The Briton Wars: Legions of Honour, #2

By Blake Patrick

He was a hero of Rome. During wars with Briton, would his heart make him question his destiny? Would he ultimately abandon his Legion?

 

When Gaius, a Roman centurion and hero, defies the empire, he finds himself ensnared in a deadly clash with his own legions. As he battles rogue Britons and confronts his haunted past, loyalty, honour, and survival are put to the ultimate test.

Will he save the village he has come to love, or will the iron fist of Rome crush everything he holds dear?

Dive into a riveting historical thriller where every decision could mean life or death.

Perfect for fans of Bernard Cornwell and Simon Scarrow.

Unveil the raw emotion, strategic genius, and relentless action in "Legions of Honour II: The Briton Wars."

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blake Patrick
• Release date: Jun 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227424044

Blake Patrick

Blake Patrick brings nearly three decades of frontline police experience to the literary world. Serving as a bastion of law and order in the UK for 29 years, Blake dedicated his career to the pursuit of justice, not only as a detective unravelling the intricate webs of criminal minds but also as a Family Liaison Officer, providing a compassionate bridge between the force and the families touched by tragedy and crime. Retiring the badge, Blake has since brandished the pen, channelling years of amassed knowledge, humanity, and street-smart wisdom into writing. Although this passion for storytelling was always a flickering flame throughout their policing career, it has only recently roared to life with the completion and publication of their works. This newfound courage to share stories comes from the very essence of a life spent in service to others and a personal milestone of triumph over the daunting vulnerability of creative expression. Blake's works are a unique blend of gritty reality and the rich, complex tapestry of human emotion, informed by an intimate understanding of crime's impact on people and society. Each narrative is not only an act of exploration but also a tribute to the resilience of the human spirit, often exploring themes that resonate deeply with readers from all walks of life. Married for 39 years, Blake's personal life is as rich and fulfilling as their professional one. Together with their spouse, they have nurtured a family that has grown to include two children and three grandchildren, creating a strong, loving foundation that has undoubtedly influenced Blake's writing. Often, it's within the animated discussions and suggestions from these family members that seeds for stories are planted. Whether it's delving into subjects of personal intrigue or taking up the gauntlet thrown by a family member's curiosity, Blake approaches writing with the same fervour and commitment once reserved for solving cases. Readers can expect a journey through pages that not only enthral but also enlighten, crafted by someone who has not only observed life from the sidelines but has been an active participant in its most challenging arenas. Blake's books promise to be a sanctuary where the thrill of the chase, the depth of human connection, and the subtleties of life's intricate narratives converge. 

Book preview

Departure From Rome

It was the year 55 AD, the marble halls of the Senate were cool, a stark contrast to the sweltering heat that gripped Rome in the height of summer. Gaius, standing tall and resolute in the sea of political machinations, felt the weight of history on his shoulders as he received the Senate's orders. The parchment, sealed with the emblem of Rome, was heavy in his hands, the ink spelling out his destiny and that of his men: Briton.

On the parchment, written in the meticulous hand of a seasoned scribe of the Senate, the orders for Gaius were both clear and commanding, a testament to the gravity of the mission bestowed upon him. The text, sealed with the wax emblem of Rome, read as follows:

To Gaius Marius Maximus, Centurion of the Eighth Legion,

By decree of the Senate and People of Rome, and under the auspices of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, you are hereby commanded to lead a campaign to the lands of Briton. Your objectives are as follows:

Secure Roman Interests: Establish and fortify positions of strategic importance along the coast and inland territories, ensuring a lasting presence that will secure the trade routes and resources vital to the Empire's prosperity.

Subdue Local Resistance: Engage with the native tribes of Briton, employing both martial prowess and diplomacy to bring them under Roman dominion. Rebellion and dissent are to be quelled with a firm hand, ensuring the stability of Roman rule.

Establish Alliances: Where possible, forge alliances with local chieftains, leveraging their influence to facilitate Roman governance. These alliances should be nurtured with respect to local customs, whilst firmly embedding Roman values and laws.

Report and Document: Maintain regular communication with Rome, providing detailed accounts of your progress, challenges encountered, and the disposition of local tribes. Your insights will be invaluable in guiding further expansion and consolidation in Briton.

This campaign is of paramount importance to the Empire's ambitions in Briton. Your proven leadership, courage, and wisdom have earned you this command. The Senate trusts in your ability to carry out these orders with the honour and efficiency befitting a servant of Rome.

May the gods favour your endeavour.

For the Senate and People of Rome

Marcus, ever present at his side, leaned in, his voice a low murmur amidst the clamour of departing senators.

So, it's Briton, he said, a wry smile playing on his lips. The edge of the world, they say. What do you think awaits us there, my friend?

Gaius turned the parchment over in his hands, considering.

Victory, he stated, but his tone belied the complexity of emotions that surged within him. Or death. Perhaps both. The memories of past campaigns, the faces of men lost and lands conquered, flickered through his mind like shadows at dusk.

The preparations for departure were a meticulous affair, the Roman legion a well-oiled machine of war. Yet, as Gaius oversaw the loading of supplies, the sharpening of swords, and the training of men, his thoughts were with the lands they were leaving behind. Rome, with its eternal promise and eternal demands, seemed both close and infinitely distant.

Marcus watched his friend, noting the faraway look in his eyes.

You're thinking about the last campaign, he ventured, the words hanging between them like a challenge.

Gaius nodded, the ghosts of battles past clinging to him like the dust of the arena.

I am, he admitted. And of those we left behind. The cost of victory was measured in more than spoils of war; it was etched in the soul of every man who survived to see the dawn.

The night before their departure, Gaius and Marcus found themselves atop one of Rome's seven hills, the city sprawling before them, a tapestry of light and shadow.

Rome will stand long after we're gone, Marcus said, his voice tinged with a sentiment rare for the soldier.

Gaius looked at his friend, the bond between them forged in the crucible of war and tempered by the years.

And what will they say of us, Marcus? That we were conquerors? Or that we were men who did what was asked of us, for the glory of Rome?

Marcus clapped Gaius on the shoulder, his smile returning.

Let's leave that to the historians. For now, we have a ship to catch and a war to win. His words cut through the night, a beacon of camaraderie and resolve.

As dawn broke, casting its golden light over Rome, Gaius and Marcus led their men to the ships that would carry them to Briton. The departure was a spectacle, the might of Rome on full display, yet Gaius's gaze was fixed on the horizon, where destiny called.

As the first rays of dawn kissed the crests of Rome’s ancient hills, the legionnaires, arrayed in the splendour of their armour, made their way to the ships. The ship that carried Gaius, Marcus, and their legion across the tempestuous seas to Briton was a robust Roman trireme, a testament to the engineering prowess and maritime ambition of Rome. Named the Aquila Imperialis, or Imperial Eagle, it was a vessel that inspired both awe and confidence in equal measure.

The Aquila Imperialis boasted a sturdy hull constructed from seasoned oak, its sides reinforced with iron cladding to withstand the assaults of both the sea and enemy weaponry. The ship's prow was adorned with a bronze ram, shaped like an eagle's beak, designed to strike fear in the hearts of adversaries and to shatter the hulls of enemy ships.

Three towering masts, each rigged with large, rectangular sails of crimson-dyed linen, captured the wind, propelling the ship forward with surprising speed for its size. Below deck, banks of oars on either side allowed for manoeuvrability in combat and progress when the winds were contrary. The oarsmen, a mix of free men and slaves, worked in shifts, their efforts synchronised to the rhythmic commands of the ship's master.

The main deck was a hive of activity, serving as the training ground for the legionnaires during their voyage. It was equipped with weapons racks holding shields, swords, and spears, allowing for drills and exercises even while at sea. The aft of the ship housed the command tent, a temporary structure where Gaius and his officers planned their strategies and poured over maps of Briton.

The Aquila Imperialis was designed to carry a complement of approximately 200 men, including sailors, oarsmen, and legionnaires. The hold below deck was stocked with supplies—grain, salted meat, fresh water in sealed amphorae, and medical supplies, among other necessities for the long journey ahead.

The ship's defences included a complement of ballistae and catapults capable of hurling stones and javelins over significant distances. Shields and armour for the crew and legionnaires were stored strategically around the deck for quick access in the event of a boarding action.

High above the deck, lookouts kept watch from a crow's nest atop the mainmast, their keen eyes searching for signs of land, enemy ships, or changes in the weather. Signals between ships in the fleet were conveyed through a combination of flags, lanterns at night, and horn blasts, ensuring coordination and command across the water.

As the flagship of Gaius's expeditionary force, the Aquila Imperialis was more than just a means of transport; it was a symbol of Rome's far-reaching power, a floating fortress that carried the hopes and fears of those it bore towards the uncertain shores of Briton.

The air was thick with the scent of salt and anticipation, the city awakening to the clamour of departure. Gaius, leading the procession, felt the eyes of Rome upon them, a silent witness to their embarkation towards destiny.

Marcus, ever the source of levity in the face of uncertainty, cast a glance over the assembled men.

I dare say we're a sight to behold, he remarked. Let's just hope the Britons appreciate the effort.

The docks teemed with activity, the Roman fleet prepared for the voyage with military precision. Supplies were checked and rechecked, the standards of Rome unfurled in the morning breeze, proud and defiant. Gaius, stepping aboard the lead ship, took a moment to survey his men, their faces a mosaic of resolve and apprehension.

This is it, he addressed them, his voice carrying over the din. The Briton Wars await us. I won't lie; what lies ahead will test us, every single one. But remember, we are Romans! We face what comes with courage and we fight not just for the glory of Rome, but for each other.

The ships set sail with the rising sun at their backs, the coast of Italy receding into the distance as they ventured into the open sea. Gaius and Marcus stood at the prow, the unspoken bond between them a steadfast anchor amidst the sea of unknowns.

The journey was not without its trials. During the sea voyage to Briton, the Roman fleet encountered a series of formidable challenges that tested the limits of both men and material. The journey, initially marked by a sense of adventure and anticipation, quickly became a trial of endurance and resolve in the face of nature's fury.

The Mediterranean and the Atlantic waters unleashed violent storms upon the fleet. Massive waves, taller than the ships themselves, crashed against the wooden hulls with terrifying force. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the tumultuous sea, while thunder roared like the gods' own battle cries. Sailors and legionnaires alike worked tirelessly to bail water, secure supplies, and maintain the integrity of their vessels.

Amidst the storms, navigation became perilous. The fleet was forced to rely on rudimentary navigational tools and the skill of their navigators. The fear of being blown off course or onto hidden rocks kept everyone on edge, with lookouts constantly scanning the horizon for signs of land or danger.

Many of the legionnaires, unaccustomed to the rolling and pitching of the ships, suffered from severe seasickness. This ailment, trivial as it might seem, sapped the strength and morale of the fighting men, leaving them weakened and vulnerable.

As the journey stretched longer than anticipated due to adverse weather conditions, supplies began to dwindle. Rationing was implemented, leading to discontent and tension among the crew and soldiers. Fresh water became a precious commodity, and the quality of the food deteriorated, leading to malnutrition and a decline in overall health.

Despite the hardships, Gaius insisted on maintaining discipline and routine. The legionnaires trained daily on the decks, their movements hampered by the swaying of the ships but undeterred in spirit. These training sessions, though challenging, were crucial in keeping the men battle-ready and focused.

The shared hardships fostered a deeper sense of camaraderie among the legionnaires. Stories, jokes, and even complaints were shared over meagre meals, strengthening the bonds of brotherhood that would be crucial in the battles to come.

The fleet was not only at the mercy of the elements but also under the threat of enemy attacks. Pirate ships, drawn by the prospect of rich plunder, occasionally harried the Roman fleet. These skirmishes, though not large in scale, were fierce and tested the combat readiness of Gaius's men. The legionnaires had to adapt quickly to fighting on the unstable platforms of the ship decks, a far cry from the battlefields they were accustomed to.

On the deck of their flagship, as another day drew to a close with the sun dipping beneath the horizon, Gaius and Marcus found a moment of respite from the relentless demands of leadership and the sea's challenges. Leaning against the ship's railing, they watched the sky bleed into shades of orange and purple, the turmoil of the journey momentarily forgotten.

Marcus, clasping his hands behind his back, a slight smile on his lips, said You know, I never imagined our paths would lead us across such tempestuous waters. Makes the battles on land seem almost... tame.

Gaius, turning his gaze from the horizon to Marcus, his expression thoughtful, replied The sea has a way of putting things into perspective. It's vast, uncontrollable, and indifferent to the ambitions of men. Yet, here we are, trying to bend it to our will, to carry us to another conquest.

Marcus, chuckling softly, Conquest... Is that what we're doing, Gaius? Or are we merely pawns in Rome's endless game of expansion?

Perhaps we are. But as pawns, we have the power to shape the board, to influence the outcome. That's what I aim to do in Briton. Not just conquer, but to understand, to build something lasting. Gaius said, his brow furrowing, the weight of command evident in his posture.

Marcus, nodding, his tone turning serious, A noble goal. But remember, the Britons will not welcome us with open arms. Our arrival brings change, and change breeds conflict, especially when I impregnate all of their good-looking women!

I'm prepared for that. I've seen too much bloodshed to expect anything less. But I've also seen what comes of endless war. If there's a chance for peace, for a different way, I have to take it. Gaius replied, looking back out to sea, his jaw set.

And I'll be with you, every step of the way. You know that, right? Through storm and battle, to the very end. Marcus playfully add, placing a hand on Gaius’s shoulder, meeting his friend’s gaze.

Gaius, offering a rare smile, the bond between them unspoken but palpable, I do. And I'm grateful for it, Marcus. More than you know.

As the night encroached, swallowing the last light of day, the two men remained at the railing, their conversation drifting to less weighty matters. Laughter and reminiscences of past campaigns filled the air, a brief escape from the uncertainty of their future. But beneath their words lay an unyielding resolve, a shared commitment to the daunting task that lay ahead.

Throughout the voyage, Gaius's leadership was paramount in keeping the fleet together and focused on their mission. His ability to make decisive actions during storms, his presence on deck alongside his men during training and battles, and his words of encouragement all served to bolster the morale of his legionnaires in the face of adversity.

As if willing the ship to the shores of Briton, the Oceanus Britannicus, behaved itself enough for the safe passage from Gesoriacum to the coast of East Anglia.

As the fleet finally sighted the shores of Briton, the trials of the sea voyage had forged the Roman soldiers into a more resilient and unified fighting force. However, the hardships endured left them weary and in need of rest, a luxury they knew would be scarce in the campaigns ahead. The sea voyage to Briton would be remembered as a testament to their endurance, a harrowing prelude to the challenges that awaited them on foreign soil.

As the coastline of Briton finally emerged on the horizon, a rugged landscape shrouded in mist, Gaius felt a stirring within him. This was the land that would define the next chapter of their lives, a realm of untold challenges and possibilities.

Marcus, gazing upon the shadowy cliffs, turned to Gaius with a grin.

Well, my friend, it seems we've arrived. Briton awaits, eager no doubt for the pleasure of our company.

Gaius returned the smile, though his thoughts were on the battles to come.

Let them come, he said, a quiet determination in his voice. We are ready.

As dawn broke over the choppy waters of the Mare Britannicum, the Roman fleet, led by the formidable Aquila Imperialis, made its approach to the mist-shrouded shores of East Anglia, or as it was known to the Romans, Anglia Orientalis. The air was thick with anticipation and the sharp tang of salt. Gaius, clad in the burnished armour of a Roman centurion, stood at the forefront of his ship, his eyes scanning the looming coastline of what modern maps call East Anglia. They aimed for a beachhead near the estuary of the river that the Britons called Wuffingas, a name derived from the local tribe known to the Romans as the Iceni.

The legion's landing near the Wuffingas estuary, close to the Iceni tribal lands, was swift. The ships cut through the surf, depositing their human cargo onto the pebbled shores near what would centuries later be known as the Suffolk coast. Gaius led the disembarkation, his mind racing with the strategies of the campaign ahead. Marcus was beside him, his presence a reassuring constant amidst the uncertainty of foreign shores.

As the fleet made landfall, the legionnaires disembarked with practiced efficiency, the shores of Briton bearing witness to the might of Rome. Gaius stood on the beach, the sand beneath his feet a promise of the trials and triumphs that lay ahead.

This was their beginning in Briton, a land that would test their mettle, forge new legends, and perhaps, in time, echo with the tales of their deeds. For Gaius and Marcus, the journey into the heart of Briton was not just a campaign; it was a quest for honour, for legacy, and for the enduring bonds of friendship that carried them into the annals of history.

First Contact

The first contact with the Britons was sudden and fierce, as they moved towards the site of Gariannonum (modern-day Burgh Castle), a strategic location desired for its commanding view of the surrounding countryside and the waterways. The skirmish set the tone for the conflict ahead, a brutal introduction to the fierce resistance the Britons would offer against the Roman advance.

In the shadowed light of dawn, the Roman legion, led by Centurion Gaius and his second-in-command, Marcus, prepared for their first engagement on the shores of Briton, near the estuary known to the locals as Wuffingas. The Romans, fresh from the sea voyage, were disciplined and ready, their formation tight as they advanced toward the treeline where the Britons, a fierce warrior tribe, were waiting.

The battle commenced with a volley of arrows from the Britons, their archers concealed within the dense foliage of the forest. The Romans raised their scuta, large rectangular shields, in unison, forming a shield wall that deflected the incoming missiles. The air was filled with the sound of wood striking wood, arrows thudding harmlessly into the Roman defences.

Gaius, understanding the need to break the deadlock, signalled the first cohort to advance. In a disciplined march, they moved forward, the rhythmic stomp of their sandals a counterpoint to the Britons' wild battle cries. As they neared the treeline, the Romans shifted formation seamlessly, transitioning into a testudo, or tortoise formation, to minimise the exposure to the arrows.

The moment the Romans reached the edge of the forest, the Britons charged. Painted warriors wielding swords, spears, and axes emerged in a rush, attempting to break the Roman formation. Gaius and Marcus were at the forefront, their swords flashing in the morning light as they met the Briton charge. The clash was brutal, the sound of metal on metal, shouts, and screams filling the air.

Gaius, a veteran of many campaigns, knew that discipline and strategy would prevail over raw fury. He ordered his legionnaires to hold their line, using short, practiced thrusts with their gladii to fend off the attackers. Meanwhile, a detachment of Roman cavalry, hidden in the folds of the terrain, swept around to flank the Britons, catching them unawares.

The cavalry charge was the turning point. The Britons, taken by surprise, found themselves attacked from the rear, causing confusion and panic. Gaius seized the moment, shouting commands that sent his men forward in a surge. The Romans, their discipline unbroken, began to push the Britons back, step by step, out of the forest and into the open where their advantage in numbers and organisation became insurmountable.

As the skirmish drew to a close, the Britons retreated, back into the forests of Anglia Orientalis, Gaius and his men took stock of their position, realising the challenges that lay ahead in subduing the spirited Iceni tribe. The land, wild and untamed, held secrets and strategies that the Romans would need to uncover to secure their foothold in this new world.

Marcus, wiping his blade clean, cast a glance at the retreating figures.

The Iceni do not yield easily, he remarked, a note of respect in his voice for their adversaries. This land, these people, they hold a strength that Rome has yet to tame.

Gaius nodded, his gaze fixed on the dense forests that bordered their landing site.

We will need to be more than conquerors here, he mused. We must become guardians of this land if we are to hold it.

The Romans, victorious but not unscathed, regrouped on the beach. Gaius took stock of their losses, his heart heavy for the men who lay still, their blood staining the stones of Briton.

In the quiet that followed, Gaius addressed his legion, his voice carrying over the ranks.

This is but the first of many challenges we will face in this land, he said, his gaze sweeping over the faces of his men. Today, you have proven your valour and your discipline. We will need both in the days to come.

Marcus, cleaning his sword, looked out over the beach, where the Roman standard now flew, a lone sentinel against the backdrop of an untamed land.

Welcome to Briton, he muttered, half to himself, half to Gaius. The gods only know what awaits us here.

As they prepared to march inland, Gaius knew that this skirmish was but a harbinger of the conflict to come. The Briton Wars had begun, and there would be no turning back.

After the tumult and chaos