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82 Samhain – Glen of the Eagles, Venicones
Territory
The shrill whistle
of a distressed kingfisher rent the air. Brennus hand-signalled his band to
scatter through the forest fringe, knowing Esk’s alarm meant Roman troops were
close by. The strident version Esk could produce was piercing, yet so
realistic.
Taking cover behind a large boulder
outcrop, he sidled along to allow Lorcan space.
“They must be very near. Your Esk is
the best scout I have ever encountered. We must give great thanks to Callan for
recognising his worth.” Lorcan’s whisper tickled his ear.
Rather than speak he nodded as Esk
mimicked another bird, this time the Red Grouse as though the bird had been
startled into an upwards flurry from the heather: the signal that it was only a
small group of Romans. Their use of bird calls and animal noises had been
perfected and had helped keep the band alive more than a time or two.
Pulling his bratt over his light
coloured hair, Brennus slowly peered around the side of the rock. They had been
forced to traverse the lower foothills almost the whole journey to avoid
detection and he was weary of the need to slink past the Roman scum. Along with
his brother and his small band of followers they had agreed that a confrontation
every time they encountered the forces of Rome
would do them no favours. The otherworld was too likely a result for some of
them since they had come across so many patrols. However, that did not mean
they would not fight if an opportunity arose where they were likely to be the
victors and come out of a skirmish unscathed.
An animal noise was just
discernable, the soft repetitive scratching of a red squirrel clawing at tree
bark. Nith. He was much better at animal noises.
Brennus could see no sign of any
Romans but pulled back to mouth at his brother. “Only around ten of them.”
A grin broke free. He had no present
notion of exactly where his companions were except Lorcan, but Esk and Nith’s
alarm calls meant they were nearby. The others wouldn’t have gone far either.
Lorcan’s dunt at his elbow drew his
to the other side of the outcrop. “Over there.”
Lorcan’s whisper was drowned by the
new sound of tramping feet. The Roman patrol was walking alongside the burn at
the hill foot. There was too much exposed ground for Brennus and his men to
attack them in their current location but if the patrol continued their present
direction they would soon enter the copse that lay ahead of them. It was likely
that they would since Brennus knew the far side of the copse led to the pathway
which opened out at the glen of the eagles. There had already been a temporary
camp there when he had set out seasons ago to seek out the Caledon leaders. If the Romans continued
their usual practice then a permanent camp was probably now somewhere near
since it lay on the strategic north-east route up through the territory of the
Venicones to the River Tatha.
Peering out Lorcan’s end of the
outcrop he caught sight of Esk’s spear tip just above the rock where he was
sheltering, though the man’s body remained invisible. Giving a soft hoot
Brennus waited for Esk’s head to peek out. After giving a silent hand signal to
remain above the patrol and negotiate a path that would lead to the copse below,
he expected his men to follow when he and Lorcan silently set off, maintaining
their cover.
It took only a short time for Brennus’ band to
be in place, ahead of the Roman patrol.
“Now!” His alarm cry sent his
companions out from their hiding places.
The ring of metal on metal was
almost instantly all around, the surprised cries of the Roman auxiliaries a
sound that was most welcome. He had managed the element of surprise, the small
group of Romans unable to form any kind of defensive shield. They were doomed.
Nith had been correct. Only twelve Romans and his group outnumbered them by
seven.
Lorcan’s battle cries deafened his
ears, his brother’s long sword crushing the lorica hamata of the nearest
soldier of Rome.
Not enough to penetrate the links, the blow was still strong enough to send the
smaller man to his knees, one of Trune’s men at the ready to whack the Roman’s
neck.
Brennus’ spear slammed into the
upper leg of an escaping Roman, Esk moving in to finish off beheading the
screeching soldier. Similar engagement was all around the area, blood and flesh
spattering around till all noise was extinguished.
Brennus bent down to retrieve his
spear from the auxiliary’s leg. The half rent head lay in a pool of dark red
blood, the eyes surprised by the speed of the attack. It was just a young lad,
Brennus guessed not much more than sixteen winters.
He beckoned his brother over to the
carnage at his feet. “Agricola’s troops seem younger and younger.”
“Aye! And he looks no different from
our young warriors, wherever he has come from.”
“Is anyone hurt?” He called around
to check on his band.
Nith replied, kneeling at the side
of one young warrior. “Only two wounds but neither is a serious one. A binding
will suffice for now.”
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