Goldsworthy - Brigantia

BY ADRIAN GOLDSWORTHY

The Vindolanda Series

Vindolanda

The Encircling Sea

Brigantia

Non-Fiction

Hadrians Wall

www.headofzeus.com

First published in the UK in 2019 by Head of Zeus Ltd

Copyright Adrian Goldsworthy, 2019

The moral right of Adrian Goldsworthy to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN (HB): 9781784978198

ISBN (ANZTPB): 9781784978204

ISBN (E): 9781788541886

Cover design: Estuary English

Images: Shutterstock / Arcangel

Maps by Jeff Edwards

Head of Zeus Ltd

First Floor East

58 Hardwick Street

London EC1R 4RG

www.headofzeus.com

For Robert

Aballava: Burgh by Sands

Abus: River Humber

Alauna: Maryport in Cumbria

Arbeia: South Shields

Bremenium: High Rochester

Bremesio: Piercebridge

Bremetennacum: Ribchester

Brigantum: Aldborough

Camulodunum: Colchester

Cataractonium: Catterick

Coria: Corbridge

Corinium: Cirencester

Danum: Doncaster

Deva: Chester

Eboracum: York

Lindum: Lincoln

Londinium: London

Longovicium: Lanchester

Lugdunum: Lyon in France

Luguvallium: Carlisle

Magna: Carvoran

Maia: Bowness-on-Solway

Mediolanum: Whitchurch

Mona: Anglesey

Segontium: Caernarfon

Verbeia: Ilkley

Verulamium: St Albans

Viroconium: Wroxeter

T he two men followed the path as it meandered up from the valley floor towards the lone farmstead. They were big men, one just slightly taller and the other broader at the shoulders. Each wore mail armour and helmet and had a sword on their left hip, and few among the Selgovae of these parts could boast such a fine panoply. The thicker set man also carried a torch held high in his right hand. There was no moon, but the heavens were an endless field of bright stars, and they did not need the torchlight to find their path. Instead it warned anyone who cared to watch that they were coming, two warriors well armed and grim.

Are you sure this is a good idea? the taller man said. His face was long, the skin drawn taut over the muscles, giving him the air of a leering horse. His companion ignored him and trudged on. Now and again the gentle breeze picked up and made the flame gutter and wave.

There was no sign that anyone in the farm had noticed them. It was much like the others dotted along the valley, indeed throughout much of Britannia, with a main house, its conical roof a little higher and broader than the round huts on either side. Below all was deep shadow, with the odd hint of movement as the livestock in the fenced enclosures shuffled and fed. Higher up the thatch was pale in the starlight. The Selgovae did not care to live too close to their neighbours. Men felt the need for room around them, so families lived apart and got on with the business of keeping their own flocks or herds and tending fields. Eburus, the old man who lived here, disliked company more than most, for the nearest homestead was nearly two miles away, and his own farm was perched on a narrow shelf halfway up the eastern side of the valley. Beyond the shallow ditch surrounding the three houses the slope steepened and then turned into high cliffs that were dark and brooding even on this bright night. No one could approach from that direction or escape.

I mean, the taller man said, we could wait. Catch em tomorrow or the next day. He spoke in Latin, the words clear and carefully chosen, albeit with the gruff accent of his people. Vindex was one of the Carvetii, a northern people who were close kin to the Brigantes, the biggest tribe anywhere in Britannia. For the last seven years he had led the scouts sent by his chieftain to serve alongside the Roman army.

Still his companion did not reply or stop. They were a good halfway up the slope, where the path reached a broad grey boulder and then made a loop around the mound behind it. There were two more big stones beyond the mound.

Guess it could be a woman, Vindex mused as they reached the pair of stones, round and evenly matched. Just lying there, waiting. Someone must have thought the same, for the name of this place was the Vale of the Mother, or sometimes the Vale of the Queen, and perhaps a goddess had set her mark here as a blessing, for the barley in the fields around the farm was high and thick. Harvest soon, he added. Although that lazy old sod Eburus will probably wait longer. Serve him right if a storm blows it flat. He stopped and caressed one of the stones that might be breasts and smiled. He was fond of women, and had mourned two wives and not long ago taken a third. Before he left she had wondered whether she was with child. The thought was an exciting one, albeit salted by fear for her.

His companion continued to ignore him and trudged up the slope. He wore an iron helmet, with deep and wide neck guard, broad cheek pieces and a high transverse crest of feathers, which made him look taller. It was the way the Romans marked out their centurions, making it easier for friend and foe alike to see them in the chaos of battle. Flavius Ferox belonged to Legio II Augusta, but was on detached service as regionarius , the man tasked with keeping the peace and the rule of law in the area near the fort at Vindolanda. A few months ago the senior regionarius in the north had died an especially nasty death, and since then Ferox had acted in his stead. Even so they were a long way further north than any district formally organised by Rome or under his responsibility. No one but Ferox would have come this far in pursuit, especially with so few men. It was not the first time he had led Vindex off in this way and the scout doubted that it would be the last. In truth, given the odds they faced this night, he had to hope that it would not be the last time.

Vindex gave the stone one last pat and followed. Ferox was already a fair way ahead, climbing a little bank rather than following the path as it wound around it. He stood for a moment at the top, and a gust of wind hissed through the barley, rippling the feathered crest and making the torch flicker wildly. Ferox turned his back to the breeze and lowered the branch so that the flame recovered and did not go out. The wind slackened, and once he was sure that the torch was burning well, the centurion looked past the muttering scout down into the valley floor. The three points of light from torches like the one he carried were where they should be. Ferox grunted in approval.