In the Shadow of the Wall Read Online Free PDF Page A

of carved blocks of stone, smooth and regular, with no gaps for fingers or toes to help him climb. There seemed to be some sort of mortar between the blocks, holding them firmly in place. Frustrated, he slapped his palm against the sheer stonework, helpless with rage. He recalled the Selgovae laughing at his ignorance as he realised with a pang of disappointment that his father and Nechtan, men he looked up to, knew as little of the Romans as he did.
    The rest of the Boresti reached the foot of the Wall where they stopped, bemused and uncertain. To their left, the Selgovae were attacking the gateway in the tower but here in the ditch where they were clustered there was no gateway to attack and no way to climb the smooth stones. Away to the left, some of the Selgovae were scrambling up their makeshift ladder poles and Brude, looking to the west, saw that the Damnonii were doing the same. Only the Boresti had no way of getting over the Wall.
    There was no point in waiting for the other tribes to get over, for the ladders could only hold one person at a time. Even then, they had to be held in place by other men at the foot, to prevent them twisting and throwing the climber.
    Nechtan yelled, “Form a human hill!” He began pushing men into place, half a dozen against the Wall, facing outwards, another row in front of them to lift their comrades up to form a second tier. Brude looked hesitatingly at the idea. It would take at least three men standing on the shoulders of those below before the fourth could even hope to reach the parapet. He, for one, did not want to be at the bottom of that weight.
    Colm, looking helpless and confused, asked him, “What do we do?”
    “We get a rope,” Brude decided. He pushed his way through the crowd and ran towards the Selgovae. As he ran, the thought came to him that it was just as well the Romans were not on top of the Wall because the Boresti would have had no option but to retreat. Fortunately, apart from the man in the watchtower, there did not seem to be any sentries at this bit of the Wall.
    He reached the back of the crowd of Selgovae warriors who were still waiting their turn to climb. There were only six ladders, so scaling the Wall was a slow business. He looked for men with ropes but they had been among the first to clamber up and even now they were tying one end of each rope round the crenellations of the parapet, dropping the loose end over the Wall to let their comrades haul themselves up. Brude shouted up to one of the warriors on top of the Wall who had not yet tied his rope, yelling at him to take the rope along to the Boresti. The man laughed and began tying it to the parapet where he stood. One of the men standing next to Brude also laughed. “Get your own bloody rope,” he snarled.
    “All right, I will,” Brude retorted. Slinging his shield over his back, he barged forwards, pushing through to grab the end of the falling rope. There were shouts of protest and someone grabbed his shoulder but he shrugged it off and leaped forwards, planting his feet against the stone. Grunting with effort, he hauled himself up the rope. It was awkward and dangerous trying to climb with his long spear in his hand but he had seen that the Selgovae were managing it, so he made the best of it, slowly dragging himself to the top. He dropped his spear over the parapet, using both hands to heave himself over, half expecting the warrior who had tied the rope to start an argument with him. But the man had gone to join the other tribesmen who had climbed the Wall and were now charging into the watchtower. Turning, Brude began to untie the rope. “Get off!” he yelled down at the next warrior. He hauled the rope up, jerking it out of the hands of the warrior below. Hurriedly, he reeled it in, hauling it over the parapet. As quickly as he could, he unpicked the crude knot, coiled the rope around his shoulder, retrieved his spear, then ran along the walkway to where his tribesmen were.
    He had