W is for Whorl
Whorl is the name
used in the titles for Books 2 & 3 of my Celtic Fervour Series of novels -After
Whorl: Bran Reborn and After Whorl: Donning Double Cloaks.
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This is because Whorl
is the site of a fictitious battle which is briefly mentioned at the end of Book 1, The Beltane Choice; a
battle which rages between my Brigante Celts and the soldiers of the Roman
Empire. This confrontation in AD 71, when many tribespeople from the
Brigante Federation and their allies amass together, is a battle which has dreadful
consequences for my Garrigill warrior brothers.
The name Whorl was
not totally invented by me. There really is a place on the current OS map called
Whorlton, in Yorkshire, which is not too far
from Stanwick, the site believed to be the stronghold of either King Venutius
or a settlement used by both him and his ex- wife Queen Cartimandua when she
was the one holding the reins of power. Whorlton is on a hill which seemed to me to have all the qualities needed for a battle between the Celts and the Roman Empire’s armies. Higher ground was generally used for the strategic placement of rows of infantry warriors with a flatter plain below where the mounted warriors could assemble on the flanks of the charioteers who would ply back and forth on the middle level ground.
Thus, Whorl
emerged as my battle site. In The Beltane Choice, Whorl, unfortunately,
wasn't kind to my Garrigill brother, Brennus, who is thought to be dead after the battle since he doesn't return to his home hillfort. After finishing Book 1, I felt I had done the character of Brennus a little disservice. He was such a likeable man that when I started to plan Book 2, I realised I wanted to be much kinder to him. Bran Reborn was then penned but, since Book 2 rolled on to Book 3 continuing the story of Brennus over the period of approximately a decade, I realised I needed to have some indication in the title that Books 2 & 3 were very closely connected. The events in Books 2 & 3 transpire as a result of the aftermath of the battle at Whorl so it seemed logical to give the titles the same beginning as in 'After Whorl'. Though the battle is only vaguely mentioned in The Beltane Choice there is more of the bloody scene at the beginning of Book 2 After Whorl: Bran Reborn.
For those who haven’t yet bought and read the novel, or those who
need to have the scene refreshed in their memory, here it is.
“Fóghnaidh mi dhut!
I really will finish you! I have you now, invading scum!”
Another
couple of whacks would have the shield gone. The Roman auxiliary’s arm already
showed signs of fatigue as Brennus slashed below the man’s chain link
protection, his full power backing each blow of his long Celtic sword. The man
was brawny, a practised opponent at the edge of the tight cluster of Roman
bodies, but was much smaller than he was and rapidly weakened. Brennus knew the
advantage he had. A drained grin slid into a grimace of pain as his sword
jarred on the Roman gladius when the soldier’s stab interrupted another of his
blows, the impact juddering his weakened elbow, an injury sustained with a
previous combatant.
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“Diùbhadh! Scum!”
The gladius
flashed upwards. To reach his head the angle of the auxiliary’s attack had to
be higher than the usual, demanding a different force to succeed, and the Roman
just did not have the strength any more.
A cry of
frustration emerged from the Roman, the clenched teeth an indicator of the
man’s tenacity as the gladius prodded forward yet again. Brennus understood
none of the man’s tongue, the battle ground not the place for meaningful talk,
but the intent was clear.
“Come! Come
forward! A ghlaoic! You fool!”
Brennus’ hollering taunts and crude ridiculing gestures gained him a little
ground as the auxiliary broke free of the rigid formation, desperate to gain
conquest over yet another Celtic adversary, the shorter gladius slashing and
nipping at his chest but not quite breaking the skin.
The tight
group of Roman soldiers had been almost impossible to breach; their raised
cover of shields an impenetrable barrier. He had been toying with and provoking
this particular soldier for long, long moments. Yet, even with his superior
strength, he knew he could not sustain such weighty combat for much longer
either, before he would need to retreat to regain his reserves of vigour – though
only a little more wearing down of the man’s resistance should be enough. He
knew that from an earlier experience. Drawing breath from deep inside he
slipped back a pace, and then another as if giving up the pursuit.
“Come
forward, you piece of Roman horse dung! You demand the blood of the Celts? Let
it be so! Have mine!”
Powerless
to resist the lure the Roman soldier surged at his bidding, his shield
swinging, his gladius jabbing. One last twisted swipe of Brennus’ longer Celtic
sword detached the blade-nicked shield from his foe and sent it sailing aside.
Abruptly unguarded, the auxiliary pulled his gladius in front of his rippling
mail in a futile attempt to cover his chest.
“Too late!”
Brennus’ snort rang out as he whacked the soldier’s fist with his shield when
his opponent readied his blade for another stab. It was enough: all the
leverage needed to topple his foe. Witnessing the Roman’s slithering attempts
to right himself he allowed an exultant smirk to break free, knowing victory
would be his over this particular rival. “Death to all of the invaders!”
The sounds
of battle all around him seemed all the sweeter as he slashed his blade towards
the Roman’s vulnerable neck, the man’s cloth wrap having unfurled from under
the chin during the tussle. It was the weakest part of his well equipped
adversary that was uncovered above the waist. He knew that a blow to the head
was wasteful since the glinting copper-flapped helmet fit tight around the
Roman’s skull. His first swipe
was met with the flailing gladius, the clang and screeches of blade on blade an
exhilarating challenge. Triumphant warmth flashed through him, the sweat of the
combat a bitter taste in his mouth as it streamed his face. The auxiliary was
doomed as Brennus spat through his teeth, “I hate every last one of you!”
The
shrieking, the neighing and squealing behind him he ignored, the battlefield
noises a tremendous din all around. The stench – of heated combat; of the blood
tang and of faeces of man and horse; of the already putrid reek of entrails; of
the stale sweat and battle lust essences – he also disregarded. His attention
was only on his quarry as he felt the edge of his sword slice in under the
man’s chin. He prepared himself for the spurt of warm blood that showered on
him as he angled his neck away from the first gushes.
What was
totally unexpected was the crushing mass that slammed into his back, so
powerful it lifted him off his feet and propelled him onto the blinking gladius
he had successfully parried.
“By Taranis
…” His yell muffled into a spluttering squelch. “An cù! The bastard!”
Down he
went, onto the slippery blood drenched grass, his sword sliding fully through
the auxiliary’s neck. His dead opponent softened his fall only partially since
the horse that had slumped into him followed on at his rear. As the agonised
cries of men and the squealing of the horse echoed around, his fist
relinquished the grip on his sword, the blade having snapped on skidding impact
with the ground. The frantic, writhing animal that pinned him to the Roman gladius
totally overpowered him. Devastating agony seared at his back; blood filled
muck crammed his mouth. A blinding white-red haze gave way to darkness.
Felled by a
mighty powerful beast, and not that Roman blade, was Brennus’ last thought.
After Whorl: Bran
Reborn
After Whorl: Bran Reborn book trailer video URL
After Whorl: Donning
Double Cloaks
After Whorl: Donning Double Cloaks book trailer video URL
Slainthe!
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