'You are always one for long trips.'
Peering into the dim interior, Brennus had been unable to make out the druid's features. Bunches of herbs and mistletoe hung from nails beside the dried carcasses of birds and rabbits. Brennus had shivered. It was said that Ultan could brew a potion to charm the gods themselves. 'Will it be a difficult hunt, then?'
'More than that,' Ultan had muttered. 'A journey beyond where any Allobroge has gone. Or will ever go. Your destiny cannot be avoided, Brennus.'
He had steeled himself. 'I will die in the forest?'
Brennus had thought he saw a trace of sadness in the old man's eyes. In the poor light, he had not been sure.
'Not you. Many others.
Despite the fire 's heat, a shiver ran down the big man's spine. Typically, Ultan had refused to explain further. Unsettled, Brennus was worried enough to offer more prayers to Belenus than normal as they had climbed the wooded slopes. The hunt had gone well so far, but he knew the druid's predictions tended to be accurate. Would his family be safe? Would Brac's? Although it was early summer, the journey over the mountains was not without peril. Snow, ice, swiftly flowing rivers and dangerous paths awaited them.
Or had Ultan meant something else altogether?
He stared round the quiet clearing. The normally alert dogs twitched happily as they dreamt of chasing deer. Nothing. Closing his eyes with a sigh, Brennus pulled the blanket closer and lay protectively beside Brac. He slept well, without dreaming.
It was the last peaceful rest Brennus would have for many years.
When the younger warrior awoke, the sun's rays were already lighting up the mountains on the other side of the valley, turning the snow on the sharp peaks pink, then orange. He threw off his blanket and stood up, shivering in the early morning air.
'Had enough sleep?' Brennus laughed, over by the drying racks.
Brac flushed with guilt when he saw the packs were ready. All that was left to do was roll up the bedding and fill their leather water carriers from the stream. 'How long was I asleep?' he muttered, hurrying.
'As long as you needed.' Brennus' tone was kindly. 'Feeling rested?'
'Yes.'
'Good! Try this on.'
Staggering under the weight of one pack, Brennus gestured at the other beside him. With help, Brac managed to fit the bulging bag on his back. He noted with shame that it was much lighter than his cousin's.
'Let me take the heavier one.'
'I'm bigger and stronger. That's all there is to it. Yours is heavy enough.'
Brennus clapped him on the arm reassuringly. 'It's more than most could carry.'
Brennus led the way, using a hunting spear to steady himself on uneven ground. Brac and the dogs followed close behind. The little party made steady progress through the forest and by mid-morning they had covered just over half the distance back to the settlement.
'Time for another rest.' Gratefully Brennus lowered his pack by a large beech tree.
'I can go further.'
'Sit down.' He patted the moss, thinking it was a good time to tell Brac about his plan. 'Let's eat. Leave less to carry afterwards.'
They both laughed.
The pair sat beside each other, leaning against the broad trunk. In companionable silence, they drank water and chewed on dried meat.
'Is that smoke?' Brac pointed to the south.
There was a thick grey plume rising over the nearest treetops.
Brennus' fist clenched on his spear. 'Get up! That's from the village.'
'But how . . .?' Brac looked confused.
'Leave your pack and blanket. Take only weapons.'
The young warrior quickly obeyed and moments later they were running full pelt downhill, dogs at their heels. Brennus ran as if the gods were giving him strength and it wasn't long before Brac began to fall behind. He was fit and healthy, but there were few men who could match his cousin's physical prowess. When the big Gaul noticed Brac struggling, he stopped.
'What's going on?' Brac asked, chest heaving.
Brennus was a hopeless liar. 'I don't know, lad. A cooking fire out of control, perhaps?' He stared at the ground, Ultan's words echoing in his head.
Our warriors must have been defeated.' He sighed heavily. 'The bastards obviously didn't wait for us to offer battle.'
Brac's face paled. 'And the smoke?'
'You know what happens. The village is being put to the torch.' Brennus closed his eyes. Liath. Their newborn baby. What had he been thinking to leave his family at such a time?
'Why have we stopped?' Brac pushed past roughly, feet sure on the narrow path.
They ran for a long time, guilt and rage giving them strength. Neither spoke, and they stopped to rest only occasionally. A short distance from the settlement, Brennus at last slowed down and came to a halt. Even the dogs seemed glad of an opportunity to rest. But his cousin kept running.
'Brac, stop!'
'Why? They might still be fighting!'
'And arrive completely winded? What damn use would that be?'
Brennus breathed deeply, calming himself. 'Always go into combat prepared.'
Reluctantly Brac walked back to where the big man was standing, feeling the edge on a spear tip.
'This is good enough for a boar,' said Brennus, baring his teeth savagely. 'Should kill a bastard Roman or two.'
Brac spat on the ground in agreement, checking every arrow tip was well attached. Then he looked up. 'Ready, cousin?'
Brennus nodded proudly. It was at times like this that a warrior knew who would stand by him. But a knot of fear was forming in his stomach. Terrified for his family's safety, Brennus also wanted to protect Brac from danger. As Conall had done for him.
They moved off at a slow trot, concentrating on their surroundings, wary of possible ambush. Following paths familiar to both, they soon reached the edge of the trees. Already it was obvious something was wrong. Summer was a busy time of the year, yet there was nobody out hunting or picking fallen wood, no children playing in the shade.
The sight that greeted Brennus would haunt him for ever. Past strips of cultivated land running up to the forest, his village was in flames. Thick spirals of smoke billowed upwards from thatched roofs. Screams carried through the air.
Thousands of legionaries surrounded the defensive wooden palisade that had always served the Allobroges well. The invaders were clad in chain mail and russet-brown thigh-length tunics. They had heavy rectangular shields with metal bosses, viciously barbed
, short stabbing swords, rounded bronze helmets with ear flaps and neck guards. Brennus knew and hated every distinctive part of the Roman soldier's garb.
Behind the close-ranked cohorts stood the
bucinae
So unlike the brave, disorganised chaos of a Gaulish battle charge.
The deep moat round the stockade had already been filled with wood in numerous places. Long ladders were in place against the walls, allowing attackers to swarm up. More legionaries were heaving a battering ram to and fro against the main gates. Here and there an occasional figure fired arrows from the walkway, but the battlements were almost bare.
'There 's no resistance!'
'The warriors won't have run,' said Brac, face pale.
Brennus shook his head, a shiver running down his spine.
The lack of opposition meant only one thing: Caradoc and the men had been beaten, leaving the village defended only by women and the old.
There was no chance of saving Liath and the baby. Nausea washed over Brennus and he bit his lip until he felt the salty taste of blood. The pain focused his thoughts, preventing him from blindly charging forward.
A giant hand gripped his arm. 'It is too late.' Brennus frowned, staring at the sky. 'We came back a day early. The gods meant us to be up the mountain, not here. Ultan warned me.'
'The druid? He's crazy. We can't just stand here and watch!'
'They are all good as dead.'
'But your wife, Brennus!'
He clenched his teeth. 'Liath will take her own life and the child's before a single Roman touches them.'
Brac looked at him with total disbelief. 'Coward.'
Brennus slapped him hard across the face. 'Two of us against thousands of Romans?'
Brac fell silent, tears running down his cheeks.
The big man stood, trying to think. 'Listen if you want to live.'
Brac gazed at the burning settlement. 'Why live after that?' he asked dully.
Brennus saw the anguish in his cousin's face. The same distorted his own. Brac's mother and sisters were also doomed and he shuddered, trying to thrust their fate from his mind. After Liath and the baby, they were the only family he had in the world. Somehow he conjured up Ultan's expression that last day. Had it been sad? He couldn't be sure. What was now certain was that the Allobroges were taking a voyage to the other side. But that was not
Why had Ultan refused to talk to Caradoc and kept silent about this attack? There could be only one answer. The druid's message must have come from the gods. He had to believe that, or his sanity would be lost.
'We go back to the meat. Take enough for a month. Then cross the mountains, join the Helvetii. They are a strong tribe and no friends of Rome.'
'But our people . . .' Brac began weakly.
'The Allobroges are finished!' said Brennus, hardening his heart. He had never imagined it would come to this. 'Ultan told me I was to go on a great journey, one never taken before.' There were only a few moments to convince Brac before they were seen. 'This
The end was near.
Brac nodded, trust in his cousin implicit.
Brennus shoved the younger man in the back. 'Let's go. This way the Allobroges will live on.'
The warriors turned to leave, dogs close behind. They had gone only a few paces when Brac stopped.
'What is it?' hissed Brennus. 'There 's no time to waste.'
Brac looked stunned. A thin stream of blood ran from his mouth and he pitched forward on to both knees. Protruding from the middle of his back was a Roman javelin.
'No!' The big man darted to Brac's side, cursing as he glimpsed the legionaries who had crept within missile range unseen. There were at least twenty – far more than he could hope to kill on his own.
Grief filled him. There would be no more running.
'Sorry.' Brac gasped with the effort of speaking.
'For what?' Brennus snapped the
in two, lying Brac carefully on one side.
'Not running fast as you. Not listening enough.' The boy's face was ashen. He did not have long.
'Nothing to be sorry for, my brave cousin,' Brennus said gently, squeezing Brac's hand. 'Rest here a little. I need to kill some Roman bastards after all.'
Brac nodded weakly.
A lump filled Brennus' throat, but anger overtook the grief, surging through every vein. He gripped Brac's arm in farewell and got to his feet.
The druid had been wrong. He too would die today. What reason was there left to live?
There was a rush of air as javelins hummed past him, embedding themselves in trees with dull thudding sounds. One of the dogs collapsed, yelping in pain at the long metal shaft protruding from its belly. Unsure what to do, the second stood with tail firmly between its hind legs.
Many of the legionaries were within twenty paces now, running at full tilt.
'Sons of whores!' Brennus pulled out an arrow and fitted it to the string, drawing to full stretch. He released while hardly looking at the nearest soldier, knowing it would take his target in the throat. The Gaul's next three shafts killed as well. By then the Romans were so close he had to drop the bow and pick up a spear. As his enemies encircled him, curved
'You have only a dagger now, Gaulish scum.' A red-cloaked officer leading the legionaries gestured angrily. 'Take him!'
His men raised their
Brennus bellowed an inarticulate cry of rage and charged. His entire people had just been annihilated in one short, vicious encounter. He was about to die, wanted to die. Anything to end the pain.
Ripping the closest man's shield from his grasp, the warrior turned it on its edge. He swept round in a circle, knocking several enemies from their feet. In the confusion, Brennus jumped to stand over the legionary whose
gladius
Armed now, Brennus was an even more intimidating prospect. Unwilling to face certain death, the thirteen Romans remaining hung back.
'Seize him, you fools!' the officer screamed, the horsehair crest on his helmet bobbing indignantly. 'Six months' pay for the man who takes him alive!'
Spurred on by the reward, they closed in, forming a tight circle of locked shields. The Gaul killed another three legionaries when they reached him, but at last a sword hilt connected with the back of his head. He stumbled, stabbing another enemy fatally in the groin as he went down.
A hail of blows followed.
Brennus landed on the bloody ground semi-conscious, his torso covered in minor wounds.
'Thank Jupiter most Gauls are not like this ox!' The officer smiled contemptuously. 'Otherwise you women would never conquer them.'
His men flushed with shame, but none replied. Their superior could inflict dire punishment if they answered back.
Concussed and confused, Brennus was still desperate to fight. He struggled to rise, but the last of his huge strength had been expended. Through a red haze, he heard the centurion speak again.
'Bind his arms and legs. Carry him to the surgeon.'
Fuelled by anger, one of the soldiers found the courage to speak. 'Let us kill the bastard, sir. He 's done for eleven of us.'
'Fool! Governor Pomptinus wants as many slaves as possible. This one will be worth plenty as a gladiator in Rome. A lot more than you miserable scum.'