Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 09] Hero of Rome (31 page)

Antoninus became the businessman again and Gaius wandered out into the street not wishing to be part of the sordid business. The father frowned and then thought better of it. He would conclude his business first and then sort out his son. “Ten percent?”

“I was thinking more of thirty.  You do not know where to sell it but I do.”

“I am sure that if I went to the Forum and said that I had jet I would sell it easily.”

“Yes but not in one deal.  Twenty.”

“I am in no hurry, I can bide my time for the right price.”

“Fifteen then.”

Antoninus gave the hint of a smile.  “Give me a good deal on the wagons and you can have your fifteen.”

Gnaeus could already see how he would charge the buyer a fee and he would make money all around.  “It is a deal.”

Gaius Saturninus and his weary turma reported to the Prefect at the fort.  It was merely a courtesy for Gaius was on the business of the Governor but he knew that the Prefect could hinder his investigations unless he was kept informed. “So the Brigante revolted?”

“As revolts go it was a skirmish.  The Irish raiders did more damage but the Governor wants to make an example of the leaders.  Apparently they are a trader, Antoninus Brutus and his son Gaius who led the uprising. Their trail has led us here.  They had two pack horses with them.”

The Prefect checked his daily reports. “They did not come into the fort which means that, if they did venture here, they would have visited the vicus.”

Gaius did not want to say that the Prefect’s judgements were obvious so he just nodded. “And who would they go to in the vicus?” The rather slow Prefect, whose face reminded the Decurion of an ass, looked blankly at the legionary Decurion. “Which traders are happy to work outside the law?”

“All of them!”

“Which would you say was the most important?” Gaius Saturninus tried one last question; another blank look and he would ask one of the sentries.

“Ah that would be Gnaeus Vedius.  A nasty piece of work.  He keeps armed guards at his villa and his fingers are in every pie.”

The Decurion could sense that this was his man. “Where would I find him?”

“He has the largest house in the vicus, close to the inn called The Saddle.  You will see two thugs outside with cudgels.”

“Thank you. If I apprehend my men have you somewhere I could hold them until we return to Eboracum?”

“Yes we have a cell here.”

Gaius went into the tavern to buy himself some wine.  He felt he needed to drown his sorrows. The Saddle, which was nearby was owned by a one armed ex-soldier called Horse. A garrulous man he happily chatted away to Gaius for it was a quiet afternoon. “Here on business eh?”

Gaius ignored the question, having seen the shield and crossed spears on the wall behind the bar.”You were a soldier?”

“Aye, Marcus’ Horse.  Fought in the north. A grand life. Do you fancy being a soldier?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well they are recruiting at Deva for horsemen.  There was a revolt up north and they need auxiliaries. You ought to try it.  You look like you can handle yourself.”

Gaius was flattered and he liked this happy, fat, one armed ex-soldier.”So you just turn up and say you want to join?”

“That’s all there is to it.”

“Thank you for that, I might just do that.” He slid a denari across and The Horse smiled.  A good tip; it paid to be pleasant.

As Gaius stepped out he found himself behind a line of Imperial cavalry tramping down the street. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He somehow knew who they were seeking. He slid into one of the alleys which marked the edges of the closely built huts.

“You four, guard this end of the street, you four the other.  You six, round the back.” Gaius glanced out and could see that the officer was looking towards Gnaeus’ domus and the two guards on the door were looking nervously at the heavily armed soldiers. “Remember we are looking for a father and a son.  Anyone who fits that description just grab them. I want too many rather than too few.”

As soon as he heard the words Gaius knew that his time in Britannia was up. He ran down the alley desperately trying to get his bearings. He remembered that, at the entrance to the vicus, there had been a stable. He made his way there as swiftly as he could and then entered casually.  He wandered down the stalls eyeing the mounts while the owner greedily assessed the purse of this potential customer. Gaius saw one black mount he fancied but carried on to the next one which was a chestnut.

“How much for this chestnut?”

“Five denarii!”

“Five?” I want a horse, not your business. Two!”

“Four and I will throw in a saddle.”

“What about the black in the next stall, is he cheaper?”

“No sir, he is the best horse I have.  I could not let him go for less than six.”

“I will give you four and I will buy a saddle or ride bareback.”

The owner shrugged.  He had hoped to fleece the young man but he knew how to haggle. “A deal.”

As Gaius kicked his horse on heading for Deva he reflected that he would never see his father again but then rationalised his betrayal.  His father stood more chance of survival if his son was not with him and he knew that his father would want him to live. He would head for Deva but not to enlist, he would not fight for Rome but he would fight against. He would take ship and sail west.

Antoninus felt his bowels shift as the huge Decurion burst in through the door. The two thugs on the door lay in the street oblivious to all. Gnaeus Vedius wondered what Antoninus could have done to warrant the attention of an Imperial officer.

The Decurion grabbed hold of Antoninus. “You are Antoninus Brutus?” He was so petrified that his wits failed him. If he had said no then he might have gained some time. His silence was answer enough. “Where is your son? The traitor Gaius Brutus.”

“He is not here.”

“I can see that you dozy old bugger! That’s why I asked you where is he?”

Antoninus suddenly decided to brazen this out, unaware that Gnaeus could see where this was going and was backing gently away. “Now look here.  I am an honest business man.  My son is also a trader. I don’t know who you think we are but you are mistaken and I will take this up with higher authorities.”

The self satisfied look which appeared on the officer’s face should have warned Antoninus but he failed to recognise it. “Higher authority eh?  Like, say, the Governor?”

“Precisely! I knew the old Governor and…”

“And the new Governor has issued a warrant for your arrest for financing the rebellion led by your son.”

At that point Gnaeus wondered how he could keep his hands on the valuable black jet which lay at Antoninus’ feet, for one thing was certain the Brigante trader would not need it. Antoninus tried to bluff it out a little longer. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I am afraid, my little tubby trader that the survivors of your pathetic rebellion and their parents gave you up.  Your lands have been confiscated,” he looked down, suddenly seeing the bags of jet at his feet, “as will, this booty.  We will return to Eboracum where you will be tried.  Now where is your son?”

Even though it was all up and he knew it Antoninus showed, at last, the kind of courage his grandfather had shown. “I do not know!”

“Very well bring him with us, and the jet and the slimy bugger trying to slip out of the back.”

Gnaeus blustered, “I am a business man and I…”

“And you are harbouring an enemy of the state.” He turned to his optio, “Take some men and ask around, see if anyone has noticed him.”

The Prefect was amazed at the speed with which Gaius had found his man and delighted to finally have something on Gnaeus Vedius. “We’ll be getting back soon.  Just have to go to Deva.  Apparently he said he might enlist. I can’t see it myself but if he has gone to Deva and not joined up then he may have already left.  A pity, but at least we have the man who financed the rebellion and from what I hear his son was a waste of time as a general anyway.”

Chapter 18

The funeral pyre had been built upon the beach facing the west. Macro was laid upon it in full armour with his weapons about him. Protruding from the top was a spear topped with the head of Morwenna and in the teeth of the dead queen was placed the blade which had ended the Decurion’s life.  The whole of the ala was gathered around in a hollow square along with the sailors from the ships and they, in turn, were surrounded by the captives. 

Julius had made it a formal occasion for a number of reasons, firstly it was a ceremony to mark the death of a great warrior, secondly it mourned and celebrated all the dead of the ala who had perished in the campaign and, finally, it celebrated the death of an enemy of Rome. He was acutely aware of the attentions of the villagers.  He knew that they had sympathies which lay, not with Rome, but with Manavia and he wanted a message sending to them. The last of the crucified barbarians had died in the night and as the crows and magpies feasted on the dead bodies it provided a sombre message for the wider community.  Fight Rome and this is your fate.

Marcus took the burning brand from Julius Demetrius, Legate of Rome and walked slowly towards the byre. He knew his dead brother would wish him to do this but he found himself oddly reluctant to do so.  It was as though by setting fire to his brother he was confirming that he was, indeed, dead and Marcus still expected him to leap up and be alive once more. Over the hills he glimpsed the hunting hawk and knew that it was a message from the afterlife that Macro was watching. He thrust the torch into the kindling at the base of the byre and stepped back. It was a well made pyre and soon the flames were licking around the warrior’s body. The armour and the leather slowed down the effects of the flames and instead the spear caught fire and its bright tongues ate their way to the grinning skull of the dead queen.  The dry red hair, now duller in death suddenly erupted making a corona of flame around her head.  The flesh began to melt and drip from her face and white bone briefly flashed before being wreathed in smoke.  As the spear finally crumbled the skull fell crashing to the ground, the knife still fixed in the dead teeth and the mouth in a rictus grin. At that moment the flames finally consumed Macro and the decurion of the Second Sallustian Ala of Pannonians passed over to the half life.

Later, when the assembly had dispersed Julius called a meeting of the ship’s officers, the decurions and Hercules. “I propose that the wounded be taken by The Swan back to Eboracum.  The Classis Britannica can return to its duties on the east and we will return the captives to their home.”

Cassius looked unhappy.  “Could the captives not sail back in the biremes for the journey over land will be hard?”

Hercules sucked in his cheeks, “Bad luck to have a woman aboard, let alone a whole gaggle of ‘em.”

Although they smiled Julius could see that the two bireme captains agreed. It would be too crowded and, having sailed around this island, not as safe as the land journey.”

“We can make wagons. There are more horses here than we will need.”

“But Metellus, there are no roads.  The wagons would not last more than a few miles.  Remember there is no road to Stanwyck.”

Grinning slyly Metellus said, “No, but there is one to Luguvalium and thence along the Stanegate to Dere Street.”

Cassius put his hands up in exasperation.  “Well that is even better then; let us take them to the frontier where the Selgovae are flexing their muscles.”

“Metellus is right, Decurion Princeps.  This way we have protection all the way form Luguvalium to the fort Vindolanda and thence to Coriosopitum.  I think that is an excellent suggestion.”

Still mumbling his complaints Cassius moaned, “It will take a week longer to do it that way.” He did not notice the smile exchanged between Metellus and the captive called Nanna.

******

By the time Faolan had managed to get a boat and sail to Itunocelum with the fifty warriors chosen by him and Caronwyn to find her mother’s head, the ala had been gone from the port for three days. The crosses still marked the ridge above the houses, the circling carrion feeders still flocking and squawking for the right to feast.  The frightened villagers had not dared to touch the pile of ashes which marked Macro’s end and the queen’s skull still looked skywards. The ship’s captain sailed up and down the beach for a while as the warriors looked for a sign of an ambush.

Angus took the decision for his leader. “I will go ashore with ten men.  If it is a trap, then be prepared to pick us up quickly.” He no longer trusted the Hibernian Prince since he had abandoned his men on the beach on their last visit.  The captain took them to the jetty and Angus and his men sprang ashore, weapons ready.  The only sounds were the carrion crows fighting over the bodies and the Manavian wedge moved towards the blackened patch of the beach.  As soon as Angus saw the skull he knew that the Romans had, as he suspected left. “You eight, scout out the settlement, bring me the headman. Tuarch, tell his majesty that it is safe and I have found the Queen.”

The old warrior reached down to tenderly pick up the blackened skull. It was clearly Morwenna for not all of her hair had burnt and her features were still recognisable.  He felt sad, like a father who has lost a daughter.  For all her cruelty to others she had always shown kindness to Angus and he had been her bondsman for the last ten years.  He still regretted that it had been Creagth who was watching over her and not him. Had he been the guard then he was convinced that she would still be alive.  He would have to do something to make up for his error.  Perhaps he would offer his services to Caronwyn for she was the double of her mother.

He was still gently cradling the skull when Faolan appeared at his side, his nose wrinkled in disgust at the sight and the smell.  He looked at the knife with a puzzled expression on his face. “Why would they do that?”

“A sign for the afterlife showing what the Queen had done.” Angus pointed at the pile of ash. “This was the funeral pyre for the warrior who killed her and this,” he held up the skull,” was the trophy he had won.  The knife represented the other one he killed, Brynna.”