Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 01] The Sword of Cartimandua (8 page)

“I am grateful to the prefect knowing, as I do that it means more pay to be promoted. I am silent because I do not know, as yet, what the promotion is.”

Flavius laughed; his laugh came from deep in his belly as though released, like a volcano erupting. “Excellent. Your heroics have not changed your mercenary nature.“ His eyes narrowed. “I should have known when I heard that you had acquired a torc. I am sure I too will be profiting from the acquisition. Shall we call it a contribution to the ala funds?”

Ulpius wondered which of his men had let that slip, he would find out and they would suffer. “I have not had time to dispose of it yet.”

“Leave that to me. I know a few dealers and I will ensure you get the best price. So you are to command the ala quingenaria. Can you handle five hundred men?”

“I can command them better than the overweight Gaius Cresens.  And what is he to do now that I have his command?”

“He is to become quartermaster here. Our Governor has decided to make the fortress more solid and permanent.  Our friend will help provision it.”

“And my turma?”

“Who do you suggest Marcus? Drusus? Lentius?”

Ulpius thought about it briefly. “Marcus, Marcus Aurelius Maximunius. He’s solid as a rock.”

“Good.  There are some new men coming in over the next week. Fill up your turma and prepare the men for the field. We gave Venutius a bloody nose but he has merely retreated behind his mountains and he waits in the West. We will be campaigning in the spring. Now piss off and have a drink. Thanks to you I have work to do with the lists of dead and wounded.” Ulpius turned to leave. “And Ulpius… bring back the torc.”

Ulpius went back to his tent happy that he was promoted but seething with anger that he would have to share the golden torc with the prefect. It was not the fact that he would be handing over a share it was the fact that one of his men had betrayed him; one of his men had violated their code. He saw Marcus and called him over. “Find out which of the lads blabbed about the torc.”

“What torc?”

“Don’t play the innocent with me boy.  You know which torc. I know as it wasn’t you; if it was you’d be chewing fist. Just find out.”

“Atticus.”

Ulpius stared at Marcus. Atticus had been with them both for four years and they felt he was a trusted comrade. “That little prick. I’ll think up something special for him.” He led Marcus away from the tents towards the horses. “How did the lads do in that last little action? I was a bit busy defending her majesty.”

“They did well. Young Gaius saved your life.”

“He what?”

“When you were coming to help me out-oh thanks for that I owe you one- there was a big bugger with an axe about to take your head off. The lad had him and then took out two more who were keen on having a decurion’s head in their hut.”

“Good he might turn out to be alright. And young Marcus some good has come your way, you might make an offering to the Allfather.” Marcus looked puzzled. “Pick yourself out a chosen man. You have the turma. I am decurio princeps and I have the ala quingenaria.” Marcus beamed his joy and blushed his pleasure. “The bad news is that I will still ride with the first so you don’t get rid of me that easily!”

When Vellocatus died, the whole of the camp turned out for the funeral. Although he had only been a shield bearer he had been the consort of the Queen and the tribune was keen to ingratiate himself with the artful Cartimandua. It was a mark of respect for the Queen rather than the lowly shield bearer. The Queen herself looked magnificent. Her injured arm was hidden and she wore not only a magnificent jewel encrusted torc but a small silver crown which accentuated her hair. There were many legionaries and auxilia harbouring lascivious thoughts as they burned her husband’s corpse.

After the funeral the prefect called Ulpius and Marcus to his office. When they arrived they were surprised to see the Queen reclining on a couch.

“Her majesty has asked us to recover a few of her possessions from her capital,” Flavius began, his face expressionless. “There are not only her clothes but her slaves and servants.” I thought that as you had been there,” he gestured towards Marcus. “You might be the best person to ask. As new commander,” he looked directly at Ulpius, “I wondered if you had any suggestions.”

Ulpius looked from the Queen to Flavius but could detect no hidden meaning in his words. “The turma is not up to strength I would suggest he takes the third turma their commander Julius Augustina is still in sick bay with the wound from the battle. We do not know if Venutius went over the mountains or stayed at Stanwyck.”

Flavius nodded his judgement in Ulpius’ ability having been confirmed. “It goes without saying Decurion that, if the refuge is held, you return here. That would need a legionary intervention.” Marcus nodded. The Queen coughed and looked pointedly at Flavius. “There is a box containing,” he paused,” important items which the Queen requires. They are buried in a secret location. If the old centurion, Gerantium is there he will show them to you. If he is dead then you will have to find them yourself. Here is a map.” As Marcus went to take it the prefect went on. “It is important that you share this with no-one other than your second in command. Do no open the box which will be locked and return it here.  Is that clear?”

“Yes prefect.” He took the map and left.

“Ulpius make sure they have a cart.  You will have to see the new quartermaster,” he smiled, “that should be an interesting encounter. You took over his command before he had chance to totally fleece his men.”

“I look forward to it.” He turned to go.

“I have told the prefect that I am indebted to you. I would like to reward you but we must wait until your men return.” A playful, flirtatious smile played upon her lips. “Can you wait that long?”

Ulpius could feel his face colouring. “I er, that is…”

Flavius saved his embarrassment. “He will have to wait your majesty, he has troopers to train. Dismiss!”

Partly flustered and partly angry Ulpius gestured to the waiting Marcus to follow. Marcus knew his commander well enough to keep his thoughts to himself. The journey to the quartermaster’s stores was not a long one but Ulpius had got his temper under control by the time he got there. Gaius Cresens was a huge barrel of a man. It was said that there were no horses strong enough to carry him. He avoided any duty which appeared remotely dangerous but he was a cunning man who had spies and informants everywhere.  He gathered information and used it.  He was a bullying brute who had risen not through ability or skill but corruption. He had not ridden at the head of his ala for many months. If truth were told Flavius had been looking for an excuse to move him.  Cresens did not view it that way. He was a corrupt, greasy man and he had been cheating his men out of money for years. He had planned to become quartermaster but the decurion’s promotion had meant that he had not had the time to extract the last view coins from his ala.  He would have to use his new post to do so. Now as he saw Ulpius come in his anger began to boil up.

“Watch your stuff lads, old one eye, the thieving horse shagger is here.”

“Cresens your dick isn’t big enough to fuck a flea so shut it and show a bit of civility or I will personally show you the business end of my sword!”

As well as being corrupt and a bully the fat quartermaster was also a coward who preferred a knife in the back to a face to face encounter. “No sense of humour that’s your trouble.”

“Right I need two carts and drivers. We need forty javelins and, “he turned to Marcus, “what about shields?”

“About five shields should do us. Oh and two of the lads need some mail.”

“You heard him. While you are back there see if you have some scale armour in my decurion’s size.”

Gaius Cresens’ face became red with rage; his bloated features made him look like an angry toad puffing out his cheeks. “Scale armour but...”

“I know you have some; the prefect told me and this warrior needs it so be quick about it.”

The armour was almost thrown at Marcus; had Ulpius known the thoughts racing through the quartermaster’s evil mind he might have saved himself and others a great of pain by gutting him there and then. As it was he dismissed him as a blowhard.  He was a blowhard but he was also a plotting, calculating vicious thug who would have revenge on the man who had stolen his position and humiliated him. The murderous look which burned into his back as he left would have warned him that not only his life but those he held dear was in grave danger.

The following day Marcus and his men left as dawn broke. The land around the putative fortress had been cleared of shrubs and trees and they were able to make good time as they trotted across the hardened paths which would eventually become roads. They headed into the still dark west. Ulpius watched from the main gate; it was the first time that anyone other than he had led out the turma and he felt a little sad. Marcus would make a good leader but they were his men. They fought and died as a unit and now they belonged to someone else. He doubted that he would have the same control and bond with the five hundred men he now commanded but that was what happened when you were promoted. It had taken him some time to achieve this position but now that he had he longed a little for the freedom of his turma.

Before he began his reign, some of the lazier men would call it a reign of terror, he had one last piece of turma business to deal with, Atticus.  He wandered over to the tents of his men.  All the rest were out on patrol but Atticus had claimed he was still injured. Every unit has its weak link and his was Atticus.  Drusus and the others fought as though two men with one warrior protecting another whilst Atticus just looked after himself, he was a loner who fought well but for himself.  He had forgotten the cardinal rule of the unit; never betray another member of the unit.  He had done so.  He had told someone else about the golden torc. No matter that Ulpius would have given him, as he would with all the other survivors, some recompense, no matter that he would still make a profit and did not mind sharing it with his superior, he had been betrayed and he was going to have his revenge.

He stood in the tent, towering over the sallow faced trooper. Atticus knew why Ulpius had come and he began begging, pleading, drool and spittle erupting from his mouth like a volcano. “I am sorry sir.  I didn’t mean it. I was forced to.  Give me another chance.”

As he saw how pathetic the creature was he could not bring himself to inflict the physical punishment he had intended. Instead he bodily picked the runt of the litter up with one hand. “Atticus you are a pathetic little shit. Your mother obviously tried to get rid of you before you were born with wormwood and failed. Just as I failed to make you a soldier.  You have let me down.  You have let the turma down.  You have let the ala down. I don’t want you in my ala. I am going to transfer you to the second ala.  Let’s see if Aurelius Suetonius can do a better job.” Seeing the pitiable look of relief on the face of the man he had just dismissed he added,”And I will be telling your new commander what a slimy, untrustworthy little bastard he is getting.”

He went back to his tent where a servant brought him some watered wine, bread cheese and fruit. He munched and drank as he read the reports on his men. There were too many new recruits as some of the time served auxilia had either returned home or settled in Britannia. It was good that they had settled here in the north for it meant that there was a force to supplement the legions and the ala in times of danger. He rubbed his unshaven cheeks as he pondered Venutius and what he might do. Whilst the legions were what you wanted in a big battle they were less than useless at controlling vast areas of desolate countryside and an enemy who attacked and ran.  You needed mounted men. As he ran the edge of his knife over his face he began to plan his request to Flavius and the tribune.

The problem with the ala had been Cresens who had used bullying and terror as the means of managing the warriors. They were unfit and resented authority. Their new leader did what he had always done. He led from the front. They drilled and manoeuvred every day allowing Ulpius to see the weakness and post the strengths. At first the men were resentful to the new regime. The ones who complained soon found that the new leader would brook no mutiny of any sort and his punishments were effective. They also discovered, in the mock battles with wooden swords, that he was the best swordsman in Eboracum. After the more vocal objectors had suffered a few bruises and cracked bones they grudgingly accepted that he knew what he was doing.

Gaius Cresens became even more infuriated as he watched the ala changed from sullen, sulky soldiers to Roman auxiliaries who began to be proud to be a unit. He had hoped that they would have responded to Felix as they had to him and it galled him that they began to look up to him and even admire him.

The ala responded well to the new hand wielding the whip, and whip them he did. They had grown lazy and soft with a commander who just wanted to make money and avoid action. The warriors knew that Ulpius Felix was a warrior through and through; they knew he fought harder than any trooper and they also knew that he had an eye for loot. They suffered the abuse and the blows for they knew that they were softer than they should have been. Marcus and his comrades had told the tales around the campfires of the enemy they faced and they were under no illusions they had not been Venutius, they had given him a bloody nose. They had fought enough fights to know that an opponent with a bloody nose comes back harder. Next time the enemy   would be ready. They would need to practice moving from column to line and back.  They need to learn how to skirmish; throw their javelins and perform the circle manoeuvre which kept a constant barrage of missiles striking an enemy. They would need to learn how to fight in the arrow or wedge formation. This was an effective tactic which Ulpius had had drilled into him as a child in Pannonia. One warrior was the point of the spear and then two and so on. It was a formation which relied on discipline for the warriors on the right had no one to protect them.  In the right circumstances it would cut through almost any formation. The exception, of course, was the Roman legions themselves as Ulpius’ grandfather had discovered when he was defeated by the old Republican legions with Pompey. It took time but soon the ala responded to the signals without thinking.