Anvil (The Iron Between Book 3) by Cladáin Micheál

Author:Cladáin, Micheál
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PerchedCrowPress
Published: 2024-12-06T00:00:00+00:00

***

The fog over the straits reminded Agricola of the last invasion.

Just as before, he was on his horse, staring over a grey shroud that hid the slash of sea barring their way onto the island of Mona. The dense fog was hiding the treacherous fords at Pwll Ceris. Lepidus was on a borrowed mount to his right, and Castus, banded tribune of the Valeria Victrix, was to his left. The cohorts were arrayed in battle order to his rear. The strongest—the First, Sixth, and Tenth—were interspersed between the others, adding to their fortitude. However, for the Valeria Victrix, there were not any weak cohorts, not really. The legion had been fighting in Britannia since the Emperor Claudius’s invasion. There was not a harder legion in all of Rome’s armies. Agricola gazed over the ranks—hundreds of soldiers behind grounded shields. He was proud to have once led these men in battle.

‘You know your orders, Castus?’ he asked again. He had not wanted to but found himself helpless in the face of his need to be sure.

‘Sir,’ the tribune affirmed without looking at him.

He is angry at me.

Agricola tried not to grin. All of his immediate subordinates were of a similar bent. None of them trusted him to understand the risks.

Like Lepidus, Castus would rather follow the plans of the Goddess Laverna than those of Túathal.

He told them both that he did not trust the man, either, but they seemed to doubt him. Now, only half listening to Lepidus and Castus as they discussed the fog, he watched Túathal sitting on a horse just visible on the edge of the fog bank. The youth appeared unconcerned about whether his plan would be used. Agricola thought that providing the man with his crown might sway him to vassalage under Rome, but he was in no way sure. The Celta’s mother had been forceful in her refusal, and Agricola guessed Túathal would use some trickery to avoid his obligations at a later date.

Cross that Tiberis when you arrive on its banks, Gnaeus.

‘The wind is picking up,’ Castus pointed out.

Agricola felt the morning breeze caress his cheek as it shredded the fog into tattered strips like sixteen summers before. And, as before, it revealed thousands of warriors arrayed on the rise above the beach. However, this time, instead of a horde facing the legion, two hordes were facing each other, flanks towards the straits they should be defending.

Either they are unaware that we are here or do not care.

‘Your orders remain unchanged, Castus,’ Agricola said. The tribune punched his chest but said nothing. ‘What do you make of that?’ he asked the group in general.

‘I would say these druids aren’t happy at Luchar’s arrival,’ Lepidus said. ‘Leastways, not at his army’s arrival.’

‘They look like two cocks held above the fighting pit,’ Castus agreed.

‘That’d be the biggest cock fight you ever saw,’ Lepidus said with a laugh.

Agricola harrumphed. ‘Do you think Luchar will be there or in Caer Leb?’

‘Any commander worth the title would be with his army on the eve of battle.

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