The Last Centurion: The Saxon Chronicles, #1

By Lawrence Hebb

Roman Britain AD 407
Aethelwolf is a retired centurion. He just might be the only hope that the people in the area of Lindum in Roman Britain have.
The Army has left. Rome has serious problems in Gaul trying to contain tribes that have crossed the Rhine and are running amok there, but now there's an invasion in Britain and no one to oppose it.

When Saxon hordes land and massacre a village on the East coast word gets out and more arrive sensing the easy pickings, and rich cities just waiting to be plundered.

For the local population living there, it's a terrifying time as they prepare to meet an onslaught they always though the Romans would deal with, but Rome has gone, and their only hope is a retired centurion. The Last Centurion

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lawrence Hebb
• Release date: Jul 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223200352

Lawrence Hebb

Hi there! Lawrence Here. Just taking a moment to say a big hello and that I hope you enjoy the book. I love a good yarn, and I think this is a great one. A lot of the book is based around my experience as both a Soldier in the British Army and my experience in Iraq as an aid worker in the nineties, and I'll let you into a secret, this nearly did happen (but don't tell the wife PLEASE!)

Book preview

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

"Y ou’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.

R AIDERS, 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.

We just told you, hundreds! They've killed the soldiers in the fort, and now they're coming for the village. The panic spread.

There was no time to organise a response. Bloodcurdling cries were heard as they saw a half dozen fierce apparitions moving with speed towards them. More screams came as the first villagers fell under the onslaught that had begun. A bright light lit up the fort as the signal went out.

The village had a means of signalling trouble. It was the bonfire, built especially for one purpose, to warn other villages they were under attack! All they had to do was light the bonfire, and the message was passed. Hopefully help would be on the way. That had been the procedure for centuries, but that was when Rome and the local authorities had troops to send.

The raiders plan was to use that signal, but for a different reason. They wanted to send the message not just to the ship waiting out to sea, but to tell everyone else it was time for them to die.

Lief hadn't been idle, under the cover of darkness he'd had the men row the longboat closer to the village. They were just outside the harbour wall awaiting the signal.

There she is lads, Lief shouted as the bonfire caught alight and lit up the fort, there's plunder and women just waiting for you, lads. Put your backs into it!

An enormous cheer went up as sixty oars hit the water in unison and began pulling hard, these men weren't slaves like the Romans would have in their ships. They were lean, fit fighting men. The rest of the men, another hundred and twenty readied weapons and took up positions, ready to storm ashore and destroy everything and everyone in their path. They wouldn’t head for the harbour though, they were heading for the beach and leaving room for the one remaining ship to come in. Knut would bring the Bireme into the harbour.

III

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

The tiny village of Salvum is little more than a blip on the coast. A tiny inlet that gave a natural harbour to the few ships that used it. The Romans had built a small port for shipping out local goods to all parts of the Empire, but little else. From there they could ship the wool from the sheep that roamed the moors in the north and the grain, grown around the city of Lindum. They could originally ship it to any part of the Empire, but more recently they’d only been shipping the few locally produced things to the northern provinces.

The village had a church, or basilica as the Romans called them, and a tavern. Just like any small town would have. The harbour was big enough to handle a decent-sized ship, but only one at a time. Aside from the fort, there were no defences, hence the people there, and anyone visiting always thought of the place as a village.

We're under attack! The guard who'd escaped from the fort ran down the street screaming. He banged on each door as he ran past, desperately trying to wake the villagers as the bireme was silently approaching the quayside. They came to their doors confused as the ship shouldn’t be there, they weren’t supposed to make an approach in the middle of the night, but everything looked quiet, some would say too quiet!

That alone had people worried, some of them also began panicking. The fear quickly spread as the ship came closer and closer, the sense of doom growing with every pull of the oars that the crew of the ship was making.

On the boat everything seemed quiet as she slipped into the harbour. People looking from the quayside wouldn’t see anyone moving around. Everyone onboard was ready, weapons in hand, but crouching behind whatever was at hand. Word hadn’t reached the village yet, but it would, and probably before they landed.

Remember lads Knut called out as the ship glided into the quayside. We want the women and children alive, but you can kill the old prunes. That drew a laugh from the men, But kill the men, we don't need 'em, and someone deal with that idiot! He pointed his sword at the guard who was still trying to raise the alarm.

Oil lamps were glowing in the buildings as people woke and tried to figure out what was going on. There were even a few lamps in the street. A couple of people were starting to panic, but most were just standing and staring as the silent Angel of Death approached the beach. People saw the Bireme coming in, but not the more dangerous longboats who were silently slipping onto the beach a few feet further north.

What in the name of Hades are you on about? A grumpy voice from somewhere on shore challenged the guard who was trying to raise the alarm. The guard turned in the direction the voice had come from. It was from the second storey of a house at the far end of the street, are you drunk? The voice belonged to a middle-aged man, a pudgy face and full beard, it was the village baker.

No the guard shouted back, we're under attack

But the bonfire isn't lit, the baker replied, pointing towards the fort. Everyone knew that at the first sign of intruders, the guards had orders to light the bonfire, which would alert both the village and the other forts, and then help could be sent, and where are your attackers? He finished smugly. Then he saw the glow as the bonfire erupted in flames. Even the guard saw the baker’s face change and a look of sheer terror manifested itself.

They overwhelmed us the guard shouted back, took us by surprise, I'm the only one who got away! Then came the nightmare as his voice was drowned out by blood-curdling cries coming from the harbour that drew everyone’s attention.

The baker dropped his lamp and stared in horror, as they heard the blood curdling screams of terror, followed by the sound of metal on metal and the sickening sound of metal slicing through flesh.

Screams were coming from every side. Men were dropping as what seemed like crazy people ran through the streets swinging axes and swords at everything that moved. Farmers who tried to resist were cut down without mercy, there was no escape.

People ran for safety , and the building with the strongest doors was the village church. Father Cuthbert, the village priest, an old man well beyond his prime, yet one who still had all his faculties, and was as brave as any man, had been heading to the church to get ready for morning prayers. Following in the tradition that Christians had, praying three times daily. He was preparing for the morning or dawn prayer ritual when they struck. He didn't know what was going on outside.

What the? The priest heard screaming and someone banging hard on the church door. Taking