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

by Griff Hosker

  Feeling more emotional since the night his wife had died Marcus raised the sword of Cartimandua and said, “May the Allfather protect you King Tuanthal Teachtmhar of all Ireland.”

  That was the last they say of the enigmatic king but word crossed the oceans that he had indeed conquered the whole isle and named it as an ally of Rome. This was long after Agricola had been withdrawn to Rome and the charismatic general never knew that he had conquered a land by proxy.

  They were soon busy dealing with the effects of Caolan’s defection. He had stirred up the tribes of the islands and the ala had to spend more time than it had to winkling out the resistance on the small islands which littered the coast. Most galling was that Caolan had disappeared from sight. “Mark my words sir, that bastard will be back. I can feel it in my bones.”

  “I fear you are right Decius.”

  Summer saw the army busy building a series of forts along the line from the Bodotria to the Clota. Decius was mildly surprised when Marcus’ horse did not have to build any forts but, instead, were given the honour of accompanying the general as he scouted north of the line. Marcus was amazed that Gaelwyn, who had never been north of the Taus, should be considered such an expert but, incredibly he seemed to have an instinct for knowing both the land and its people and the general came to rely on him almost as much as Marcus.

  Marcus was riding next to the general as they rode in the hummocky, hilly land north of the Clota. “You know Marcus I am surprised we have not met a force of the enemy yet. We have gained a remarkable amount of land with little effort.”

  “I think that the advances in the winter took the people by surprise. They do not wage war in the winter up here and they could not feed themselves and fight. We are coming to summer and I fear it will not be as easy.”

  “You are right. I will send for the Ninth. If we can build a fort in the middle of the Northern lands we can control them.”

  “Gaelwyn has spoken to the prisoners and he believes that the land to the west is too hostile for our men and there are not many people there. Perhaps to the east?”

  Agricola nodded. “Your scout is wise. I agree. We will build our line of forts and when the Ninth arrive we will push north east. I do believe Marcus that we can do this. I will leave skeleton garrisons and bring every unit north. When we defeat them it must be complete and final.”

  That summer saw a war of attrition. The general suppressed minor revolt after minor revolt but eventually the line of forts was built and the land south of the Clota, Bodotria was secure. The Ninth were ready to fight; they had spent most of the campaign so far building roads and forts. As Decius said, “If you want a villa built then you send for the Ninth. When you want a country conquered you send for Marcus’ Horse.” When Decius returned to camp after a night in the local tavern, sporting a black eye Marcus discovered that his Decurion Princeps had made the mistake of mentioning this in front of five of the ninth’s centurions. The following night Macro, Gaius, Agrippa, Metellus and Julius had asked for a night’s furlough. Whilst they sported the injuries sustained in a heated discussion, their smiles told Marcus that the centurions of the Ninth understood the viewpoint of the troopers.

  The general’s only comment to the prefect was, “Marcus do have your men take their aggression out on the natives. The Ninth are our only legion, we may actually need them.”

  The winter was a duplicate of the previous winter with Agricola aggressively sending out vexillations to invest settlements and accept their support for Rome.

  Caledonia

  In the heartland of Calgathus’ kingdom his war chiefs and princes were beside themselves with rage. Let us throw this upstart south of the Taus where he belongs.”

  “How would you do this cousin in winter when we barely have enough food to feed ourselves? Would you take the men from protecting their families to fight the Romans and return to a hearth full of the dead?” The cousin dropped his head. “No we wait for the summer. All out warriors will gather for I have promises from all of the kings to support out endeavour. When he has put his head too far into our land we will strike it off. Be patient. For this Roman has strayed too far into our land and will soon pay for his mistake.”

  The Usipi were trudging up the roads built by the ninth. Their centurion, Centurion Aurelius, was heartily sick of them. His handful of legionaries, detached from the ninth, were desperate for the day they could sign them off and return to the ninth. The ringleader of the Usipi malcontents was a warrior called, Adelmar. He had been captured close to the border with Gaul, he had been a raider but had hidden the evidence of his raiding. Press ganged into the Usipi he quickly realised what whining sheep they were and, through bullying and coercion had established himself as their leader. Unlike the other auxiliary units the Usipi felt no allegiance to Rome. They hated Britannia and they loathed their centurion whom they saw as a symbol of Rome. Adelmar advised them to bide their time.

  Adelmar was in a tavern in Trimontium. The centurion could never work out how Adelmar managed to persuade so many of his comrades to exchange duties but he did. He was drinking the flat tasteless beer they brewed which only made him miss his homeland even more when the woman sidled up to him. He did not lookup at first, he just said, “Piss off whore.”

  “I will do, plaything of a Roman who takes you each night from the rear. But I thought you might like to be rid of your oppressor.” His hand went to his pugeo but he suddenly felt a sharp blade at the base of his groin. “It is only a small manhood but soon it will be mine and I will make a soup of it for my sisters to enjoy.” It was the word sisters which made him drop his weapon. Glancing down at her amulets he recognised her for what she was a priestess, a witch.

  “I am sorry how can I help you?”

  “It is how I can help you that is the question. You would like to rid yourself of the Romans?” He nodded. “You would like to return home to Germania?” Again he nodded. “Then I will contact you again and show you how. Do not antagonise the centurion for he is the key to your escape. Ingratiate yourself and appear friendly. Soon I will meet with you again.”

  He glanced down and she was gone. But now he had hope, freedom was at hand. Soon he and his men might make a return to Germania.

  The land through which they now travelled was far more threatening and dangerous than any land since they had fought beneath the foothills of Wyddfa. Marcus’ Horse was strung in a wide arc travelling on tiny deer tracks through forests and seeking ways through impossibly boggy quagmires and marshes. The land was alive with insects, all of which seemed to take great delight in attacking and biting Macro. Each night as they made their camp his face would have even more red blotches and spots, marking the site of a bite of some voracious insect. “I can fight men. How do you fight these little bastards? Look at you Gaius and Julius not a bite to be seen. How do you manage it?”

  “Garlic. Chew garlic or wipe the bulb on your face. They do not like it.”

  “I’m not surprised! It stinks.”

  “There is your choice Macro. Do you wish to stink or would you rather continue to be bitten?”

  Julius’ words made sense, eventually to Macro. “Have you a spare bulb?”

  “Here. Ask the quartermaster for some more or look for the wild garlic in the woods.”

  “Wild garlic? How will I find it?”

  “By the smell Macro. It stinks.”

  The fighting was just as difficult as it always had been in these remote parts of Britannia. The tribesmen had the advantage of terrain and would make forays when the men camped attacking the foraging parties as they sought water and wood. Soon the foraging groups were sent in increasingly large numbers.

  Calgathus was pleased with the way the campaign was going; the Romans had slowed their advance and, whilst his men were not causing huge casualties it was a war of attrition. The Usipi were not the only auxiliary unit which was disenchanted. There were even grumblings amongst the legionaries of the Ninth. Fainch had spies everywhere; her network of
witches constantly reported to her. She met secretly with King Calgathus who respected her information. “The Romans are more vulnerable than they think at night.”

  “How so?”

  “On Mona the Romans built one of their camps and some Ordovice stole into the camp at night and kidnapped the man who now leads the horse warriors.”

  “Why is he still alive then?”

  “That was my mistake and I will not make it again. My point is that your men can get into the Roman camp. There the Romans cannot fight as they do on the battlefield. The Ordovice managed it and you have more warriors.”

  The king thought for a moment about the suggestion which had the merit of risking few of his warriors and yet could achieve much. “The legion is the largest of their forces; if we could destroy or badly damage that one then the others would lose heart. I can see, Fainch, why the other kings valued you and your opinion. I will order an attack.”

  Marcus smiled to himself as he briefed Decius knowing as he did the dour and pessimistic nature of his deputy. “We are moving out of our camp today Decurion Princeps.”

  “Oh that’s wonderful. That means we have to build another camp with these tiny insects chewing away at us. The general needs to sort himself out. Put us in one place and then we would be able to fight and not have to build every day.”

  Marcus nodded. “Good point and as the general is accompanying us perhaps you can tell him yourself.”

  “Oh this day gets better and better. That means we will all have to be on our best behaviour as well.” Mumbling to himself the grumpy decurion left to order the dismantling of the camp.

  Agricola rode at the head of the column with Marcus. Gaelwyn and Vettius’ turma were scouting ahead. “It is good to be away from headquarters for a while.” The general looked over his shoulder. “Although it seems your Decurion Princeps is less than happy with the situation.”

  “Oh don’t mind Decius. If he had nothing to moan about he would worry too much.”

  “You have a good ala here Marcus. I would that all the alae were as efficient. Tell me how is it that your ala is so proficient with the bow? It is unusual.”

  “It’s the Pannonian part sir. In Pannonia the warriors fought with a long lance and a bow. When they were drafted into the army they adapted the lance to a spear but they had to learn how to use swords. Ulpius Felix told me that his men still practised their archery even on service and the old prefect encouraged them to use it when in action. It sort of evolved and now we train the new recruits, the ones from Britannia, in its use. The sad thing is no one knows how to use the long lance any more and that is a shame. I could never use it but Ulpius Felix once showed me how they trained with hoops hung from trees.”

  “Hm. Well I don’t know about the long lance but I have requested some Syrian archers. They would not be as versatile as your ala but they are, apparently, deadly when used well.”

  “Yes I have heard. I am from Cantabria and the archers there have a manoeuvre where they ride in a circle each man firing in turn, which is also highly effective.”

  “Really? Well I shall have to find out if there are any Cantabrian archers.”

  Sadly shaking his head Marcus said, “I fear not. My village and most of the others were destroyed to prevent rebellion and insurrection. I have never heard of any such units in the Roman army.”

  “Nor have I but Marcus tell me, do you not feel resentment that we, Rome, killed all of your people?”

  “I have lived too long amongst Romans to feel Cantabrian but I do worry when we are asked to slaughter whole tribes.”

  “You mean as I did with the Ordovice?”

  Realising he might have overstepped the mark Marcus looked up at the general trying to gauge his mood. “Well yes sir. Killing whole tribes means that others are more likely to fight to the death and that means we lose more men.”

  “You may be right prefect for your conquest of the Novontae made me reassess how we deal with the tribes. However the Ordovices had been a thorn in Rome’s side for too long and since their demise there has been total peace in that part of the world.”

  “Possibly because there are no people there now sir?”

  “Perhaps. Now this Cantabrian Circle, when you get the opportunity do you think you could train a turma in its use and demonstrate it to me?”

  “I don’t see why not. My weapon trainer, Decurion Macro, loves a challenge.”

  “Good. Now the reason I am accompanying you, apart from the refreshingly honest conversation, is because I want to get to the edge of the frontier. We need to find a way to bring Calgathus to battle and I will not do that at headquarters. The Ninth has a camp a few miles from here if we camp close to them we can send out joint probing patrols, and perhaps antagonise the enemy into attacking.”

  The spot they found was a good site for a camp. It was on a hilltop which overlooked the woods and forests surrounding it. Marcus ensured that his men cleared back the undergrowth and the trees to give them clear lines of sight. It was also close enough to the Ninth’s camp for them to be neighbours. Accompanied by Macro and his turma Marcus and the general explored the land to the north east.

  “There are few settlements in this part of the land Marcus.”

  “Yes sir but there are many valleys which are hidden.” Agricola looked up with a question in his eyes. “Gaelwyn had been scouting already and he has found many smaller settlements.”

  “Then we need to make a larger fort, a permanent fortress for the Ninth. If we cannot find all the people at least we can manage their movements. We will visit the prefect of the Ninth.”

  They headed east and soon came upon the camp of the Ninth. While Marco saw to the horses and the general went to find the prefect Marcus went to visit his old friend Decius Brutus, now First Spear.

  “Good to see you Marcus, sorry, prefect. I should say sir and kiss your arse now that you have been promoted.” Decius was grinning as only old friends can do when they insult each other.

  “Decius it is good to see you and I am pleased that you too have been promoted.” First Spear in a legion was the highest promotion a legionary could hope for. “It seems such a long time since Glanibanta.”

  “Yes they were interesting times. I wonder if the fort still stands.”

  “It does. My ala spent some time there. It is still a beautiful place.”

  “Of course, your ala. Marcus’ Horse. It has a good sound to it. Ulpius would be pleased and proud.”

  “Yes Decius for you knew the man and I would have preferred it to be called Ulpius’ horse but the general insisted.”

  “Do not be modest you deserve it. I have heard great things about the deeds of Marcus’ Horse.” His face darkened,” Would that the general would allow the Ninth to have a chance of such glory.”

  “I think he hopes to but this land does not suit the legions. It is a little too much like Teutonberger Forest and we know what happened to Varrus there.”

  “Varrus was an arse. Besides he did not use auxiliaries and this general is wise enough to use you horsemen and those Batavians.”

  Marcus laughed. “He has also used us as infantry in Mona. Decius is almost half the man you knew with all the running up mountains.”

  “So the old fat goat is still alive.”

  “And what of your men?”

  “Oh they are trained enough but they have not seen action since the battle of the Taus. The odd skirmish does not make you a warrior and I worry that they are becoming a little soft. Where are you based?”

  “Decius is building a fort just three miles that way. We will be within singing distance of you.”

  “And the general is with you?”

  “For the moment. He is formulating a plan to bring the enemy to battle. They are behaving like seawater in your hand the moment you think you have it, it slips through your fingers.”

  “I would ask a favour of you.”

  “It is given whatever it is.”

  “I would like my cohorts t
o train with your turma. If we are to fight in the forests then cooperation is vital. We need to know how each other fight.”

  “Done. I will mention it to Agricola while we ride back.”

  The general emerged from his meeting and Marcus took the opportunity to mention Decius Brutus’ idea. “I think that is a sound plan. How do you know First Spear?” On the ride back Marcus told the general of the joint vexillation years before. “You see,” he said slapping his leg enthusiastically; “I knew that we could find ways for the legions to fight alongside the auxiliary effectively. Well done Marcus. You and your predecessor were obviously visionaries. We will continue this successful close liaison.”

  Three days later and the fort was finished. The very next day Agricola and Marcus took two turmae to the Ninth’s fort and began manoeuvres in the forest. At first the legionaries found it difficult to understand how they would fight alongside cavalry but when Marcus dismounted a turma and showed them it became much simpler. Although exhausted they returned to the auxiliary fort pleased with their first attempt at joint action.

  The Venicone warriors gathered in the eaves of the forest. The witch Fainch watched from a distance; Calgathus wanted to present himself as the master planner for, as he said, the Venicones see women as something a little higher than beasts of burden. Fainch accepted this for she knew of the folly of many men. Her reward would come when Calgathus destroyed this Roman army and reversed their fortunes.

  “The Romans think they are secure in their walls of wood. They think that we are afraid to take the war to them. Tonight, warriors of the Venicone you will do what no tribe has ever done before; you will enter a Roman fort and destroy a whole legion.”

  Some of the warriors looked sceptical. They might outnumber the five thousand legionaries but everyone knew how well the legionaries fought. Calgathus could see the doubt on their faces. He pointed to Fainch, “What if I were to tell you that the priestess over there witnessed far fewer men than you enter a Roman fort and spirit away their leader what would you say then? Are the Ordovice braver warriors than the Venicones? Your chief says you are the bravest warriors and I believe him.”