Slaves of Fear: A Land Unconquered Read Free Page A

woman,” Caratacus remarked, his frustration at Venutius’ inability to control his own wife was a constant source of frustration. “How can you allow her to be all that stands in the way of us uniting against the invaders?”
    “Because her father, King Breogan, inexplicably named his daughter as his sole heir, that she should rule Brigantes in her own right. I loved Breogan like he was my own father, but his short-sightedness regarding the succession was unforgiveable. Our people are divided regarding the Romans. Yet so long as the warrior classes hold onto the memory of their beloved king, there is little I can do, short of leading a rebellion against my own wife and queen.”
    “And that is what you may have to do.” Caratacus glared harshly at him.
    Venutius gritted his teeth.
    “Despite the differences between our peoples, I have always considered you a friend and brother,” he said. “Your children are as dear to me as if they were my own. And I mourned Togodumnus with you, while cursing the treason of your younger brother, Amminus. But these minor raids will not be enough to convince the people to turn against their queen. They will need to see the Romans themselves as vulnerable. We must draw them into invading the lands in the west, which they have thus far avoided. Defeat them. Win a decisive victory and my warriors will undoubtedly rise up, regardless of whether the queen is still Rome’s docile bitch.”
     
     

 
    Chapter II: Shadows from the Past
     

    The hill fort of Mai Dun (now known as Maiden Castle)
                 
    The echoes of battle were deafening. More than ten thousand imperial soldiers stormed the seemingly unassailable heights. The hill was steep and covered in tall grass, slick from the rains of the previous week. Catapults and ballistae bombarded the winding approach to the eastern gate of the ancient hill fort. Yet, for the vast majority of General Vespasian’s army, their assault would simply be straight up into the teeth of enemy spear and blade.
    Centurions and their subordinate officers shouted orders. The soldiers pulled themselves ever upward. Sling stones, light throwing spears, and the occasional arrow bombarded them as they tried to keep behind the protection of their shields. The bodies of the less fortunate, who had been struck in the face, neck, or legs, which were unprotected by their heavy armour, lay strewn along the slopes. The more gravely wounded cried out as they clutched at shattered limbs and torn flesh.
    Surging upwards, the assailants came upon a large defilade that could not be seen from below. Encircling the entire hill, soldiers had to tumble down almost twenty feet before scaling back up the hill. After another fifty-foot climb they came upon a second defilade. All the while, the barbarian skirmishers at the very top continued to bombard them relentlessly.
    A centurion looked to the company of Syrian archers following his cohort. Their commander, a woman who had once fought in the arena, wordlessly nodded in agreement as the Roman officer pointed his gladius towards the heights. The cohort swarmed into this last defilade, while the Syrian archers fanned out and unleashed a salvo of arrows towards the defenders. The barbarian skirmishers began to fall, turning their attention away from the advancing legionaries and toward their immediate source of strife. Though outmatched in skill, they had the advantage of holding the high ground, as well as superior numbers. The Syrians’ mail armour offered some protection, though it palled in comparison to the heavy plate worn by legionaries. Several were struck down by arrows and sling stones to the arms, legs, face, and neck, with heavier spears rupturing the light chain mail.
    The fit and nubile woman leading the Roman allies was shouting words of encouragement to her fighters, pausing to let loose a series of her own arrows in rapid succession. Time then slowed. She saw the large spear flying in a high