The Encircling Sea

by Adrian Goldsworthy

  ‘My lord, I request permission to accompany the expe­dition,’ Aelius Brocchus’ tone was formal, but his eyes were imploring.

  Neratius Marcellus shook his head. ‘I understand your feelings, but I need you for another purpose. It is possible that we can get the hostages back merely by giving them what they want. On the other hand, they may see our agreement as a sign of weakness, and make further demands. Or they may plan treachery from the start.’ He stared at each face in turn. ‘I hope that my fears are unjustified, I sincerely do, but hope is not a sound basis for a commander to make up his mind.

  ‘We need to be prepared for the worst. There is a chance that they will kill their captives whatever we do. In that case I will not rest until we are avenged. That is my job as legate of the emperor, since I cannot permit the majesty of Rome to be damaged lest others are inspired to commit worse depredations. These men must be punished. If they are indeed some of the Usipi, then they must also pay for their past crimes.’ The practised orator was in full swing, the words flowing, each slight gesture of the hand and each rapid glance full into a man’s eyes was fluid and forceful. Yet Ferox sensed that the sincerity was not feigned. This was more than simply a good performance.

  ‘Yet I will cherish my hope for as long as I can. If there is the slightest chance of getting back Cerialis and his wife then I will seize it. I need not remind you that the Lady Sulpicia Lepidina is a relation of my wife and very dear to me as well. So if there is any chance at all, I will take it with both hands. Thus, we must consider a rescue, in case these scum do not do as they promise. We do not know where they live, or where they are likely to hold the hostages, but we may be able to find out. The thought occurs to me that they may lurk on some island, either off the coast of Hibernia or further north off Caledonia or even distant Thule.

  ‘We will find them, wherever they are, but we must have sufficient force to strike a certain and deadly blow. I wish you to command this force, my dear Brocchus. It will consist of two triremes, perhaps another if it arrives in time, along with transports and several hundred picked soldiers. Will you do this for me?’

  ‘Of course, my lord. It will be an honour.’

  ‘Good, then I know that I am relying on a man who can temper prudence with boldness. You will wait here until word comes from Crispinus that it is time to act. It is the task of his expedition to find out everything he can. If there is the slightest chance we must seize it.’ The legate clapped his hands to emphasise the point.

  There was much to sort out and very little time, but before he hurried off to arrange his side of things, Ferox had one request to make.

  ‘If you are absolutely sure.’ Neratius Marcellus’ doubt was obvious. ‘Might it not be prudent to keep one as surety to the other’s behaviour?’

  ‘They may not agree,’ Ferox explained. ‘They will only accept if I show some trust.’

  ‘It is a risk.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  Ferox rode back to Luguvallium with Vindex. Thankfully the games had been suspended, so they were able to collect the corpse of the warrior they had found on the beach and go to where the prisoners were held. Together they lifted the dead man off the horse, and rolled the black painted warrior onto the ground in front of the cage.

  It was the first time Segovax and his brother had shown much interest in anything.

  ‘Was this one of the men who took your kin?’ he asked.

  The Red Cat spat through the bars at the body.

  ‘He says yes,’ Vindex interpreted.

  ‘We are going after these men,’ Ferox said, and tried to think how best to explain it so that the northerners would under­stand. ‘They have taken a Roman chief and his wife prisoner. I am bound by solemn oath to them. I will get them back, if I can. Whether or not I can do that I shall have vengeance and kill every last one of these bastards. Will you come with me?’

  Segovax lifted his arms so that the manacles rattled.

  ‘If you give me your oath you may come and fight beside us. When it is over you may go free, wherever you will, with weapons in your hands. Up until then you will not try to escape.’

  ‘What oath?’

  ‘To follow me and help me in any way you can to find these men. Then you will aid us to get back the captives and wipe the land free of these murderers and eaters of men.’

  The brothers looked at each other. No word was spoken, but it was a while before the Red Cat gave a slight nod.

  The man with the red face turned to them and spoke slowly. ‘We will swear to serve you and hunt them down, to kill them and free your chieftain and his woman. But that is all. Once it is done we are free. We do not give up our promise to kill you and this one. Those are our terms. Do you take them? If not then we will die here for that is our fate.’

  ‘I accept them,’ Ferox said. Vindex gave him a sidelong glance, but said nothing.

  ‘Then we swear by the gods of our people, by the sun, moon and stars, by the four winds and green earth, by rock and by breath to serve you faithfully, to fight and die at your side, until the men of the night are killed and your captives safe or dead. Then it is over.’

  XIV

  QUINTUS OVIDIUS WAS the most surprising addition to the expedition, attracting even more puzzled glances than the two northerners, clean now, and with their long hair braided back and issue spatha swords at their sides.

  ‘It is the urge of a man of letters to see the world rather than simply read of it,’ the little man said whenever he was asked. He spent most of the voyage peering out over the side of the ship. ‘My dearest wish is to see a whale, or some other monster of the deep.’

  No whales or monsters appeared, but the voyage was smooth and fast and brought them to a little trading port on the Hibernian coast. There were two other ships already there, both quite small, their crews busily unloading amphorae of wine and heavy wooden boxes.

  Waiting on shore was a band of sixty warriors, thirty for each of the kings. All were mounted, and they had brought ponies and supplies. The kings, as befitted their rank, had chariots to carry them inland. Crispinus’ escort consisted mainly of cavalrymen, a mixture of Batavians and men from the ala Petriana. There had only been space in the transports for thirty-five horses, but with the ones provided by the warriors they were able to mount fifty troopers as well as the officers, Vindex and a few of his scouts. The rest were to stay with the ships. As they were preparing to depart, one of the troopers nodded amicably to Ferox.

  ‘Longinus,’ he said in acknowledgement. He had seen the man on board, but they had not spoken. The cavalryman was old, by the far the oldest man in cohors VIIII Batavorum equitata and had lost one eye many years ago.

  ‘Flora sends her greetings,’ the man said quietly. ‘Asked me as a favour to try to stop you from getting killed.’

  ‘Kind of her,’ Ferox said. The brothel mistress and the old soldier were friends from long ago and a different life. Once the man now called Longinus had been an equestrian officer called Julius Civilis. Like Cerialis he was a Batavian, and like Cerialis he was of the tribe’s royal line. A promising career went badly wrong in the civil war after Nero’s suicide, and a rising in favour of Vespasian had turned into a rebellion to establish an Empire of the Gauls. Most of the Batavian auxili­aries had followed him, and they had won quite a few victories before Vespasian – by this time victor in the civil war – sent a big army to settle matters. Civilis and his allies were defeated, but the man had vanished and escaped punish­ment by finding anonymity in the ranks of the Ninth Cohort. Ferox had learned who he really was during the trouble with the Stallion, but otherwise it was a secret shared only by the rest of the cohort. Longinus was a good soldier, and even the officers of the cohort craved his good opinion. Even so, Ferox was a little surprised to find him serving with the expedition.

  ‘I owe the lady’s family, you know that,’ the trooper said. ‘And himself’ – he meant Cerialis – ‘is one of us, and king by rights, so it is my duty to help him.’


  They left the harbour in bright sunshine, and were soon riding over fields rich with the greens of early summer.

  *

  ‘Doesn’t look that different,’ Vindex said on the third day of their journey and the second day of unbroken drizzle. ‘Wetter, though.’

  Ferox said nothing. It all reminded him of home, the rain as much as anything else, but that was what he had expected and other things occupied his thoughts. The night before, Ovidius had asked to speak to him and to Crispinus in the tribune’s tent. The guards were ordered to keep their distance, and make sure no one overheard anything.

  ‘It is a rare thing for a poet to boast more knowledge of the world than men of action such as yourselves, so please forgive me if I have been jealous in guarding it for as long as possible. I assume that you have long since concluded that I was not sent by the legate for my prowess as a warrior or experience of diplomacy.’

  Crispinus smiled. ‘Or to see whales?’

  ‘Or that sadly. Before we came to Britannia, the legate and I went to the Lord Trajan on the Rhine and I bought a slave in the market. I did not particularly need one, and it was simply chance that took me past the auction, but the cries of the auctioneer pricked my interest.’ He paused, watching them for the moment.

  ‘Please go on,’ Crispinus said. ‘I presume there is a point to this homely anecdote.’

  ‘There is indeed, and at least you have not merely assumed that this was no more than the ramblings of an aged mind. The slave was called Felix, as so many are, though with heavy irony in his case. He was one of the Usipi, not that the name meant anything to me, but when the auctioneer called out that he was a cannibal and did his best to make the flesh of his audience creep, I became interested.’

  ‘Where is this Felix now?’ Ferox cut in.

  ‘Dead. But I shall come to that, my young friends, and you must be patient. They were trying to sell him as a brute who could be set to any unpleasant labour, or even trained to guard property, so were a little surprised to find a poet bidding. I was curious, as what poet or philosopher would not be? Here was a man said to have committed one of the greatest impieties, a sin so great that few save illicit love between parent and child could be worse, or consign a man to more terrible punishment in the Underworld – or to exactly the same nothingness as all the rest of us, depending on your viewpoint.

  ‘I bought him because I wanted to know his story and try to understand the evil he had done. He was one of the men conscripted by us to form the new cohort. As you know, the Usipi live beyond the Rhine and are not under our direct rule. They had raided our friends and murdered some traders and so were punished. However, it seems that their chieftains did not wish to provide us with their best warriors or most loyal men, and instead they picked on the poorest, the thieves, the lazy. On those they least wanted to keep, as it were. Felix claimed that he was chosen because one of a chieftain’s warriors wanted his wife. He had taken no part in the raids or other attacks and resented being chosen. There were others, he claimed, snatched from their families and sent away as prisoners. Still more were slaves and captives bought or snatched from other tribes. Including fifty or so from the Harii. You have not heard the name before?’ Ovidius looked pleased. ‘It is significant, I assure you.

  ‘They were all rounded up, treated as prisoners rather than honourable recruits, and eventually shipped over to Britannia to train. I am no historian, but it has always struck me how often the worst possible men are given an important task, and that was certainly true in this case. A centurion from Legio XX was put in charge of organising and training the new cohort. I am guessing he was also chosen because the legion did not want him around, but perhaps he had friends. He made few new ones. While I understand that disciplina is important as a great martial and Roman virtue, from what Felix told me this was not good discipline but blatant tyranny. The centurion flogged, starved, and executed men for slight infractions. He withheld pay from all of them, cut the rations to something barely short of starvation. Worse yet, he had many of the recruits stripped naked and brought to him at night, so that he could satisfy his lusts and his appetite for violence. More than one hanged himself after the experience.’

  ‘The official report was less detailed,’ Crispinus said, ‘but could not hide the gross abuse of power. If the outbreak had been less violent, most of the men might well have been pardoned.’

  ‘To Felix and the others it seemed that they were trapped, without any hope. Yet the rising started for another reason. The Harii kept to themselves most of the time, under three leaders whose word was law to them. No one in the cohort had been allowed to bring their families with them. That is the regulation, I understand.’ Ferox nodded. ‘But I also see women and children in most forts, especially with the auxilia, so I assume it is a regulation rarely enforced. Yes, I thought so. Well, it was imposed on the Usipi, and then suddenly, months later, seven women turn up at the fort where they were training. All of them were Harii, and the leaders were twin sisters. Felix never liked to talk about them. Even after all these years his fear was obvious. It took a while – and I fear some compulsion – to get him to say that their blood was special, that they came from a line of priests and priestesses, or perhaps witches would be a better word because he said they had power to heal and to hurt, power to see into the minds of others and know the future.

  ‘The twins were the lovers of the leaders of the Harii, all three of them, for it seems the customs of these folk are strange. Twice they were evicted from the fort along with the other five women, but within a week they reappeared. The centurion ordered that they be beaten this time if they had not left by the next dawn, and one of the witches cursed him and cursed any man who obeyed him.

  ‘That night the cohort turned on every Roman and every outsider they could find. Felix could not quite understand it, but afterwards he was told that the witches had put a potion into the men’s food. He just said that he found himself sword in hand, chasing after one of the legionaries who was training them. He said that he knew the man well, and liked him, for he was fair and taught them dodges as well as the regulations, but still he ran him down and hacked him to pieces, cutting down again and again long after the legionary was dead. It was the same for all of them, their rage was red and raw and they had no mercy, murdering even the young slaves who looked after the pack animals.

  ‘The Harii caught the centurion and killed him slowly. Then they ripped out his bowels and the witches bit into steaming entrails. Some of the warriors did the same and swore a horrible oath binding themselves together. It was the Harii who took the lead in all that happened later. The other men began to feel their rage subsiding. Felix thought it was the magic wearing off, but who can say. Instead they were overwhelmed by fear, for they knew that the army would have no mercy after what they had done, whatever the provocation. The Harii led them to the coast, where there was a station of the classis Britannica. On the way, they stumbled on a convoy carrying supplies and pay to the legion’s base at Deva. The escort was not large, or expecting an attack from hundreds of desperate mutineers, for word had not yet spread of the outbreak. They were caught by surprise and slaughtered to the last man. The witches performed the same rite on a badly wounded tribune who happened to be travelling with them, ripping out his guts while the poor fellow was still alive. The rest of the Harii ate of his flesh and took the oath.

  ‘They pushed on to the coast, found three warships and I believe that this part of the story is well known. One of the ship’s masters refused to cooperate and was killed, along with any of the rowers who were unwilling to join the mutineers. What you probably do not know is that there was discord among the leaders of the Harii. One was stabbed to death, and another vanished, taking with him one of the witches, who was with child. No one was sure whether she went willingly or as a captive, but the sight of approaching cavalry stopped any thought of pursuit. Everyone boarded the ships and they rowed out to sea. That was the start of their marauding. They
killed, abducted and raped women, and took whatever supplies they needed. The Harii were the leaders and enjoyed the pick of everything. Anyone who opposed them was slaughtered, but they mainly ruled by the fear of the witch’s power and their dreadful oath. One by one, some of the others ate the entrails of the dead and took the same oath.

  ‘As they went ever further north the pickings became less, while the ferocity of the inhabitants and the sea itself became greater. Food ran short, and it was then that they started to devour human flesh simply to stay alive. Sometimes they took captives, sometimes the witch cast lots or just pointed at the ones to die. It was never any of the men who had taken the oath. Eventually there was a fight, with heavy losses, but no clear decision and in the night one of the galleys vanished. On board were all the remaining Harii and others who had taken the oath, along with the witch and quite a few women. The other two ships kept going and rounded the north of Britannia. One ship sank in a storm, the other pressed on, raiding whenever there was the chance. Felix said that by now eating men had become natural. If you would like to know, he said that it is all in the cooking. One would have thought some men are tastier or more tender than others, but he said that they were not fussy.’

  Crispinus grimaced.

  ‘The trireme ran aground, and they would have been stranded had not a merchantman stopped in a nearby bay. They overran the ship, crammed themselves on board and sailed through storms and savage seas until weeks later they were wrecked on the coast well east of the Rhine. The Frisians snapped up the survivors, selling them as slaves, and thus the story of their fate came to us.’

  ‘Was Felix a good slave?’ Crispinus asked. ‘I take it you did not let him anywhere near the kitchens.’

  ‘He was willing enough in his way. Not a bright soul, even by the standards of those without education or any trace of civilisation. He was good at carrying things, good at sweeping up and cleaning, and he would fight to protect my property. The other slaves did not care for him, of course, saying that he was cursed and would bring evil on them. He was not very happy, but then how could anyone who had lived through all that be happy.’