The Forgotten Legion - Kane Ben (читать книги онлайн полностью без сокращений txt) 📗

Daggers hung from hide belts.

The deer's eyes had already begun to glaze over. With a few precise cuts of his knife, Brennus freed the arrow, cleaning off the tip on some nearby moss. Shoving it back into the quiver, he muttered another prayer to Belenus, his favourite deity.

'This won't get back to camp on its own. Cut down that sapling.'

They tied the legs to a sturdy branch with strips of leather Brennus carried in his pouch. With a heave of effort, the pair picked up the dead beast. Its head bobbed up and down with the movement. The dogs growled with excitement, licking at blood that dripped steadily from the chest wound.

'How many more do we need?'

'One, maybe two. That'll be enough meat for both families.' Brennus shifted the load on his shoulder slightly, smiling at the thought of his wife Liath and baby son. 'More than the fools in the village will have.'

'They have no time to hunt,' said Brac. 'Caradoc says the gods will look after us when the Romans have been defeated.'

'Old fool,' Brennus muttered and instantly regretted the loss of control. Usually he kept his opinions to himself.

Brac was shocked. 'Caradoc is the chieftain!'

'He may be, but my family needs food for the winter now. When they have sufficient, I will join the rebellion. Not before.' Brennus stared hard at Brac, who was barely old enough to shave.

'Tell him, then.'

'Caradoc will find out in his own time.' Two missing at the spear count would be obvious enough. Brennus would have to justify their absence when they returned.

'You should be in charge of the tribe anyway,' said Brac.

Brennus sighed. He had been approached often enough recently. Many warriors were keen for him to challenge the ageing Caradoc, chief for nearly twenty years.

'I don't like leading men, cousin. Except in battle, and that should be avoided if possible. I am no use at negotiating.' He shrugged his broad shoulders. 'I'd rather be out hunting or with my woman than settling arguments.'

'If you had led the fight last year, the Romans would not have returned.'

Blind faith shone from Brac's face. 'You would have smashed them completely!'

'Caradoc's no friend of mine,' growled Brennus. 'But he is a good leader. No one could have done better against those bastards.'

Brac fell silent, unwilling to argue further. The youngster heroworshipped his cousin. It was why he was not in the village, preparing for war.

'Caradoc says none will leave our land alive,' Brac ventured, eyes still eager.

The big man felt bad at his outburst. 'There 'll still be plenty left for us,' he said reassuringly. 'The scouts said there were thousands in the next valley.'

'Not too many?'

He laughed. 'Nobody beats the Allobroges. We are the bravest tribe in all Gaul!'

Brac grinned happily.

Brennus knew that his words were hollow. Sick of broken promises, Caradoc had finally led the tribe against its Roman masters the previous summer, protesting at the new, extortionate taxes. His initial efforts to win justice through negotiation had met with abject failure. Rome only understood war. And remarkably, the first campaign had been successful, driving the legions off Allobroges land.

But victory had come at a heavy price.

Fully half the warriors had been killed or maimed. While the Gauls had no way of replacing their dead, the Romans seemed to have an inexhaustible supply to draw on. Just two months after their defeat, Republican cavalry had begun raiding outlying settlements. A wave of savage reprisals had only been halted by the arrival of bad weather.

Soon Brennus knew his people would be defeated, crushed and enslaved, just like every other tribe who had once lived nearby. There were too few warriors left to repel the imminent Roman attack.

Pomptinus, the governor of Transalpine Gaul, and ambitious politicians like Pompey Magnus were hungry for slaves, wealth and land and would take it by whatever means were necessary. For several years, burnt-down villages and bloody tales from passing traders had been commonplace. New settlers, tough ex-legionaries who deliberately encroached on tribal territory, provided more evidence. Increasing the taxes had been means to an end, a way to goad the Allobroges into rebellion.

Now they stood alone – against Rome.

And Caradoc would not listen to his counsel.

Confident that battle would not be joined for a week or more, the frustrated warrior had decided to gather his winter meat early. Hunting was a vain attempt to forget what was happening in the valleys below.

'I want an eagle standard,' Brac's face was eager. 'Like the one taken last summer.'

'You will have one,' lied Brennus. 'When the Romans have been beaten.'

The young warrior swung his free arm through the air, mimicking a sword thrust. He nearly dropped the end of the branch.

'Steady now!' said Brennus fondly.

The Gauls reached the temporary camp hours later, both men sweating from carrying the deer. Brac gratefully dropped his end of the carcass. A dog darted in to lick the blood and Brennus kicked it away with a curse.

The site had been their home for four days. The big man had led his cousin away from the village at the valley mouth, far from where other warriors usually hunted. They had toiled up wooded mountain slopes for the whole morning, finally reaching a large clearing through which a shallow stream flowed.

Brennus had gestured expansively. 'Water and firewood. Open space so the sun can dry the meat. What more do we need?'

As soon as they had erected the hide tent that would protect them against rain, the hunt had begun. That first afternoon had been unsuccessful, but Brennus returned calmly to the camp and constructed several wooden racks.

He had gazed at the sky and smiled. 'Belenus will guide us tomorrow. I feel it in my bones.'

By the following evening, the dogs had been fighting over the stripped carcasses of two deer, while Brennus and Brac sat by the fire, stomachs bulging. Further hunts had also been fruitful, with a boar and another deer falling to their arrows. The animal they had just killed brought the tally to five.

'We don't need more.' Brac pointed at the drying frames creaking under the weight of meat. 'And the spear count was today. We should get back.'

'Very well,' Brennus sighed. 'Let's eat plenty tonight and return in the morning. Today's kill can always dry in the village.'

'Won't have missed it, will we?' Brac was chafing to blood himself against the invaders. The impending clash had been the main topic of conversation for weeks. Caradoc was very charismatic, drumming his people into a frenzy of hatred against the legions.

'I doubt it.' Brennus tried to sound casual. 'We had three weeks of skirmishes before the battle last year. Remember?'

'How could I forget?' Brac could still picture warriors returning laden with Roman weapons and supplies, giddy with success.

Transalpine Gaul had been under the Republic's control for over sixty years and large numbers of troops were permanently stationed near its towns. The Allobroges' final victory, thanks to their guerrilla attacks from the safety of the forest, had been most unusual. And it had come at a high price, something few of the men seemed to have considered.

'Perhaps Caradoc can see what will happen,' Brennus muttered. 'Is it better to die free than to flee our lands like cowards?'

'What was that?'

'Nothing, lad. Get the fire going. Got a hunger on me like a bear after winter.'

Brac had so much to learn and as his oldest male relative, it was Brennus' job to teach him. As he began butchering the deer, the big warrior prayed the gods would allow him to complete the task as well as protecting his wife and child, the only people more important to him than Brac and his family. Thoughts of fleeing with them over the mountains before any fighting seemed weak, but, like defeat, flight was inevitable. In Brennus' mind, certain death awaited any who stayed to fight the Romans. Caradoc had persuaded the warriors otherwise. Concerned and frustrated, Brennus had approached the tribe's druid for help some time before, but Ultan would not get involved. And as expected, Caradoc had refused even to consider leading his people to safety. 'The Allobroges do not run like dogs!' he had roared. 'We will crush the legions. Teach Rome a lesson it will not forget!' Brennus had persisted and a threatening look had entered the old chieftain's eyes. Wary of Caradoc's evil temper, he had sworn his loyalty and not spoken of the matter in public again, even to his friends. Only talk of fighting the Romans was permitted.