The Forgotten Legion

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 Bre

Ultan had foreseen the attack and sent him hunting anyway.

'Come on!' Brac was also ready to leave the trees' protection.

A giant hand gripped his arm. 'It is too late.' Bre

'The druid? He's crazy. We can't just stand here and watch!'

'They are all good as dead.'

'But your wife, Bre

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.'

Bre

Brac fell silent, tears ru

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.

Bre

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 Bre

Wiping his eyes, Brac gulped and surveyed the village once more. As they watched, the roof of the meeting house fell with a great shower of sparks and flames. Cheers rose from legionaries outside the walls.

The end was near.

Brac nodded, trust in his cousin implicit.

Bre

The warriors turned to leave, dogs close behind. They had gone only a few paces when Brac stopped.

'What is it?' hissed Bre

Brac looked stu

'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 ru

'Sorry.' Brac gasped with the effort of speaking.

'For what?' Bre

'Not ru

'Nothing to be sorry for, my brave cousin,' Bre

Brac nodded weakly.

A lump filled Bre

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, ru

'Sons of whores!' Bre

Because of him, his wife and child had died alone. Because of him, Brac was dead. He had failed everyone, and all Bre

'Bastards!' He had learned dog Latin from traders who passed through every year. 'Come on! Who's next?' Without waiting for an answer, he hurled his spear. The heavy shaft punched effortlessly through a shield, driving links of chain mail deep into the soldier's chest cavity. The man collapsed without a sound, blood pouring from his mouth. Bre

'You have only a dagger now, Gaulish scum.' A red-cloaked officer leading the legionaries gestured angrily. 'Take him!'

His men raised their scuta in unison, closing ranks, stepping over the bodies.

Bre

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, Bre

Armed now, Bre

'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 co

A hail of blows followed.

Bre

'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, Bre

'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.'