Warrior: Brothers of the Sword

Book 0: Warrior

by Simon Scarrow

Genres: Historical Thrillers

Synopsis

AD 27, Britannia. After leading his men to victory in his first true battle against a neighbouring tribe, Prince Caratacus has come of age. Now, as fears grow of a Roman invasion, he proposes a daring plan: to undermine the enemy through a series of ruthless surprise raids.

Caratacus is prepared for a gruelling campaign, in the midst of a harsh winter. But those close to him are troubled by his plan to break the honoured traditional rules of tribal warfare: not only is their honour at stake, but they also fear incurring the wrath of the Druids. As Caratacus and his brothers battle their way forward in dangerous terrain, he faces a threat from within . . .

Warrior: the new series set in Britannia - the wildest reach of the Roman Empire . . . From the Sunday Times bestselling authors of Invader and Pirata.

Release date: January 19, 2023

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 80

Sample

The next few days passed swiftly, for there was much work to be done before we could begin our raids on the enemy. My first task was to inform Togodumnus of the plan and appoint him as my second in command; he received the news with a broad grin and wicked gleam in his eyes, as I knew he would.

‘We will enjoy some fine hunting, brother,’ he said, rubbing his hands expectantly. ‘Verica won’t be expecting trouble to the south. We’ll catch that bastard by surprise and give him a bloody nose.’

‘That is what I hope,’ I replied. ‘Father has agreed to provide us with his best men. You know them better than I do. Make sure that the warriors Adminius agrees to provide are of the best. Men we can trust.’

‘You think our brother would try to undermine us?’

‘When has that ever not been the case?’

‘You are right, of course. Adminius won’t want to lose his finest men, not to our party. He might even see it as an opportunity to get rid of some of his bad apples.’

‘Then we must ensure that he does not succeed.’

I left Togodumnus to deal with Adminius, and to find a suitable guide from among the existing ranks of the war-bands. At the same time I turned my attention to the issue of equipment. Many of our men preferred to carry their individual weapons, armour and shields, but these could not be taken with us since their markings would identify their bearers as Catuvellaunian warriors. I therefore ordered the tribe’s blacksmiths to fashion some plain swords to arm us, along with our spears, bows, arrows and some lead shot, giving them strict instructions not to mark their handiwork in any way. Provisions had to be obtained from the royal stores, sufficient to last our raiding party for several days until we could plunder further supplies. In addition we needed hunting equipment, beer and the thicker cloaks that could allow us to pass for Silurians.

By now it was the end of the harvest season, the time we call the first days of the darkening, when the nights close in and Lud opens the gates to the Otherworld so that the souls of our dead kin may join him. Our tribe lit massive fires and made sacrifices to ward off the dark spirits who escape Lud’s domain and roam freely through our lands. The farmers slaughtered their livestock, and after the Druids had made the offerings to the gods the supplies of grain were stored in pits for the winter months. In the evening there was a great feast at the hall, with dog fights and roasted piglets distributed to the guests and much drinking. Places were laid at the trestle tables for our dead comrades. Bellocatus claimed the hero’s portion after winning an entertaining contest against one of his cousins.

The next afternoon, the fifty men chosen for our raiding party were summoned by Togodumnus to one side of the royal compound. I explained that we would be departing the following morning to ride north for a few months to buy remounts from the Brigantes, so that they might pass this fabrication on to their families and friends and so misdirect any spies. Each warrior was instructed to present himself at first light at the main gate with his horse and saddlebags.

We made our farewells the next morning and rode away, heading north. After we had ridden for a few miles we halted at the edge of a clearing and the men were issued with their weapons, equipment and provisions: waterskins, drab tunics and black leggings in the style of the Silurian tribes, and haversacks filled with rations.

It was a fine autumn day with a clear blue sky and a brisk breeze that tugged at our woollen cloaks as I ordered the warriors to gather round. Togodumnus stood to my side, his muscular arms folded across his chest as I prepared to address the men.

‘My brothers,’ I began, intimating the kind of bond I wished to foster. ‘I have called you here today for a mission of vital importance to our king and our people. Our journey will not take us to the Brigantes. Instead, we shall travel south, to the lands of our enemies. This service will require great sacrifice and hardship from each of you, but it is vital that we succeed. The fate of our tribe depends on it.’

They stared at me with a mixture of surprise and eager anticipation. These were powerfully built men in the prime of life. Many of them belonged to Adminius’s war-band. Others came from the king’s personal bodyguard. These were the toughest warriors in Camulodunum, highly trained swordsmen with many years of fighting experience between them.

Almost all of the warriors were older than me. That was a problem, I reflected: these veterans had spent years training in their war-bands, mastering the traditional fighting tactics of our tribespeople. Persuading them of the necessity of waging a dishonourable war against the Atrebates would not be easy. I would have to appeal to their sense of loyalty to their king, and the deep bond every true Celtic warrior feels to his tribe and the spirits of his ancestors.

‘I will be blunt with you,’ I said. ‘The future of our people hangs by a thread. The war we must fight against the Atrebates is the great test of our age. If we are defeated then all the glory my father, our king, has won for the Catuvellaunian people will be scattered to the four winds. No longer will other tribes look to us for leadership and we will, instead, become the vassals of Verica and the Atrebates . . .’

I paused and looked round at the men. Several of them shook their heads and muttered foul curses under their breath.

‘I can think of no greater humiliation than being subject to a ruler whose sense of honour is lower than the belly of a serpent,’ I continued. ‘I would fight to my dying breath to avoid such a fate. And I would fight with the deadliest tools that are available to me. Sometimes in war, the greatest sacrifice is overlooked by those who relate the sagas to the generations to come. But that does not diminish the role of great deeds.

‘It may be t. . .