Free In the Shadow of the Wall by Gordon Anthony Page B

and ate the dried oatmeal biscuits they were becoming used to. “I don’t suppose we’ll be celebrating, though.”
    Brude wondered how Frual knew it was Lughnasa; he had lost all track of time. He also wondered how Broch Tava would celebrate the summer festival this year when so many of their warriors were dead or captured.
    The march went on, much further than the trek they had made from Broch Tava to the Wall, yet the going was faster for the Roman roads allowed them to cover long distances easily. Brude noticed small stone markers at the roadside every so often; strange, unfamiliar symbols scratched on them. He supposed they marked some sort of holy place but on a much smaller scale than the high-standing stones the Pritani used.
    Day after day they marched, the Romans never allowing them any chance of escape. Brude whispered to Frual and some others that he thought they should try to overpower the guards one night, even if it meant all of them attacking in unison because of the restricting coffle. Nobody greeted his suggestion with any enthusiasm. “Where would you run to?” one man asked. “Even if you could get out of the chains, you’d soon get caught again.”
    “I heard they kill runaway slaves,” said another man gloomily.
    Drugh told Brude to forget his plan and the march went on.
    As they travelled further south the towns grew larger and became more prosperous. Brude marvelled at the sight of enormous buildings built of stone and brick, or even gleaming marble; some with huge round columns supporting triangular cornices decorated with incredibly lifelike painted statues. They made Broch Tava seem crude in comparison. And as they were marched through the towns they heard the people muttering and pointing, calling them “Picti” when they saw the blue painted designs on their faces and bodies. The paint was fading, its bright colour lost, but was still clearly visible, still marking them as Pritani warriors.
    After eighteen days they reached the biggest settlement Brude had ever seen. He heard the Roman soldiers call it Londinium although that meant nothing to him. After an overnight stay, locked in a large storehouse, they were shepherded out to the river where the wharves teemed with people and noise. They were marched onto a huge wooden boat, where they were shackled in the hold. Even Frual, who was a good sailor and knew his way round boats, had never seen a boat as large as this. Other slaves were brought in and shackled alongside them, including some women and children. When they thought the guards were far enough away, they exchanged whispered words and learned that most of the newcomers were of the tribe of the Brigantes who lived south of the Wall but had never sat easily under Roman rule. One of them whispered to Frual that the Romans were struggling to keep the Brigantes under control as most of their soldiers were across the sea, following the Governor of Britannia who had proclaimed himself emperor and gone off to fight the other claimant to the imperial throne. “It didn’t do us much good, though,” the man conceded. “They stomped on us pretty hard.”
    “ Rome has two emperors?” Brude asked him.
    The man laughed. “Not for too long, I expect. One of them will kill the other one tually.”
    The voyage was a misery of darkness and terror as the ship pitched and rolled its way down the wide river and out to sea. Brude, like many of the others, was sick but had no choice except to lie there, filthy and stinking, praying for the awful movement to stop. When it finally did, they were all led up on to the deck where they were told to clean themselves up as best they could before being led off through the busy harbour town and out again onto a road for yet more walking.
    The summer sun was hot, hotter than the Boresti were used to. They suffered in the heat, as did some of the children who were treated no differently to the adults by the guards. These men were not dressed as soldiers but