Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 09] Hero of Rome (7 page)

“There is only one fort I believe?  Morwenna said there were but two centuries there.”

“Aye, a little wooden affair at the head of the lake. You could just take a different route and avoid the conflict altogether.”

Faolan looked at the gnarled warrior.  He was obviously past his prime and looking for an easy life. He obviously thought that he would live longer serving with a cautious Faolan! “No I wish to fight the Romans.  I understand that the soldiers have a room in the fort where they keep their coins?”

“I have heard this but as I have never captured one I cannot comment.” Angus wondered where he had gathered this intelligence.  Faolan had been well briefed by the resourceful Morwenna.

“We will both find out then will we not when we have razed this little outpost to the ground?”

Once they were ashore they quickly crossed the narrow pass which led to the fertile land. The ships had been too small to take horses and Faolan told Loegaire to have his men find some at the earliest opportunity.  Faolan wanted to be able to get out of trouble faster than he got into it and being mounted would certainly facilitate that. On the second day, Angus took Faolan and three of his trusted men to scout the fort. Faolan was surprised; Angus had said that it was a pitifully small affair but to Faolan it looked substantial.  There was a double ditch and a rampart topped with sharp stakes.  Towers flanked the four gates and the walls were manned with sentries.  He could also see the deadly bolt throwers mentioned by Morwenna. As they returned to the warband Faolan asked him about other forts.

“The stone ones are much bigger than this.  There is one at Morbium.  I would avoid that for the garrison is experienced and it has a river as a barrier. The other one is at Cataractonium but that is only a wooden one like this one at Glanibanta.”

“And Eboracum?”

“The biggest fortress I have ever seen.” Angus wondered at the ambition of this Hibernian who did not have nearly enough men to take the mighty bastion of the north.

Faolan found himself readjusting his ideas. He might be able to take these smaller forts with a sudden night attack but Eboracum, when they came to that particular hurdle would require a different plan. He gathered the leaders of his warbands around him.  He had one group led by one of Morwenna’s men, a surly silent warrior who commanded the respect of Morwenna’s five hundred men, two groups, both opportunists from other parts of Hibernia.  They each had four hundred men and the bulk of his warband, the six hundred warriors from Ebdani would be led by Loegaire. “We wait until moonset and each one of you will attack your allocated side on my signal. One warband will each attack a wall.”

Angus spat, “There will be spikes, and the Romans call them lillia, in the bottom of the ditches. I would have your first men carry bundles of wood and throw them in.”

Faolan could see that Angus would be a valuable asset. “Good.  See to it. Now prepare your men. Tonight we begin our quest for plunder and riches. We will see just how good these vaunted Romans are.” Morwenna’s men apart, the other Hibernian warriors were keen to test themselves against this race which had conquered their neighbours with such apparent ease.

That night, the heavily armed warriors spread through the fellside and woods which lined the fort. As they had neared it Faolan saw that those attacking from the south would have the hardest role for they would have to come through the lake which was within fifty paces of the walls.  It also meant the ditch on that side was, perforce, shallow. Faolan took the northern gate, for the forest afforded the best cover. He had few archers but the ones he had were, along with the slingers evenly spread out. They needed to take out the sentries as silently as possible. Faolan nodded to Loegaire who gestured for the men to crawl on their bellies towards the ditch.

Inside the sparsely defended fort, the Gallic sentries, who were on the walls, thanked the Allfather that they had drawn this assignment; no fighting, plenty of game and fishing and local women who could not get enough of the exotic Gauls.  Far better to be here,  than their brothers up at Vindolanda, where the protection of your manhood was a daily event. The only drawback was the sentry duty but it was a small price to pay for this cherished posting. The sentries glanced towards the forest and saw what they expected to see, bushes moving in the slight breeze and the snort of the wild pigs their officers like to hunt. The first that they knew of an attack was when four sentries crashed to the ground; the other eight made the mistake of looking at each other and failing, for a few moments to raise the alarm. The delay cost three more their lives but at last the oldest sentry yelled, “Attack! To arms!” His warning was timely but he never lived to see the result as two arrows pierced his neck.

With a roar the Irish warriors raced forward, hurling their faggots into the ditch and then springing over the trap to the walls. The largest men in each warband put their backs to the walls and the lightest warriors leapt onto their cupped hands to be thrown over the walls.  The garrison, which had just been enjoying a restful sleep, were taken aback as it appeared to rain painted howling warriors. Before they could even ascend the walls to fight the attackers, the gates were opened and the barbarians flooded in.  The massacre, for it was never a battle, nor even a skirmish, lasted but a few minutes. The one hundred and sixty defenders died to a man, outnumbered as they were, by at least, ten to one. 

Faolan was the last to enter as the last of the Gauls was being despatched. Loegaire came over to him.  “Just two men dead, three wounded and a couple of the boys hurt their ankles when they landed.  There are horses!”

“Excellent.  How many?”

“Five.”

“Good then we at least can ride.” He pulled his lieutenant to one side as the Irish stripped the bodies of anything which was of any value. “I am told that the Roman soldiers are given somewhere below ground to bury their gold.  Find it and bring it to me.”

Faolan strolled through the ground which was slippery with blood and gore. The Principia was the place where the Romans would put their maps and other valuable documents.  He had hated his education as a young man but now his ability to read might stand them in good stead. He hoped that there might also be lists showing where the other Roman forces were based but the Gods would have to be seriously on his side for that eventuality to happen. He sat on the only chair in the office and scanned the maps and the lists.  His Latin was rudimentary but he managed to translate most of the information. By the time the door opened and Loegaire slipped in he had deduced that he already had most of the information to be garnered from the fort.

Loegaire took the amphora he had uncovered from beneath his cloak. “You were right.  It was buried near the back of this room.  You could see where the earth was fresh.”

“Put this in the strongbox I brought with us. Is there a cart?” The warrior nodded.  “Good. Put the gold and my weapons in the cart and have two trusted men assigned as drivers. That will leave a horse for both of us and another for Angus, he seems a dependable warrior.  And now I will sleep.” He nodded to the mayhem going on outside.  Make sure too many of them don’t kill each other and that I am not disturbed.  We leave at daybreak.”

******

Macro and Marcus sat at the heads of their turmae. Although they had been separated when Macro undertook his mission to the north this was a more permanent parting; the frontier was increasingly hazardous.  Who knew when they would again share the pleasures of hunting; when would they have someone in whom they could confide anything? “Take care, brother.”

“You too Macro, and listen,” he lowered his voice. “Don’t let her prey on your mind.”

“Who?” Macro asked innocently but the narrowing of his eyes told Marcus that his brother was fully aware of his nemesis.

“You know who.  The witch who was your mother.”

“My mother is your mother Marcus and she lives at home with our father Gaius.”

Marcus looked at his brother for the hint of a lie in his eyes but he could see nothing. “Good! And try not to get yourself captured again.  Metellus may not be there to save you; he will be fifty miles away.”

“Huh! That was the one and only time.  And you take care of that sword.”

The turma heard the last statement and roared, “Sword brothers!”

Marcus laughed.  “See I have got over sixty men to protect the sword.”

Just then they heard the sound of a buccina and every trooper went on the alert.  They were close to Votadini country and who knew when a warband would raid. It was with some relief that they saw the small column of legionary cavalry trot into sight, headed by Julius Demetrius. Next to him rode Gaius Saturninus the Decurion Marcus had met when Macro was in the land of the Votadini.

Livius rode to meet the senator and they embraced. “I am pleased that we have found you before the ala split up.”

“Why has something happened?” Livius wondered if there had been a revolt in the southern half of the province.

Julius laughed and Livius noted the ironical smile of the face of Gaius Saturninus. “No it is just that you may need to readjust your instructions.  The Emperor has confirmed you as Prefect of this ala.”

The decurions and troopers closest heard the Legate’s words and a huge roar erupted.  As others asked what had been said the cheer rippled throughout the camp.

“Well I …” never an ambitious man, unlike his dead brother, Livius reddened and stammered.

“It is deserved Livius and now that you are of the noble class no-one can gainsay you. It means that you will have to have a Decurion Princeps promoted and a decurion to replace you. I am going to Coriosopitum to begin work on the limes.  The other reason I came here is that the legionary vexillations will be here soon.” His voice became very serious.  “The barbarians will not like the building of a solid frontier.  You and your troopers can expect more action in the next few weeks.” He pointed at the fort. “A century of auxiliaries raised around Morbium are on their way here now.  They were recruited from those who were unable to join the ala so they will be loyal warriors. And now I shall return to Coriosopitum,” he looked ruefully at the wooden fort, “where they do, at least, have baths and stone walls.”

As they rode away the decurions all clambered around the new Prefect. “Thank you but I don’t think it will change the way things are run at the moment.”

Julius, the clerk, sniffed.  “That is all you know! No more gallivanting for you Prefect.”

“And who is to be the Decurion Princeps?” As one of the youngest decurions and most recently promoted, Marcus knew that he could ask the question without prejudice and without others thinking he was seeking the post for himself.

“Give me time to think lads.”

From the back Metellus’ voice sounded, “What’s to think about? It is Cassius or I will show my arse in Eboracum’s Forum.”

Everyone laughed and Livius nodded. “You could at least have allowed me to come up with that decision.  Well, Decurion Princeps, if you could delay your departure for a short time we will discuss the ala.  The rest of you have a mission and remember the Legate’s words.  This is now a war zone.  Be careful out there.”

******

Tole, King of the Selgovae, was still smarting from his humiliation at the hands of the Roman auxiliaries when they had stolen away from the barbarian conclave; although his ally, Lugubelenus had suffered more loss of prestige and status, Tole was young enough and sensitive enough to feel aggrieved that Roman spies had discovered their invasion plans and caused them to be aborted. The young king had wanted a war to show off his newly acquired power and keen army; the Roman army would have made a perfect opponent, for a victory of any size would have led to an enlargement of his kingdom.  He had already taken over the lands to the west and assimilated the tribes, who had lived there, within his growing kingdom.  East was too problematic as Lugubelenus was a powerful and suspicious king and, more importantly, a successful leader having destroyed the Ninth some years earlier. Northwards lay painted, unpredictable and belligerent tribes who lurked dangerously behind the two mighty rivers; all of which just left Tole with the land to the south, the land of the Carvetii, Brigante and Rome. He had sent out small scouting warbands to identify the weaker parts of the frontier. He would not waste time with allies he would find a vulnerable part and take it. Already he knew that the fortress at Luguvalium was heavily defended and his scouts were now heading for the land between Luguvalium and the high land which split the country in two.

It was one of these warbands which spotted Macro and Drusus as they headed north towards the huge forest which ran all the way to the heart of the Votadini heart land. Luarch, the leader, was wary for they were close to the disputed land between that of the Selgovae and the Votadini.  Formerly Carvetii land, that buffer tribe had disappeared leaving the ownership a matter of arms. Luarch had but thirty men with him and the column was too big to take on but he was intrigued by their behaviour for they appeared to be about to camp for the night. He sent two of his men north to circle around the column while he and the bulk of his scouts watched as the Romans quickly dug a ditch and built a camp with stakes and a rudimentary gate. The barbarian was impressed. He began to fear that they had been seen when three of the Romans left the camp and rode hard west, towards their hidden position. He was relieved when they skirted the woods.  He signalled for two men to follow them and then resumed his watch. The Selgovae were a patient tribe and his new king would not appreciate garbled mis-information.  Better to wait and return with accurate information than risk the king’s ire.

When the troopers returned he saw that they had been hunting and had a wild pig across the saddle. He heard the cheer from in the camp as the troopers saw Macro return with the kill and then the Selgovae scouts had to suffer the smell of roast pig wafting across the fields making their hunger even more acute. The next day the hungry and morose scouts watched the Romans. He had heard that they built and demolished their camps on a daily basis but when he watched he saw that they left the camp as it was and headed north. Waiting until they were out of sight Luarch led his men to the camp. Everything was laid out as though they intended to return. This was important news for the king. The scouts quickly ransacked the camp for anything they could take back with them.  Spare javelins, shields and cloaks were all taken as well as the remains of the pig.  As quickly as they had arrived the scavengers left and headed north west to report to their king.