The arrival of Adrie and the stranger in Streines late one evening was to say the least unexpected. The lad was widely believed to have died several months before by falling into a ravine, so his sudden reappearance was a shock, only his immediate family and Cam knew that his disappearance was under entirely different circumstances. However Adrie was seen by only a handful of inebriated men so the problem was not as great as it may have been.

Cam P’gnole was surprised, thankful, well he wasn’t really sure what he felt, relief probably came out on top. The stranger he had brought with him was called Jon Sargent, a friend it seemed of Elke. The full story of Adrie’s disappearance and subsequent return was to say the least incredible to the ears of Cam and his family.

When the new arrivals learnt of the Romans and the departure of Cherryh, Elke and the others they were both dismayed, Adrie as he felt he should be in on the enterprise, John because the love of his life had gone to some as yet unknown fate. The immediate problem was explaining to the rest of the village Adrie’s rise from the dead. Cam came up with a scheme that seemed just about plausible – unknown to Cam; Adrie had survived the fall although unconscious. Jon had heard his calls for help sometime later and rescued the injured youngster, who he had then taken back to his own village beyond the high pass.

John was fairly well disguised with his temporary face tattoo and gear much like their own, the story was accepted by the villagers, his strange accent and short hair throwing further credence on the story, everyone knew that those from ‘over the hill’ wore their hair short, both men and women.

Cam understood only too well that if it was possible for Elke to return to her own time it would be the best course for everyone, he had already seen the young woman’s restlessness in the short time she had been in Streines – multiply that by years and she would go haywire. He knew what would have to happen but first came some preparation and more information from this latest time traveller.

For John Sargent the developments were altogether very worrying. The Romans with Elke in tow had left the district nearly three weeks previously and would almost certainly be a considerable distance away. As he had told the old man, Cam, the mobile unit would work from any location so they would not by necessity return to Streines if and when he caught up with Elke Jones and co. He knew that was what he would have to do, go track a considerable force of soldiery, then get to Elke, preferably undetected. Easier said than done. He was going to need help and one hell of a lot of luck, Cam had promised what assistance he could muster; he hoped it would be enough for the job before him.

Tracking a couple of thousand troops was not in itself a difficult task. Even weeks later they left an easy trail to follow for the most part, heather on the moors didn’t recover that quickly. Adrie’s sister, a pleasant looking girl was acting as his help, much to the younger man’s disgust. With just the two of them they were less likely to attract undue attention plus they could move with relative speed. They travelled light, bivouacking at night, the girl was a dab hand at finding suitable sites to stop, his own skills were, he had to admit, minimal.

M’lenie was inquisitive; asking a continued stream of questions to fill the gaps in her knowledge learnt from her adopted sister Elke. In return John topped up his own knowledge learnt from Adrie and the party of historians whose brief sojourn to this time reality had nevertheless produced an incredible amount of knowledge. They found the strange camp and earthwork a couple of days out, they both marvelled at each new campsite they came to. John had only seen the castle at Bradforte from a distance, but he was impressed by the time it had been constructed in.

They moved steadily in the wake of the Roman force, by degrees catching up, John estimated they had travelled three days for every four of the army, in fact they had done better than that on occasion as more than once the Romans under Dornier had spent two nights in one camp. However their quarry was still moving ahead of them towards the Celtonii, the northern barbarians, who were the foe of civilisation for the whole kingdom of Angle.

As the Roman Tribune began to trust the Streinians so they were, with the other non-Romans, allocated to work as scouts, scouting was becoming more and more necessary as they continued to move north. They had been on the move for eleven days when a full squad was left in the legionary camp when the rest of the force moved out. Elke asked the Centurion, Sextus, later in the day, his reply was as obvious as her facial tattoo, the squad was to act as a supply station and also provide a rearguard. As an incidental they would also begin construction of a more secure camp. Although he didn’t say as much, Elke read that to mean another motte and bailey like the one they called Bradforte.

By now the native forces were mixing amongst themselves but also with the Romans with whom they travelled, gaming and storytelling with them in the evenings after the setting up of the camp. The Streinian group were as social as the rest, many of the Romans, even after a couple of weeks, didn’t know that there were women with them, they took them for youths not yet matured into manhood, only the oldest woman drew more attention but only because they thought, and Dornier encouraged the rumour, that she was an effete man.

Although they could often see the low plains to the east, Dornier kept his force on the high ground, a fact rued by most as the winds now swept across the high moors unceasingly, chilling the air and bringing with it the first signs of the soon to approach winter.

They seemed to have been on the go for an unfathomable time, rise, break camp, march ‘til mid afternoon, set up camp, sleep, and so on, to the Roman legionaries it was a way of life, to Elke it was fast becoming tedium. She had given up keeping tabs on what day it was after several days of particularly foul weather, gales, rain, and if that wasn’t enough fog set in afterwards. In another time and plain of existence the place they were at now would be part of Durham. The hills for the last couple of days had tended to drop in elevation, they were now amongst a more rolling countryside, much more forest covered the land, their leader had to keep them out of that as much as possible, a prime place for ambush even of his considerable force.

Sargent and M’lenie came across the supply camp and an already far advanced motte in the last vestiges of the grey day’s light. Their cover story in case of running into any Romans went into full swing; they were posing as messengers to their fellow villagers. The officer in charge of the small garrison recognised them as Streinians, allies he knew, and so their story was accepted. He offered them a camp site within the confines of the Roman camp, which they accepted as it included food and the use of a legionary tent for the night, for the last week they had slept in the open, tents were unknown to the natives, those used by the Streinians with the Roman army ahead had been hurriedly copied from the Romans.

The news from the supply depot was good, they had made good time and if they hurried a supply caravan was but a couple of days ahead, they could travel with that to up the main force. John wasn’t so sure about that, but M’lenie thought it might add a bit of security to their trip. So it was that they set off in pursuit of a supply train that in turn chased the main force, its advantage being the use of mules that covered the ground marginally quicker than the foot soldiers before them.

The chasers caught the supplies and still with some misgivings on John Sargent’s part, joined the native herders who under the supervision of four legionaries were taking supplies to the main force. Neither newcomer had ever seen such numbers of mules, they estimated a couple of hundred in all, each carried a load of either grain, or salt or even fresh vegetables – carrot or turnip to supplement what scavenging parties could supply by way of meat and wild vegetables and culinaries. Each of the herders was responsible for ten of the load carriers, making twenty of them; the Roman escort would be better than useless in case of attack.

M’lenie fell into the role of cook, her experience at the inn setting her in good stead, John helped each night and morning as each beast had to be loaded or unloaded and at night pickets set up, they went asleep each night to a cacophony of braying and snorting mules. The mules and their supplies had apparently been on the trail before them all along, however they had missed their passage in the trail of the Roman cavalry whom they trailed by a good few days.

The Celtonii were not what Elke had expected. From what she had gleaned from Streinian legend and odd words with other members of the Roman force she was under the impression that their foe were an undisciplined hoard of barbarians. None of that came anywhere near accurately describing the force now ranged before them.

Their opponents were big men, big in every sense; she guessed that most of them were around six feet tall, their impressive helms adding perhaps around half a foot to that. Although not as disciplined as the Romans facing them, they were however no rabble being drawn up in what, by their differing garb, were most likely clan affiliations. The men wore loose trousers and jerkins of a similar coarse material over boiled leather armour, one or two boasted more impressive iron pieces, each carried a broad round shield painted in lurid designs, the majority had swords at their side although axes and maces were favoured by some.

To the front of each group stood a standard bearer and, it varied, up to four drummers with good-sized instruments. A group towards one side of their opponents seemed to include the Celtonii leadership, their more ornate headgear certainly stood then apart from the line troops. With them were several other figures in flowing white robes, Elke’s guess was they were druids. The two forces drawn up in the valley were fairly evenly matched but for the Roman cavalry.

The young woman turned her attention to the Roman force. By squad the legionaries were lined up in classic formation. At the far side of the valley the other native volunteers waited, arrows nocked, the cavalry waited beside the Streinians to the left of the main Roman force, although small in number the force of which she was part were deadly archers and an essential part of the Roman strategy.

For several days they had been harried by the Celtonii, a handful of legionaries were lost, several more injured in the encounters, the enemy suffered similarly. Now they were to be part of the first major contact with the opposing force. Each side now stood waiting, waiting for the signal that would lead to death and mutilation for many of them, and defeat for one side or the other. She could see Sextus standing next to Tribune Hastur Dornier in the midst of their troops in direct contrast to their foe.

The Celtic force were the first to move, which was to the Romans’ advantage. They began to close the couple of hundred yards between the forces, weapons drawn, their progress of an easy trot. The Romans formed a shield wall and prepared Gladii and Pila for the onslaught. Adrenalin was pumping through Elke’s veins just as much as her colleagues as they prepared to let loose the first volley of arrows. The trot became a run and then suddenly the Celtonii lines broke in a dash for the enemy. The legionary force held its ground then with the enemy finally in range a barrage of pila was let loose, followed soon after by a second and third. Men went down, others discarded fouled shields, a great roar of voices and for the first time Elke heard the pounding of the drums, the answering call of the Roman horns creating a strange background to the fast developing battle.

The archers received their signal and let fly, their arrival in their foes midst did little to slow their advance and soon Romans and Celtonii were in close combat, the archers continued to ply their skills, the cavalry held its place for now. The battle was fairly evenly balanced; first surging one way then the other, some Celts at the rear broke off and produced bows and set to returning the archery from the Roman flanks. The battle was becoming a stalemate, Dornier signalled for the cavalry who immediately broke to harry the rear of their foe.

With their attention split, the legionaries pressed their advantage; over the clash of metal on metal the sound of the Roman horns then Celtic drums could be heard. The battle raged on, the archers despite the supplies they had brought were fast becoming desperate for ammunition, which would soon take them out of the confrontation. Both sides had taken considerable hurt but the Roman cavalry were the deciding factor and after a particularly useful charge by the horsemen, the Celtonii sounded the retreat.

Dornier’s troops followed the retreating force before the Tribune sounded the hold. The troops, exhausted from several hours fighting, willingly returned to rank as their enemies beat the retreat. After ensuring that the Celts’ retreat was not a trick, the Roman command set their men to preparing camp, even after such a battle there was no let up in their defences. Medics meanwhile tended to the injured, another detail collected those Romans whose lives had ended on the battlefield for burial.

The Streinians had lost three of their party to Celtic arrows; another half dozen had taken some injury although none were serious. They tended to their own dead and injured and in the truce of twilight went onto the now quiet battlefield to retrieve what arrows and fletching they could. If this encounter was anything to go by, a fifteen percent loss could be expected in any future confrontation then it didn’t look like their life expectancy would run that far. Elke actually felt worse now than before the battle and that thought did little to help.

Already though a Roman messenger was winging his way south to hurry up the expected reinforcements.

Sargent had slept little the last few nights, the sound of the pack animals and a general feeling of unease combined to disturb his sleep. He awoke to the sound of horses, not the pack animals but a horse coming at some speed. He wasn’t alone; by the time the rider reached them everyone in the camp was awake. The messenger was more than pleased to meet a friendly party and over breakfast told them of the battle just two days since. John's heart leapt at the news, partly in expectation, partly in fear, it would not be long now before he located Elke.

Maddy Bell © 1998, 2004, 2010