Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 08] The Last Frontie

by Griff Hosker

  Radha was already in awe of the Queen before she arrived but, when she entered the wooden hall lit by torches, she suddenly felt like a poor relative in comparison to the vision in white which greeted her. She was glad that she had left her bodyguard outside. They looked like thugs and ruffians compared with the magnificent body of men arrayed before her but it was presence of the queen and her daughters which most impressed the young Votadini Queen. They seem to glow and pulse like ethereal and magical beings. The red hair of the queen was reflected, but not duplicated, in her daughters making the shimmering quartet look like a rich jewel which sparkled and showed a different facet with every glance. She suddenly realised that she did not know how to behave in the presence of the Queen who was also the High Priestess of her cult. She prostrated herself on the floor before the dais and her two companions followed suit.

  There was silence in the hall. The only sound which could be heard was the slight crackle and hiss from the torches. When Morwenna finally spoke, her mellifluous voice seemed to enchant, not only Radha and her companions, but every warrior in the Hall. “Welcome Radha, Queen of the Votadini. Your fame and renown have reached us with the news of your great success against the Roman invader.”

  Suddenly, from the throats of her three daughters, an ululation erupted which made the warriors and the three visitors jump with fright. Morwenna stood and spread out her arms. “Come and embrace me.” Morwenna came down the steps slowly, almost as though she was floating. Radha too approached the witch as though in a dream. She felt nervous tension tingling through her body. She did not know what to do. She was but a young queen and, hitherto, had had little to do with other queens. The slight smile playing on Morwenna’s lips made her more comfortable and the two women wrapped their arms around each other. The perfumes and aromas emanating from Morwenna appeared magical and Radha was aware of the smell of horses and travel which oozed from her, it seemed to Radha to be redolent of a farmyard. Morwenna leaned back slightly to view Radha’s face. “And now the kiss of friendship.” When their lips met it was more than a chaste politic gesture, for Radha felt the passion in the red lips of the Red Witch and felt the vibrant body pressing close to hers. When Morwenna’s tongue touched her lips she suddenly felt like pushing away but Morwenna’s whispered words reassured her. “You are now one of the sisters; you can now join us in our ceremonies and celebrations do not be afraid.” Suddenly relieved Radha returned the passion and she wondered why she had not embraced the idea before.

  It seemed like an age before they broke and yet it was but a heartbeat. “Send away your ladies,” she turned to her guards, “Luarch. I will not need close protection, surround the hall and let no-one enter. I need to have close congress with our new sister.”

  When the hall had emptied Morwenna took Radha’s hand and led her to the fire before which was laid an enormous wolf skin. Her daughters followed, hand in hand. “You will be tired after your journey and I will not hinder your rest. We need to talk and then my daughters will take you to your quarters. Tonight will be the opportunity for a deeper discussion.” The husky voice left Radha in no doubt that the evening would be a new experience for her. As they lay on the wolf skin Brynna began to comb Radha’s hair, Eilwen washed her feet while the third daughter, Caronwyn rubbed exotic smelling oils into her hands.

  “You and your warrior king did well to defeat the Romans. How stand you and the Selgovae to finally rid our land of the Romans?”

  Radha’s voice was bitter as she spoke. “Speak not of the Selgovae. The worthless curs deserted us at the end. Not a Roman would have escaped and we would have captured the eagle had they stood. My husband will destroy them.”

  Morwenna silence the queen with a kiss. “Be calm my sister. We do not become angry but we use anger to our own advantage. Impress upon your husband that we need the Selgovae and their warriors.” Radha’s face showed the signs of anger once more. Morwenna placed a slender finger upon her lips. “Calm and peace. I will find a way to bring an end to their king and then we will find a new leader to lead them. Your husband should invite the King of the Selgovae and the other allies to a meeting, a conclave to drive the Romans from this land, and, there, the man you hate will die.”

  Mollified Radha lay back and relaxed. “How will he die? He has bodyguards.”

  “You are a sister and we will teach you the ways. There are potions and poisons which will give you a power of which you have only dreamt.” She took Radha’s face in her hands. “The Mother told me you were coming. You are the stone which begins the avalanche but we need to manage the avalanche. We only wish for the Romans to be destroyed not the peoples of Britannia which is why we must preserve the Selgovae people and not destroy our warriors in futile wars of revenge against one another.”

  Radha did not know if it was the fire, the words or the wonderful perfumes in the room but she found herself realising that Morwenna was right. “Do you think we can defeat the Romans?”

  “Now that you have destroyed their legion I have no doubt. The Brigante are ready to rise and the three tribes can sweep all before. All we need is to plan carefully and choose our battles well. With the new power you shall have your armies will be even stronger. Now you are tired and we have much to do. Brynna will take you to your rooms. There are fresh clothes there. After we have supped and are refreshed we will all retire to my quarters to continue what we have started.”

  * * * * * *

  The Prefect looked up at Cassius. “How sure are you of this?”

  Cassius had spent an hour explaining what they had discovered in the land of the lakes. The alliance between the Votadini and Morwenna would be a disaster if true. The Prefect was a worried man. With barely three cohorts of auxiliary infantry and a depleted ala of cavalry the northern part of Britannia was more vulnerable than it had been for a generation. All of his pleas and requests to Rome had resulted in nothing. He desperately hoped that Cassius was wrong. “The party which went to Manavia was definitely high status Votadini and it was a substantial number. It is likely to have been the queen or someone similar and we know from the last battle that their women are as formidable as their men. In addition the Brigante are not as cooperative as they were. The defeat of the Ninth has made them realise that they could be attacked at any time and, I am afraid to say, that the once invincible legions are not so invincible. They can no longer be relied upon to be our allies”

  The Prefect stood. “Well at least we have some cavalry now. You will not be the only mounted force in Eboracum.” Cassius looked quizzically at the Prefect. “An ala of Pannonians, under strength of course but recruiting, arrived a few weeks ago, just after your patrol began. Rest your men for a few days and then ride up to the land of the Votadini see what you can discover. I think your Explorates are still needed.”

  Cassius left the Praetorium and headed for the vicus. The rest of the patrol had made The Saddle as their place to meet and drink when not on patrol. It had been set up by one of their former troopers, Gaius Metellus Corsus, known to his comrades as Horse because of his size. He had lost an arm fighting against Morwenna and Decius Lucullus which meant he retired early. He had enough money to build a roundhouse and begin brewing beer. The saddle which adorned the doorway was his own from his days with Marcus’ Horse. It was now five years since he had expanded his premises to provide a couple of rooms and food. His girth had increased along with his profits but his old comrades found it a safe and secure place in which to unwind. When Cassius entered there were only his four friends and Horse. Horse brought him a beaker of black ale and asked, “Want any food?”

  “What is on today?”

  He grinned and nodded at Macro, “You eat well today Macro’s lad here brought in a young suckling boar. I have a nice stew.”

  “That will do for me then. Well lads, we have a few days’ rest and then it is up to Votadini country again.”

  Metellus and Rufius quickly glanced at the two boys who both studied their beer as though it might move of it
s own volition. “You two lads alright with that?”

  Marcus looked at Rufius, there were almost the same size now and the three of them could be taken for brothers.”It won’t be easy, passing the place where so many of our friends and comrades died but yes. We are Explorates and we go where we are ordered.”

  Macro nodded his agreement and drank heartily from his beaker. Rufius put his arm around Marcus. “Our comrades are there too Marcus. In fact we have left comrades from Deva to Mons Graupius. It is not a bad thing to see where they fell. It is good for it rekindles the memories of those warriors who fell.”

  Horse had returned with Cassius stew and overheard the conversation. He winked at Metellus. “You see it’s like my old son. When I go over to Mamucium for supplies and I see where all me mates fell and I lost me arm, I remember and after all there’s no harm in it is there?”

  The three older troopers groaned at the awful joke while Marcus and Macro grinned and blushed. “I’ve got to hand it to you Horse. Like your stews you are tasteless.” Metellus quipped back.

  Again they all groaned and Horse sniffed as he left. “Well I don’t know. I thought it was harmless enough.”

  Cassius tucked into his stew, which, despite Metellus’ jokes, was excellent. The others just enjoyed the relaxation of not being on a horse and drinking without worrying about danger and death lurking around the corner. The adrenalin rush of being on patrol had to be tempered with down time and that is what they were enjoying. Before Cassius could tell them all the news that the Prefect had told him the door was hurled open and Decurion Aelius Spartianus stood there with five of his cronies.

  “What have we here? Is it a barbarian band of thugs? Oh no it’s worse, it is Explorates.” He turned and grinned at his sycophantic troopers who dutifully laughed. Cassius saw the young Explorates’ hands go to their swords and he and Metellus shook their heads and were relieved when they were sheathed. “Anyway real soldiers are here now so make way for your betters and fuck off.”

  Cassius continued eating and Metellus and Rufius merely looked bored at the blowhard’s words. Marcus and Macro were becoming increasingly angry at the insults they felt they should not be taking.

  “Are you deaf as well as dirty? I told you to leave.”

  Cassius finished his stew and pushed the dish away. He stood and faced the Decurion. He was a good head taller. “Now listen, son. We have just had a hard patrol and we are enjoying a drink in our favourite drinking hole. There are many more in the vicus. Stop behaving like a newly promoted optio and leave yourself.”

  The sound of five swords being drawn made Marcus and Macro look nervously at Metellus but he grinned and shook his head.

  “That sounds like a threat, a threat to a superior officer. Severe punishments will be involved.” Aelius Spartianus normally got his way by physical threats but he could also bully with rank.

  “Officer I sincerely doubt, and superior? That I definitely question. Well I am a decurion as is my comrade over there, Metellus, and as I have been a decurion for eight years I think I outrank you sonny. But I don’t like to throw my rank about.” He looked pointedly at Aelius. “I leave that for dick heads that haven’t learned yet how to behave like an officer in front of their men, and are still wet behind their ears.”

  The next few moments were a blur of action. Aelius and his men tried to advance on the Explorates trying to draw their swords as they did so. Cassius punched Aelius in the stomach; Metellus cracked two of the other’s heads together while Rufius, Marcus and Macro had the others disarmed in the blink of an eye. Finally Horse appeared in the doorway behind them all with an enormous cudgel in his hand.

  “Now who is causing upset in my inn?”

  Aelius pulled himself to his feet, glaring at them all in turn. “You will pay for this! Fucking barbarians.”

  “Speaking of paying, you have damaged my property so pay up. Four denari.”

  “Fuck off you cripple!”

  In answer Horse swung his cudgel to crack into the knee of the Pannonian Decurion. “I could just call the vigiles.” He looked innocently at Cassius. “Wasn’t their leader in Marcus’ Horse too?”

  “I believe he was. If I were you Decurion I would pay my friend here and then try to get out with whatever dignity you have left before we really get angry.”

  The four denari were hurled at Horse and the troopers lurched their way out avoiding bumping into Horse and his deadly cudgel. Shutting the door behind them Horse pocketed the money. “Well that’s your food paid for. More ale lads?” As they nodded their assent he left.

  “Who the hell are they?”

  Cassius smiled as he drank some of his ale. “That, my friends, is the new ala in town, The Pannonians!”

  “But Marcus’ Horse was the Pannonian ala!”

  “Yes Macro but there is more than one ala of Pannonians. I have no idea what this one is called. I hope the other officers are better than that thug or they won’t last a week out here.”

  Rufius stood. “I think I’ll take a little turn around the fort and see what I can discover.” It was no surprise to Cassius when Marcus and Macro offered to join him.

  “Be careful. Let’s not piss too many of them off. We may need them yet.”

  When they were alone Metellus moved next to Cassius. “What else did the Prefect say?”

  “Oh that he still hasn’t replaced the Ninth and these few cavalry are the only reinforcements we are likely to get. Apparently they are hoping to recruit and get the ala up to full strength.”

  “I hope they have a good Decurion Princeps. If that one is a measure of their competency then they are in trouble.”

  “The problem is Metellus that we served in the best ala with the best leaders and the best men. But it wasn’t always that way. There were bad buggers along the way. Gaius was flogged once by Julius’ dad and he was innocent. No a good ala doesn’t just happen. Someone has to care and make it a good ala.”

  “We could always go back as Decurions. Make something of it.”

  “Could you give up the independence of the Explorates? Could you go back to the discipline? The duties? The army?”

  “The thing is Cassius I am not sure that we can continue doing this. When we had thirty of us we could cover large areas, we could work as a team to make sure we missed nothing. It took us five weeks to find one track on the last patrol. If we had had all the Explorates we would have found that in a week. We are too few to be effective.”

  Before Cassius could reply Rufius and the other two returned. “Well the good news is they only arrived last week and the bad news is that that thug is the only decurion. He is in charge.”

  Metellus looked at Cassius. “Well that has decided me. I am not going to join that ala with him as my leader.”

  Macro looked intrigued. “Join the?”

  “Yes Macro, they are recruiting for that under-strength ala. Cassius and I were thinking about joining as Decurions but if he is Decurion Princeps then there is no way we would serve with him.”

  Macro and Marcus looked crestfallen. It was the dream of both of them to follow their father into the cavalry. Marcus was desperate to wield the Sword of Cartimandua, still languishing in the family farm and awaiting its next call to duty. He wondered if he should go against the others and join as a trooper? He was just old enough. One look at his friends convinced him, his father had taught him to be loyal and he would be loyal to this band of brothers.

  Rufius drank off his beaker of ale. “I just wish Livius was back. He would have an answer to this.”

  * * * * * *

  At that moment ‘The Swan’ was just entering the estuary of the Ouse. Hercules had found the voyage challenging especially as he had had to persuade his cross to pass through the Pillars of Hercules. It took all of Livius’ persuasive powers and pouch of silver to convince them. Livius had been surprised by the speed of their voyage. It was far faster than the reverse journey in the bireme had been. The winds had been favourable and Hercules was
right, with the weed off her bottom, she fairly flew.

  Hercules had explained the reason. “Galleys are reliable. You can always row but sailing is faster because the boat is lighter and the wind is more powerful than men. It doesn’t need food!”

  Now as they edged their way up the estuary Hercules pointed out the deficiencies. “Now this won’t be easy as the river twists and turns and will get narrower but we’ll manage. I tell you what though Livius, I wouldn’t like to sail these waters too often. They look dark and dangerous give me the blue Mare Nostrum any day.”

  “On that I agree with you. I’ll just go below and gather my gear.”

  When they had reached Ostia, Julius had insisted upon providing Livius with not only the codes for their letters but money and equipment. As he had said, “I served in the ala and know the value of a good suit of armour. I have the best and Cato can have it back here before the tide turns.” The armour had proved to be a magnificent cuirass; not fancy but immensely strong, a good cavalry helmet with excellent protection, a shield with extra metal protection and a spatha which was almost as magnificent as the Sword of Cartimandua. “This was my father’s sword and I know he would like it taken into battle. I have no sons, wear it as my heir.”