The Golden Acorn - Catherine Cooper [80]
Jack flew back to Camelin. They watched in silence as the soldiers crossed the field and eventually joined the road. The sound of marching feet, rattling packs and clanking belts faded into the distance. The smell of burning drifted on the air towards them. The woman from the farm had smelt it too and ran inside the round building shouting something Jack couldn’t hear.
‘I couldn’t watch,’ Camelin said apologetically.
Jack didn’t want to talk about what he’d just witnessed. He nodded sympathetically to show Camelin he understood.
‘How long will it be before Nora finds you?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t remember. Nora said that when I didn’t arrive, and they saw the grove was alight, she came as fast as she could. Luckily I was this side of the fire. If I’d been caught at the other side or in the middle I don’t think she’d have found me at all.’
‘They’re heading for Viroconium,’ explained Jack. ‘The soldier at the back, with a scar on his chin, has all three plates inside his backpack.’
‘Time to go,’ said Camelin.
They took off and followed the soldiers. Jack needn’t have worried about long-distance flying. They had to stop several times and wait so they didn’t get too far ahead. In just under two hours the fortress came into sight.
‘I know this place well,’ Camelin told Jack. ‘Come on, we’ll fly on ahead. Follow me. There’s a good place to hide near the main gate. We can watch from there and see where the soldier goes.’
Once they were positioned in a large tree which overlooked a well-fortified gate Jack had a chance to look around. The fortress was rectangular with a gate in each wall. There were several small towers around the perimeter with larger ones on each of the rounded corners; a walkway ran around the inside of the wall. The most imposing buildings were near the centre and wide roads led into the fort from each of the four gates. Outside the perimeter wall were farm buildings and barns with the river behind. An important looking man stood in the doorway of one of the largest buildings.
‘That’s Quintus Flavius Maximus,’ whispered Camelin. ‘He’s the Camp Prefect.’
‘I thought there’d be soldiers everywhere. Why’s it so quiet?’
‘The Fourteenth Legion marched out of here a few weeks ago. I was here when they left. Some of us acolytes had been taking it in turns to watch the fort. I was in the barn down there; it was an amazing sight. It was only later we found out they’d been sent to the island of Mona on the Emperor’s orders. He’d commanded that all Druids be killed. Hundreds had fled there thinking they’d be safe with a stretch of water separating them from the mainland. They should have gone through the portals but they didn’t realise how much danger they were in. Maximus was left in charge when the legion marched. One morning, not long after the legion had left, a centurion rode out with a tent party, set fire to one of the groves and killed the Druid Dryfor. That’s how we knew we were in trouble. Nora said it wouldn’t be long before they reached Glasruhen and Gwillam started making plans for everyone to go into Annwn. You know the rest.’
‘He looks too fat to be a soldier.’
‘He is. He used to be one but now he’s too old to fight so he organises the running of the fort. He also makes sure that if any of the centurions find anything worth having he gets to keep it. Once I’d recovered I used to fly over here a lot. I’ve watched him sorting out his plunder. You should see what he’s got stashed