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

by Griff Hosker

  “Right trooper take the mule and lead him. That better sir?”

  The man was actually smiling. “This is much better and much higher. I can actually see the land. Oh and I am Julius not sir.”

  “I am Marcus and it will be good to have someone help with the lists and the other duties, we are warriors not writers. Cassius, the adjutant, is getting really piss… er unhappy with writing and checking lists.”

  “Is he the other sergeant then?”

  “Oh no he is second in command, one of the senior Decurions.”

  “And you call him Cassius?”

  Marcus grinned. “He’s known me since I was a bairn and I think Uncle Cassius would not do the trick eh? Besides we are like one big family. You’ll like it well all apart from,” realising he need to be more discreet he sighed. “Well I daresay you will make your own judgements.”

  Longinus looked around. “This is beautiful country, do you know it well?”

  Marcus laughed. “I was born just up the road, not far from that fort.”

  The clerk then plied the sergeant with questions which were answered and elaborated on with enthusiasm.

  “Fort ahead sir. We will be there in no time.” The Governor snorted; at least the young sergeant had been accurate about the time it took to travel through this dreary and decidedly cold land.

  The Prefect groaned to himself when he saw the column of Roman cavalry escorting the carriage. It could mean only one thing, dignitaries and that meant he would lose his quarters as his was the only room suitable for guests. It also meant inspections the depletion of his supplies for visitors rarely brought any with them. At least the cavalry ala had brought their own and even supplemented their diet with some fine game. He looked north. The whole ala was out once more as they had been each day since they arrived. The Decurion Princeps certainly kept them active. He noticed a column of Pannonians behind the carriage. He realised that they must be the recruits Livius had promised. He turned to the optio on duty. “When the recruits arrive, direct them to their fort and tell them that the rest of their ala is on patrol.”

  The cavalry lined up on each side of the fort as the carriage crossed the bridge and halted at the gate. The Prefect opened the door of the carriage. “Marcus Arvina Camp Prefect of…”

  “Save the introductions for when I am warm with food and drink inside me. Drive on.”

  Leaving an open mouthed Prefect in the gateway the Governor rode on. The Decurion trotted up. “Our Governor likes his comfort and he has been travelling. Makes him a little short tempered. Where can I put my men and horses up sir?”

  Marcus remembered his manners, “Sorry Decurion I am just… Er why don’t you join the auxiliary cavalry over there, the First Sallustian Wing of Pannonians.” He pointed in the distance. “Follow the recruits. They have stables and feed for your horses and then you had better join me to help entertain the Governor. You know what they say, misery likes company.”

  “Sir,” the Decurion had been looking forward to finding out a little more about this ala of which he had heard nothing before.

  * * * * *

  It was good to be riding in this land again. Livius never felt threatened. He knew of the dangers but felt that the land was an ally not an enemy. The potential danger came from those who were raiding and they did not know the land as well as he. He had had the ala operating in pairs of turmae as he wanted the new officers and men to gain from the experience of Metellus, Rufius and Cassius. As soon as Macro and Marcus arrived he would have even more potential.

  His men were resting on the crest of a low line of hills overlooking the Tinea and Votadini country. His sentries were alert for he had impressed upon them their precarious position. He chewed on his dried venison and thought about the last letter he had had from Julius. It told of the arrest of Lucius and his conspirators which was a relief to the Decurion Princeps. He had worried that the powerful traitor might have enough friends to turn the tables on Hadrian and Julius and complete a coup themselves. Perhaps they had chosen the right Praetorians. Hadrian would have to spend some time in the east which meant his arrival in Britannia would be delayed. That suited Livius in many ways. He had yet to find where to build the limes which the Emperor wanted. He hoped that by the next spring he and his men would have surveyed all the suitable places and he would have a better idea. All of that depended upon the frontier being quiet. Rufius had reported disturbing events further north; kings had been invited to a conclave at the court of the King of the Votadini. It had been planned for their midwinter festival, the festival of Yule. Although it was some months off he would need to send that intelligence to Rome and then he could begin to think how he would gather information on the Governor.

  He glanced over to his companion decurion for the day; Decurion Aelius Spartianus sat alone, morosely munching on his rations. He had made no attempt to engage in conversation with any one, neither officer nor men. It was although he wanted to be alone. He was like a sulky child who was forbidden to play with their favourite toy. All of Livius’ attempts had resulted in a snapped, almost insolent, reply and, whilst Livius could have disciplined him for the comments it was not in his nature to do so. He had now taken to returning the silence. He knew it was not just him, for his other decurions had reported the same cold attitude to comradeship.

  One of his sentries called him over. “Sir, there’s some movement abut a mile upstream.”

  Livius mounted his horse and rode over to the escarpment lookout point. “You have good eyes trooper for I can see…. ah yes now I can see what you mean.”

  There was a primitive wooden bridge just upstream from their position. It afforded him the opportunity of viewing the column of riders who crossed. As the bridge could only support a few riders at a time it meant that their numbers could be accurately ascertained. “Count them trooper and we’ll compare numbers afterwards.”

  There were clearly armed warriors and from their accoutrements they were high status. There were too many to be the same group identified by Cassius but Livius could see some females. He assumed they were females for they had long hair, were slender and wore no weapons. Suddenly a shaft of light broke from behind some clouds and shone upon flowing red hair. The memory of the red with was forever etched on Livius’ mind.”Morwenna,” he murmured.

  “Sir?”

  “Nothing trooper.” The last of the column had clattered over the bridge and Livius turned to the trooper. “How many did you make it son?”

  “Over two hundred and twenty sir.”

  “That tallies with mine. Go and tell the decurion to mount up the turmae and join me here.” As the trooper totted off Livius ran the information through the machine that was his brain. He could have been wrong. If some priestess of the Votadini had gone to Manavia, it might well mean that Morwenna had elected to return with them. Certainly they were heavily armed men and Livius remembered the Irish Morwenna had used the last time. Where was she going? He was sorely tempted to follow them but across the river was Votadini country and he and his ala were in no position to face a Votadini army still cock a hoop over their recent victory. Lugubelenus had made it quite clear that the Romans should stay in their land. Technically Livius was in Votadini territory for the king had said to stay south of the forts which began with Coriosopitum on the Stanegate. As Spartianus and the other troopers arrived he reached his decision. They would ride to the bridge and see if they could gain any clues about the mysterious column.

  “We are going down to that bridge decurion. A column has just crossed over and I would like to know who they are.”

  “Isn’t that Votadini country sir,” the ‘sir’ was always tagged on as a deliberate afterthought. Livius was used to the implied insult and knew that the decurion was merely paying lip service to him. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  Livius laughed and the unexpected noise made their mounts start. “In this land Aelius getting up in a morning can be dangerous. Yes it is a risk but a managed risk and it is important t
hat we know who they are. I think I saw Morwenna the Red Witch amongst them and if so then it does not bode well for the province.”

  “The Red Witch?”

  “Yes from Mona. Part of the Druidic cult.”

  “I thought they were wiped out and all their holy places destroyed?”

  “That is what Rome was told but they still live and they still cause trouble. Their new base is Manavia which is beyond Roman control. Believe me she is a dangerous woman.”

  Livius waved them forward and they made their way down the escarpment, every uncia of them ready for danger. Even Spartianus had understood the danger in which they were and he joined with his troopers to constantly scan their surroundings. When they reached the bridge Livius detailed six troopers to watch the northern bank. He sent another west and Aelius and his turma east. He took the remaining troopers with him. “You are going to learn today how to scout. I was an Explorate,” he saw the sudden glances the men shot at each other and smiled, the Explorates were known to be the most dangerous men in the Roman army, they had an interesting if short life. “We learned how to sift evidence and come to conclusions. That is what we are going to do. Dismount and spread out in a line. We are going to backtrack up the trail.”

  The trail the column had taken had come down a little used path from the west. It was just wide enough for a horse. The hawthorn and blackthorn extended over the path and Livius knew, from his experience, that some of the guards would have ridden off the path. “You are looking for anything, hoof prints, footprints, cloth, broken branches and, most importantly anything which shouldn’t be here.”

  The men shouted out when they discovered things and Livius halted the line until he had investigated. He was very patient with his men for he knew that he did not want them to feel foolish. He had learned, as someone who had developed into a skilful scout, that the most insignificant object could tell much. He heard to his right, close to the edge of the path, a conversation which made him halt. “Don’t be daft he doesn’t want anything like that. It is nothing; it doesn’t tell us anything.”

  “Stop!” He wandered over. “What is nothing?”

  An older trooper was standing grinning at a young blushing recruit.”It is Atticus here sir he’s found some mistletoe and some rosemary. He must want to kiss someone.” He laughed at the young trooper’s embarrassment.

  “Well done Atticus. That is the best find so far.”

  The other trooper stood open mouthed. “What sir?”

  “Trooper, when did you last see mistletoe up here and, even stranger rosemary?”

  “Well never sir but they are just plants.”

  Patiently Livius explained, aware that others were listening, “And they didn’t get here themselves did they. They were brought here. Who do you know who uses and wears mistletoe and rosemary?”

  “Never seen anyone, well apart from the old woman in the village, the one who used to made herbal remedies.”

  Livius could see the others making the connection but the older soldier was struggling to understand. “That old woman was probably an old priestess form the cult of the Mother, on Mona. She was probably a witch, which means…”

  “Which means that there are probably druids or witches from Mona up here.” He grinned. “That’s good that sir.”

  The others laughed and Livius smiled, “Well thank you trooper, compliments are always welcome. Now let us return for we have found enough to confirm my suspicions.”

  * * * * *

  Marcus Bradua was less than happy that there was no private bath house for him at the fort. He hated sharing with the plebeians but he was forced to do so as otherwise it meant he would have to spend even longer in this desolate hole at the backside of civilisation. He and the decurion shared the facilities with the Prefect. “This ala which is stationed here. Who gave them their orders prefect? It certainly wasn’t me!”

  The prefect had shrugged his shoulders, he knew, but he wasn’t going to tell the Governor more than he had to. He suspected that high politics were at stake and he knew enough toknow that Camp Prefects were dispensable. Better to plead ignorance than become embroiled in a conspiracy even if the Emperor was at the heart of it.

  “Who is the commander then?” asked the Governor.

  “Livius Lucullus Sallustius.”

  “I have heard that name recently,” mused Bradua.

  “Yes sir. It was when we were travelling here. I mentioned his name; he was in Marcus’ Horse.”

  The significance of that fact hit the Governor like a shock of cold water. There was a plot here and he would need to untangle it. “Where is he now?”

  “They are on patrol to the north of here gathering intelligence.”

  Marcus Bradua regained his composure, “Good, for I have been charged by the Emperor with sending a report on the state of the province. If the Decurion Princeps has done his job then that should help my report.”

  The two soldiers exchanged looks. Both knew what that meant, any credit would not go to the man who gathered the intelligence but the one who reported it. Politicians were the same the world over.

  * * * * *

  Livius and the decurions made sure that all the horses had been fed and watered before they saw to themselves. Livius heard the clatter of hooves as Macro brought in the last of the recruits. When he heard the sound Marcus came from his tent to join them. “You have done well. I didn’t expect you for a couple of days. Are they all trained up then?”

  The two sergeants looked at each other sheepishly. Marcus spoke up. “We would have returned tomorrow but the Governor turned up unexpectedly.” He added quickly, “But they are trained up sir!”

  Livius flicked a glance at Cassius who smiled a wry smile. “What did he want?”

  Macro shrugged noncommittally, “Well he was a little pissed off that no-one above the rank of sergeant was there to greet him but when he saw the tent he would have to sleep in he became even less happy. He was going to burst a blood vessel when Marcus suggested escorting him here.”

  Marcus looked self effacingly at the ground. “Well done. And we now have the whole ala together.”

  Marcus suddenly remembered something. “Er sir. We have a clerk.”

  Cassius roared, “Thank the Allfather for that, at last my prayers have been answered!”

  “His name is Julius Longinus and he came with the Governor’s party.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I left him in the Principia with the books.”

  Marcus led the way with Cassius and Livius in tow. When they entered the cluttered office they found Julius with inky fingers tut-tutting away. “Decurion Princeps Sallustius, this is the new ala clerk, Julius Longinus. “

  Ignoring Livius the clerk pointed a sharp ink stained finger accusingly at Cassius. “And I bet that you are this Cassius who has had a pet hen scratching away in the books.”

  “Hen? I don’t have a hen.”

  “Surely this is not your writing, dear me, dear me. Well I can see why they sent for me and I will have my work cut out here.” He turned to Livius smiling, “Pleased to meet you sir. Your sergeant, a very pleasant young man has been singing your praises.” He glanced pointedly at Cassius, “But I expect you can actually write so that it can be read.”

  Marcus and Livius burst out laughing as a red faced Cassius slammed the door shut. “Nice to have you here Julius but Cassius did his best. To be fair to him I would rather he could handle a sword than be a scribe.”

  “Decurion Princeps, I couldn’t agree more!”

  Chapter 12

  “Don’t take it to heart Cassius, he was just having a little fun at your expense.”

  “I know sir but I did my best!” Cassius sat on his cot and then saw the funny side. “A hen indeed. Well we are becoming a proper ala now sir; clerk, Quartermaster, recruits and horses.”

  “Aye but the Governor. What does he want?”

  “Information.”

  “This is the first time that he has left
the south since he took charge. No I think there is something else afoot. We found more evidence of Morwenna today.”

  “Morwenna?”

  “Yes she has crossed into Votadini territory with a heavy escort and what looked like Votadini women.”

  “Will you tell the Governor?”

  “I will have to but I will write my report for the Senator now. Send a despatch rider to Eboracum whilst I am at supper.”

  “You are going to send it before you speak with the Governor?”

  “I will send another one when I have the gauge of the man. The Morwenna news is vital and Julius will know its import. Here help me with this uniform. I have to look my best tonight.”

  Marcus Arvina had struggled to find any wine which could be presented to the Governor. Normally the only visitors to this lonely but, vital fort were army personnel and they would drink horse’s urine if it contained alcohol. He was lucky in that Marcus had brought with him a freshly killed boar and the Prefect had gratefully accepted half. He had already learned of Septimus’ skill with a cleaver and had managed to acquire his services. The wine, poor as it was, would have to suffice. He would have to learn that once you left the south then delicacies such as snails and stuffed dormice were in short supply. The brief conversation he had had with the Cavalry Decurion had given him an insight into the man who had had Governorship thrust upon him. Marcus was also worried about Livius, for some of the sharp questions thrust at him Marcus Bradua had led him to believe that the Decurion Princeps was in danger of becoming a victim to politics.

  The Camp Prefect breathed a sigh of relief when Livius arrived promptly, walking over from the auxiliary’s camp with the Roman decurions. They had had an immediate rapport as they discussed campaigns in which they had both served. Gaius Saturninus took an immediate liking to this level headed officer who, although his superior, spoke to him easily like an old friend. Indeed had the fourth member of their quartet not turned up it would have been a very pleasant evening for the three veterans of the wars in Britannia. As it was the evening took a nose dive when the grumpy, unhappy little man shuffled in.