for being Kailen, the man who had let him go on condition that he sent word to Aquilla of Aurelia's capture. Had he known all along that Aquilla had no intention of getting his Intended back, but would see it as a direct challenge to himself as s respected man?

Verenus supposed in the end it didn't really matter, it produced the desired results one way or another. Accept it mattered in Aurelia's case.

Was she even alive now? And if so, what injustices had been done to her, what manner of grievances have been wrought in her name as a Roman woman?

When all was said and done, how were any of them supposed to go on with their lives like they did before they set foot on this cursed island? The zealous pride he had for being a centurion in the army, to be a part of the greatest Empire the world had ever known was long gone. He was tired, disenchanted with his life. No longer did he believe they were here to make the world Rome, to bring civilization to these people by accepting them into the fold. They were all here, in this place, because Aquilla couldn't tolerate his ego being bruised. How many were going to die for one man's lust?

It was sickening.

The meeting came to an abrupt halt, far shorter than it should have taken to deliver terms, as they wheeled their horses around and each made their way back to their respective sides.

The Roman army grew quiet as Aquilla rode his horse up and down the first line. "It appears the British would prefer to die on this field than accept surrender!" Aquilla bellowed to his men. "I say we give them what they want!"

The Roman army cheered and stomped their feet, making the field ring with their noise. Verenus stayed silent, watchful.

Aquilla's eyes were wide and fervent. He was like one of the pack dog's who had just caught the scent of the blood of his quarry. Nothing would stop him now, nothing but succeeding.

"Together, you and i will show the Britons and all the rest of their mongrel race what it means to incur the wrath of Rome upon their heads!"

The answering roar of the soldiers was deafening.

"There will be no mercy." Aquilla shouted. "Not to any of them. We're going to wipe their bloodline from the face of the earth."

Verenus's heart plunged at his words. No mercy. No Aurelia.

It had all been for nothing.



~



During the night, when the British could say enemy campfires dotted in the thousands, they heard a grinding rumbling noise in the distance that set the warriors on edge. Their conversation wilted to a murmur, eyes straining in the darkness for a hint that would allude to the reason for the noise.

Aurelia stood next to kailen, Caratacus and Bran, eyes wide to pick out any details in the gloom. The men were still as statues and the serious tension that fell like a blanket over them boded ill.

"What is it?" Aurelia whispered.

"Nothing good." Caratacus answered.

The man had undergone a complete change from when she had met him. Back then he had been a man tormented by memory and shadows of loves past. Now, with a purpose for his existence, he seemed oddly content for a man who was facing death in the face. Being near him didn't make her skin crawl and his eyes didn't follow her.

Vaughan materialised out of the darkness to stand with the rest of them. "The Romans have brought their onagers with them." He said.

The reaction was instantaneous. Kailen cursed under his breath, Bran shrugged his massive shoulders as if to ease his muscles and Caratacus stayed silent, mood darkening.

Aurelia didn't have to ask what an onager was. Her father had praised Roman military resourcefulness in building large wooden catapults that hurled stone boulders at wall fortifications or, Aurelia guessed in this case, fire iron bolts at the lines of British warriors.

Aurelia experienced the strange feeling of displacement, like this wasn't really happening to them.

"We stick to the plan." Kailen said fiercely. "They have to bring the contraptions into range to hit us. I want the archers on our left flank to concentrate on the men working the Onagers and take them out."

Vaughan nodded and sprinted away to pass the order to the archers.

"This changes nothing." Caratacus said. "We know what we were getting into when we sent you and your riders out. We stay the course."

The others murmured their agreement.

Without looking, Aurelia laced her fingers with Kailen's and he gave them a squeeze of reassurance.

They waited for dawn and the end of the waiting.



~



When the sun crested the hill, spilling its glow across the field, the two armies stood facing each other on opposite ends in battle formations. The Romans stood five thousand strong, with the savagely trained legionaries the main body of the legion armed with the pila, throwing spears of mottled wood, and their Gladius, swords of impossibly strong metal honed to perfection. To support the legionaries, cavalry were to the sides in readiness to attack the enemy's flank. And to the very back were the Onagers, poised for the Commander's call for attack.

The four Onagers, giant catapults that had arrived in the night, were manned by teams of men that were strong enough to work the puleys and to load the available flying projectiles.

On the British side there was just under two thousand warriors strong with shields of wood and swords and axes to wield. They were drawn in battle order, using their land as protection with the enclosed wooded terrain and hill. The centre wing was stationed on the small slope, and left flank was concealed behind a hill protected by the trenches of pitted wooden spikes. Upturned wagons and carts that had been used to carry the warrior's weapons and provisions were used to protect the right flank. The Britons were now in a good defensive position against an army that outnumbered and could outmaneuver them in a heartbeat. To taken an offensive position now would be to court disaster.

In the end the Britons didn't have to worry about goading the Romans into making the first move. Not long after the sun had appeared over the horizon, the sounds of clanking and then a mighty whoosh and the Onagers let go of their deathly cargo in a powerful slingshot motion. The projectiles of stone and wood sailed across the battlefield to land meters away from the British line and sent churned up dirt into the air.

The Britons responded by jeering at their enemy and banging their swords against the sides of their shields, the sound carrying to the Roman ranks.

The onagers' distance was adjusted accordingly and the next volley was loaded and then unleashed. This time they hit their mark. The boulders crashed through the lines of warriors, causing death and confusion.

Leaders of the warriors screamed for the man to hold their lines and soon the lines were once again organised, men closing the ranks up on the spaces that were left by the fallen.

A long blow of a war horn cut through the air and the first line of the Roman ranks responded. They were finally on the march.

Aquilla had ordered his infantry into the triplex acies formation, a triple battle order where the Hastati, spearmen of the least experience, were in the first rank. The Principes, spearmen and swordsmen of more experience and better armor, made up the second rank. The third and final rank were the veteran Triarii as barrier troops, men of the most experience and the driving force of the legion.

The British looked on as the Roman force marched towards them, the very ground trembling beneath their booted feet. They were like a wave of red, washing across the battlefield to meet and break the lines of the British forces.

A cry went up and with surprising speed, the front ranks of the Roman army pushed out to form the shape of an arrow tip, the 'wedge' formation designed to break through the British line in the middle where there was no protection given by the trenches or the wagons.

This was what Kailen and Caratacus had been waiting for. With the Onagers still pounding their lines, the body of their forces pulled back behind the safety of their trenches and they were replaced with the thundering hooves of their horsed warriors. Five hundred of them in a tight formation, swords out, and racing to meet the wedge.

"Repellere equites!" The cry went up and the front formation changed to a square formation, holding their Pilas in the space between their shields and strung together shoulder to shoulder.

The manoeuvre did the Romans no good, the horses crashed through the square, swords slashing at any flesh that was exposed. Some horses took the spears to their chests, their legs giving out and slamming into the panicked Romans who were crushed under the weight. The warriors rolled away from the flailing horses and righted themselves, crying out their terrifying war cries and bearing down on the Histata.

It was a short vicious struggle, where those that were still horsed continued to wheel their horses through the lines and those now standing pushed the lines back. The Histata caved, a long blast of the war horn called their rank back in a retreat. The Roman soldiers disengaged from the fighting and slipped through the spaces of the second rank of the Principes to reform a solid line across the field.

The British warriors didn't give chase, knowing that charging at that line would only end in a slaughter for their own side. They pulled back, giving help to the unhorsed men under a hale of Pila as the Principes let loose. Three British men were struck, pushing them to the ground and never getting up again.

Kailen returned the kindness, bellowing a command to his archers to send a volley of their arrows from the hill. The sky went dark as the arrows flew from the strings of the archer's bows and reigned down on the Romans. A few found their marks in the necks of the soldiers but the rest buried themselves in the large shields that the Romans used to protect themselves with.

With the second rank of the Roman legion drawing close to the British line once again, the Onagers stopped its destructive volley as it didn't cause casualties in its own lives, giving the British a small reprieve.

A small reprieve that vanished within the Roman call of "Lacere Pila!" and those who hadn't already thrown their spears, threw them at the British warriors. A second call of "Contendite vestra sponte" and the Romans drew their swords and, at last, engaged the Britons into the bloody conflict.



~

This is all i have to show for two weeks of writing. Not a lot, i grant you, but i didn't want to keep you guys hanging any longer. Work has been upped to 52 hours a week, i have christmas shopping i still need to do, and get together with friends and family (we like to celebrate together. A lot!).

Translation: update might be delayed and all over the place for December. My apologies, but i hope you guys understand.