John Sargent should have been relieved at knowing of his assistant’s well being, but he wasn’t. Although he now knew where and when she was, things were not as straightforward as all that, he had to get Adrie back to this ‘Hallum’ as well as locate Miss Jones and return her to the present. The big problem was with the apparatus itself, for monoplanular travel it worked perfectly, but when it went interplane it had a tendency to short out hence there was no guarantee it would work again quickly after the ‘outward’ journey, there could be a delay of several days, even possibly weeks.

Since the rescue run things had gone into overdrive, Adrie and the professor had given him a crash course in the language, he was fluent enough to get by in a first encounter at least. Doctor Ballantyre had a costumier produce a good copy of Adrie’s travel clothes, with the technology at hand a temporary tattoo was easy enough to arrange, he chose a design of three ears of barley. However, despite his urgency, it was a month later that he and Adrie joined their gear in the Time Unit, the switch was thrown, man and boy materialised at the correct co-ordinates, however something was obviously amiss – the weather was wrong, it was bitingly cold and the trees were bare.

Summer was drawing to a close, Elke and her adopted sisters, Cherryh and M’lenie, were out on the moors to the west of Streines hunting for Moorcock. M’lenie saw it first; smoke from a fire only a handful of miles east of the village. The odd thing was that no one from the village had gone that way today, and no one lived there. The girls had taken Elke that way a couple of weeks earlier to collect bilberries so Elke knew it was mostly open moorland that way with a few patches of woodland in sheltered hollows.

They were not the only ones to spot the smoke, by the time they reached the village again the whole place knew and Cam was organising a scouting party. The village was filled with a mixture of excitement and fear while the scouting party were away, when they returned shortly after dark Cam spoke with them alone. When he dismissed them he wore a worried expression, with most of the village in the inn he addressed them there, using the stairs as a pulpit.

“You have all seen the smoke today”
Those gathered murmured confirmation.
“Our scouts have returned with grave news”
Another murmur went around the room, this time of consternation.
“It would seem that we are being invaded tomorrow. I will go with a small group of ambassadors to meet with these people, I will tell those concerned later.”

The Moorcock erupted into frenzied discussions, the crowd kept the staff well occupied that evening, as they planned, plotted and generally discussed the problem.

The Elder was determined to keep his embassy small, there had been no shortage of volunteers, but eventually the number was whittled down to just six. Cam was to lead the group, Elke was not sure she wanted to go but Cam insisted, her knowledge of languages might be needed, the rest of the group were experienced hunters who carried their bows with practised ease, the girl carried hers as well and like the men wore a collection of garments to keep in the warmth, including woollen leggings, so that she was barely identifiable from the men.

The little group set out at a steady hiking pace down the valley that dropped away to the east. They made good progress; an hour saw them just over half way to their destination. When they finished climbing up onto the moor from whence the smoke came they could not believe their eyes. A force of men, perhaps as many as a hundred, were camped just below a low brow, but on the hill above their camp was a structure that none recognised in form or construction.

Most of those camped on the moor were working on the structure; they had already built a mound some thirty feet high to which they were still adding material. Others were constructing a palisade from logs hauled in by horses, which surrounded the ever-growing mound. Their presence was soon noticed, an envoy was despatched to them under the blue flag of truce recognised hereabouts.

They waited whilst the small greeting party made their way across the moor to them. Elke was quick to recognise the approaching group, although she could not quite believe it, they were Romans. From sandaled feet to crested helmets they were dressed exactly as any text book illustration she had ever seen, these men though were obviously not of Mediterranean stock, their short hair tended to the lighter shades of brown more common in northern Europe.

Elke tried to remember her history lessons, this group of men didn’t appear large enough to warrant a tribune, most likely it would be a, what was it now, oh yes a Centurion. The Roman party stopped about five yards away, all four giving a sharp salute to the group from Streines who, Elke included; found themselves giving a bow of the head in return. Cam just beat the Roman leader to the first words.

“Greetings strangers, who are you and why are you here?”

Elke expected some reply in Latin, of which she could recognise just a few words, but the Roman’s words were if not in H’llam then in a closely related language, for despite an appalling accent he was easily understood by the locals.

“Greetings, I am Sextus Minucius of the seventeenth Legion under the Emperor Augustus Caesar. We are an advance party of his excellency’s forces in the Angles.”

Cam and his deputation didn’t recognise all the words, Elke grasped most of it, but the gist was easy enough to follow, they were but part of a much larger force.

The legionary continued. “Unless your people are in league with the Celtonii, we mean your people no harm.”

Stories of the Celtonii were a common theme of the stories that did the rounds in the Moorcock; it was their attacks aeons ago that had prompted the Halum’s practice of anti-rape measures. However those barbarians came from much farther north, Elke assimilated them with the Celts of her own history.

Cam had his chance now, and grabbed it by both ears. “I have heard of your legions, far to the south. The Celtonii are far to the north. Why come you here? They are our enemies but we do not go to seek them.”

“I would know your name old man” Sextus replied.
“Apologies, I am Cam P’gnole, Elder of the village we call Streines in the country of Hallum”
“Well Cam P’gnole,” Elke could see the Roman gauging his reply, “those barbarians have attacked our ports on the east coast for several years, arriving by ship, razing the stores and houses to ashes and taking our women and children, the men and the old they put to the sword. The Emperor has decided that we must wipe these attackers from the earth."

The talk of attacks on towns and villages stirred the villagers more than almost anything else would. “What would you and your Emperor have of us Roman?” Cam asked.

Relaxing a bit now, Sextus Minucius knew the delicate part was nearly over. “We wish only to pass this way unhindered and to use this,” he indicated the still growing mound, “as a way port for our troops.”

“Of the first” Cam replied, “if your men trouble us not, we shall bide them. Of the second, I doubt that we could stop you; this will obviously be a substantial fortress. It may be that your presence will protect our people or as likely put them in peril. Be that as it may, we are as one in our enemies so we treat with you as allies.”
“Well said” Minucius answered. The slight tension in the air between the opposing delegations dissipated. “I would invite you to eat with me,” the Centurion offered, but Cam rejected the offer.
“We must decline, our people await our quick return.”

With that the Romans saluted their new allies and returned to their camp, the party from Streines watched them go and departed themselves. Cam was not one however to leave his back unprotected and so one of his archer escorts was posted to keep an eye on the Roman camp. Being largely uphill on the return it took a good while longer than the outward journey. It was late in the afternoon when they arrived back in the village.

On the way back Elke told Cam what she knew of Romans, the old man was a little surprised at her knowledge, incomplete as it was it was far more than he knew of the legions. In some respects he was reassured, in others an element of concern was planted. However the Elder knew their choices were few in this, the nearest village to Streines was Drunfyld away to the southeast, it was a similar distance north to Hulmfrith, the land was sparsely populated and the Romans were professional soldiers. Cam was content that he had made the best decision for his people.

He called a village council that evening and told the assembled people what had transpired. The people, although obviously concerned, accepted the Elder’s words without argue, all respected the old man and they trusted his decisions. Elke had expected some dispute, even that some hotheads would go to the Roman camp to cause mischief, but nothing like that transpired. Instead a relief was sent for the lone bowman keeping watch and a rota to continue the watch agreed upon.

The next several days, Elke found herself spending a large amount of her time with Cam filling in his knowledge of Roman practises. The young woman was surprised by what she recalled, names sometimes eluded her but her explanations were more than adequate to make up for that. The more he learnt the more Cam knew he had taken the right decisions, to be allied with these people was far safer than to be set against them.

Those returning from watch duty gave more and more details of the structure going up on the hillside, now visible from the village. The original mound they had seen was now close on ten men high with a ditch about a further two men deep. The palisade was now complete, only a single entrance was visible, accessed by a timber bridge. A further palisade was now going up at the top of the mound; timbers were being drawn up the slope of the mound by pulleys for its construction. The Roman camp itself now resembled the models that Elke had seen, a square breastwork with tents pitched inside in orderly rows, even though the scouts had not said, she knew its form, its sighting this time was unique in her knowledge in that it provided a bailey to the motte under construction, the access to the bridge being through the camp.

The Romans under Sextus Minucius behaved as good as promised, for that matter they had little opportunity for mischief, being worked in military practice each morning before work on the castle continued in the afternoon. Supplies arrived each morning by packhorse train, thus it was only water and timber they took from the land, excepting the occasional game bird. Both Cam and Elke were surprised by the incredible speed at which ‘Bradforte’ was constructed.

Although things in Streines ran on much as usual, an undercurrent of change was apparent. Archery practise was taken more seriously, the fletcher was kept busy, and likewise the blacksmith found himself spending a greater percentage of his time casting arrowheads rather than producing tools. There was no divide in the sexes, men and women each prepared in their own way, they weren’t sure what for, even Elke was drawn into it all, she was fast becoming a fair archer herself. The new fortress was completed only ten days after their visit, Sextus Minucius sent a Maniple to invite Cam and his ‘aides’ to inspect their endeavours.

The Maniple, under one Julius Gaius, withdrew to make camp on the moor above the village while Cam organised his embassy anew. D’mecks came this time, despite her protestations Elke was once again included, the farrier, a man named M’Vic, was included, two of the younger men, C’arre and Jaronne made up the numbers to six. With the Romans as honour guard the delegation left next morning, this time dressed less warlike, Elke despite her protestations was to wear a dress when they arrived although for travelling Cam allowed her to wear travel garb.

They reached the Roman camp about midday; having stopped briefly while Elke donned her gown. They were escorted along the Vin Principalis to Sextus Minucius’ tent where he formally greeted them. He dismissed Gaius’ Maniple and introduced his junior officer Vorenius Callenia and a more typical looking Roman, Marcus Phellus, his command’s medic. He gave his visitors a guided tour of the camp, explaining as he went the various features; the breastwork was now surmounted by a good stockade and sturdy gates stood at each of the entrances.

M’Vic’s interest was mostly geared to the armoury the Romans used, the Gladii, the Pila and the burnished Cuirass’ that the officers wore. All were impressed by the order of the camp, discipline was obviously strict, and the Centurion was saluted at every turn. Sextus then took his allies through the eastern gate and onto the bridge to the mound. From this angle it was an incredible sight rising high above them, Vorenius Callenia explained how the bridge was rigged to be destroyed in case of attack that would make the mound almost insurmountable.

They crossed the moat, all thirty feet of it; Elke noted that the foot of the ditch was quite wet, even if anyone was fool enough to try, that would be another hazard to overcome. Once across, another substantial gate guarded the mound inside the palisade, a path encircled the place. In front of them a path followed a switchback route to the top of the motte and another gate. Even unhindered the climb was difficult, if attackers got this far it was doubtful they would reach the top. Once through the upper gate they found themselves in a courtyard perhaps forty feet across, the palisade would be effective to defend the site, however Sextus explained it as much a look out post as a defensive site and then he took them up onto the scaffold that served that purpose. The field of view from up here was incredible, Elke guessed that the view east extended perhaps thirty miles or more, and a good ten to fifteen in the others.

The villagers were well impressed. The party returned to the outer camp where the legionaries had prepared a meal for their guests. Well made, if temporary, tables and benches provided a good site for an excellent meal. The Romans didn’t stint in the fare offered, they favoured spicy food, but in deference to their guests had even let up on that practice to some extent. Quail and venison were offered and ground vegetables and pulses matched a fine trout from the river below. Sweet honeyed cakes were served as dessert while the Romans’ favoured tipple of sharp wine was available in copious quantities to wash the meal down.

Darkness had arrived before they finished eating and they retired to a fireside site where all consumed more of the wine, Elke quite liked it, at least better than Streines beer.

When the gathering retired for the night the men folk of Streines were shown to an empty legionary tent, Elke was allocated a similar unit to herself. Even amongst so many men however she felt safe, the men of the Legions were renowned for their discipline and Elke thought to herself they wouldn’t get far anyway as she felt her sealed crotch area, a smile on her face. For the first time she realised what peace of mind her sealed labia meant.

The villagers broke fast with Sextus after which Cam decided it was time for his piece. “You Romans have honoured us during our visit for which we thank you. You have been at pains to show us your strengths, we are, it must be said, impressed.”

Sextus allowed himself a small smile.

“We however didn’t come to sight-see” The other villagers nodded, Cam continued, “We would offer what help we can with archers, we have some skill in that area, to accompany your troops.”

This didn’t fluster the Centurion as it might some, he had expected something of the sort, would in fact have been surprised if the offer had not been made. “On behalf of the Emperor I thank you for your offer, I will pass it on to my superiors.”

Soon afterwards the village delegation left the roman camp, this time without escort.

It was only a matter of a few days before the Roman force received a significant increase in manpower with the arrival of the Third Cohort of the Seventeenth Legion led by a Tribune with a most un-Roman name, Hastur Dornier. The Third Cohort was in itself a fair military machine consisting of mostly foot soldiers but also a brigade of cavalry. Also under Dornier’s command was a small force of native irregulars, the main force could easily cope with a pitched battle but guerrilla action was not their forte – the Roman leadership recognised the need for native expertise in that area of operation.

The Tribune met with his Centurion as soon as the newly arrived force were organised. Heartened by what he saw and heard he told Sextus of their next orders. As the country hereabouts was deemed friendly, a squad of Romans would remain at the castle while the main force would move north in a pincer movement with the Fourth Cohort, who were far to the east. The terrain they would be crossing would restrict their daily progress; they would be on the march for a good few days before they were likely to engage the enemy.

Hastur welcomed Cam’s offer of archers, even in a set piece engagement they had their place, so the Maniple of Julius Gaius was again despatched to Streines, this time on a less social cause. The villagers, being aware of the main force of Romans arrival, were a little dubious at first but with Cam’s reassurances they began to treat the Maniple as long lost friends and soon Romans and villagers were ensconced in The Moorcock.

The Third Cohort was to leave two days hence; the villagers who were to join the force were to join with the Romans at daybreak just north of the castle. There was no shortage of volunteers among the people of Streines, however with a population of fewer than two hundred there was a limit to the number who could sensibly be spared for this exercise in war. The final force that left the village was twenty strong, men and women, Cam had allowed only singles to go, so that most of the group were youngsters with only a couple of older men and women who had lost their partners and were childless. Cherryh was along and Elke found herself there as Cam’s representative, she was not happy about that, but the villagers were so she could do little to argue, she was at least competent with a bow.

The villagers, like the Romans they would be joining, carried everything with them. Their accommodation consisted of four man tents whose components were spread between the occupants as were cooking kits and supplies, each carried two quivers and spare bow strings for their long bows. Although they carried spare clothing the favoured ‘battle dress’ consisted of what Elke called ‘Robin Hood’ garb, close fitting hose topped with a jerkin reinforced with leather on the bow side, each member also wore their braids knotted atop their heads out of the way.

They left the village, after a lengthy round of goodbyes, late in the afternoon to camp at the rendezvous site. The little band were disciplined in their own way, as Cam’s representative Elke would serve as go between while a man by the name of Marek was the nominal commander for combat situations. Out of natural tendency the women and men tended towards their own gender, a dozen men and eight women in total.

Good as his word, the Tribune’s force was ready to march as the first strains of light passed the horizon. The new recruits to his force had slept little anyway and so were not much behind the Romans. Hastur Dornier viewed the new arrivals appraisingly, they for the most part appeared what he had expected, his guess as to the number had been fairly accurate, and Sextus’ intelligence on the village was quite accurate. He was less keen when he realised that nearly half the group were women, he hoped that would not prove a problem later, not all troops were as disciplined as the Romans at his command.

He gave them a short speech of welcome and the group’s leader made herself known to him, a mere slip of a girl, he guessed she was in her early twenties, an intricate tattoo covered much of the left of her face, all the group wore facial tattoos, the girl was the only one with any other decoration, a small stud through her nostril. Sextus had mentioned such a woman and believed her high in their hierarchy, her presence here confirmed that, pretty name for a barbarian though, Elke Joanus.

The Streinian group were slotted in the marching order just ahead of his cavalry who brought up the rear. His other native troops were separated from them by a couple of squads; Dornier was not one to risk petty squabbles in his force even if there was no apparent cause for concern.

They moved out northwest across the moors at a steady pace, the Romans knew from experience the most economical speed to march any distance at. By the first halt mid morning they had covered maybe six miles, the wily Centurion kept the force on a straight-ish track, he rotated the Roman squads so that each spent time breaking the path through the heather and bilberry.

For a force of such size Elke was surprised by the lack of noise, or to be precise, chatter usually associated with gatherings of humans. She could hear occasional drifts of conversation from the other non-Romans ahead while the cavalry behind them spoke amongst themselves in low tones between long silent stretches. The Streinian archers spoke in twos or threes and walked along as a loose group behind the Roman troops ahead who, for the most part, marched in file in silence.

It was still quite early when the force halted for the day on a plateau some dozen or so miles from their starting point. The Romans soon had the basics of their camp organised, the villagers were allocated a campsite, Sextus suggested their efforts would best be put to supplying some fresh meat for the camp while the breastworks were excavated.

When they returned with a mixed bag of birds and hare, the camp was all but complete, guards stood at each gate and the interior was covered with a neat grid of tents. Only the cavalry unit was not camped within, they occupied a smaller enclosure with their mounts, a lozenge shaped affair with several entrances, only the glow of their fires gave away their position in the darkness of the evening.

Day two of the march went much as the previous one, the archers took what game they could on the go and by the time camp was announced already had a fair supply of meat to eek out the camp’s supplies. They had dropped off the high moors for a while, then after fording a river climbed again up a steep and long hillside. Sextus led them in a series of less steep throws first left then back again to the right, producing a series of switchbacks at which point they camped in a large clear area just beyond the level of regular tree growth which had hidden them during their switchback climb.

The pace was such that even with the distance covered each day, even those not used to the walking remained in fair condition if a bit footsore. Another day passed, they used a more circuitous route to avoid two deep, steep sided valleys so that by late afternoon they had twenty miles march behind them but not much more than half that in a forwards direction. The countryside could have been anywhere in the Pennines of England, the forest stretching up the steep sided valleys to give way to moorland which rolled away until dissected by another of the deep valleys.

Still a good march from any possible confrontation, Dornier decided to utilise the open space for some military exercises. The Tribune divided his forces next morning, the non-Roman contingent he set to practising their various skills. The force that would act as attackers were marched off by Sextus Minucius and were soon lost to sight. The remaining force, which included the cavalry, began at once to build an earthwork. By early afternoon a breastwork, Elke guessed it to be a good quarter mile long, had been built, gladius and Pila wrapped with leather for safety and this ‘defending’ force were on the alert. The Streinians and other allied troops watched from the safety of the camp, as the Centurion’s force appeared some little way off.

The mock engagement was a noisy and earnestly fought affair, each squad, each Maniple wishing to show their mettle to their commander who directed his troops from the front, the sound of Bucculators and the muffled slapping of swords filled the air for a good couple of hours before the trumpet of ‘disengage’ was sounded. Although only training several legionaries had suffered serious hurts which the Cohort’s doctors tended with as much precision as the troops had fought with.

For Elke who had read books about the Romans, this was a unique chance for personal observation, how the professor and his colleagues would have enjoyed this. To the rest of the watchers it was a sound showing of force, a show of strength, which if that was its intention served its purpose well. In the evening the Romans were more animated than Elke had seen them on this venture, as soldier traded story for story till late into the night.

They moved out next morning leaving their way camp and the seemingly purposeless earthwork behind. They soon fell into the familiar march order again, today they had to cross a much wider valley late in the day and for the first time they camped in an area of forest not far from where they had forded the river. Ditch and breastwork were not possible here, instead a timber felling operation on an incredible scale produced a sturdy stockade to the usual pattern, tents although conforming generally to the accepted pattern were less uniform in their alignment as they were pitched between stumps and one or two remaining trees. This time the guest troops played a more active role in the camp’s protection, more used as they were to forest living than the Romans who preferred open expanses.

The small fort was left intact when they departed the next morning, it could be reused on their return or by following troops. They moved once again onto high ground with a clear view across the rolling moors and to the east the low-lying plains that the other Roman Cohort would be crossing. In all their march so far they had seen but a few distant villages, the settlements they had seen had all been smaller than Streines, significantly so.

In general though, the country was devoid of significant features, the moors all looked much the same, as did the valleys. The weather was good for the season, cold at night, still fresh through the day, they were kept warm by the continual march by day, small fires tried and failed by night. The half expected problems the Streinian women may have caused were not forthcoming, perhaps it was their mien, with their tattoos and strong bow arms they would have been no pushover even for a trained legionary.

Maddy Bell © 1998, 2004, 2010