Shouts and war cries reached his ears from behind but he didn’t dare risk turning. He wasn’t aware of how long it took or when it actually occurred but he suddenly realised it was quieter. He looked up into the branches of the advancing trees but saw no threat from above or any archers below. He slowed his horse and was joined by the rider who had raced past him.
“Where are the others sir?” asked the auxiliary. Valius frowned slightly bemused but realised that he couldn’t hear anything behind him. He turned expecting to see some of his men but there were none. They were alone.
Varro slowed his horse when Decimus pointed over to the right of their position as they walked through the dense forest.
“I saw something move over there, about two hundred paces.” He said still pointing. They stopped and listened, watching with the others behind them. At first there was nothing, everything was still and then Varro saw the head of a horse appear from behind a tree and then the rider.
“It’s an auxiliary alright but where are the others?” Decimus asked as they sat staring at the man as another appeared behind him but no more.
“They can’t be the only survivors.” It wasn’t a question just a statement. Varro and Decimus exchanged a look and then trotted forward. The advance alerted the two riders, the look of relief on their faces immediate.
“Thank the gods,” Valius said, “We thought we were the only ones left.” His expression suddenly changed as he saw the men’s uniforms and equipment and realised they were regulars and not auxiliaries. He also saw that there were only a handful of them.
“Centurion Varro.” Varro said introducing himself. “Where are the rest of your men Decurion?”
“We were ambushed with fucking huge dogs in the marsh sir and then the bastards jumped out of the trees, we got away there was nothing more to be done except escape or die.”
Valius replied. “Where are the rest of your men?” He asked.
Varro tried to gauge the man but couldn’t judge whether he was a coward or had just been very unfortunate. “You rode out with four hundred men, are they all dead?” Deliberately he ignored the man’s own question.
Valius stared at him, “Dead, lost or captured.” There was a brief silence only broken by the next words from Varro, “Follow me, we’ve got to try and get back to our lines and it will be dark soon. I don’t want to be out all night.” He clicked at Staro and he moved off, Valius and his soldier falling in behind.
“They used dogs against us.” The Decurion said again but Varro didn’t hear him.
“And what would you do?” Decimus asked, “If a superior army invaded your lands and killed your people?” He saw the defiant expression written over the Decurion’s face. “What happened, happened and we can’t change it but dogs for fucks sake your right and you’re lucky to be alive my friend.” Valius didn’t answer and they trotted on.
About an hour later they found themselves getting clear of the forest, Varro couldn’t even estimate how far they were away from the Legion now. In trying to find the cohort they had changed direction many times and that had not helped their overall sense of direction. Although they had seen some local inhabitants, they weren’t hostile and had just stared at the strangely dressed men as they rode by. They found a large river and paused to let the horses drink and fill their water sacks.
“Is this the Medway?” Decimus asked no-one in particular.
“I don’t know.” Varro answered. “Our maps showed another large river north of the Medway so it could be that one, either way if we keep heading south we should avoid the enemy and eventually find Vespasian and the army.” He stretched his back stiff from riding.
“We’re starting to lose light.” Valius observed looking at the sky.
“Come on let’s get moving.” Varro said climbing back onto his horse.
They trotted on again and saw more locals, some walking in family groups with their animals, others at a distance clearly wary of the Romans. Varro believed they were scouts as they stayed away from them keeping their distance but as they didn’t follow, they were ignored. Most if not all the Britons were probably trying to get clear of the hostilities and wanted no part in the conflict. He knew that there were a lot of tribes that were loyal to Rome so not all they saw would be hostile.
He could understand any people defending their own land but the Catuvellauni were virtually alone, or so they had been assured. Even they had traded freely for many decades and only up until recently had that changed. With the death of their former King Cunobelinus, everything had changed. Togodumnus now ruled one of the largest of the indigenous tribes and wanted equal standing with Rome. As friction had built, trade had slowed and then stopped as the ambitions of the Catuvellauni grew.
Togodumnus ruled the lands north of the two great rivers and Caratacus the lands to the south. Adminius who had always wanted peace with Rome had been banished for what the two older brothers perceived as weakness and it was they who now led the resistance against Rome. With an estimated eighty thousand warriors to call upon they were a real threat and although they had a numerical superiority they lacked military knowledge, weaponry and tactics.
The tribes were used to taking part in small conflicts not large scale battles where opposing armies lined up in formations, their Generals trained in the art of war pitied their wits and knowledge against each from a military education. Like so many barbarian tribes before, irrespective of the odds, facts or past, he knew they would keep coming.
With the light failing Varro decided that they had to find somewhere to stop for the night. He knew that if they kept moving there was more chance of them walking into an ambush and in unfamiliar surroundings the chance of them surviving such an encounter was limited. He made sure that they hadn’t been seen for a while and began to look for somewhere suitable for the night. He decided to try and find high ground and to observe the surroundings for a while, making sure they weren’t being followed. As darkness began to fall he looked for any signs of life, movement or fires, if there were none they would settle down as best they could and try and get some rest. It was a method he had used before and had always worked well. He knew that they were probably a long way behind enemy lines now and would need every ounce of energy if they were to get to a safe area and the Legion.
From a distance on the horizon Caratacus watched the six Roman soldiers slowly walking through his land on horseback. He believed that they were the sole survivors of the enemy advance that he and his warriors had all but destroyed in the marshes and forests earlier that day. They had probably escaped in the chaos of the ambush and had got lost, but now they would be destroyed. One of his hunting parties had alerted him to their location after picking up their scent with dogs.
As he lay watching them from his concealed position on the ground he smiled thanking the gods that he had used the hounds. The big dogs were always an advantage when they were hunting boar and deer and had proved an excellent addition to his warriors against the Romans. Being ripped apart by huge animals was not a fate that he would wish on any man but times had changed and he had to use every advantage available to him.
He pushed himself backwards down the grass bank to where the rest of his war party waited. They had tracked down other small groups who had evaded the ambushes earlier and destroyed them all, he wondered if this were the last of them. The Romans had gained a foothold over the river but they had now been halted and had lost hundreds of men themselves. Caratacus was content with his days’ work but was under no illusion about the days further ahead. He had never faced such a well organised and well-disciplined force before and now knew that facing them as they had, would not work again. He had lost many warriors that day and couldn’t afford to let that continue. At the moment however that was irrelevant, what was important was removing the six Romans within his reach.