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Farewell Rome By Keith Perryman |
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“No problem, m’ Lord. I’ll take young Clud an’ a hundred men out over the ramparts halfway down the west wall. There bain’t no Romans there at all. It’s real steep as thee knows. We’ll go down to the river path, turn downstream and come at ‘em from their rear.” There was a murmur of approval from several chiefs. Owein scratched his head. “Very well, Gomigor. It’s worth a try. You make it sound so easy. The best time for you to do it will be during an attack. They would be distracted. I shall tell you when to go. But we won’t be able to make a similar attack on their artillery at the north-east corner. The lie of the land there is quite different.” And so the discussions went on. Several plans, apart from that of Gomigor, were considered and discarded. They had plenty of men in the fort, but not enough of the right kind of weapons. And Dunum having an enormous perimeter, even with only double walls to defend, unlike Vindocladia with triple, their substantial garrison still seemed too thin on the ground. Furthermore, they would have to keep a strict watch all round the walls because the Romans could choose where to attack. It was clear from watching the movement of the different groups of enemy that they were holding large numbers of men in reserve. Some were seen to be still in their base camp, while others were working, cutting wood on the sloping sides of nearby hills, no doubt in preparation for the siege. Owein’s council had just got around to discussing exactly what to do if the Romans started to send fire arrows into the fort in order to burn their buildings, when a breathless tribesman came rushing up - “Excuse me, m’ Lord. A Roman officer and some soldiers have approached the outer wall in front of the main south-west gates. Seems they want to talk to you, sir.” “Do they now. I am not sure I want to talk to them. But I suppose I had better listen to what they have to say. Bordoc, am I not right that this is what happened at Vindocladia ?” “Yes, Owein. The Roman commander there spoke a bit of Celtic which is unusual. He spoke to Crandaran. They seemed to get on fairly well. I’ll come with you. I would like to see whether it’s the same man.” Owein and Bordoc walked through the little postern door in the huge south-west gates, climbed onto the outer wall parapet and gingerly raised their heads above the palisade. No bolt met them. Below them stood a group of Romans. Most of them had their shields up covering their bodies, but one of them, clearly an officer because of his red cloak and muscle cuirasse, was standing in front of the others unarmed and without a helmet. Bordoc straight away recognised him as the Roman commander at Vindocladia.
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