The Last Centurion Read online

  The Last Centurion

  By Lawrence Hebb

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE LAST CENTURION

  First edition. July 2, 2023.

  Copyright © 2023 Lawrence Hebb.

  Written by Lawrence Hebb.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  The Last Centurion (The Saxon Chronicles, #1)

  I | Roman province of Britannia inferior (Northern Britain). | Septentrious Oceanus (The North Sea coast) | 409 A.D.

  II | Aboard the ships | Preperation

  III | Roman Forum of Salvum (A Roman village) on the coast

  IV | The Farm of Aethelwolf, a retired Roman Centurion | Two miles west of Savum

  V | Farm of Aethelwolf (Wolf). Flight

  VI | Salvum harbour, Later that day.

  VII | On the run from the Saxons

  VIII | The fortified Villa of Marcus Flavius Marcinius.

  IX | Preperations

  X | Roman Villa outside Salvum

  XI | Salvum.

  XII | Salvum

  XIII | Marcus’ fortified villa, just outside Salvum

  XIV | Escaping the village

  XV | Saxon Camp at Salvum

  XVI | The Stone circle outside Salvum

  XVII | The Stone circle

  XVIII | Leaving the circle

  XIX | The fortified Villa

  XX | Attacking the villa.

  XXI | Marcus’ escape

  XXII | Covum

  XXIII | The husk of the villa

  XXIV | Calvum

  XXV

  XXVI

  XXVII | Fleeing the enemy

  XXVIII | The Saxon camp

  XXIX | Wolf’s party

  XXX | Castrum

  XXXI

  XXXII

  XXXIII | At Castrum

  XXXIV | Marcus On the run

  XXXV | Marcus, getting back in the fight

  XXXVI | Castrum, Wolf prepares to leave

  XXXVII | Moving out

  XXXVIII | Marcus

  XXXIX | The Saxon camp

  XL | Wolf’s plan

  XLI | Raid

  XLII | Runuing

  XLIII

  XLIV | Gaius at the makeshift camp

  XLV | The Saxon camp

  XLVI

  Gaius’ makeshift camp

  XLVII

  XLVIII | Gaius’ instructions

  XLIX | Rendezvous

  L | Pursuing the Romans

  LI

  LII | Gaius joins the fight

  LIII | Aftermath

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  Also By Lawrence Hebb

  About the Publisher

  Before we begin

  I just want to tell you about a great offer that I have for you.

  If you enjoy this novel, then stick around at the end as I’ve got a great offer that you’ll love. How would you like a free book?

  If you’re saying “Yes”then stick around at the end and take a look at the offer I make.

  Anyway, on with the story.

  I

  Roman province of Britannia inferior (Northern Britain).

  Septentrious Oceanus (The North Sea coast)

  409 A.D.

  The battered old ship had seen better days. Her paint, which was once a bright gold, had long since faded to a dirty yellow as the years wore her down. She had plowed the routes along the coast of the Septentrious Oceanus (the North Sea) many times before. Often going as far as the very northernmost outposts of the civilised world. But this ship was a relic of a long past era,the era pf the oar. When ships moved by the power of the oar. She was a bireme, with two banks of twenty oars on an upper and lower deck lining each side of the ship. Eighty oars in total. She was one of the few left over from the time of the war galley. Her one concession to the modern era was the single mast and sail that helped to drive her, but only when the winds were blowing.

  The old ship plodded on as she moved her goods up and down the coast. Often going as far as the very northernmost point of Caledonia. Deep inside the territory that belonged to the heathen barbarians.

  She was returning from there now, but her crew. the crew she’d sailed with, weren’t with her anymore. Not that it matters what happened to them. The slaves that normally manned her oars and powered the vessel had been replaced by her new owners. She had a different crew now, and they were counting on her being a familiar sight where they were heading. There was no sign of the grisly end that had come to the first crew a few days before. Even the slaves hadn’t been allowed to survive.

  For this trip though, the slaves that would normally pull at her oars, and be driven by a merciless gang of ten or more men with whips driving the slaves to the point of near death had been replaced with unshackled, fit, healthy warriors. They were eager for the adventure that awaited them. They were also ruthless killers waiting for the opportunity to take loot and kill, especially to kill. Eighty men, fully armed and waiting, eagerly expecting what they hoped came next, bloodlust could already be seen in their eyes.

  The sun was just descending over the horizon when they came into sight of the land. The sun’s outer rim just touched the tops of the hills as the oarsmen pulled at their oars.

  “Stow the oars, sheet in” The order was given as soon as land was sighted. Like all ships of the era, she had one mainsail that was used for speed, it was known as a ‘sheet’ as that’s exactly what it was, a sheet of heavy canvas. But the mainsail, or sheet wasn't that great for steering, besides, it wasn’t time for the big bireme to close in. She wouldn’t be making the first entry, that was for the smaller craft that traveled in her wake. The men on the bireme would have their fun later. The smaller ship had been secured to her stern for the crossing, now they were being cut free to do their work.

  “Time for you lazy sons of mine to earn your keep” The man standing on the main deck leaned over and addressed the two younger men, handling the tiller of the smaller boat, a longboat. He was half laughing, but even as he said it, he knew they’d perform well. “You know what to do, and you know the signal, we’ll be waiting.” With that, he turned and carried on giving orders to his own crew.

  On their signal, the men sat on the oar benches of the longboat threaded their oars out, and used them to push off from the larger vessel.

  As soon as they were clear of the boat the longboat unfurled its single sail and shipped their oars. It was time to rest the men for the last part of the journey, not that they needed rest. Everyone was ready and eager, nerves on edge, waiting for the start of the adventure. So far, there was no sign that the people on shore knew what was coming. The wind caught the sail and gently increased their speed as they headed for land.

  II

  Aboard the ships

  Preperation

  “You’d think they’d have a lookout at least '' the younger of the two men said while smiling, though it wouldn't have been easy to tell. The heavy blonde beard covered most of the lower half of his face. Couple that with the long blonde hair and you had the terrifying sight that the people of the land would come to dread. That of the barbarian raider.

  The sun hadn’t dipped far enough for the shadows to envelop everything yet, and they could still see the outline of the harbour.

  The small fort at the mouth of the harbour was supposed to be there to protect the village, but the defences were so run down that even the sight of it looked pathetic. The raiders had good intelligence about the fort and its lack of defences.

  “Lief, my brother, you forget. They’re expecting friends, not us!” The older of the two replied laughing, but in the fading light, the smile on his face at the end appeared sinister. Both were big men with long flowing blonde hair and full beards. “They think they know the crew of this ship," he said, patting the rails in front of him. "They’re not expecting strangers.” He turned and smiled again.

  Eric was the older of the two. He and Lief were sons of Knut Longbeard, King of the men of Daina across the sea. A fierce and warlike people from the savage north, a land that was beyond the boundaries of the Empire even when Rome was at its most powerful.

  “As soon as it’s dark, I'll take the boats in and deal with the fort” Eric pointed to one of the two the longboat was carrying, his men were manhandling it over the side of the ship. Eric knew Lief already knew his role in the plan, it had been both of theirs. “You wait for my signal”

  The boats weren't large, just big enough for eight oarsmen and a helmsman. They were known as smaller craft or 'fierkeping' in their native Norse tongue. The two men were speaking Latin but throwing in the odd Norse word when they couldn’t find the right Latin word or equivalent. It was a language they'd learned from slaves taken from settlements on previous raids, but this time it was no raid. They had other ideas.

  “You need to speak their language,” their father Knut, had told them frequently, “if only to know what your slaves are planning” Knut had roared with laughter at his own joke, but then became serious, “and one day, we’ll have their entire world as our slaves!”

  Mostly, when the Norsemen, or Saxons raided, no one was left to tell the tale. Everyone in the north of the Empire feared them, but what wasn’t known was that Knut often took prisoners as slaves. A few of the educated ones had taught his sons the language of the Romans, but after that a fate worse than death itself awaited them.
The others started their slavery by praying for death.

  “I know brother, and once we have the port, I'll send the other fierkeping with the first light. The rest of our fleet will be here by nightfall the day after," Lief replied as Eric clambered into his boat. The men soon followed him.

  The first boat was in the water and the men were climbing in, others were passing weapons and oars to them, ready for moving off. Eric was the last to climb into the boat.

  "May the god Loki go with you" Lief said as Eric's men pushed away.

  "Keep that deceiving swine away," Eric retorted, "Thor will be more useful, but I doubt even he won't bother showing up."

  It took the two small fierkiping most of the night to get to where they needed to be. The bireme was too big for what they needed to do. The shallow rocks close to the water’s edge would wreck her before they got close enough to wade ashore. Even the longboat, with it’s shallow draft that would have made the approach easily was too big and would have been seen. The sight of her would have led to panic as the people were familiar with the sight of the terrifying raider type ship, but no one would see a small fierkiping slip ashore.

  Two of the men from each boat slid into the water as soon as the bottoms of each boat grazed the rocks underneath. The water came up to the top of their thighs, but the tide was low and still going out. But it would turn soon.

  The splash of the waves lapping against the rocks disguised any noise they made. All the sentries on the fort’s walls could hear were the waves breaking on the rocks below them. They ignored the sound. That was a mistake.

  "How many are in the fort?" One of his men whispered. Eric wasn't sure who asked, but the voice sounded like Olaf, the youngest in the war-band. Olaf was really not much more than a boy. This was his first time on a raid, a time to prove to the war-band that he was a true warrior.

  "Don't know exactly how many," Eric whispered a reply calming the boy’s nerves. "They used to have about eighty, but last time our scouts said maybe ten, with a runner to round up the reserves if they need them, and tonight they'll need them, but hopefully won't know that until it's too late."

  As soon as they were in the water, two men from each boat held their boat steady while the rest slipped over the side.

  "SKITR, that's cold" another voice, Sorgren, better known as Sorgren the beiskaldi or ‘whinger,’ whispered.

  "You'll be even colder if I stick my fist down your throat!" Eric hissed back, "Now stay silent and get on with the job!" No one else spoke.

  Lifting the boats out of the water, they carried them up above the high tide mark and silently lowered them. They weren't worried about them being found, no one was out on the beach and no one from the fort could see them even if they knew where to look.

  The next thing they did was to give the signal for Lief to bring the longboat in

  The fort was old. It had been built centuries ago to provide for a garrison in the village. Built in a time when Rome could afford to protect her frontiers, but those days were long gone. There was still a small garrison. Ten auxiliaries from the local command. But villages were expected to provide their own protection. A militia of sorts, and Salvum’s militia were mostly farmers, many of whom were retired soldiers from the legions, but no one seriously expected to be attacked. They were in for a nasty surprise.

  Eric and his men had landed under a small cliff that wasn't quite vertical. An experienced climber would scale it with no ropes, and they were all experienced. Eric led the way up the rockface as they began their ascent.

  Just below the top of the wall, Eric paused. Everyone who was following him slowly pulled themselves closer into the slope, waiting for their leader to make his move. Snoring could be heard coming from the battlements, but did they have dogs? He waited, listening for a bark, but they heard nothing. Maybe the hounds were asleep? They’d find out in the next few minutes.

  Dogs are better guards than humans. Their snouts can pick up the smell of people from miles away. The advantage for using them was they would be downwind of Eric, and the breeze was coming in from the sea. Any animal with the sentries would be in the right place to scent them. They also have a heightened hearing and can wake instantly at the slightest sound from much further away than a human can.

  Eric stayed there frozen for what felt like an eternity. He listened intently for the slightest sound that would show someone or something was awake. No such sound came.

  He carried two weapons around his waist. On his left, able to be drawn with his right hand, was Odin's tongue. Every Saxon gave his blades a name, and he was no different. Odin’s tongue was his longsword. On his right was Freia, his dagger. Named after the Norse goddess of love, sex and war. It was appropriate that he honoured her by naming his favourite weapon after her. He drew Freia and advanced with a crouching style of run.

  The guards didn’t have the feared beasts and were asleep on duty. A crime they would pay for with their lives. If they were in his war-band, it would have been a slow and painful death, but this one would be quick and relatively painless. But more importantly, it would be silent.

  Eric pushed Freia into the back of the neck until he knew he’d disconnected the skull from the spinal column, the guard was dead but didn’t yet know it.

  The guard had been sitting leaning against the wall, making it look as if he was awake. “Do your dance my girl” Eric whispered as he wiggled the dagger to make sure the spinal column was properly severed. The man’s eyes flew open as his body jerked involuntarily, and the nerves disconnected from the head. But Eric held the man’s head firmly. He only letting go once he knew the spinal column was severed. Experience told him there was no chance of the man screaming or being able to raise the alarm.

  There was enough light from the Moon to see the terror in the man's eyes, now fully awake and knowing exactly what was going on, yet physically unable to move or do anything to warn the others of their impending doom.

  The rest of his men moved silently past the dying guard. Eric had already moved on and was despatching the next one.

  Just below the battlement was the guard sleeping quarters. They could hear the other men sleeping there, but now that all twenty of his men were in the fort the need for stealth vanished.

  The door of the first house flew open as three axe-wielding warriors burst into the room. The first one swinging his axe in a large arc. The other two men followed a second later, swords drawn. The sleeping men stood no chance. It wasn't even a fight let alone a fair one. Within the time to take three paces all five inside were dead, mostly cut in half by the axes.

  "Wha?" The guard commander didn't get the chance to finish his question as the warrior’s axe embedded itself in the man’s neck, a second blow removed the head completly. The head rolled on the floor before the body dropped. The warrior kicked it and sent the severed head flying towards the gate. A woman's scream was heard from inside the commander's hut. One of the men stepped inside and the scream got louder before stopping suddenly, but not before they heard the familiar thunk of an axe blade embedding itself into flesh, they heard the sound twice.

  "HEAD FOR THE GATE" Eric screamed at Olaf and Sorgren as he ran along the battlements, "I'll send the signal"

  There were still two more auxiliaries at the gate. They didn't even try to defend their position, both men dropped their shields and ran.

  "RAIDERS, RUN FOR THE HILLS!" The two deserters ran through the village screaming. A couple of farm dogs started barking. One of the fleeing guards tripped over something. He didn't even slow down, just stumbled and kept going.

  "Quae est infernum (what the hell)?" One of the villagers poked his head out of the window of his hut. "What in the name of the gods are you on about?"

  "Raiders have landed, hundreds of ‘em!" The guard was panicking. "They've killed everyone at the fort. RUN" People were beginning to gather. A few men were half-dressed and carrying farm tools, that's all they had.

  "How many are there?" The village elder shouted. He was the same man who’d poked his head out of the window and cussed the panicking guard.