End of Chapter Three.

The progress has been slow over rough ground with many obstacles, the mules and their loads taking an hour to cover two miles. In the distance can be seen a wisp of smoke rising in the late afternoon sky. Eventually coming into view is a small, thatched, single room cottage, of wattle and daub construction, standing in the corner of a field.

An old man sees them coming from inside his hovel, but it is too late. Dirty, covered in a rag and slow with age, he tries to escape, rushing out straight into the thrusting sword of Eudeyrn. With a scream he falls to the ground, with the sword deeply imbedded in his chest.

"Damn you," Eudeyrn curses as he struggles to remove the blooded blade from the body of this hapless twitching man. With a twist and a pull it comes free and the death throes cease...



The Jersey Hoard

Chapter Four.

A Site Is Found.



Normally Euderyn would wipe the blade on the grass and replace this valuable sword into its scabbard.

"You will not sleep tonight for there's work to do," he says to his blood soaked weapon, his best friend. A quick look confirms the old man lived alone.

"Hide the bags here! We have little time."

Eudeyrn points to a gooseberry bush; and thirty heavy bags are piled underneath.
"Three of us will dig out the pit in the corner of this cabbage patch, by this stinking pigsty of a place. And you three will patrol," Eudeyrn knows he need say no more.

"I want it three arms long and as deep as a tall man," he says as he attacks the soft earth with his sword.

"You will hear nothing but curses until it is dug, for this is all taking far too long."

Shaking his head, for he has never used his sword for this purpose. An old wooden bucket they found is put into use. In silence, three of them labour at top speed, digging deeper and deeper to make a pit; working to a common purpose, to make this, 'their' treasure safe. Taking turns to dig, while the other three keep guard and patrol the area, ready to silence anyone unfortunate enough to witness the proceedings. Eventually the pit is deep enough to hide a man, and Eudeyrn is satisfied.

"Right pass the bags down. Come on now! We don't want Caesar to get his hands on them."

Still working at top speed and perspiring in spite of the cool evening air. They carefully lower the thirty large and heavy bags into the pit, piling them three bags deep.

Filling this hole is tedious work, though much easier than the reverse. One bag had leaked some coins out of an opened seam. This is noticed only when the hole is half re-filled with earth, so the several handfuls of loose coins are thrown into the pit. The area is leveled off, removing all traces.

"Thank the Gods it will be dark in an hour or so, all the better for us," said one of the warriors.

"Right, let the mules go, we have no further need for them."
The men look at Eudeyrn, as he frees the valuable animals and kicks them on their way to disperse them.

"We will all be tortured if the Romans find any of these mules with us, for then they will know for sure, that we carried something."

Heads nod in agreement, as they make their way back to the main party. Worn out and looking forward to something to eat and drink, they hear something.
A distant scream tells them that contact has been made.

"That was a Roman cry, I am sure of that," says one of the warriors, to encourage the others.

Running now and anxious not to miss the action; for it is a fact that these men are warriors, who have trained all their life to fight, kill and revel in battle.

"Yes, and there will be others when I get my hands on these pygmies. For with the help of the gods, I will make the journey to the other world in good company," Grannus raises his sword in the direction they are running.

The others all yell out in agreement and the adrenalin is starting to flow. With all thoughts of rest forgotten, their shouts echo their excitement, as they stop briefly to cover themselves with blue woad.

"Forward," they shout, for this is a fight they are looking forward to.
Eudeyrn and his five warriors return, to their tribal compatriots they have left just two hours before. By now shouts, screams of warning and pain can be heard above the assorted clangs, as swords clash.

Romans enter the edge of the forest en-mass and launch a dozen or more pila together on command. Thuds are heard when they hit the shields of the Coriosolites; designed to penetrate, two screams confirm this.

Meanwhile, Eudeyrn and his small band run forward screaming, as they launch a surprise attack on the right flank of the advancing Roman legionnaires. These are heading a fighting force, five times the size of the Celts. Fierce fighting ensues and the Celts put up a brave fight, giving a good account of themselves.

****

Centurion Quintus Cato, is unhappy with the timing of this development. His scouts were seeking the Celts, when surprised. He knows that Caesar takes no chances and always likes to pick the time and place for battle, always seeking the advantage.

Fighting in the dusk is risky and this puts his troops in danger of high casualties. But now, he must respond and orders the main body of the troops to advance, to the perimeter of the large wooded area. Leaving a small force to guard the base.

****

Eudeyrn and his bodyguards fall back for a short rest... Then they rush to join in the battle, where the fighting is the most intense and hand to hand. The Romans advance forward through the trees towards them... Giving no quarter, Eudeyrn, is where he has been trained...nay... born to be. He charges forward in double time, faster than anyone else, into the Roman line.

The Romans are now all deployed and outnumbering the Coriosilite warriors. In the forest with no room to throw their pila, they push forward slashing left and right.

Eudeyrn has to fall back again with his small remaining band of fellow warriors, reluctantly leaving the area.

"They are devils," shouts a Roman legionare, as a small group of bloodied Romans retreat back the way they came.

Having the advantage of numbers and organisation the Romans continue forward in a line between the trees.

"Stay together and follow me."

Eudeyrn's screams join the rest of the survivors. With their swords flailing above their heads like sycamore leaves. This bright blue bunch of screaming Celtic fighters stream forward, wide eyed. To their destinies they charge. Mayhem the mother of destruction prevails.

The Romans, because of their training hold rank and gradually pick off the Celts, one at a time.

Attacking the Roman wall of shields, Trysan drags a shield forward. This pulls the Roman off balance. A flash of Trysan's sword and his throat is slashed as he falls. Parrying the wildly flaying gladius with his shield, he thrusts the sword down under the helmet and it grinds to a stop. The body goes limp as the spinal cord is severed and blood pumps out everywhere. The man is dead before his arm falls to the ground.

Blood lust rules, as men shout and scream; injuries and death is administered with fanatical enthusiasm.

"Look out Trysan behind you," Eudeyrn shouts a warning.

It is too late to save his friend. As a gladius is thrust into his back between his ribs, mortally wounded, his friend falls forward.

"Arrgh...! You will die for that."

The red mist of anger a fuel to impetuous acts, clouds the mind of Eudeyrn, as he charges with his sword at the Roman.

The legionnaire whirls around and his gladius produces a deep slash across Eudeyrn's left upper arm. He dives forward and his sword penetrates between the leather scales and into the legionaries heart, before he can react.

Backing off with some survivors, they regroup and charge again. Though weakened his injury is ignored.

This chaos continues for some time. During a lull in the fighting while the combatants separate and pause to regain their strength, Eudeyrn hears a familiar whispered voice.

"Eudeyrn, help me, finish me off. I would do the same for you." The words hardly more than a whisper, lying on the grass behind a bush, covered in wounds, he finds Brennus a boy he grew up with.

"Here," he moans pointing to his chest.

"Join the Gods," says Eudeyrn in a soft voice, for he knows it is hopeless for his friend. Hesitating for just a second and with some regret, he carefully drives his razor sharp dagger in between his friend's lower ribs to the hilt. This is a last kindness to a friend.

Outnumbered by the Romans, it is not long before their numbers start to dwindle and they have to fight a retreating action. Now, it is every man for himself and the chase is on, as the Romans race to catch the survivors. The Coriosolites are routed as they retreat to regroup.

Eudeyrn, is left with just two bodyguards, his old friends Elisedd, Seisyll and six others still fighting a rearguard action, as they run across the forest pursued by the Romans.

Out of breath, Elisedd manages to gasp... "You go ahead Eudeyrn and we will fight to delay the Romans... you must escape and go back... to our people, so the site is known..."

Elisedd runs off with Seisyll following closely, both, without a backward glance.

"We will meet again," Eudeyrn calls after them...

**************


Writers notes.
Pila = standard Roman iron tipped spear.