by Griff Hosker
Suddenly he heard Gaelwyn shout, “Ailis!” The girl looked up and ran to Gaelwyn. Gaius wondered what was going on as they embraced and for the first time that he could remember he saw Gaelwyn cry. “It is my sister’s daughter. She was stolen in a raid. She is Brigante. She is my family.”
Macro and Decius raised themselves to see over the troopers who were still slaughtering warriors and the huts which blocked their view. “All we know is that she is a woman.”
“Right them son. Take half the men and capture every woman you can. Tie them up and we’ll worry if we have got the right one later on.”
The two decurions split up and raced out of the settlement and into the open land where the few who had survived had fled. The warriors, men and boys were killed as they ran but the women and girls were all captured and tied up. It was a long process. There was a loud shout from one of Decius’ troopers. He heard the man shout. “You bitch! Orders or no orders you are to going to die and then I…”
Decius grabbed the man’s arm mid-blow. He could see the scratch marks from the woman’s long nails and blood was pouring down his cheeks. Decius looked at the defiant woman staring with hate in her eyes. Her grey flecked marked her as older but her eyes were something Decius had never seen; they were the colour of spring violas! As he felt himself beginning to become aroused he put his sword to her throat and grabbed her arm. Turning it over he saw the scar running its length. “Fainch! At last we have you. Macro we have her! We finally have her.”
Chapter 19
The clear up lasted until just after noon. Decius had taken charge once he realised that Marcus was injured. The bodies of the warriors and the dead Caledonii and Taexali were placed in the huts and they were fired. Decius was taking no chances with the witch and she was tied across a mule with two men on either side. He did not know what punishment Marcus would inflict but he would not take that pleasure away from the prefect. As they made their way up the track to the pass and the waiting horses Decius noticed Gaelwyn and Gaius comforting a female slave; intrigued but too busy to find out he determined that would be the first question he would ask back at their camp.
Marcus was conscious by the time they entered the camp. The surgeon fussed over him but the prefect was determined to return to duty immediately. “Decius, the body count?”
“We lost thirty sirs mainly to the poisoned arrows.”
“And the witch?”
“We have her. She won’t escape this time.”
“I want her in chains and guarded by four men at all times. We try her and she dies tomorrow.”
Decius looked surprised. “I thought she would have died instantly sir.”
“We are not barbarians Decius we are Rome and we rules and laws. She will be given a trial but she will be found guilty. Make sure the rest of the captives can’t escape. We will head back to Inchtuthil tomorrow.”
“What about the rescued slaves?”
“Slaves?”
“Yes four Novontae and a Brigante, related to Gaelwyn apparently.”
“Make them comfortable. I will go and see them.”
“After you have had your head looked at, had a drink and changed your uniform.”
“Why change the uniform?”
“Because you look a mess now go on.”
By the time the prefect was ready to greet Ailis food had been prepared. Decius had asked Porcius to arrange the decurions to eat with the rescued slaves. Marcus was the last to arrive and all the officers stood as one when he entered. “Sit down sit down. I was injured not killed!” He glanced up at the young woman sat between Gaelwyn and Gaius. She was undoubtedly pretty which was why all the decurions had cleaned themselves and shaved. There was something about her that looked familiar; he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was.”We will return you to your families as soon as possible.”
Two of the Novontae burst into tears. Ailis spoke. “I think prefect that their families were all killed in the raids which took their families. The other two were so young they cannot remember their families.”
“And you Ailis? What of your family.”
“Gaelwyn gave a gapped tooth grin and said in an over loud voice. “She has found her family.”
“Ah yes the Decurion Princeps told me she is your cousin.”
After a pause Gaelwyn said, “Not just mine but yours prefect. She was the cousin of Macha, Lenta and Queen Cartimandua. She is your cousin too.”
The silence crashed down on the table. Every eye was expectantly on the prefect, some, like Decius with amusement and some like Julius with curiosity. The prefect seemed, unusually bereft of words. After taking a draught of wine from his beaker he wiped his mouth, stood up and walked over to Ailis who also stood up. Taking her in his arms he embraced her saying, “Welcome cousin.” None of those present chose to notice the tears cascading down his cheeks.
It became a party and the Novontae girls soon forgot their tears. The young decurions flirted with them and the older ones happily got drunk. Marcus remained quiet, sat next to Decius. Gaius and Ailis had their heads together with Gaelwyn beaming his gap toothed grin for all he was worth.
“Fate is a strange thing Decius. All the way to this northernmost corner of Britannia and I find the last relative of my dead wife and the murderer of Queen Cartimandua.”
“Perhaps you were meant to find her. Perhaps she was meant to escape from Mona to lead you here. The pain and the deaths were the price you had to pay.”
“Perhaps you are right. The Romans and Greeks believe that we are the playthings of the gods. Like small boys pulling the wings off insects to see the effect. You could be right, this could be a test and it confirms my wish now to retire. When the witch dies tomorrow my work will be complete.”
“What about Calgathus?”
“That is the work of younger men like Gaius, Macro and Julius.”
Just then Gaius and Ailis stood. “Sir with your permission I will escort your cousin to her tent.” Marcus nodded his approval.
Decius leaned over and said quietly, “How about a small bet sir?”
“Small bet Decius?”
“Yes I bet you that Gaius will be joining your family sooner rather than later.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you not see that he never took his eyes off her and old Gaelwyn didn’t see to mind.”
Even though they had all had a heavy night’s drinking every single decurion was stone cold sober by the next morning. They all knew what a portentous and momentous event was taking place. Some like Decius and Gaius had been around when the witch first spread her venom at Eboracum, others like Julius had been there at Stanwyck when it had spread but all had witnessed her on Mona as she had tried to burn their prefect to death.
“You are a witch and a priestess of Mona. You have murdered many Brigante and Romans. You have murdered my men with poisoned arrows; you have tried to kill me twice. All of these crimes are capital crimes and all of them have the death penalty. How do you plead?”
Her piercing eyes gripped Marcus in their stare. “I am a witch and I am a priestess of Mona. I freely admit all that you accuse me of and more for I was the one who tried to organise the revolt against your kingdom. I was the one who caused fires and murders at Eboracum. I was the one who helped King Calgathus to raise the northern tribes. There! Does that make your invasion any more justified? No! for I do not recognise Rome nor her power. I swear by the Mother that Roman rule will end one day and the gods of Britannia will once more rule and they are dark and they are vengeful; all those who fought for the Romans will suffer.”
Many of those present gripped amulets and other sacred objects as the curse of the witch oozed from her lips.
Marcus laughed. “There was a time when your words had power witch, when you tricked and misled Venutius and Maeve even Aed the murderer of my wife. But now you have no power and I sentence you to death.”
“Do you think I am afraid of death? When I die I will join my sisters in the s
pirit world and I will become even more powerful for I will not have the shackle that is this body. How will you sleep Roman? How will any of you sleep knowing the Fainch ‘s spirit is all around and will seek to do you harm?” The fear in the young men’s eyes gave her satisfaction but she was irritated by the look on Marcus’ face for he seemed almost at peace. “And you prefect, did you know your wife screamed for death as she was raped and soiled by thirty Brigante warriors?”
Decius tried to rise but was restrained by the prefect. “Any death at your hands would be a horrible and a terrible death and a death I have mourned these past years but do not think you can provoke me witch for you cannot. I will have my revenge. My legal, lawful and rightful revenge and when you are dead and burned and gone, then will my wife’s spirit sleep easier. Then will my son Ulpius stop crying for peace. Then I too will be at peace.”
Her face contorted with anger and rage. “Would that I had kept her alive to torture her. Would that you had been my prisoner for longer.”
“But I wasn’t and the men who are around you, my friends, my brothers risked their lives to save me. Who is here to save you?”
The word you boomed and echoed as a question hanging in the air and afterwards the silence seemed as loud as a heartbeat. “Crucifixion!”
The two guards holding the manacled witch led her away. To her credit she showed neither fear nor emotion. Outside the tent the cross was lying on the floor and the blacksmith ready with his nails, each one the length of a man’s hand and his mighty hammer. The guards laid the witch upon the cross and held her arms. The Novontae slaves hid their faces in their hands as the first nail was driven in, the large flat head preventing the witch from ripping it out. She flinched but uttered not a sound, her eyes still boring in on the prefect as his were on hers. It was a duel of wills. As the blood started to drip the second nail was driven in. Again she flinched and Decius noticed a tendril of blood drip slowly from her mouth. Finally a nail, the length of a man’s forearm, was pounded through her ankles. Even some of the troopers flinched when they heard the crunch of bone as it crushed her ankles. As the blacksmith stepped away the ten troopers pulled on the rope to bring the cross upright. The blood was flowing freely from ankles and hands but still she was held in place by the long nails. Her bloodless face uttered not a sound during what must have been an excruciatingly painful ordeal... Finally, as the cross became vertical and the weight of her frail body was taken on her wrists and ankles, a smile, a sigh, almost a groan came form his lips now bleeding from the places she had bitten them. Although he hated her Decius couldn’t help but admire this woman who was dying so much more nobly than Gaius Cresens her conspirator. She could feel her life blood dripping from her and with the last strength she had she screamed, “Marcus Aurelius Maximunius I curse you to the end of time.” Then, with a superhuman effort she pulled herself up and then threw her weight down. The result was that the nails tore through her flesh and her arteries. Deep purple blood gushed from her wounds and as Marcus stared at her eyes he saw the life leave them and Fainch the witch was dead.
King Calgathus was the first to realise that his secret stronghold was no more. Riding from the south with Lulach both ecstatic with their successes they felt themselves dragged down by the pall of smoke which still drifted across the blue skies days after the raid. As they surveyed the wreckage they could see that a mighty battle had taken place. Even as they searched for survivors, in ones and twos, those who had escapade the Romans emerged to tell the king what had happened. “They struck suddenly and we had no warning. “
“What of the Taexali sentries? Did they not try to prevent this disaster?”
“They were not as our warriors and they ran as quickly as the women.”
“My son was right. Lulach find the survivors and take them with your warband to the loch. I will take my oathsworn and we will gather our warriors. We will avenge this. What of the witch? Fainch?”
“The Romans took her to their camp.” The man pointed towards the pass.
When the king and his bodyguard arrived at the camp it had been dismantled but standing in what would have been the centre was the corpse of the witch hanging limply from the cross, her eyes the feeding ground for the rooks and ravens. “Your plans came to nought witch and this, “the king said turning to face his warriors “is the fate that awaits us if we fail. “
His warriors roared their anger. “We will not fail!”
“We are not Taexali!”
“Let us drive the Romans into the sea.”
Tully was slowly making his way back from his successful raid on the Votadini. He had not been as successful as Lulach for the Romans had begun to reinforce their work parties from the sea but he and his men were in good spirits as they made their way along the wooded banks of the river the Romans called Bodotria. Ever the careful warrior, Tully was travelling at night to avoid being seen. His men took to the water in the estuary to half swim half paddle past the fort. During the brightest part of the day they rested in the bushes and woods which lined the banks. They weren’t the best cover but they appeared to have escaped notice for they had seen few Roman patrols. Tully could see the crossing point of the Bodotria in the distance. By the time the following dawn came he would be back in his homeland and safe from the Romans.
The prefect of the First Tungrians had received his orders from the new Governor and he intended to impress him. If there were raiders in the south then they would have to cross the Bodotria five miles beyond his line of forts and camps. He had set up signal towers every five miles which signalled any movements. He wanted to impress the governor to get a better posting than this backwater of Britannia. The signal towers worked far better than he had hoped. He had been in Veluniate when he had received the signal from his outposts; a warband had been seen resting by the river eight miles away. He signalled the ships stationed off the estuary to sail along the river and provide artillery cover and he led four centuries on the road which took them to the crossing point. All three elements arrived at the crossing point at exactly the same time; it was an hour before dusk and, although Tully and his warriors were surprised they were not demoralized and a fierce battle broke out. This was not the battle the Romans liked to fight; the centuries arrived piecemeal and lacked the cohesion which normally held them in such good stead. The Tungrian prefect regretted not bringing more soldiers but had he done so he would have left the fort vulnerable and the auxiliaries were at full stretch. The warband for their part were fully rested and tore ferociously into the Tungrians diminished ranks. The ship’s commanders were helpless spectators as they could not use their artillery for fear of hitting their own men and all they could do was stop the Caledonii from entering the water.
With night falling Tully led his chosen warriors in a wedge and they cut right through the centre of the auxiliary cohorts. The disjointed cohort could not resist the force of nature that was the Caledonii warriors on the rampage. Even though the warband had lost many warriors, more than the Tungrians, the Tungrians were in no position to purse and the last raiders returned home.
The Governor finally arrived at Inchtuthil. Decius Brutus met him along with the prefects who were stationed nearby. “Tell me First Spear how goes the campaign?”
“The Caledonii have been raiding our road builders and outlying camps. They are not major attacks but they have caused us more casualties than we would have liked. Prefect Maximunius has taken his ala out to try to destroy Calgathus’ base, he has not returned yet.”
“I have just received a report that the force of Caledonii who were raiding south of here managed to break through a Tungrian cohort. Any report of the other warband?”
“My scouts found the trail of a warband heading north from Alavna.”
“And you are?”
“Prefect Sura of the First Batavian Cohort.”
“So we still have a sizeable force, in fact three depending upon whether the Prefect of cavalry has managed to eliminate one of them. First Spear br
ing me a map.” The map was spread across the table and the prefects gathered around it. “You have chosen good sites for you camps and forts along here but it seems to me that we need a series of forts, perhaps one here, another here and a third here.” He moved his finger down to the south west, the land of the Novontae. “The raiders found little opposition here. I notice there are no forts in that area. Why is that?”
They all looked at each other. “The region was settled quickly and was peaceful. General Agricola wished to push on and conquer the rest of Britannia.”
“Which his early summons back to Rome prevented. Yes I know. General Agricola won the war but I must win the peace.” The new governor stabbed his finger down forcefully on the map. “We will build forts in that area to prevent another incursion by the Caledonii.”
“But Governor we are fully stretched as it is. We have less than twenty thousand men to hold a huge area of land.”
“I know Prefect Sura but we must do it with the forces available.” He looked at them all individually trying to gauge the mettle of these men who he was asking to do the impossible. “I have spent all my life in Rome and I know how it works. We are the far flung outpost in an ever growing empire and any rebellion or revolt here does not impact in Rome. The senators and merchants only wish to milk the cow that it is Britannia. We will receive no more forces and we must act quickly for I feel that we will have forces withdrawn to fight the wars in Dacia and the east.”
They all looked downcast. “Will you be replacing the prefect of the Ninth from your staff sir?”