by Griff Hosker
“Women! We’ll never carry it off. If they look inside…”
“If they look inside they will see a mother and daughter whose heads are covered in cloth and whose faces are hidden behind a veil. If you hide you hands and lower your eyes when they look inside they will see what they expect to see. Once on the ship you can revert to being yourselves.” He looked intently at Livius. “It is the only way to get you and the boy out of the city. “ Reluctantly Livius agreed.
By the time Julius, his slaves and the carriage along with Atticus and Cato, were walking towards the Porta Ostiensis, the roads had emptied of all but the most desperate to make a journey. The problem that created was that they were the only group travelling through the gate at that time of day. The interest of the sentries was piqued. However once they saw the Imperial Purple of the Senator they allowed them through. Without bothering to look inside. Julius knew, however, that they would be remembered and if the Praetorian traitors asked the vigiles about them, they would be identified. All that mattered was that they reach the port before their pursuers. Julius hoped that they would have at least a day for once at sea it would be harder to follow them; the mare Nostrum was big and ships could hide in many places. The ex-Decurion Princeps was beginning to enjoy the action although he knew that the stakes for which they were playing were high. He also realised that, for the first time since leaving Britannia his actions would have far reaching consequences. He was alive once more; he was no longer the crippled ex-soldier looking at retirement.
As they travelled down the main road to the port, they picked up the guards sent ahead by Julius. Although they remained at a discreet distance, they surrounded the cargo and reached the port safely.
When they reached the port it was obvious that there were observers all around. Although the port had its normal quota of idlers these idlers looked like ex-soldiers and were appraising everyone just a little too closely. Cato was approached by his messenger who spoke quietly into the old legionary’s ear. After a moment or two he returned to Julius. “It is the liburnian over there sir. ‘The Swan’.” He gestured to a small two masted craft at the end of the quay. “Antoninus said that you would pay the fee. It seemed easier sir rather than him negotiating.” He added apologetically.
Julius put his arm around Cato’s shoulder. “Do not apologise you have done well.” He looked around at the people he had brought with him. “As much as I would like to take all of these men with us I fear it would attract too much attention. Go with Antoninus and Atticus and take our guests on board. I will follow. Then you can send half the men back to the domus and have the other half come aboard singly and quietly.”
The hardest part was negotiating the gang plank on to the ship and Livius feared that they would be plunged into the stinking foetid water of the busy harbour. Julius’ men were up to the task for they carried the carriage successfully up the narrow plank and they found themselves on board the ship. The curtains were opened on the seaward side and Cato’s gnarled face appeared grinning. “If you two ladies would like to slip out on this side you can go below decks and change into more suitable attire.”
By the time the carriage had been returned to the land, Julius and half of his men were aboard. Julius went, with Antoninus to speak with the captain. The captain was ancient. He had but one tooth in his mouth and barely a hair on his head which resembled a dried fig left in the sun too long. He was barely taller than Furax but the hugely muscled arms belied his size.
“Captain..?”
“Hercules.” He shrugged apologetically as Julius appraised him,” my parents had grand ideas for me and thought I would be bigger than I actually turned out to be. Your man here said you needed passage. Where to?”
Julius drew him to one side away from his crew. “Firstly do you trust your crew?”
Hercules looked around. “Some of them as for others…? Why do you ask?”
Julius looked closely at him. “I judge you to be an honest man and as such I will deal with you honestly. We are being pursued by people who wish my two friends harm. They are also working against the interests of the Emperor.” Hercules shrugged as though that was not his problem. “All of this is nothing to you I know but it means that your ship might come to harm and as an honest man myself I could not accept that. I would like to buy your ship.”
Hercules showed surprise for the first time. “Buy my ship? That seems a little excessive for a voyage. Where are we sailing to? The edge of the world?”
Julius looked grimly at the man. “I have been to the edge of the world my friend and it is not as dangerous as the waters into which we may sail.” The old man looked with new respect at the paunchy senator who had looked so soft when he boarded the ship. “No the voyage is not long but I, we, may need the ship again and if it is mine to command then…” he could see the indecision on Hercules’ face. “When I have finished with your vessel then I will give it back to you as a gift.”
The sceptical look which appeared on the old captain’s face told Julius much. “Why?”
“An honest question and you deserve an honest answer. I am rich but the value of my passengers to me is greater than any gold. One hundred gold aurei is the price I will pay you.”
Hercules gasped. The amount was more than the old ship was worth, in fact the Senator could have bought a small fleet of ‘Swans’ for that. “That is a princely sum.”
“My friends are worth it.”
The captain spat on his hand and held it out. Julius did the same and they shook hands. “The tide is right for the next few hours. Are all your men aboard?” Julius glanced around and nodded. “Then we had better slip it looks as though your pursuers are here.” He pointed over to where eight Praetorians had galloped up to the vigiles at the Custom House. They would not know which ship they were on but it would not take them long to find out.
“Then let us go.” Hercules gave him a quizzical look. “Ah the course. Our destination is Surrentum but could you sail towards the Pillars of Hercules until dark?”
“You wish them to think we are travelling west and not south. Aye that will not be a problem.” He turned and began to roar orders, a huge voice from such a small body. “Cast off forrard, hoist the foresail. Come on you lubbers, the tide is waiting.”
Leaving Hercules to his business Julius descended to speak with Livius. They had crossed their own Rubicon; there would be no going back now.
By the time Livius had changed into male attire once more the ship was far enough out of Ostia for him to come up on the deck. Furax joined them, as excited at any that he was at sea. Hercules, leaning easily on the tiller grinned. “Ah the ladies! Looking a little better now than when you arrived.”
Julius introduced him. “This is my friend Livius and this, my friend, is Hercules our captain.”
Livius took a step back to view him better. “I thought he would have been bigger.”
Hercules grinned, “I’ve not been well. Now if you gentlemen would keep out of my way, go forrard, then I will steer this ship and we will try to confuse our friends.” He gestured to the horizon where they could make out a small sail. “I think we are being followed.”
Julius and Livius walked along the gently pitching deck with Cato and Furax in attendance. “It looks like we have been tumbled.”
“Yes Livius but the plan is still a good one. Once it is dark then the captain will turn south and sail south until dawn then we will head east and by noon we will be in my villa. Already two of my men are riding along the Via Appia and the Via Popilia to prepare the villa for us. They have weapons with them. Once at the villa we will have more security.”
* * * * * *
Their first sight of Surrentum took away Livius’ breath. All that he saw was a wall of stone rising; it seemed, to the heavens. It seemed so high that it was impossible for anyone to ascend the heights, certainly not from the sea. Julius pointed to the island they had passed to the south. “That is Capreae and the reason we are here. The Emperor keeps sh
ips there and it is where Hadrian will come when he returns from the east. It is but a short boat ride from my villa and the villa, as you can see is safe enough.”
“How in the Allfather’s name will we get up there?”
“There is a path up the cliff but half way along I believe that there is a tunnel which takes us to the heart of my villa. It is one of the reasons I bought this property. Its previous owner liked to have a safe way in and out and, in the present political climate, I thought it judicious to do the same.”
There was a small harbour in which a few fishing boats bobbed up and down; their fishing was a nocturnal activity and, as Livius plucked the sweaty cloth from his body, he could understand why. The heat was overpowering and the humidity seemed to suck the energy from their bodies much as the wind was plucked from their sails as they edged closer to the jetty.
Julius turned to Hercules. “I think we will be safe for a few days should you wish to take on supplies. And well done, you did well to lose our follower.” The Captain had obviously evaded others before for as soon as it was dark he had turned north and then east and finally south so that he turned a full circle around the boat that was trying to catch them.
The old man nodded, accepting the praise, which he knew he had deserved. “I will do that but I noticed a beach just down the coast. I think I will check the old girl’s bottom. That way I can be close enough to return quickly to pick you up. If we have to leave in a hurry then I want to be able to outrun those who follow.” He pointed to the skiff which they towed. “I will leave two men here. If you need me send them and I can be here within half a day. Once her hull is clean I will return.”
Julius clasped his arm. “Thank you Hercules.”
As they watched the ship head south Livius turned to Julius. “You are a trusting soul. What is to stop him form leaving with your gold and your ship?”
“Nothing!” He turned to begin to walk up the cliff path.
Livius followed him. “Nothing? Do you think he will return?”
Julius looked paternally at Livius. “I think old friend that your experiences with your brother and Morwenna have coloured your judgement. Learn to see into people and judge them. As I did with Furax and as I now do with Hercules. There are those that you can trust and those who will deceive you. You need to learn the skills to decide which is which.”
Chapter 3
Radha was nervous as she awaited the boat which would take her across the short stretch of water to Manavia, home of the Witch Queen, Morwenna. The confident young Queen of the Votadini had left her husband, Lugubelenus, consolidating their land following their eviction of the Roman Army from the territory north of the Stanegate. The Ninth Legion had been all but destroyed in their short campaign and his wife Radha had been instrumental in that success. Buoyed by their victory, revered and honoured by husband, warriors and people alike, Radha had planned this quest, this pilgrimage to visit Morwenna, the High Priestess of the Mother cult, even while she was helping to destroy the vaunted Ninth legion. Morwenna had almost destroyed the Roman stranglehold in the North and Radha was anxious to tap into the mystical power which the infamous witch possessed. Morwenna’s mother, Fainch, was still a legend north of the land ruled by Rome and her defiant death after the battle of Mons Graupius was still spoken of in hushed terms around the fires in the long nights of winter. Radha had some powers but she had persuaded her husband that she needed to seek the advice of such a powerful adversary of Rome and increase her magic to finally eradicate all traces of Roman rule. Travelling discreetly with a handful of bodyguards and attendants she had made it to the west coast of Britannia undetected by the fragmented Roman patrols. The worst wait had been for the contact who had secured their boat journey to Manavia and now Radha could see the red sail looming large on the horizon. She almost giggled in anticipation; soon she would meet the most powerful woman in Britannia a woman who had outlived many partners both warriors and fellow witches. Radha felt the tingle of excitement course through her veins as she fantasised about the meeting. Her life would be changing again.
* * * *
Morwenna was no longer the lithe and slender beauty who had enchanted warrior kings and Roman leaders but she was a still a stunning beauty. Her hair was devoid of grey, her eyes had no lines, her skin was perfection and her green eyes still glowed with the hidden power of the priestess. Her daughters had reached womanhood the previous year and the three of them had now become the Queen’s acolytes replacing Maban and Anchorat both of whom had succumbed to the coughing sickness during the dark winter. The daughters were just younger versions of their mother and their green eyes glistened and sparkled with both power and insight. It was said that no-one could withstand the combined stare of the four women. Your soul would be laid bare, it was said, and your thoughts revealed to this most powerful quartet of witches.
Morwenna was delighted that Radha had asked permission to be granted an audience. Despite her mystical power Morwenna no longer controlled vast armies as she had one done. Her domain was no longer the land of the Brigantes but was the tiny island of Manavia and her army was a bodyguard of a hundred dedicated warriors. The success of the Votadini had emboldened her. For the first time since Agricola had destroyed the Pictish armies the native population of Britannia had had a victory over the Romans and Morwenna knew that the time was ripe for another rebellion. Her spies in Morbium and Eboracum had told her that the Brigantes were becoming disenchanted with the rule of the Romans. The security they had enjoyed was now threatened as the Imperial forces were withdrawn for wars far in the East. The incursions of the Votadini and Selgovae had made the land around the Dunum a war zone. The visit of Radha had been created by the Mother of that Morwenna was certain.
* * * * * *
Macro and Marcus were not sure how to feel now that there were working with Metellus, Rufius and Cassius once more. During the ill fated campaign against the Votadini they had achieved a certain status and independence which had now disappeared. They were once again the junior members of the team. Had they but known it they were considered as equals by the older members of the remnants of the Explorates but they were young and took offence at the slightest comment. It had been left to Metellus, older, wiser Metellus to reassure the two young scouts that they were valued. Cassius had arranged for the three of them to scout ahead so that he could talk to them more privately.
The land through which they were riding was familiar. The Prefect at Eboracum had not known how to use them now that the Ninth had been disbanded. There was, as yet, no other legion in the north and yet he felt it would be dishonourable to rid himself of the five mouths which needed feeding and he had not thrown them on the scrapheap. He had compromised and sent them the land of lakes to evaluate the status of the frontier. There had been reports of unrest amongst the Brigantes, not around Morbium, but further west and the scouts were there to gauge the mood of a people who had never been truly content since the rule of Queen Cartimandua.
“You two acquitted yourselves well with the Ninth. I hear you were standard bearers?”
They both glanced at Metellus to see if it was mocking them or meant the question as a slur. His face was as open and honest as ever and they took his words at face value. “It was not for long but yes. The two of us defended the eagle during the last attack of the Votadini,” Marcus spoke with a passion. “It showed us the value of such emblems. We would have died happily and died proudly defending the eagle.”
“Better to have done as you did my young friends and defended the eagle and yourselves and return safely from a disastrous war. A lost eagle would not have been worth your lives.”
Macro said quietly, “I think it would.”
Metellus peered at Macro who now had a body almost as big as his father had had. The boy was now a man. “Well let us just say that there would have been many of us who would have regretted the death of two such valued scouts.”
Marcus again looked to see if there was an insult in the face but the
re was not. “You think we are valuable?”
Metellus laughed an easy booming laugh which echoed around the fell side. “There is not a pair of scouts who are held in higher esteem made all the more laudable by the fact that you are yet young and do no know the esteem in which you are held. None of the Explorates, living or dead were your superior. Some were your equals and some, like Rufius is still an equal, but never doubt that you are valued.”
“We are Rufius’ equal?” Rufius was the ideal to which both boys aspired.
“Oh he can do one or two things better than you but you have shown qualities, especially when fighting the Votadini, that he has not had the chance to show.”
The two of them pondered that. Although they looked up to all the Explorates, it had been Rufius who had been their role model in every way. It had hurt them when he had been chosen to go with Livius and Metellus leaving them in Britannia. At the time they had resented the fact that their youth had kept them in the province. The glory they had found compensated somewhat, but they were still envious of the adventures which their three colleagues had had. They were now in limbo; their present mission was nothing more that a means to rid the fort of an unwanted reminded of the disaster which had befallen the Ninth.
Metellus could gauge the mood of people easily and he sensed the gloomy mood of the two young men. “Come on or Cassius will be frying my balls for your rations and believe me that is a meal which would neither fill nor satisfy a pair of lusty young lads like you. Let us split up and meet two miles up the valley. If we have found no sign then we will hunt our supper.”
Whooping with delight the two young men split left and right. Metellus smiled to himself. All the training Livius had put in with all the Explorates had borne fruit. Each man knew his role and, more importantly, the roles of others without the need for command. Metellus rode along the main trail looking for any sign of warriors or those who were not going about their rightful business. He noticed that he was following the trail of horses. That in itself was unusual. Mules or wagons were normally used by farmers and merchants; they could transport more than horses. It could be a legitimate party of travellers but Metellus moved slowly and carefully as he did not wish to miss anything. His sharp eyes picked out a small piece of cloth caught on the thorns of a bramble bush. It was coloured and showed more than one dye. That made it a higher status piece of cloth than that used by a farmer. He slipped it into his pouch. When he found the remains of the camp fire he stopped and scouted all the way around. He found footprints from shoes, not caligae, which indicated that the party had not been Roman. The foot prints varied in size from those of a child or woman to those of heavy set men, probably warriors. The fact that intrigued him the most was the lack of human dung. He found piles of soil which showed where it had been buried but not on the surface. That was the most revealing evidence of all. Warriors, farmers and merchants would just shit some way away from their camp but these piles were within sight of the fire but behind bushes. That meant women, allied to the horses, the cloth and the feet all suggested high status women. As he mounted his horse to meet up with Marcus and Macro he began to run through the various scenarios which would result in high status women and warriors travelling westwards in the land of the lakes.