by Griff Hosker
In the aftermath of the slaughter, as the Romans scoured the battlefield despatching any wounded foes, the decurions all searched for one thing, the body of the witch. The Batavians and legionaries busily salvaged weapons, coins and jewellery but, unless it was a woman then Marcus’ closest friends moved on. By the time they had combed the entire isle they had not found any women.
“Well she can’t just have disappeared.”
“She is a witch Decius.”
“Lentius she is a woman, she might be an evil bitch but she is still a woman. She is either hiding or she has escaped.”
Just then they heard the recall and they headed despondently back to camp. They all looked at Decius for they knew he would have to be the one to give the bad news to Marcus. The new prefect was still under the care of the surgeon for he had been in a much weakened state when he had been rescued. He had, however, made it clear to his decurions that the witch should be found and they scoured the isle searching every nook and cranny to no avail. It was as though she had disappeared into the bowels of the earth. Many of the troopers were especially grateful that they did not find her for they feared her more than any barbarian warrior. They feared her power and her magic.
The witch herself was hiding with the other five survivors of the massacre whilst some of her sisters had chosen a watery death from the steep cliffs to the north west of the island; Fainch had led the others by way of a twisting and precipitous path to a cave. It was their last refuge and had been the hiding place for the Druids when the Romans first took the isle almost forty years earlier. “We will be safe for a while sisters and, when the Romans leave we will go back to the mainland and continue our work.” She could see downcast faces for the survivors were all younger than she. “This is a setback. We have obviously offended the Mother and we need to sacrifice to her. Had the Roman been sacrificed then we would have won and I blame myself for that. I should have sacrificed him sooner rather than waiting for the Romans to arrive. Be patient for we will triumph.”
“We will we go?”
“I will go north for there are still rebels in the land of the lakes.” As she named each tribe she pointed at each of the priestesses in turn. “You should go to the Silures. You, to the Dumnoni. You, the Belgae. You, the Dobunii and you the Dematae.” All of the tribes she had named were to the west and were still fighting the Romans; they were her best, although faint, hope of fermenting unrest to loosen the ever tightening grip of the Roman hydra. She knew that the Canti, Regni, Iceni and Atrebates had all surrendered and would pose no threat. Even her journey, dangerous though it was, would probably end in failure for the Brigante were not strong enough to defeat the Romans. She would have to travel further north. She had met some of the leaders of the Caledonii and Pictii. They were still powerful enough to thwart the Romans and their land was like that around Wyddfa, it did not suit the Romans. She had noted how few legionaries this general had brought with him. The legions were difficult to defeat but these others, they were like the tribes themselves, one step away from being barbarians. They could be defeated. “Come sisters let us offer to the Mother and pray that she protects us as we work to rid the land of these Romans.”
The day after the isle had been cleared the general summoned his prefects. “We have completed the first part of the subjugation of this land. I will not be able to continue this part of the journey with you as I have to take up my post as Governor of Gallia Aquitania. I have sent my reports and recommendations to Governor Cerialis and, until you hear from him then you will continue to follow these orders. Prefect Bassus and Sura you are to eradicate the Ordovices. That is your priority. From what we have seen they will not offer much opposition however as their homeland is on the far side of that mountain it may be difficult to find their rat holes.” He gestured through the leather tent wall to the distant peak of Wyddfa. “You will leave one cohort here Prefect Bassus to build a fort and make sure that the Druids never return. The legionary cohort will return to Deva. Prefect Sura you will leave a cohort at the new fort of Canovium to enable the legionaries there to return to Deva. Prefect Maximunius your cavalry have performed wonders, not least in their rescue of you. It seems that we should rename the Pannonians the Rescuers eh? First a Queen, then Batavians and now their Prefect. However they are ill suited to the terrain and I am mindful that it is difficult to replace horses. You will return with me to Deva, “he smiled, “a fitting escort. While we were travelling south I noticed that the land north of Deva was perfect cavalry country and close enough to the land of the lakes. I would like you to return to Glanibanta and rebuild the fort as a permanent fort. Find those Brigante rebels who fled there and destroy them.” He sat back in his chair and put his hands together in a thoughtful way and half closed his eyes. “I can see a time when we will have to move north and complete the subjugation of Britannia. I have already written to the Emperor with my ideas on how this could be completed. If you three can complete the tasks I have set then when the time comes we can use our bases here to launch an invasion of Caledonia. “The general was gratified to note that they not only nodded their agreement but from the grins across their faces they wholeheartedly endorsed the venture. “ Right I am sure we all have things to do but one last thing. Thank you.” As they nodded their gratitude and began to leave Agricola grabbed Marcus’ arm. “And you prefect are you ready to ride?”
“Yes sir. I am recovered.”
“It is a shame the witch escaped, “he paused, “or drowned. Perhaps you ought to forget her now eh?”
“I can never forget her and she did not drown. I know not how I know I just feel it; she lives, for the moment; but do not worry sir my quest for revenge will not interfere with my duties.”
“I know prefect which is why you are now a prefect. Good. You know the thing I should have done was build a bridge to this damned island. We will either have to build rafts or risk a swim.”
Marcus laughed, “I think my lads are getting quite used to swimming.”
“Swimming it is then.”
Part Two
The Land of the Lakes
Chapter 6
North West of Eboracum
The war was long over and there were no Brigante warbands roving the country. The merchants had new markets as the Roman influence spread from the pottery in Petuaria, Isurium Brigantium and Derventio to the iron mines at Danum and lime workings at Morbium. There were the new forts springing up to defend the hard won province. The same merchants were aping the Romans they had met. They were building villas and baths bought with the new found wealth as Britannia emerged from the Iron Age into the Roman age.
The very prosperity brought with it the attendant dangers of prosperity, bandits, thieves and robbers. They were, in essence the same warbands which had fought the Romans but as the finest and noblest of these had died the ones who remained were, by their very nature, those who had survived and not fought to the end. They were the ones with the skills in warfare but not the aptitude. They were the ones who did not want to go back to their farms to eke out a living but they wanted to prey on those who did work hard and tried to better themselves. While the south of the province still had some order with many natives embracing Roman values and mores, a good road system and tax collections the north of the province had fewer influences, fewer roads and more opportunity for banditry.
Aed still called himself a rebel; he still felt himself to be a legitimate heir to Brigantia but in reality he was a bandit, a powerful one, but a bandit nonetheless. His lieutenant, the former auxiliary Modius ruled the circle that was the land of the lakes with an iron fist. The mountains which surrounded the fine farmland meant that it was easy to defend against anything other than a legion or an ala. There was neither. The nearest force was a cohort of infantry at Brocavum and another at Morbium. The legionary fortress at Eboracum might as well have been in Rome for all the influence it could exert. Aed had quickly discovered that he could raid with impunity during the summer and spring months when the
merchants were talking advantage of the fine weather to move their goods to the new markets. Lime, iron, pottery and tiles were in demand in the south and would fetch a higher price as there was so much building going on. It was worth the risk and the roads from north to south made easy pickings for Aed who used a small force of mounted men under Modius to rob and kill the merchants bringing the contraband to a safe place. Aed could then transport the goods under heavy guard, to the very markets that had been their destination. He was becoming quite rich and quite powerful as other disenchanted bandits flocked to his banner. If a vexillation appeared from Eboracum he could quickly retire to his stronghold knowing that they did not have the resources to follow him. The legionaries would then go back to building the roads which in time would bring both security and order but as the spring grew into summer Aed’s empire was still growing.
Prefect Maximunius and his ala had spent the end of the winter at the newly built fort of Mamucium. There they had replaced broken equipment, trained new horses, practised the new skills needed for fighting on foot and reorganised the ala. Macro had taken over Marcus’ turma as a reward for his increasing maturity and his bravery during the rescue. He still kept his role as weapons trainer. As Decius had said, “He’ll burst into tears if you take it off him. He’s still the volunteer.” Decius himself had been made Decurion Princeps. A role he seemed to have been born into; he was a different Decurion Princeps to Marcus but as Marcus himself commented, that was no bad thing.
As the spring grew into summer they began to get increasing reports of banditry and brigandage. The Governor broke off from an inspection of Mona and the west to brief Marcus on his new role.
“Well prefect you have done well for yourself. Governor Agricola praises you and your men highly and you have earned your promotion.” He lowered his voice and spoke conspiratorially, “Tell me prefect did he order you all to swim across the sea?”
“Yes sir although it wasn’t wide four or five hundred paces only.”
“Four or five hundred paces! Gods man, I couldn’t swim ten yards in armour. Well, well so it is true. If you can do that then I suppose nothing is beyond you. I am more confident now that you can cope with the task I am going to give you. It seems there is a large band of bandits operating from the area west of Glanibanta, where you built the fort. They are preventing trade. Complete your mission from the general and rebuild the fort but then I want this band destroyed. Utterly! Do I make myself clear? I want no survivors. They have to realise that if they disrupt the life of the province they will pay with their lives.” Once more he leaned in, “Next year we will be moving north to repay those warriors from Caledonia who sided with the Brigante. We need this part of the province secure. Anything I can do for you?”
“More men and horses sir? Those Atrebates you sent last year worked out well. We don’t need to have replacements from the homeland, those from Britannia appear as committed.”
“I’ll see to it. Good luck prefect.”
With that the busy Governor left a bemused Marcus. It seemed that life came in full circle and always came back to the same people. Cresens, Fainch and now Aed, for he was in no doubt that it was Aed who was running the bandits. He and Julius Agricola had discussed what happened to the survivors of the battle of the Taus. There had been too many of them to forget and Marcus had begged his general for the chance to destroy the man who killed his wife. Agricola had been adamant, Mona came first. Upon reflection Marcus realised that the general had done his best to aid him in his quest by sending him back to Glanibanta.
As Marcus waited for his decurions and senior sergeants to arrive he began to appreciate the pleasures a brick building and hypocaust could bring. He would have to forego these pleasures when he rebuilt the primitive fort up by the edge of the icy cold lake. Decius would undoubtedly roll his eyes and utter some unintelligible curse. Marcus made a mental bet with himself. When they arrived and saluted Marcus felt a real pride. He believed himself to be unique; all of his decurions were the best he could hope for. He had sergeants and chosen men just waiting to be promoted. The number of rogue troopers, normally quite a high proportion, was almost negligible. Indeed most of them had either died with their decurion Scipio Demetrius or deserted with following their decurion Modius.
“You have all become far too comfortable. We are going for a little ride.” The younger decurions looked delighted, being bored with fortress life. The older ones and especially Decius looked wary. “We are going north.”
“Morbium sir!” Decius glared at Macro who sheepishly sat down.
“No Decurion Macro oh and congratulations on your promotion. I am pleased that it has not changed your impulsive nature,” the blushing decurion had to endure hoots and laughs from his peers. “No we are going back to the land of the lakes.”All laughs, smiles and snickers stopped in an instant for they all knew they were returning to face the Brigante again. If he had demanded close attention Marcus could not have achieved it more effectively. “We are going back to Glanibanta.”
“Shit! That means building a frigging fort again!”
Even Marcus joined in the laughter. “Eloquently put Decius. The Senate missed a fine speaker when you chose the auxilia over politics.” Marcus waited until the laughter had died down before he continued. “We will have to rebuild the fort first and then our task is to destroy the warband which is rampaging through the north.” He paused to allow the words to sink in. “Yes we will destroy them. As with the Ordovices there will be no prisoners taken. Rebels now will pay the full price of their crimes.” He was pleased that they all nodded in agreement. “Sergeant Cato please let me know of any deficiencies in mounts. Quartermaster Verres we will need to get as many supplies as possible. We may not be re-supplied for some time.”Again he paused for effect and he said with great emphasis on every word, “Scour the fortress for anything you think we might need. Understood?”
The huge man grinned, tapped the side of his nose and said, “Understood, sir.”
“Well if there is nothing else we leave in the morning.” There were gasps as the gathering realised the short time scale. The room emptied much quicker than it had filled.
The first part of their journey was over the familiar territory they had traversed heading south with Agricola the last year. They were even able to use one of the camps they had made which made that day, at least slightly easier. They were encumbered this time by pack mules and a couple of wagons for Porcius Verres had outdone himself with his scavenging. Decius had been delighted to see many amphora of wine disappearing into the wagons and from the look of the one carrying their armour it suggested that the quartermaster had taken Marcus at his word and obtained spares of everything. As it was spring the weather was unpredictable but for the first few days they were lucky to find either sunny or cloudy skies beneath which they could plod their way north.
They reached the first major river since leaving Mamucium and they were in unfamiliar territory for the first time. The prefect ordered the camp built south of the river close to the point they had turned south the previous year. North east they knew for the next thirty or so miles, according to the basic map Marcus was reading, and after that they would be in unfamiliar land. The furthest they had patrolled, all those years ago, was the southern edge of the lake upon which Glanibanta stood. Once they reached that point Marcus would be content for then he would know the land. The next thirty miles were potentially the most dangerous for he knew nothing of the land or the brigands who waited there.
As the camp was being set up he sent for Gaelwyn and Decius. Gaelwyn had not mentioned the rescue of Marcus despite the profuse thanks offered by Marcus and the offer of any reward. It was not in the Brigante warrior’s nature to expect reward. He had rescued Marcus because he liked him, he owed him loyalty and in a barbarian way he was his chief. When he married into the Brigante royal family then Gaelwyn owed him more than loyalty he owed him fealty. When a Brigante, a true Brigante, gave you his oath it was for life and dea
th. “Do you know the land north of here Gaelwyn?”
He nodded and looked at the map not understanding its writing. Instead he pointed due north, “There are hills with forests and woods.” He pointed north west, “There it is flat with woods, some farms.” He then pointed further west, “There lies the sea with dangerous beaches which eat both men and horses.”
Decius looked at the Brigante sceptically, “Eats them?”
Marcus shook his head, “Ever hear of sinking sands and quick sands. They would eat us quickly enough.” Gaelwyn gave a quick sly knowing look in Decius’ direction as the Decurion Princeps coloured brightly. “Well we have wagons which rules out the sands and the hills so it looks as though we will be taking the middle road. Decius I want a turma with Gaelwyn five miles ahead of us as we travel. Change the turma at noon I want them all to get the lie of the land as we travel. Keep another turma one mile behind the column. We could be in ambush country and although I think our rebellious friends will be further east I am taking no chances. When you have detailed tomorrow’s duties send Sergeant Cato to me.”
The prefect was studying the map when the sergeant came in to his tent. “You sent for me sir?”