Warrior: The War Prince

Book 0: Warrior

by Simon Scarrow

Genres: Historical Thrillers

Synopsis

Be one of the first readers to get WARRIOR! Available first in five thrilling stand-alone episodes, or you can wait to buy the complete novel in 2023, price TBC.

AD 61, Rome. Felicitus, a young historian, agrees to meet the old warlord Caratacus in a city tavern, in order to hear the old king's story. But Felicitus is wary. Because to write the history of the Empire's enemy is to play a dangerous game . . .

AD 26, Rome. After nearly eight years training under the Druids, Caratacus - now a powerful young warrior - abruptly summoned back home to his father's kingdom. The heir to a contested neighbouring land has mysteriously died, and a crisis is brewing. On his arrival, Caratacus finds his father struggling to balance the competing, Roman and British, influences in his tribe . . . and within his family.

When Caratacus' Celts discover corruption and bribery at the heart of the crisis, a bitter fight breaks out. Caratacus and his band just manage to escape: but they know that the real battle against outer forces has only just begun . . .

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: December 8, 2022

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 80

Sample

On the fifth day, we reached the old tribal capital at Verlamion. The settlement occupied a plateau overlooking a low valley by the river, partially enclosed by a series of steep grassy banks topped with a low stockade. Outside the imposing earthworks, the landscape was studded with isolated farmsteads and cattle. Further away, beyond the thickly wooded valleys surrounding the plateau, I could see the faint outline of the fortress where King Cassivellaunus had once made his defiant stand against Caesar’s legions. It had stood empty ever since, a ghostly reminder of that fearful time when Rome had threatened to overrun the tribes of Britannia. I always felt a chill whenever I set eyes on that place.

Although it was no longer the seat of power of our tribe, Verlamion had continued to flourish in the years after my father had moved the royal court east to Camulodunum, benefiting from its strategic position on the main trade routes. The nobility had grown rich from the tax on goods passing through the valley, but the looming threat of war with Verica had provoked unease amongst the townsfolk and the settlement was in a state of panic.

Their anxiety was understandable. If Moricanus and his Atrebatan allies succeeded in their claim, they would gain control of the lucrative flow of trade along the Tamesis. The Atrebates could then cut off the supply of goods to Verlamion, or even attempt to take the camp by force. The capture of our former tribal stronghold would be a significant victory for the Atrebates. From Verlamion, they could launch raids deep into our territory, perhaps even threatening Camulodunum itself.

I tried to shake off this gloomy train of thought as we set off again the next morning. Bladocus left us to join his fellow council members in Lhandain, while the rest of our party continued towards Camulodunum. Two days later we arrived at the great capital of our tribe. A pair of guards greeted us in front of the outer ditch and led us through the timber gateway into the sprawling settlement. As we dismounted, I noticed a miserable-looking crowd occupying the ground in front of the royal stables. Some of them had erected crude tents; others lay on beds of bracken and rushes. A group of them stared at us, talking amongst themselves in muted voices. They cut a pitiful sight. I saw mothers comforting their wailing infants, scrawny children dressed in tattered rags.

Epaticcus beckoned to one of the guards standing near the gatehouse, a short, stocky warrior dressed in bright-blue leggings, who marched over and dipped his head before him in greeting. ‘Yes, lord?’

‘Who are these people?’ Epaticcus asked, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the bedraggled multitude in front of the stables.

‘Refugees, lord,’ the guard said. ‘From Lhandain.’

‘What are they doing here?’

The guard looked at us in surprise. ‘Haven’t you heard the news? Moricanus has booted the Catuvellaunians out of Lhandain. We’ve had hundreds of the buggers arriving over the past few days. The locals aren’t too happy, as you can imagine.’

My uncle clenched his jaw. ‘That bastard Moricanus . . . Most of these people have lived in Lhandain for generations.’

The guard shrugged. ‘I’m just telling you what I know, my lord.’

‘How did Moricanus manage to turf all these people out of their homes?’ I asked. ‘I wouldn’t have thought he’d have enough men for the job.’

‘Verica sent one of his war-bands up to Lhandain. To protect the independence of the settlement, he claimed.’ The guard spat with contempt. ‘His men seized the lands of everyone with Catuvellaunian blood and ordered them to leave at once.’

‘And those who refused?’

‘Put to death, so I heard.’

‘Where’s the king now?’ Epaticcus asked.

The man pointed towards a separate enclosure at the far end of the settlement. ‘The royal compound, lord.’

We left our mounts with the warriors from my father’s bodyguard and set off down the rough track leading through the settlement. Camulodunum had changed in the years since I had left to train with the Druids. Ramshackle taverns had been erected in the filthy alleys between the densely packed roundhouses. There were many more warriors present than usual, seated on the benches outside the drinking establishments, laughing and arguing with each other as they passed round jugs of wine, while others gambled their possessions on games of dice. A line of timber warehouses and workshops stretched along the bank of the river, while a team of slaves unloaded goods from several moored boats. A bustling marketplace offered Roman goods to those who wished to indulge their appetite for foreign wine or fine cloth. Close by, on the fringes of the settlement, stood a cluster of dwellings belonging to the handful of traders who had recently settled in our territory.

We strode past the taverns towards the large compound at the far end of the town. The guards waved us through the gateway before resuming their idle chatter. I followed Epaticcus into the great hall, and we marched briskly past the rows of empty trestle tables and headed straight for the doorway at the far end of the cavernous space. A series of splintering cracks and thuds filled the air as we emerged into the training area behind the hall. To the left, a dozen or so warriors from my father’s royal bodyguard practised at the wooden posts, delivering vicious hacks and slashes with their long swords. My father stood close by, flanked by his advisers and nobles. As we drew nearer, one of his aides glanced in our direction and pointed us out to my father. The King of the Catuvellaunians abruptly turned away from the training ground and moved forward to greet me, shadowed by his entourage. A smile beamed across his face.

‘Caratacus! My son. Welcome home.’

As he approached I was struck by how much older my father looked. The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes were more prominent now, and his beard was more white than grey. But the cold blue eyes were still as restless and calculating as ever. I noticed a pair of youths standing dutifully at his side. The older boy looked no older than ten or eleven. He was pale-skinned, with round freckled cheeks and bright blue eyes. The other child was two or three years younger. He had fair curly hair, and he wore a silver charm around his neck. They both watched me keenly as I bowed before the king.

‘Hello, Father.’

Cunobelinus gripped my shoulders and took in my appearance. ‘You look well, my boy. Lean, but tough. By Lud, I hardly recognise you. You’ve become quite the man since I last saw you.’

‘Thank you, Father.’

‘How was your journey?’ he asked in the gruff tone he always used when addressing his children.

I shared a quick look with Epaticcus. ‘Uneventful.’

‘Good, good.’ My father looked tired, I thought. ‘I’m told that you thrived in your studies under the Druids,’ he said. ‘An initiate of the first ring, no less.’

I said that was so, and my father nodded. ‘Your mother would have been proud. She was always a devoted follower of the ways of the Druids, as you know.’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘Perhaps your achievements will inspire these lads to greater efforts.’ He placed a hand on the shoulder of the freckly boy. ‘You remember Maridius? He’s become a strong young fellow now. And Vodenius, too,’ he added, gesturing towards the younger boy.

The last time I had seen my little brothers, they had been mere infants. They regarded me shyly and I smiled warmly at them. ‘Hello, my brothers.’

‘I assume your uncle has explained the reasons for your return to us,’ my father said, changing the subject. ‘I imagine you were reluctant to abandon your studies, but you must understand the urgency of the situation in Lhandain. A remote Druid sanctuary is no place for a prince at such a critical time.’

‘Looks like things have got worse since I left.’ Epaticcus waved in the direction of the stables and the people camped out in the open.

‘Yes.’ My father grimaced. ‘It seems Verica is determined to expel any dissenting elements from Lhandain.’

‘We should make him pay for that,’ Epaticcus said. ‘Him and that backstabbing prick, Moricanus. They cannot be allowed to get away with treating our people like dogs.’

My father shot him a dark look. ‘We will look to the Druids to resolve this situation, brother. As we have discussed.’

‘Yes, sire.’

As he spoke a sinewy figure swaggered over from the direction of the training ground. His bare torso rippled with honed muscle and his light brown hair hung down in thick braids about his broad shoulders. Sweat glossed his body. He stood taller than me by a few inches, I noted. I recognised him at once, despite the long years I had spent away from my family.

‘Togodumnus!’ I cried.

My younger brother grinned. ‘By the gods of the Otherworld. Caratacus! It’s. . .