We kept marching. Mile after mile, on the dry road.  The trees on either side were not tall, but their boughs were thick and green and filled with sunlight. The sun was high in the sky but not scorching like it normally was this time of year. 100,000 of my brothers and sisters surrounded me, so predictably, the smell of days old sweat and unwashed bodies came to my nose. Some were from different tribes, and some I knew from the lessons we attended as children that the elders would teach as we sat on straw pallets. Two were my closest friends. There were rivalries and diplomatic disputes among the different tribes, which were distinguished by hairstyles and skin color, but all of that was small and inconsequential to what we were marching to do.

“Will you get your head out of the clouds? Another hour or two and we'll  be there.” I looked back over my shoulder and saw my shaggy haired friend. He had an uncombed beard with a little strip of string tying it off. His name was Drust. His padded fur armor and leather scabbard strapped to his back was a fearsome sight. He looked excited, and not in the least bit nervous or even scared for his life.

“Battle is not as great as you may think, Brother. I have already lost many other brothers in the last battle.”

“We all did, but that is a small price to pay to uproot the Romans that invaded our land and were welcomed in,” his face hardening,“Your tribe was the one that gave them a fortune!”

“Vade retro me.”

“Nemo sine vitio est,” a female voice said from behind Drust,“ Please stop it.”

“What,” Drust said, confused.

A woman appeared from the crowd, smirking. She had brown hair and was obviously athletic. She carried a shield and a longsword, the traditional weapons.

“Puto vos esse molestissimos Fedlimid,” I said in retort.

Her smirk turned into a scowl, and Drust looked very annoyed and also very confused. Only Fedlimid and I had studied the language of our enemy, Rome. If we got captured and sold as slaves then it would be good to know the language, and most of the world now known to us spoke the language. As our elders put it, ‘know your enemy.’

“Translation please!”

“No translation. After this you will have to learn Latin. Or you can learn now.”

“Why! The Romans speak it, and they had that thing with some god or something a little while ago. They killed him!” and this, it seemed, was Drust’s excuse.

“Jesus was his name, I think. Yes.” I also didn’t really understand why we had to learn about Romans and their history, but it was actually funny on occasion, like when I learned that they had this race between two cities and the competitors did it naked!

“We’re just getting you angry for the battle,” Fedlimid said,“I hope you can use that bow. We will be there anytime now. I checked with an elder.” As if to verify her statement, a shout came up from the front of the crowd. A little while later word was passed down the line that Londinium had been spotted.

Londinium was a large sprawling city. It was one of the ones that had sprung up from the ground when the Romans arrived, as if by magic. It did not have a wall. Neither did Candinium and most of the major Roman cities. This was a flaw produced by the Romans' confidence, partially because of their faith in their army, but mostly because they thought no one would fight back. Londinium was made mostly of wood with a few stone and mud buildings mixed in. That would make it a lot easier to burn. It looked like a wood brown sea, with only a few finished buildings. About five miles away, I could see the tail end of a long, gray line moving slowly away from the city.

“When do you think we will actually start attacking?” I inquired.

“We need to rest. We have been walking for three days,” another voice said from behind us.

As I turned around I saw a man I hadn’t seen since one of the classes the elders held about 13 years ago. He was Mike Kavanaugh. He only went to about a year of the lessons but proved himself to be the best writer in the entire tribe. A few years earlier he had become the assistant literacy teacher.

“Hello! How has teaching been?”

It turned out that we did not have to wait long for the attack to begin. After three hours of resting we were summoned to attention by war drums and horns. The Roman defense had been standing at attention the entire time, ready for an attack. Their weapons were plainly visible, the usual spear and shield while swords swung in sheiths at their waists. No one had any illusions that the Roman legions were well trained and deadly, but their defense looked like a thin line of bronze before a sea of mithril.

Boudicca was making a rallying speech at the front of the army, and even though I could not hear her, the reaction from the crowd was enough to give me hope, hope that we would survive and drive out the nation that had invaded our home.

The first wave began moments later, with a volley of arrows from the back line. A tidal wave of people swept over the grass like wind. A few moments before the first line hit; the arrows came raining down on the defenders, making it difficult for them to deal with the first attack. The defensive line killed many of the first line of attackers, but after that, they had a hard time repelling the tide of sword and spear. A few seconds after the battle started, the smell of iron was thick in the air. I could see several people on horseback, just behind the last line of defenders calling out orders. There were about 200 of them. I knew I could not kill all of them, but if I killed them where the attack fell…

I told the archers around me to aim for the commanders at the back of the line; they all nodded, except for three or four, who were losing arrow after arrow at the Roman line, their faces red, brows knitted, and baring their teeth. I just left them alone. I aimed carefully and released. I frowned. The person had moved, and the arrow had gone wide. The officer did not even seem to notice that he had come so close to death. This time I waited until the man moved, and as soon as he stooped, I released. A fraction of a second later, I was rewarded with the sight of the arrow piercing the man’s chest. A hole had been dented into the bronze chestplate, and, before topoling off his horse like a rag doll, he puked a little onto the front of his armor. His black steed looked down at his former rider and then walked off into the city.          

The first wave repeated about twice more, and I thought I would go deaf due to the twanging of strings on bows, the clash of steel, and the screams of battle. Then finally the bronze barrier broke beneath the ferocity of the attacking force. Many of the soldiers fled into the grass surrounding the city. They did not make it far in the dark grass.

Only small groups of fighters were trying to muster soldiers to fight back, and they were quickly dispatched. After clearing the city, we sent burning torches, making more smoke than fire, into the houses. At first it smelled like someone was making a nice little fire to roast venison over, but after a few minutes, things other than wood started to burn. The smoke choked anyone that came within half a kilometer. As we drew away from the burning city, I looked back and knew that everyone would have morale enough for the next battle. I hoped that the smoke and fire were enough to free my country’s land.

Days later, the last fires stopped burning, and what used to be Londinium was a literal charred wasteland. A bird flew to perch on top of a length of black wood. He found a hollow in the wood. The rest of the wood was pock marked with little divots where the fire had worked at it. He found that he liked this little nook. It was safe. About a month later, people dressed in shiny bronze and read feathered helms marched in. The bird was ripped away from his nest and flung back into the wilderness…

 

 

 

 

-Alex B.