Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 03] Invasion- Caledonia

by Griff Hosker

  Half of the warriors who had not crossed the ditch formed a wedge and began to advance towards Lentius’ turma. They had equipped themselves with shields and the barrage on them was not as effective as it might have been. It was necessary to destroy them. “Reform!” His men thought him mad for they had to withdraw to get into line. The warband thought it was a retreat and began to hurry forwards, eager to get to grip with these horse warriors who had thinned their ranks so much. Once in their line Marcus shouted, “Those with javelins throw them at ten paces the rest draw your swords.” Yelling, “Lentius!” The line roared forward like a tethered sapling which is released. The warband looked in horror as nearly forty horses and a wall of iron raced towards them. They huddled closer together to give maximum mutual protection and they braced themselves for the impact. Suddenly the front ranks were thinned as javelins thrown at the closest distance ripped through them making holes in their defensive wall. The horses naturally went for the gaps that appeared before them and, with the sword of Cartimandua singing as it sliced through the air the turma broke into the shield wall.

  Julius was struggling to hold the barbarians who had forced his turma back with arrows and spears. Caolan himself led the band and he had smashed one trooper who had gotten too close to him with his war hammer. He then sprang lithely on to the back of the dead trooper’s mount and his men roared as they charged towards the bolt throwers now less than eight hundred paces away.

  The bolt throwers themselves were being rapidly turned to face the new threat for the rest of the ala was inside the stronghold. The only force which remained to help them was the beleaguered turma of Julius now down by four troopers.

  Turning to his troopers Julius shouted, “We will have to charge them in the flank! Close order, knee to knee.”

  One of the veterans laughed and shouted, “Just like your brother taught us.”

  “Yes Livius, just like my brother taught us! Charge!”

  It was a forlorn charge for they were outnumbered three to one and the barbarians had their shields to protect their sides; in addition the charge was uphill but still it was a glorious charge. The momentum carried them into the heart of the warband just as the first bolt thrower managed to turn and fire its first bolt. It sliced through six warriors killing three and badly wounding three. As the second bolt screamed through them the effect was instantaneous, they turned and ran back to the safety of their fort.

  Caolan was apoplectic with rage. “Come back you scum! You cowards.” He could see that they were not heeding him and, as he was mounted he took off towards the west. Julius watched impotently as he escaped them for he and his men were still engaged in a frantic combat with those who remained before them.

  When those fighting Marcus saw their comrades running they followed them and soon there was a horde returning to the stronghold, from the battlefield and from the woods. “Sound pursuit!” Tired though they were every trooper obeyed the order and the remnants of three turmae pursued and enemy twice their number. Those who still remained in the stronghold of Caolan vainly tried to close the gates but those fleeing the carnage burst through. Soon the troopers were in the settlement with those being pursued and the slaughter began. The leaderless Novontae saw that it was hopeless and one by one threw down their weapons, the trickle became a torrent and soon the exhausted troopers who remained found themselves in control of the stronghold. They looked around in surprise when they heard a cheer in the distance and saw troopers waving from Moffat’s stronghold. Both citadels had fallen at almost the same moment.

  Later as they herded the prisoners into two groups, the warriors and the women and children, Marcus surveyed the battlefield. He had hoped to finish it quickly but he had not expected to do so in one day. Nor had he expected to lose so many men, good men. Looking down at the body of Lentius he suddenly realised that the only two left from Ulpius’ turma were himself and Gaius. He knelt down to touch his old comrade’s body as though by touching it the death would be gone and Lentius would laugh and joke with him once more.

  “He looked after me.” The prefect looked up to see Gaius, tears streaming unashamedly down his blood streaked face. “When I first joined, I knew nothing then, just a little kid really; he made sure no-one took advantage of me. Him and Drusus they were like big brothers. They taught me how to be a trooper and when he became decurion he still made sure no-one took advantage of me. He showed me how to become a warrior that men could respect and follow and now he has gone.”

  “As we shall all go one day. Our band of brothers is becoming fewer. And Gaius you too do what Lentius does, I have seen you with Julius, which is why this ala will survive stronger and more powerful because no matter which of us falls, and it could be you or me just as easily as Lentius, we know we have trained better men to follow us.”

  “Sir?”

  Marcus looked round as Gaius wiped his face with his neck cloth.”Yes trooper?”

  “Decurion Princeps compliments sir and he has secured the field. Decurion Macro has returned. No sign of that Caolan.”

  “Thank you trooper I will rejoin him shortly.” Gaius turned to face him. “Are you ready to face your men?”

  Giving a sad smile he murmured, “Yes sir.”

  It was late in the evening when the decurions not on duty managed to congregate in the prefect’s tent. They all had sombre, reflective faces. Lentius was not mentioned but the empty space between Gaius and Decius spoke volumes. “How many the Decius? How many did we lose?”

  “More than we wanted sir. Sorry about that. I know you wanted to keep the casualties down.”

  “Perhaps I should have told the enemy and not you. How many?”

  “Thirty eight dead and forty wounded six seriously. And…” he tailed off superstitiously not naming Lentius as though naming him made him finally dead. “The good news is that we captured more than we hoped.” He looked anxiously at Marcus. “The general won’t be unhappy that we let the warriors live will he? I mean I could get the lads to go round and slit their throats.”

  Marcus flashed his deputy an angry look and then thought better of it. “No there has been enough killing. Julius I want you to go tomorrow go with the marine and signal the fleet. I suspect the warriors will be bound for Rome either the ludos or the salt mines. Either way they will die soon enough. I intend to keep the camp here and use it as a base. It will prevent the re-occupation of the forts and save our depleted numbers from having to build a camp each night. Besides Gaelwyn has told me that we are no more than half a day’s ride from the coast. You might as well know that I think there will be no more fighting. Instead I want all of you to adopt Julius’ style of negotiation and persuade the villagers to accept Roman rule. If anyone does not wish to accept the Pax Romana then we fight but I think they will acquiesce. Anyone we are uncertain of we take hostages. Tomorrow I will you all a patrol area except for Macro, I want you to find this Caolan, take Gaelwyn with you. He has pretensions of greatness according to the prisoners and fancies himself king. If we find him…kill him.”

  Chapter 12

  It was drawing towards the short days of the year when the First Pannonians finally negotiated a peace with the whole of the Novontae. As they headed for their meeting with the fleet Metellus and Agrippa were discussing the pleasures which awaited them in Luguvalium. “Well I am looking forward to the baths and warm barracks. This is a bleeding cold country.”

  “Me? I just want a woman.”

  “A woman? What about the prisoners, you could have one of them.”

  “I want a woman who smells nice and does look like her husband without a beard.”

  “Too choosy you are that’s your trouble. Too choosy.”

  They were both in for a disappointment. After he had boarded the bireme with the last of the hostages Marcus came back with a wry smile on his face. Summoning the decurions he held a short briefing. “Well gentlemen we will not be returning to Luguvalium.”

  “Not back to Novontae country. It’s too bleedi
ng cold there.”

  “No Decius we are going east to Coriosopitum.”

  “Where is that?”

  North of here, actually north west in the land of the Votadini. It seems the general has built or is building a fortress there and we are going to join him. Seems he is impressed by our work here, a single ala to pacify a whole tribe. We are the victims of our own success.”

  “Well there goes your bath Agrippa.”

  “And the women there will make the Novontae looked like goddesses. There is a saying about the Votadini, that is where men are men and so are the women!”

  The ala once again suffered the deprivations of northern winters with winds which whistled in from the east bringing biting, savage winds to discover every gap in clothes no matter how tightly wound; the rain which came not only vertically but horizontally. The fogs and mists which ate into a man’s bones until his very teeth ached with the cold. The only difference between this trek and the others they had endured was that they at least had won peace and did not need to worry about Brigante and Carvetii armies. The general had subdued the land between Dunum Fluvius and Tine Fluvius by a mixture of diplomacy, hostages and, where the locals were totally belligerent, ruthless warfare.

  “The thing is sir he has done that with a legion and six or seven auxiliary units.”

  “I know Gaius but he had more enemies to deal with. The furthest north we travelled was Morbium. Where we were we had been grinding down the opposition for years. We had it easy. Don’t look down in the mouth I am more than proud of what we achieved and I know the governor will feel the same. We are one army each doing its own part.”

  Gaius was, in fact, speaking for the ala for they felt he did not get the credit he deserved. Gaius knew how long Marcus Aurelius Maximunius had served and how many campaigns he had fought. There was not another leader who had given as much to Britannia.

  When they reached Coriosopitum they cared not that it was half finished nor that it was occupied by the Ninth; they only cared that they had reached their destination. What worried Decius was that he could not see any other auxiliary units. “Why is that? It does not bode well for us. I bet the general has something special in mind.”

  “Something special Decurion Princeps?”

  “Aye and probably nasty too. Mark my words.”

  When they arrived the general asked them to build a marching camp next to the fort. “See that means we aren’t staying. What did I tell you?”

  Decius had nearly organised the camp when Marcus returned from his meeting with the general. He was smiling which did not put Decius at his ease.”

  “Well sir?”

  In answer to your question about the other units, they are spread across the frontier. Seems this is the narrowest part, so far as we know in the whole of Britannia. We can control this neck of land with the legion and our auxilia. We will have a proper camp for the winter. We are the last to arrive. The other prefects will be coming tomorrow and then we leave for our camp the day after. Happy?”

  “Behind every black cloud is a bloody bigger one to ready to piss all over you. That’s Britannia for you.”

  After a night in another cold camp the ala was not in a happy mood. Having just spent the best part of half a year subjugating a land almost as big as Brigantia with less than fifty losses their rewards was to build another camp in the middle of winter and spend the rest of the winter freezing in the most desolate land the gods created. The prefect however seemed positively cheerful. When they saw the prefects beginning to arrive, Gaius drew the prefect’s attention to the fort. “Shouldn’t you be getting over there sir? You don’t want to be late.”

  “Don’t worry Gaius I won’t be late and I have lots of time.”

  Marcus was just checking the store situation with the Quartermaster and Attius his clerk when Decius came racing into the store tent. “Sir, the general and the prefects. They’re here, they’re coming here now. From the fort sir.”

  Marcus smiled for he had never seen the Decurion so flustered. “Better call out the guard then hadn’t you Decius?”

  “Yes sir. Will do. Right away.”

  Turning to the other two Marcus said, “We’ll finish this after the general’s visit.”

  The whole camp turned out to see the most senior panoply of officers they had ever seen. Marcus was amused to see decurions coming on parade with their best armour and polished swords. Agricola dismounted and clasped Marcus closely around the shoulders. “Good to see you prefect, good to see you.” Those close enough to the two men were perplexed to see the general wink at the prefect who seemed very relaxed for such a high profile visit. The general turned to address the whole camp. “First I would like to thank all of you in front of the other prefects and your able commanding officer for the incredible work you did in the land of the Novontae. To have taken so vast a land, with so few men and resources and to do it with such a small loss of life is miraculous and I salute you.” Theatrically he took off his helmet and gave a small bow.

  Gaius immediately regretted all his churlish thoughts. Here was the credit which the ala and the prefect deserved. However the general had not finished. In recognition of this and bearing mind that there are very few Pannonians left in the ala due to their lengthy and valuable service in Britannia. We have decided to rename this ala, Marcus’ Horse.”

  The unprompted and universal cheer took even Agricola by surprise and he turned to Marcus and said, “Popular decision eh?” Holding up his hand for silence he continued. “I know you will all continue to go from strength to strength and continue to do such magnificent deeds. From now on all cavalry volunteers from the Brigante , Carvetii and other native tribes will be recruited into Marcus’ Horse.” He remounted his horse. “Well prefect if you would care to join the other prefects and myself in the Praetorium we can have our briefing and perhaps a small celebration.”

  Sergeant Cato brought out Argentium looking resplendent and groomed. Decius flashed a look at Cato. As Marcus left he smiled at Decius and said, “Carry on Decurion.”

  “Sir.” When the entourage had left Decius and the others turned on poor Sergeant Cato.” You were in on it weren’t you?”

  “I only knew this morning. The prefect said there would be a parade and he wanted Argentium to look his best. I was sworn to secrecy. I didn’t know about the name honestly Decius.”

  “Yes well,” unable to contain his joy he then beamed a smile at all of them. “Well tonight Quartermaster the best wine I think and Macro go out and hunt us something special. Marcus’ Horse is going to begin as it means to carry on with a real feast!”

  In the Praetorium Marcus back was beginning to become sore with all the backslapping. His two Batavian friends were particularly overjoyed. “Gentlemen let us get on with the briefing before poor Marcus’ back breaks. “First I would like to welcome Centurion Aurelius who is the training officer for our new unit the Usipi. Once they are trained the centurion will command them. They are a new unit from Germania and the centurion can speak their language. The rest of you know each other.” He pointed at the map on the wall. “We have done very well since we began our advance; in fact far better than I would have expected. However if the rest of the province thinks we are going to rest they are mistaken. During the winter I want all of you to continue to patrol and offer Pax Romana. If there is opposition either take hostages or defeat them. Speed is of the essence. The tribes seem to think winter is a time when we do not war they are wrong and they will find out soon how wrong they are.”

  The following day both men and officers had thick heads which did not make their move west along the road that would soon be known as the Stanegate comfortable. This almost took the sour look from Decius’ face for it meant they did not have as much mud as usual. The land however did not suit him for it was an open windswept heat which just rolled north into the country of the Selgovae. “I told you a bloody cold billet and knife wielding bollock stealers within spitting distance.”

  Marcus tur
ned to his friend and said caustically, “Good to see the temporarily happy Decius was just an aberrance.”

  The winter was indeed cold and the new force of Marcus’ horse was worked hard as they gradually increased and enlarged the territory controlled by Rome. As Decius said the country did have the advantage of being flatter than Wales. Agricola wisely avoided using the horse in the vast forests which split the country in two. Instead they patrolled the eastern coastal plain dotted with fishing villages and small hill forts. Ill-prepared for any kind of winter fighting the inhabitants acquiesced to the Roman demands with almost ridiculous ease. The odd chief who appeared belligerent was made to offer up family hostages and the Agricolan war machine rolled ever northwards.

  Agricola called a conference of all his prefects at the coast where the Classis Britannica was gathering for a final push around to the Bodotria Fluvium. “This is going far better than we would have hoped. The fleet commander has drawn a map of the river and he believes, and I agree with him, that the river would be a perfect site for a string of self supporting forts. To that end the infantry will continue to push northwards. I would like the Gaulish cavalry to maintain their patrols along the east coast. “He turned to Marcus, “Prefect I have something different mind for you. I would like you to return to the land of the Novontae, partly to show our presence there, partly to ensure that peace still remains but mainly to continue up the coast as far north as the Clota Fluvium for I believe that is where the strong of forts will end.” The other prefects shared a look which told Marcus that they thought his task one that none would envy. “It is a difficult assignment I realise but you have shown an affinity for that country and people. You will have the sole support of the Classis Britannica on the west coast and you should be well supplied.”