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1.
It was growing dark when the order came
That the next day we must march,
But we joked about it all the same
As we drank beneath the arch.
For a Roman soldier never fears
A duty he can't shirk,
And with wine in hand he mocks and jeers
At dangers which might lurk
Yet if truth be told we had cause to doubt
That we'd really have to go.
For in camp we'd seen the summer out
And the air now smelled of snow.
We'd heard such orders previously
And prepared to no avail,
When our General found bad augury
Within the hen’s entrail.
So we sat and drank and made great play
Of the ways of the painted men,
And we boasted loudly of the day
When we'd rough them up again.
For it's safe to mock the painted hordes
When you're south of Hadrian's Wall
When the fortress strength of Roman swords
Still hold the Pict in thrall.
But how different, as we soon would learn,
To be out there in the cold
As they spring up from the orange fern
Bright painted and right bold.
Yet that all seemed so far away
As the wine gourds lost their shape,
And common sense grew feet of clay
In the ferment of the grape.
Beneath the arch we sang and played
With the girls who loved us so;
For we saw no cause to be afraid -
When we wouldn't have to go.
Yet we led them on with tales of war,
That this might be our end.
And we caused, just as so oft before,
Their chastity to bend.
There's nought so powerful a spur
To tempt a wench to bed
Than the courage of a warrior
Who boasts he'll soon be dead.
So thus we used our soldier's arts
To serve our baser aims,
As we plucked upon our wenches' hearts
And played our lusty games.
Right wild we wenched the night away
In pleasure and in laughter
Until the black sky turned to grey
And dawn came creeping after.
Then, just when in our weary heads
Bacchantic hammers pounded
As we stumbled blindly to our beds,
The rallying trumpets sounded.
There's no more sobering a sound
To end a good night's revels
Than to hear confirmed that the Legion’s bound
For the land of the painted devils.
Oh, it's great to be a legionnaire
And to serve Imperial Caesar
So long as it requires no more
Than to play the brave appeaser.
But when among the morning mists
You're told that you must fight,
With bloodshot eyes and clenchéd fists
You curse proud Caesar's might.
And so it was, that fateful dawn,
Our General gave the order
That at the sounding of the horn
We’d march towards the Border.
With such short time for sorting out
And gathering what we'd need
Right loud did our Centurion shout
For us to show some speed.
Nor were we helped in making haste
By the long night's lack of sleep
Nor aided by the lingering taste
Of the wine we'd supped too deep.
About our heads it rained and rained
In drizzle soft and steady,
As disciplined we strove and strained
To make sure all was ready.
And by mid-morn we stood prepared
Resplendent on parade;
Yet each the other’s secret shared
That each one was afraid.
Our General strode along the line
And stared into our eyes
As if to search for any sign
Of fear he could chastise.
Then standing brandishing his sword
He raised his steely voice:
"Brave soldiers of our Roman Lord
Today we can rejoice.
"Despite disgrace of yesteryear
To us is given the chance
To shed at last our bonds of fear
And once more to advance.
"Now swift of limb and sharp of claw
We will erase the shame,
And to our Legion's roll restore
Its great and glorious name.
"So follow me with heads held high,
It’s time that we were gone,
Determined that we'll win or die
In the fields of Caledon."
Ignoring the cold hand of dread
From camp we sallied forth.
With golden eagle at our head
We made march to the North.
With polished armour flashing bright
Against the leaden sky
We cut a proud and awesome sight
To every watching eye.
The local populace turned out
And cheered to see us go
But whether they were pleased or not
I guess we'll never know.
And yet our hearts were filled with pride.
It's hard not to be moved
By the stirring beat of the marching stride
And of courage to be proved.
Yet little did our minds surmise
As we marched out to war
That these would be our last goodbyes;
That we'd return no more.
2.
A Legion's history is its heart
And ours was far from bright.
For seventy years we'd played our part
Maintaining Roman might.
But fame is won in victory,
Not built on sad defeat.
And shameful was the history
Of our Colchester retreat.
Quintus Petillius Cerial
Went on to win great fame,
But those he left for burial
Were those who took the blame.
The truth - which we would rather hide -
When Boudicca revolted
Is that the Ninth was swept aside
And that Petillius bolted.
But that was seventy years ago.
Since when the Ninth was mended,
Posted to York to check the foe
And see the realm defended.
For those who are as young as me
It's hard to feel ashamed
Of bygone actions for which we
At least cannot be blamed.
Yet we were made to feel that shame
As it were yesterday,
For to regain a Legion's name
Needs victory in the fray,
And despite the years of grinding work,
On frontier patrol,
Two generations based at York
Had not achieved that goal.
Though this was all before my day
Passed down in soldiers' prattle,
We knew we'd only sweep away
That shame in bloody battle.
Of course, over the years at York,
The Legion had seen fighting
But nothing to make poets talk
Or set historians writing.
Thus as we marched, though touched by dread,
There grew the hope inside us
That Mars would in the days ahead
The chance to fight provide us.
For it is true that soldiers dream
When they set out for war.
And we each dreamed the selfsame dream;
Our honour we'd restore.
3.
The first few miles passed easily by
Beneath the drizzling rain
Which cooled the brow and cleared the eye
And soothed the throbbing pain.
For a mix of hope and fear and pride
Produce a powerful brew
To drive legs on with measured stride
And to make hearts firm and true.
With every mile our spirits soared,
Our every step seemed lighter,
And as we marched the songs we roared
Did make the day seem brighter.
The road we took was paved and fast
Leading to Hadrian's line
And the countryside through which we passed
Seemed peaceful and benign.
Our column was an awesome sight
As we crossed the river Swale.
And we stopped at Catterick for the night
To rest from our travail.
We woke well freshened by our sleep
To the sound of the bugle's call,
And before the shepherd checks his sheep
We marched on to the Wall.
On every side we sought to prove
That there's nought more awe-inspiring
Than a Roman Legion on the move;
Not slowing, never tiring.
One thousand glittering fighting men,
We moved ahead as one
Looking as disciplined and keen
As when we'd first begun.
One half-mile did our column stretch
From first man to the last,
And ten full minutes it took to watch
The Ninth Legion march past.
At length the ground began to rise;
Again the rain did fall.
And as dark clouds raced across the skies
We reached the famous Wall.
Its new stone shone out stark and proud
As it ran from coast to coast,
And the sound of our cheers rang clear and loud
When we reached the sentry post.
But even as we marvelled at
This feat of engineering
We each of us suspected that
Our own great test was nearing.
For the wall marked the end of the peaceful lands
And the hills in front were beckoning
For there we’d find the painted bands
Which would bring our day of reckoning.
Not, of course, that the land ahead
Was new to Roman Legions.
Agricola, now long since dead,
Once ruled its furthest regions.
Good roads and forts were established there
At the time of Antonine,
And Roman garrisons stationed here
Kept order down the line.
But recently the native folk
Of the land of Caledon
Had sought release from the Roman yoke,
Demanding we be gone.
Our orders simply were to fill
And help to garrison
The fort beneath the three-peaked hill
They called Trimontium.
If we had to enter hostile ground
To serve our Empire's need,
Then a nicer camp could not be found
Than that beside the Tweed.
Companions who’d been stationed there
Before returning south
Praised it in adjectives most rare
From a hardened soldier's mouth.
Our journey there would take two days
On a road both hard and straight,
And our spirits firmed in the morning haze
As we marched to meet our fate.
As we left the shelter of the Wall
Not a single man looked back
Though deep within the hearts of all
The whip of doubt did crack.
But we faced the front and marched as one
As we sung of victory,
And our backs were warmed by the autumn sun
As the Roman miles rolled by.
By midday we had reached the moors
Where bracken's scent lay sweet
As it mingled with the toadstool spores
And the pungent smell of peat.
The Roman road stretched out ahead
As the slope began to rise,
Still the discipline within us hid
The fear behind our eyes.
Then at last we crossed the Cheviot range
In the ninth hour of the day
And there before us cold and strange
Wild Caledonia lay.
Now downward sloped the cobbled road
As the sun turned off its heat,
And we felt a lightening of our load
Despite our aching feet.
For we knew we had not far to go
To where we'd spend the night
At Cappuck fort whose beacon's glow
Was even now in sight.
The little garrison came out
To greet us on arrival
And quell the fears they'd held about
Our Legion's safe survival.
For it seemed the local native bands
Had sworn to block our way,
And to liberate these Border lands
From our evil Roman sway.
So though these natives sounded tough
In threatening dire disaster
We took it as a monstrous bluff
To scare the Roman master.
Thus self-deceived in bed we fell
To spend a well earned night.
Yet hardly would we’ve slept so well
Had we known the Pict was right.
4.
The fateful morning started bright
Amid those Border hills,
But, down below, the fogs of night
Still clung to wooded rills.
The land ahead was evil ground
'Midst tangled woods of oak,
Deep dark and filled with fearful sounds
And scents to make men choke.
And rivers broad which must be crossed
To reach our destination;
The ideal terrain to wreak cost
Upon a tired formation.
We knew this well, for we'd been told
The previous night at food
That we were entering a world
Wherein there lay no good.
Our comrades there had spoke of Picts
Who bit like rabid dogs,
And drank the blood of Romans mixed
With that of toads and frogs!
And so with fear etched on our hearts
We left bold Cappuck's gate
And made towards those wooded parts
Wherein the Pict would wait.
Our Roman road ran straight and true
Between the gnarled trees.
Its cobbles glistening in the dew
As in an artist's frieze.
But as we came down from the hill
The fog came up to meet us
And, wrapping all in its damp chill,
Of sunlight’s warmth did cheat us.
On either side the oaks pressed in
A twisted, eerie sight,
A natural background from within
Which Picts could plan to fight.
We heard the sounds of hooting owls;
As messages were passed
And, answered quick by bear-like growls,
The ambush net was cast.
We knew full well what they were doing
Beneath the fog's grey cloak,
Yet we had no choice but to keep going
Amidst the autumn oak.
You cannot run a hidden race
Nor fight against the mist,
When every frond seems like a face
And every cone a fist.
So as we marched the tension rose
And manly mouths turned dry,
And at each sound the heartbeat froze;
And some began to cry.
And still, and still they did not come,
And still we hurried on,
As terror made our minds go numb;
Our self-deceit was gone.
And yet, and yet we kept our stride
And marched in bold formation
With sword-hands twitching at our side
In jangling trepidation.
At last our General called a halt
And climbing on a rock
He mocked the threatening Pict assault
And urged us to take stock.
"Though fearful, you must face the truth
That you will have to fight.
But up against this foe uncouth
You have the strength and might.
For are we not part of that force
Which holds the world for Rome,
Before whose single-minded course
Our foe like chaff has blown?
Can we, proud Romans, let this band
Who paint themselves with wattle
Secure through fear an upper hand
They can't achieve in battle?
So steel your hearts and mock the foe
Who hide like frightened faun,
And let your Roman training show
To whip this devil’s spawn.
And though this cloying mist may weep
And stink as of the tomb,
I promise you tonight you'll sleep
In fair Trimontium."
He raised his arm and bade us march
And he went at our head,
Scorning the firs, the oak, the larch
Which held for us such dread.
And in his brave and jaunty step
We found our courage mended,
And told ourselves our mission yet
With victory could be ended.
5.
The first attack came after ten
And caught us by surprise.
They hit the rear, the baggage men,
With spears and chilling cries.
And yet they didn't stand and fight;
Just drew some blood and ran
So swift that they were gone from sight
Before news reached the van.
Twice more they skirmished on our flanks
Before the midday call,
Striking fear within our ranks
Yet wounding scarce at all.
Theirs was a battle of the mind
To snap but not to fight,
And though they left few dead behind
Fear's gnat began to bite.
We never knew from whence they'd come
Nor even with what force.
They stretched our nerves tight as the drum
By which we paced our course.
Our orders were with full alert
To keep the column moving.
Throughout our General did assert
That prospects were improving.
And as attacks were fast repelled
And Roman loss was slight,
The tiny hope within us swelled
That he had got it right.
But still the trees were all around
And still the fog pervaded
So that for all our hopes new-found
The truth would not be shaded.
We couldn't see the watching eyes
Though surely we could feel them,
And how we prayed the fog would rise
And to our sight reveal them.
For if we faced them in the sun
We soon would see their heels
As from our swords they'd surely run
Or die like tritoned eels.
But sad, these hopes were not to be
As still the fog persisted
Placing spectres in every tree -
Or so our minds insisted.
Our only blessing was the road
Along which we were striding,
For in the mist at least it showed
The way we should be heading.
Then, lo, the sounds around did cease
As did the fearful raids,
And silence like some eerie peace
Embraced the fog-bound glades.
Now all we heard was our own tread
For no-one thought to sing,
Our minds fixed on the road ahead
And what its miles might bring.
Even the birds now held their breath
And added to our fear.
As if they smelt the stench of death
And knew the time was near.
And in that fear we forced our feet
To march on ever quicker,
To find, as if to mock our speed,
The clinging fog grow thicker.
And now the road turned sharply down
Towards the sound of water,
Of rivers running fast and brown;
Accessories to slaughter.
For though we had crossed many a stream
And forded many a river,
We'd always seen the waters gleam,
The sunlit ripples quiver.
Now we could only hear the sound
With each pace getting nearer.
Our eyes could scarcely see the ground
As the wall of fog grew sheerer.
To make it worse, the night before
In camp we had been told
Of further dangers still in store
Beyond these waters cold.
They'd told us of a Pictish fort
Upon a rocky hill,
A stronghold of the very sort
To make the blood run chill.
It stood above a valley broad
Across which me must go,
A threatening Damoclean sword
Which yet could bring us low.
But, which was upmost in our thought
As we went down that road,
That in this vale below that fort
Two rushing rivers flowed.
To any force in hostile land
A river signals trouble
For fording breaks a close knit band
And makes of it a rabble.
The current forces men apart
And splits a steady line,
While freezing water dulls the heart
And makes each sense decline.
For men whose training is to stand
Against each other's shoulders
A trap could not be better planned
Than slippery reed-strewn boulders.
And here not one such trap but two
Within three hundred paces,
No time between to form anew
Or fill the empty spaces.
The first we'd meet, the river Iedd
Which ran across our road,
Was well known for its rocky bed
And for the speed it flowed.
And just one stone's throw further on
Before one's feet could dry,
The mighty river Teviot ran,
And when in flood ran high.
If ever Nature could conspire
For ambush to prepare
The perfect ground she would desire,
Then surely it was here.
Yet there could be no turning back
Without a loss of face,
And anyhow the steepening track
Increased our forward pace.
All we could do was hurry on
Towards the rushing sound,
Which called us like some clarion
Towards the killing ground.
And so we marched, we at the van,
Like lambs go to the slaughter,
Downward, stumbling, almost ran
Until we reached the water.
6.
We at the front had crossed the Iedd
Which ran both high and brown.
Wet to the waist we forward sped
Toward the Teviot's sound.
The cobbled road slid underfoot
Well caked with fresh strewn mud
Which either was with malice put
Or laid by recent flood.
In swirling fog we slithered on
Towards the second river
As each of us with wet began
Unwittingly to shiver.
Then soon we reached the Teviot ford,
The point where we must cross,
To find the river fast and broad
'Tween banks of treacherous moss.
With gritted teeth we at the front
Advanced into the current
And spread our feet to meet the brunt
Of the unwelcome torrent.
We had just reached the median line
When the first trunk came by,
A fallen all-embracing pine
Which struck me on the thigh.
I almost fell but looking back
It was my lucky day,
For while I just maintained my track
Ten friends were swept away.
I heard them shout, but all in vain
As, swallowed in the fog,
They sank as in some flooded drain.
And then another log...
Not one, not two, but all at once
The stream was filled trees
Which like some well directed lance
Dissected us with ease.
I saw my comrades disappear
Within that swollen stream
As I stood frozen in my fear.
And then I heard the scream.
It came from somewhere in the rear
Towards the river Iedd,
The cry as of some frightened deer
Which knew he'd soon be dead.
And then again, and more and more,
The screaming of the damned
As hard I struggled to the shore
Against the logs that rammed.
Three times I fell and tasted mud
Within the rushing flow,
Three times I rose above the flood
To meet another blow.
And every time I raised my head
Above the racing water
My senses witnessed to the dread
Of that unholy slaughter.
Around, my friends had disappeared
By tumbling timbers felled,
A generation cruelly cleared
A spirit blindly quelled.
And yet I made toward the bank
Not knowing what I'd meet,
Clutching hard to every plank
Which swept me from my feet.
And all along I heard the screams
Of men put to the sword,
The sound from which my vilest dreams
To this day draw their chord.
By now I had been swept along
Downstream some hundred paces,
So though I could still hear the throng
I’d lost sight of the faces.
Though not a coward I could not help
But feel some base relief
That while my comrades took the skelp
I for a time was safe.
At length I reached the reedy edge
And clawed my way to land,
To lie there gasping in the sedge
That grew along the sand.
I knew I'd been swept down the stream,
But where to I knew not,
Until I saw the junction pool
Where Iedd meets Teviot.
Still further off I yet could hear
The sounds of steel on flesh
That noise which grips the heart with fear
And breaks the will afresh.
The grunts, the screams, the piteous moans
As life was drained away;
That dreadful sound of breaking bones
Which backs the evil fray.
I could not tell this battle's shape
Nor yet how it was fought,
I only knew with tingling nape
That cruelly we'd been caught.
That somewhere in that misty murk
Just as we crossed the spates
Those Picts had made the Devil's work
And sent us to our fates.
That while by rivers we were split
And out of true formation,
They’d used the fog to launch their hit
And see us to damnation.
Then while my heart sank in despair
Yet was I filled with rage
We'd been denied that battle fair
With which to cleanse the page.
We had not fought as soldiers should
Full face against our foe
But had been skittled down by wood
And by the fog brought low.
It's one thing to die by the sword
In fair and open war
Against a known and valiant horde
With courage to the fore.
Its quite another to be slain
Swept down by flood-borne logs,
Or worse by enemies unseen
Destroyed like cornered dogs.
Then, as I lay, began to flow
The hot tears of frustration
That such a base unworthy foe
Could cause this devastation.
I called on Mars to lift his hand
To save his loyal legion,
To extirpate with vengeance grand
These cowards from this region.
But still the sounds of ambush reigned,
Of slaughter, from a distance,
Of base and treacherous victory gained
O’er badly waged resistance.
Now bit by bit the sounds died down
As I lay seeking breath
And all around the fog grew brown
And foul with stench of death.
Now all at once did silence reign,
The silence of the dead,
And now I saw the waters stain
A bloody shade of red.
'Twas then I knew that all was lost,
That we had been destroyed,
That failure's Rubicon was crossed,
That we had reached the void.
Then screaming grief rose in my breast
And howled into the skies,
'Til pain brought shackles to my chest
And darkness to my eyes.
Still as the conscious world withdrew
And gently closed its door,
With dreadful clarity I knew
My Legion was no more.
7.
I'll never know the hours I missed
Behind that troubled sleep,
Nor with what demons I made tryst
Or spirits I did weep.
I only know I saw a line
Of comrades dead and blue,
And each one made accusing sign
And whispered "Where were you?"
But when I came to answer them
From me came answer none.
My throat was choked with bitter phlegm
Which from my mouth did run.
I yearned to say why I did live
While all of them were slain,
To ask from each that they forgive
That I’d not shared their pain.
Try though I might to utter words
No sound would pass my throat,
Yet all around the songs of birds
In mockery did float.
Then, as on wings, they climbed the skies
As t’were my comrades souls,
While I stood fixed by sightless eyes
Sunk deep in blood-filled holes.
Then like some slowly gathering storm
My dead companions rose
And in their usual ranks did form
Our Legion's drill-ground pose.
They stood like statues cold and still
All ready for inspection,
With not a sign of life to fill
Their empty veined complexion.
Then from their mouths began a moan
Which starting soft and low
In strict crescendo soon had grown
Into a howl of woe.
A howl which rent the listening ear
Which tore the battered heart,
A sound that drowned my mind in fear
And broke my soul apart.
A symphony of all we’d lost,
A chorus of despair,
Confirming that the Styx was crossed
That Chares had his fare.
But worst of all within that sound
There rang a clear refrain,
Which echoed through the killing ground
To bend my scrambled brain.
It called my name both loud and true
In grief that made me choke,
"Where were you when we needed you..?"
'Twas then that I awoke.
8.
The mist was gone, the sun rode high,
The rivers fast subsiding
All clear and sparkling to the eye
The light of peace presiding.
Yet as I lay there on the shore
There was no sign of strife,
None of the sounds one hears in war
Nor relicts of lost life.
I might have been at home in Spain
Upon an autumn day
Absorbing sunshine after rain
Beside some sun-kissed bay.
Yet even as my mind's fog cleared
The song within me sounded
To tell within the truth I feared;
A truth which was well founded.
I stumbled slowly to my feet
And climbed the bank behind,
Staggering through the bracken sweet
Afraid what I might find.
Though I had lost my sword and shield
I somehow cleared a way
Through stubby oak and boggy field
Towards the scene of fray.
I knew the land on which I stood
Lay twixt Teviot and Iedd
And once I'd cleared the tangled wood
I'd find the route we'd led.
And so it was I met the road
Between the rivers' fords
Which hours before we'd bravely strode
As conquering Roman lords.
Yet, even now that time has passed,
I find it hard to tell
The sight that set my mind aghast
And brought me close to hell.
Even my dream of which I've told
Had scarce prepared me for
The scene which now before me rolled
Of carnage rank and raw.
At every pace a body lay
Twisted and mutilated,
As if in some macabre display
A tomb was desecrated.
And each had been a friend of mine,
A comrade killed in war,
But each who once was dressed so fine
Was stripped of all he wore.
And there they lay like carrion's meat
Like beached decaying porpoises,
Already swelling in the heat
A trail of naked corpses.
I felt the bile rise in my throat
Too strong for me to master
As harshly I was forced to note
The scale of the disaster.
Yet bitterness my legs did drive
To walk this scene of slaughter
To find not one man left alive
Either by Pict or water.
I saw Catullus my old mate
With whom I'd wenched aplenty,
His throat slit like an open gate,
And he not hardly twenty.
I found young Marcus broken-necked
And Cassius disembowelled
Their noble features cruelly wrecked.
I tore my hair and howled.
And through my streaming tears I spied
A hundred friends and more
All cold and naked without pride
Mere detritus of war.
And there, his face pressed to the ground,
Stripped of all bearing regal
Our general who so oft had found
Such courage in our eagle.
Yet of that eagle gold and true
No hint nor sign remained
Nor had the Pict left any clue
To how the day’d been gained.
There were no dead Picts to be seen
As you'd expect in battle,
No signs to show me what had been,
No corpses daubed in wattle.
T’was if we'd never stood a chance
To fight them hand to hand,
But by them had been forced to dance
The death reel that they'd planned.
And now I knew they had us led
Like cattle to the slaughter
And in the fog had stopped us dead
Between those streams of water.
And every helmet, sword and spear,
Each breastplate and each sandal,
Each had been caused to disappear
Like wax melts from a candle.
The Glorious Ninth was gone as if
It never had been born,
Except for bodies cold and stiff
Which soon to dust would turn.
My first response was one of rage
Of hatred for our foe,
A mad heroic wish to stage
Some last avenging blow.
But wiser counsel soon prevailed
As common-sense decreed
That where a full-strength legion failed
One man could scarce succeed.
Yet then the thought that only I
Of all was left alive,
That now the Pict would surely try
To see I'd not survive.
And I must equally be sure
That in that aim they'd fail,
That for my friends I must endure
And live to tell the tale.
9.
The next long week was full of fear,
Of running and of hiding,
Of watching Picts with sword and spear
Our Roman spoils dividing.
So for two days I could not move
From out the covering fern,
And quiet upon that interfluve
With hunger I did burn.
My throat was parched, my stomach cramped
Yet stir I did not dare
While I could see the foe encamped
Ten paces from my lair.
Now that our Legion was destroyed
They'd come down from their fort
And, with their confidence well buoyed,
Their victory they re-fought.
It turned my stomach to behold
That battle re-enacted
As they, bedecked in Roman gold,
Our dignity detracted.
But every party has an end
And, once two suns had set,
The Pict up to his crags did mend
Yet, even though their sounds had died
Where they had wrought such slaughter,
I stayed another day beside
Cold Teviot's shining water.
Lonely, my mind in turmoil turned
To stop me thinking clearly
While vengeance in my bosom burned
And hatred cost me dearly.
At length I reckoned it was safe
To venture forth for food
So, feeling anything but brave,
I headed for the wood.
I know now how a lamb must feel
When taken from the fold
Is left alone upon a hill;
I felt that selfsame cold.
Despite the hunger in my gut,
Despite the peace around me,
I felt the grim and icy cut
Of desperate fear surround me.
I ran as if pursued by hounds
Until I reached the hollow
And anxious listened for the sounds
Of any that might follow.
But only silence met my ear
While branches gave me cover,
An embrace every bit as dear
As that of any lover.
So, once my head had told my heart
It need not beat so fast,
With timid steps I then did start
To seek my first repast.
Berries, toadstools, carrion meat
Are not my favourite food,
Yet looking back no gourmet's treat
Will ever taste that good.
I wolfed that gruesome scavenged meal
As if it were my last,
And so I thought; for I could feel
Survival slipping past.
I lay down trembling piteously
Beneath a gnarled oak
Until soft sleep enveloped me
Within her salving cloak.
10.
The wet-faced sun awakened me,
A new day fresh and clear,
And, though fate had forsaken me,
This day I felt no fear.
I know not why this change of heart
For little else had changed,
But now despite my perilous part
My thoughts with clearness ranged.
I realised how foul I looked,
Unshaven, bruised and bloody,
With breath that reeked of food uncooked
And clothes all torn and muddy.
I headed back to Teviot's bank
With care not to be seen
And washed away that odour rank
'til finally I felt clean.
I buried deep my uniform
Which gave the game away
And, thankful that the day was warm,
In singlet faced the day.
Then, sitting down beneath the fern
Which grew so tall and thick,
To plan escape my mind did turn,
To how the Pict I'd trick.
I had a choice of where to head
If I could get away ;
North to Trimontium at new Stead
Where temporary safety lay;
Or south by Cappuck to the Wall
Where threat of Picts would end
But where the news of our great fall
Would scarce win me a friend.
I knew the harbinger I'd be
Of Rome's humiliation
And then the fact that I was free
Would need some explanation.
As a deserter I'd be tried
With witness none but me
And, once convicted, crucified
Upon some handy tree.
For all those Roman girls and friends
My heart with longing sang,
The means were scarcely worth the ends
If through them I should hang.
Yet black the thought I'd see no more
The things that I had known,
The sunshine on some Spanish shore
Amid Hispanic stone,
I must avoid at all events
The grasping hand of Rome
And so I planned in common-sense
To seek another home.
And thus I lay beneath my ferns
With mind still dull yet aching,
Grasping, rejecting plans by turns,
Mad making and unmaking.
Believing there was no way out
Which would not leave me dead
Either by some Pictish clout
Or to Roman gallows led.
And so I curled up like the bear
That waits cold winter’s sleep,
Too tired to give tongue to despair,
Too drained and broke to weep.
Too numb at first to feel the hand
Which touched my grizzled cheek,
To raise my head from off the sand,
To ope my eyes so weak.
And when the touch became a stroke
I thought it yet a dream ;
But when it slapped, then I awoke
To hear a stifled scream.
In waking I had sprung alert
And lashed out with my arm
To find and grab a leather skirt.
Which caused the girl’s alarm.
She couldn’t yet be twenty years,
Her eyes so dark and wide,
With reddish hair worn long and straight
To match the roe deer hide.
Her gentle face was full of fear
No acting could contrive,
T’was plain that she was only here
To check I was alive.
But through that fear she kept her calm
One finger ‘gainst her lip,
A gesture not to raise alarm,
A sign of comradeship.
It was so long since I had known
The friendship of another,
My very tongue sunk like a stone
My shy response to smother.
Thus we stood as statues stand,
A mere arm’s length apart;
Until she offered me her hand
With friendship to impart.
Slowly I touched her fingers’ ends
And watched her gently smile
As if for months we had been friends,
A smile which broached no guile.
And then she spoke; but in a tongue
Of which I knew no word
But in a tone upon which hung
Compassion undeterred.
Then I remembered who she was
A fiendish, hated Pict.
I snatched my hand away because
I feared I was being tricked.
She was a member of that race
Who’d massacred my friends,
Who’d mired my Legion in disgrace
And mocked its dying ends.
She must have read my inner mind
For she smiled and shook her head
As again she sought my hand to find;
To reassure instead.
This time I let her hold her grip
To see what she would do,
Expecting her to give the slip
And bring her people to.
But she just smiled and held and stood
As if to win my trust;
Then led me off towards the wood,
Her pace fast and robust.
I pointed to her people’s fort
Which stood up on the hill,
And she closed her eyes as if in thought
My meaning to distil.
Then once again she made the sign
That bade me hold my peace,
And gestured that this fort malign
Would welcome my decease.
She pointed to the fort, then me,
Then hand drawn across throat,
A graphic choreography
Of rabbit faced by stoat.
And then she led the way again
On feet which made no sound
The safety of the wood to gain
Where hiding holes abound.
I know not where she guided me
Nor yet how long we took
But her manner soon decided me.
Of her I liked the look.
As evening fell I still could spy
The fort way in the distance,
A silhouette against the sky
The sign of its existence.
Yet it was far enough away
Now to relax a smidgen
As my sweet guide still led the way
As sure as homing pigeon.
At length and just as darkness fell
She showed me to a cave
And signed that in it I should dwell,
That she would be my slave.
Although I knew this maiden brave
In age could be my daughter
I clasped her hand and breached the cave
Beside the Oxnam water.
I never found out what it was
That sent this girl to me,
If Fate had intervened because
Just I could tell the story.
She brought me food to build my strength
And led me to Life’s Water,
And bound me closer when at length
She gave birth to my daughter.
And so for six long years we stayed
By Oxnam’s gentle flow
My presence never once displayed
To ever present foe.
She brought me dye to make my ink
And skins to form my paper.
And thus, as we lived on the brink,
I jotted down this caper
Which brought me to this secret cave
And saw my dreams dismembered
As I in words of verse so grave
Wrote down what I remembered.
11.
Six years have passed since these events
Six years I have stayed hidden
With wench and child in deerskin tents
Doing only what Fate’s bidden.
But now my record is complete
And sure of its survival
The time has come to find my feet
And look for some revival.
I must set out now on my own
To what I am uncertain;
To find and mount the hero’s stone
Or drop the final curtain.
I leave these words as legacy
For future folk to find
To clear my name of infamy
And rest my troubled mind.
To tell the world, once and for all,
The Ninth to the end was brave,
In battle true they’d fought and fell
Into a hero’s grave.
That soon I would rejoin their ghosts
As death my bones will rattle,
And thence within the glorious hosts
We’ll march again to battle.
1990-2005
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