Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 09] Hero of Rome (26 page)

When they reached the pens Furax and Hercules initiated part two of the plan.  “Grandfather, can I have a look around?”

“Yes but don’t get lost and don’t get into trouble.” As the boy raced away Hercules said, sadly to the druids.  “His mother and father were killed when the Romans invaded his village.  He hid amongst the dead.” The look the druids exchanged told Hercules that they had bought the story.

“A fine set of slaves are they not?  Mainly Brigante, women and children but we have some men slaves as well. The Brigante are fresh meat but we have others who have been captives for longer.  They are kept on another part of the island. They will be brought here for the sale. These are just the new ones. What is it you seek?”

Hercules pointed at the women and children who sat abjectly well away from the men.  “The prices in Aquitania are too high.  It is a peaceful province and we need wars to make slaves.  I am hoping for bargains and a quick profit. We need house servants and children who can be specifically trained to perform particular tasks. When did you say the auction will be?”

“The new moon.”

“Good for I will have the chance to sail north and look at these Pictii slaves.” He wrinkled his nose.  “The trouble with the Pictii are the tattoos.  Many fine homes will not entertain them but they are cheap and they are plentiful. Well thank you for your help.  When I find the boy we will buy the masts and ropes and set sail on the morning tide.”

Furax’s job was to check the defences of the fortress. He wandered up the steep trail. He noticed that it turned sharply right and he knew enough from talking to the troopers that this was a good defensive strategy as it allowed arrows to be poured at the side of an attacking force.  He saw that there were only two towers by the gate but they were manned.  He quickly counted twenty sentries. One of the guards noticed his interest and wandered over. “What do you want then young ‘un?”

“I have never seen a fort before.  Are all the guards as tough as you?”

The guard took the flattery as genuine praise and puffed his chest up.  “I am one of the tougher ones believe me. Where are you from?”

Furax pointed innocently down to the harbour.  “That ship there. We are getting spares but we have to leave soon.  I would love to look inside the fort.”

“Sorry son.  There is a big meeting going on in there, Princes, Druids, Chiefs, there are even some Roman deserters in there.”

Furax glanced through the open gate and his heart almost rose into his mouth. “Oh maybe next time.  Thank you for being so kind sir.”

“No problem son.” As Furax raced away to rejoin Hercules the guard turned to his companion.  “What a polite young lad. Makes me almost want to have a son myself.”

His companion sniffed.  “More like you fancy a fuck you horny old bastard!”

“Ah there you are grandson, where have you been?”

“Exploring!” Furax then added under his breath, “We need to get out of here fast!”

Hercules trusted the boy enough to believe him.  As they passed by the ship’s chandlers Hercules went in and made a couple of unnecessary purchases for the ship in case the druids checked up on them and then the two of them made it back to the ship as quickly as possible.  As they went on board Hercules turned to the first mate.  “Get ready for sea we may need to leave in a hurry.  Furax saw something.”

Once in the hold Furax explained what he had seen.  “I saw some of the men who were in the ala.  The deserters who fled.”

Julius looked doubtful. “How can you be sure? It was some time ago.” He peered at the boy to see if this was some story he had told to impress them.

“The guard said that they had Roman deserters meeting with the Prince and the Witch and when I looked in I recognised one; the big one who didn’t like anyone at the fort and was always frowning.  He had a funny name like, the hand or…”

“The Fist!”

“Yes that is it, The Fist.  I saw him.”

“Well that complicates things. Did he see you Furax?”

“No I saw him from the side and then I ran away.”

“Well we are in the clear then.  We just stay on board.”

“Not quite so easy Macro.  If the druids start talking about a ship and a young lad then The Fist might remember Furax.”

There was a silence as they all considered what the options were. “If we leave too early it will look suspicious.”

“I have told the crew to be ready to leave quickly.  The trouble is the tide won’t be perfect until the morning.  We could get out tonight but it would look strange. No ship would risk unknown waters at night.”

“We will have to bluff it out then but be ready to cast off if anyone approaches the ship.” Julius looked around.  “I am just not certain that I can stay cooped up here all night.”

Hercules smiled, “As soon as it is dark you and your men can sneak up on deck and sleep in the open. To be honest you are all stinking my ship out.”

One of the troopers said indignantly, “We are stinking it out! I have been in better smelling latrines!”

Chapter 15

The council which was meeting was more of a war cabinet than anything else. Faolan, Angus and Creagth were reporting the success of their raid whilst, at the same time, The Fist and his men were asking for sanctuary on the island.  Morwenna and the three senior druids had convened the meeting as it seemed everyone would have something to contribute. Morwenna was not as disappointed as Faolan that the raid had not resulted in more destruction.  She had learned in the years of her long battle with Rome that small victories could sometimes result in better outcomes rather than one cataclysmic slaughter.  In her experience Rome had an inexhaustible supply of men from her vast Empire and her aim was to make Britannia untenable and not worth the effort to save.  The problem, as Morwenna had come to realise, was that it was a rich province.  The wheat which they farmed in the southern half of the province was a supplement to the sometimes problematic Egyptian harvest; the copper and tin further south was also invaluable for a nation so reliant on weapons of war. The gold of Wyddfa was also a very attractive lure.  It was in the north where the Romans lacked riches and that was Morwenna’s hope.  If she could make the loss of Roman lives too expensive then they might move south with a line from Deva to Lindum and she could return as Queen of the Brigantes.

She looked again at the motley and disparate group of men gathered before her.  The plainly dressed Roman deserters led by the huge brute called, The Fist, and she could see why he was called that were in complete contrast to the gaudily arrayed warriors around Faolan. For the first time she had access to someone who knew the Roman war machine. When she had fought alongside Decius Sallustius it had not been the same for he knew of Roman Britannia but he had never served in the army and that was the subtle difference. The Mother had, once again, delivered to her all the elements which would contribute to Rome’s downfall.  This time she had to harness them all effectively and not waste the good fortune which had come her way.

Faolan’s sulky face showed his feelings quite clearly and Morwenna thought that he needed someone to guide him to help him become a great leader.  That was not her but she wondered about her daughters. Angus had told her that Faolan was not one of the normal Hibernians who were totally immersed in honour and glory; she now knew that this Prince was more political than any she had met.  That could be used but he would need to mask his feelings more.  She knew from whence came his impatience; he had expected to be the centre of attention and the arrival of the deserters had detracted from that. She would have to take charge and energise the gathering or risk losing the support of all of the players who were gathered before her.

“We have introduced ourselves and we can now move on to the next, most important discussion, where do we go from here?”

Faolan leapt to his feet.  “I do not see why we have to discuss my business and the business of my people with a Roman, and a Roman deserter at that!”

If he hoped to rile The Fist into action he failed for the ex-trooper sat with an impassive face drinking the wine before him. “Prince Faolan we are here to discuss the island business.  This Roman wishes to settle amongst us and receive sanctuary. That is important and there is a price.” The Fist’s hooded eyes flickered as they took in her statement. Here it was the huge fee he would have to pay for safety. “The price may not be gold, although gold is always welcome, but knowledge, information and advice.” When the Roman visibly relaxed Morwenna knew that she had read him right. “You, Prince Faolan, wish to return home to take from your cousin your lands and become king.  Is that not so?”

Flashing a filthy look at the Romans he snarled, “It is and how does their presence help me?”

Sighing at his apparent naivety and his lack of vision the Red Witch explained, as though to a child. “We will hold the sale of the captives soon and when that has taken place we will all be richer. You will then be able to hire more mercenaries and more weapons.” She paused.  “When you fought the Romans did you see their war machines?”

“We did when we burned their fort why?”

“You did not see them used?”

Faolan and Creagth laughed, “No for the soldiers who would have used them were dead.”

“Angus, tell the Prince of these weapons and their effect.”

The Fist smiled.  He knew that she had not asked him because Faolan would have dismissed it as lies but the Hibernian appeared to respect the red haired warrior. “It works like a huge bow and the men operating it wind it back and fire a bolt.  I have seen them used and they go through not just one man but a line of ten and every man dies.  The Roman legions have one for every hundred men.  If we had attacked a fort frontally then we would have been slaughtered.”

Faolan looked thoughtful. “So?”

“Has your cousin seen Roman soldiers and met Roman weapons?”

“Of course not.”

Sighing again for the obtuse man so hated Romans that he could not see where he was being led. “So if you had some Roman war machines, some Roman armour, weapons and tactics do you think it would help you and your warband to seize the throne?”

Understanding lit up his face and his mouth opened slightly as he, finally, linked the ideas. “And this Roman could do that?”

The Fist spoke for the first time. “This Roman could do that.  I could find men like us,“ he looked darkly into Faolan’s eyes, “deserters and I could help you to buy the machines and weapons.  You would not have to dishonour yourself by fighting alongside, deserters, but we would train the men you would use; your archers, your cavalry and your artillery.”

Morwenna gave a subtle nod to the Roman to show that he had said the right thing in the right way.  She could use this Roman.  She liked a man who was only interested in money for they were more careful than glory hunters.

“Given those terms then how can I refuse?”

“However, Faolan, there is more to this bargain. When you have conquered your lands I would have this army fight for us to retake Britannia.”

“You want my army? Ridiculous!”

“You intend to pay for an army to sit on your land and milk you dry of gold or will you get more gold and riches from Hibernia?”

Her comment was not lost on Faolan.  He had had to go to Britannia to get the finance to take back his kingdom.  He could not afford to pay for a huge army of warriors. Perhaps there was a way for him to benefit and keep his throne. “If you used my army then I would want a share of the profits.”

Morwenna’s look of triumph became s smile which lit up the room. “We will all share in the profits, Manavia, Hibernia and our new Roman adviser.” They all raised their beakers to celebrate the union.  The deserters with The Fist were not certain what the work would entail for them but their leader was happy and so were they.

Morwenna held up her hand for silence. “We will not have gold for a while but, Roman, where would you get these weapons and men?”

“Not near the frontier but further away perhaps Camulodunum.  That is the largest city in the province and we are more likely to find disillusioned men there. It is also the place through which the weapons arrive from Rome and so we would have more chance of acquiring them.”

“You would need a ship then?”

“It would save us crossing a country fired up by revolt and rebellion where every soldier is on the lookout for trouble.”

“We will meet again on the morrow at the port and find a suitable ship for your journey.”

One of the druids spoke for the first time. “It had better be early then for the tide turns in the night and some of the ships we used to bring the men back from the raid will have sailed.”

“Then we will meet before dawn breaks.”

As the crew of The Swan and the troopers enjoyed the fresh air Hercules peered intently at the citadel. He had been watching lights flicker, brighten and then observed a line of them descending the trail he and Furax had taken the previous day.  Someone was coming.  He went to the seaward side and glanced out to the black murky waters. The tide was not perfect but it was getting better. Eastwards there was just the hint of a glimmer of dawn.  Although no other ships were stirring Hercules could feel in his bones that they ought to move. He woke Julius and his first mate. “I think we should sail.”

The First Mate looked at the blackness with a perplexed expression, not helped by being woken from a deep sleep. “Has the tide turned?”

Hercules pointed to the line of torches making its way down to the jetty. “I think someone is up and about.  Better we look keen than get caught with Roman soldiers on board.  Senator, get your men below. Wake the crew!”

The troopers had been only half asleep for sleep in an enemy stronghold was not easy and quickly descended to the hold.  As the crew began to get the ship ready for sea, Hercules nodded to Furax.  “Up the mainmast you can see who this is and then help to guide us out.”

The agile boy leapt up the ropes and scampered to the top of the mainmast. “There are about ten of them and one is a woman.”

Hercules worst fears were confirmed, it was Morwenna.  “Cast off forrard.  Get the foresail up.” Lying in the lee of the island Hercules knew that it would take some time to tack away from the jetty.  The first dim rays of the sun lit up the eastern horizon and gave Hercules hope that they might just be seen as being keen to sail north. The torches were now only two hundred paces away and the captain could now see Morwenna, some Hibernian warriors and the unmistakeable hulk that was The Fist. The boy had been right and had he not told them then all of their plans might have ended in bloodshed on the Manavian beach.  As it was they were not safe yet but Hercules could see a gap between them and the jetty. “Hoist the mainsail!”As the sail unfurled and they moved a little further out of the lee of the island The Swan leapt forward as though eager to be away from the land.