Beric the Briton : a Story of the Roman Invasion — John Shaqi
Beric the Briton : a Story of the Roman InvasionHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
Beric the Briton : a Story of the Roman Invasion
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Britons -- Fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Roman period, 55 B.C.-449 A.D. -- Fiction; Historical fiction
A few minutes sufficed for Beric to satisfy his hunger. Then he
went out and joined two or three minor chiefs of experience who
had charge of the hunt. The greater portion of the tribesmen had
already started. Almost every man had brought with him one or more
large dogs trained in hunting the wolf and boar, and the woods
beyond the swamp rang with their deep barking. Instructions had
already been given to the men. These proceeded in parties of four,
each group taking its post some fifty yards from the next. Those
who had the farthest to go had started before daybreak, and it was
another two hours before the whole were in position, forming a long
line through the forest upwards of ten miles in length. A horn was
sounded in the centre where the leaders had posted themselves, and
the signal was repeated at points along the line, and then, with
shouts on the part of the men and fierce barkings on that of the
dogs, the whole moved forward. The right of the line rested on the
Stour, the left upon the Orwell; and as they passed along through
the forest the line contracted. At times wild boars made a dash
to break through it. Many of these were slain, till the chiefs
considered that there was a sufficient supply of food, and the rest
were then allowed to pass through.
No wolves were seen until they neared the point where the two
rivers unite, by which time the groups were within a few paces of
each other. Then among the trees in front of them a fierce snarling
and yelping was heard. The dogs, which had hitherto been kept
in hand, were now loosed, and with a shout the men rushed forward
both on the bluffs in the centre and along the low land skirting
the rivers on either side. Soon the wolves came pouring down from
the wooded bluff, and engaged in a furious conflict with the dogs.
As the men ran up, a few of the wolves in their desperation charged
them and endeavoured to break through, but the great majority,
cowed by the clamour and fierce assault, crouched to the earth and
received their death blow unresistingly. Some took to the water,
but coracles had been sent down to the point the evening before,
and they were speedily slain. Altogether some four or five hundred
wolves were killed.
It was now late in the afternoon. Wood was collected and great
fires made, and the boars' flesh was soon roasting over them. At
daybreak they started again, and retracing their steps formed a
fresh line at the point where the last beat had begun, this time
beating in a great semicircle and driving the wolves down on to
the Stour. So for a fortnight the war went on. Only such deer and
boar as were required for food were killed; but the wolves were
slain without mercy, and at the end of the operations that portion
of the country was completely cleared of these savage beasts, for
those who had escaped the beating parties had fled far away through
the forest to more quiet quarters.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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