by Griff Hosker
In his office Cassius summoned Julius. He had grown fond of the fussy clerk and enjoyed using him as a sounding board despite the barbed comments he received when he made a gaffe. “You keep your ear to the ground and you do not miss too much Julius. Do we have a spy or were we sloppy with our patrols?”
The clerk sat down and picked up his pointer. As he made a point he identified it on the map. “Let us look at this logically. Any barbarian coming south either has to cross close to Vindolanda, the bridge here or at the shallows near to the island up stream. Now let us rule out this road and Vindolanda for they would have to pass the fort to get to the bridge and the ground there does not suit horses. That leaves the island. Now we have sent a patrol to that island every day and they have not reported any sign of a barbarian war band.” He leaned back as though he had explained the problem away.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand you are saying it is impossible for them to have crossed the river.”
Exasperated the clerk leaned forwards. “No I am saying that they must have crossed by the island and so why did the patrol not spot their tracks?”
“Ah. And which of the turma….”
“It was the same turma each day.”
“What? I thought I gave orders for them to be rotated.”
“And so you did but Decurion Aelius Spartianus did deals with the other decurion to swap duties. I believe that they fear him somewhat. He is somewhat if a bully.” Julius Longinus could not unders5tand the concept, it was so illogical.
“Which means that he is a spy.”
“He could be but you would need proof. He could be incompetent or lazy and it is some other man who is the spy or spies.”
“So how do we find out? Torture?”
“Barbaric! Roman soldiers! Are you not born with a brain! We use our brains and set a trap. “Realising that he would have to fill in all the gaps the clerk went on. “You tell him something and no-one else, you tell him a lie and then, when that information is revealed you have him.”
“So what is the lie?”
“I haven’t thought of it yet. He is a clever and devious man; we will need to be subtle. I will come up with something by tomorrow in the meantime….”
“I know in the meantime don’t trust him.”
“Well thank goodness you worked that one out. My intelligence must be rubbing off on you.”
“It is good job I hate paperwork or you would be on a charge. Send the officers and sergeants in.”
When they all trooped in Cassius saw just how much they had grown in the past months. “Firstly well done for today. It was our first action and you all acquitted yourselves well. Now until the Decurion Princeps and the other three officers return we will be short handed. I believe we can use this to our advantage. I have spoken with the Prefect and he agrees that we need to increase the security at the river. His men and ours are going to dig two double ditches on either side of the bridge and erect two gates, one on each end of the bridge. We will make it hard for any enemy to attack the two forts. In addition, we will have three patrols each day. They will be rotated. I have heard of some officers having informal arrangements.” He was pleased that the decurions all looked at Spartianus who affected an innocent and injured look. “This will cease as of now! One of the patrols will travel up the road to the high ridge which looks north. One patrol will head west to Vindolanda and the third will head east to the sea. That means we will have eight turmae to build with one on duty. Any questions?”
“Not really a question sir but isn’t it all a bit pointless. I mean it isn’t as though the barbarians will attack in winter.”
“Well Aelius I might have agreed with you had not a warband of fifty attempted to massacre two turmae of your comrades. Any other questions? “ Every man looked at Aelius as though he had the plague. “Then dismissed.”
* * * * * *
The ten troopers chosen by Livius had been delighted to be chosen for this mission but now, as they pitched and tossed in the icy mare Germania they began to regret their joy. Few still had the contents of their stomachs much to the joy of Hercules who loved it when landsmen went to sea for the first time. He clutched, in his hand, the chart given to him by Julius Longinus. Livius was constantly amazed at what the clerk had in his trunk. All that he had said when asked was that he liked to be prepared for all eventualities. Now as they passed, well to seaward the place marked as seal islands Hercules stabbed a finger at the chart. “It seems the fleet drew these up but they didn’t bother to put ashore. It looks to me like the only port south of the Bodotria is here.”
Livius looked at it and compared it with the map Julius had drawn for him. “That looks like the best place then. It is just six miles from Traprain Law. The road passes through it, or near enough to it and then heads south so our two lads would be coming back down this road.”
Rufius peered over his commander’s shoulder. “I thought Metellus was supposed to get a ship himself?”
“I know but it struck me that was asking a little much. It is a long enough shot that they have got inside the conclave and gathered the intelligence, it is a little much to expect their luck to last to here and acquiring a boat. Besides, “he said grinning, “I fancied an ocean voyage.”
Hercules sniffed, “You go for an ocean voyage in the Mare Nostrum not here on the edge of the world.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t drop off, the fleet sailed all the way around Britannia, it is an island.”
“Aye but they never went any further north or west did they? No. This is far enough north for me. Now there are a couple of problems of which you ought to be aware. Firstly if there are any big boats in the harbour we have could find ourselves outmatched. Secondly if it is a small harbour we might not fit and we might be forced to have to lie out to sea.”
“If there is a bigger ship then we will take it.”
“Take it! I can see that you have never fought at sea.”
Rufius grinned, “Actually we have. We fought with the Classis Britannica against German pirates and we fought against deserters in Aquitania.”
“As for the size of the harbour then yes, by all means, lie off the shore and await a signal. You must be safe otherwise none of us escapes.” Livius and Rufius had anticipated all the problems which Hercules could throw at them.
“Well as long as that is understood. Let’s get on with this because the port is just around that next headland.”
Just then Furax came running along the deck. Hercules roared at him. “You never run at sea, you can slip. How many times do I have to tell you!”
“Oh I am fine. This is much better than the seas at home. It is more exciting the way the deck goes up and down, it is like being on a horse.”
“It is a good job there was no one at the fort to look after you, I can do without your ridiculous good humour.”
Livius smiled at Hercules, “Now you know you don’t mean that. You love the boy as much as Julius does.”
“Bah! Soldiers, what do they know?” But as he stomped off to return Furax below decks Livius noticed the twinkle in his eye.
* * * * * *
Metellus had just emerged from their hut with their weapons when he saw Macro being marched off at spear point. ‘Wolf, you traitorous bastard. You will die by my hand for this.’ The silent oath and the grim look on his face were the only signs that Metellus gave of the disaster which had befallen them. They had discussed the possibility as they had ridden north, and agreed that the survivor would leave the other. Metellus smiled to himself, as though that was going to happen. He could not leave the young boy to the privations, not only of the barbarians, but the cruel witch who was his mother. There was an irony in that she was the high priestess of the cult of the Mother and yet she had not a maternal bone in her body.
He knew that he was now a hunted man. They had both been in each other’s company and everyone in the camp knew that ,besides, with Wolf in the picture he could no longer hide; Wolf knew who he was. He had
to secure the means to ride to the coast, that much was obvious. He suddenly realised that the men marching with Macro were the stable sentries. They had left the stables unguarded. He raced to the stables and found their horses ready to go. They had been so close to making good their escape. Suddenly he heard a whimper from one of the stalls and he quickly drew his blade.
“Please don’t hurt me sir.”
It was Morag. “You saw what happened.”
“Yes Darach. They said he was a Roman. Is he, and are you one as well?”
There was little point in a lie and, besides, Metellus thought the girl had been hurt enough. “We are. We are Roman cavalrymen.”
Morag looked up at the man who was an enemy but had a kind face and thoughtful manners. The one, who had taken her love away, had had a cruel face and was evil looking. “I don’t care. I still love him. He was kind and he was funny and unlike every other man and boy I know he didn’t smell like a week old pole-cat!”
Metellus spied a tiny glimmer of hope. The question was could he, in all conscience, put the innocent young girl in harm’s way? The reality was that he knew she was expendable. He and Macro had to return to the fort or the frontier might be lost and he could not leave the young sergeant alone. If he could he would take her with them, it might slow them up but they had three mounts; on a horse he would bet the two of them against any. He shook his head to clear the indecision, solve each problem as it came, that was the key. He was sure that Ailis would look after her. “Then will you help us?”
“How, I am but a girl?”
In answer Metellus slipped her a pugeo. “First, could you find where they have taken him then meet me at the gatehouse in an hour? Can you do that?” Suddenly, looking like the little girl she was and not the woman she pretended to be she nodded eagerly and ran off. Metellus vaulted on to the back of the horses and led them at a fast trot out of the camp down the road towards the coast, so close he could almost smell the salt. The track twisted down the hillside and then headed due east. At the bottom of the hill he found a stand of trees, struggling in the poor and rocky soil. Leaving Macro’s weapons there he tied the horses to the tree. With any luck the stable sentries would think he had left and they would search for him away from the oppidum. He made his way quickly back up the hill but scrambled up the steeper slopes to avoid the path. It was fortunate that he had for he suddenly saw torches and heard voices. “There were definitely two horses saddled and they have gone along with a pack horse. If we hadn’t taken the prisoner to the Queen then we would have been able to stop him.”
He saw Lugubelenus and the sentries with six of his warriors appear. The King scanned the road heading east. “He cannot get far. You six men ride to the port and see if he has tried to board a ship. I will send more men to Dun Eibhinn and in the morning I will take the rest of my guards south. We will have this spy and I will cut out his heart.”
Metellus watched the six horses gallop away and the voices fade. So far so good, they were looking further afield than the hill fort. He could move around the camp knowing that they were looking elsewhere for him. He quickly scrambled the last few feet to the summit and then ran across the open ground to the gate. There he found Morag crying. “He is in the Queen’s hut, “she pointed to the round house just outside the walls. There were three men standing guard outside, including Wolf.
“Who is in there with him?”
“The Queen Radha and the Witch.”
“We can do nothing until they leave. When they do leave I want you to take a jug of water in. Say you were sent by the Queen to give it to the prisoner and if you get the chance slip the knife to him but, “he put his hand on her arm. Do not take any chances. If you cannot help him just leave the water.”
She looked at him bravely, “I will do as you ask,” then she became a little tearful, “but not if the witch is nearby. I am afeard of her.”
“Good, because so am I. You are right to be afraid for she is an evil and cruel woman. Now go and get a jug of water and wait here.”
“Where will you be?”
“I will get closer and see if I can overhear what they are saying.”
As he closed on the hut he heard Morwenna’s voice, “Wolf, get your self in here.” Metellus studied the land carefully. There were other huts close by and he could hide nearby and watch. Once the witch and the Queen left, and he hoped they would, then the sentries would die and they would escape, if Macro was still alive and that was the pain nagging at Metellus’ insides. He knew how cruel and evil the witch could be. If she had begun to torture her son would he be able to travel? It would be cruel to rescue him and then find he could not escape. Metellus took a deep breath; he was just making problems which did not, as yet exist, take each step at a time and try to solve each problem one by one.
When Wolf entered the hut, Macro was secured by four ropes to four of the central posts in the roundhouse. His leather jerkin had been removed and his tunic ripped open. His eyes showed anger and hate, not fear and he stared at the witch with the red hair, the witch who seemed so familiar and yet how could that be for he had never seen her before this night? She had a sly leering smile which made her normally pretty face seem, somehow, ugly. Radha was just mesmerized. They were now in foreign territory; she had fought in battles but only killed in battle and never in cold blood. It looked like the Queen was going to use torture and she wondered how she could do that. The boy seemed suddenly so young and there was something about him which sparked a memory.
“So, Wolf. This is a Roman?”
“Aye,” he spat a gob of phlegm at Macro which landed on his chest.
“Now Wolf, he is a guest. Behave. Who is he? He seems a little young to be a spy.”
“Don’t be fooled my Queen. This boy is a sergeant and he was an Explorate, a Roman spy. “He looked at Radha. “He fought against you with the Ninth gained fame as on of the lads with the eagle.”
Radha suddenly looked at Macro as though for the first time. “Now it comes back. There were two of them at the end when we had them surrounded and they fought like heroes. I can believe it my sister, he may look young but this is a warrior. He is tougher than he looks.”
Morwenna went to the fire and took a piece of burning wood from it.”So a spy and a hero.” She blew on the brand to enrage it. “ And, according to the Queen, tough. How tough I wonder?” She put the burning brand on the gob of phlegm which sizzled and steamed and then pushed it on to sear Macro’s flesh. Radha wrinkled her nose at the smell of hair and skin burning but Macro never uttered a sound, he just stared at his torturer with pure hatred in his eyes.
“See I told you, tough.”
“What do you think he was doing here Wolf? Trying to kill someone or to spy on us?”
“He could do both. He defeated the best fighter I knew, a friend of mine back in the ala. His father had been a great fighter too. They have the same name but I think that he was here to find out what was going on.”
“And where is your companion?”
“He wasn’t alone?” Wolf looked over in surprise.
Morwenna suddenly realised that Wolf had never met Metellus. “He had a companion, called him his brother.”
“He does have a brother, about the same age and equally good with a sword.”
“No this one was older with a little grey at his temples.”
“Metellus!”
“You traitor Wolf, you will die for this.” Although weak from the pain Macro hurled the words with all the venom he could.
In answer Wolf punched the helpless trooper in the ribs enjoying the noise as two of the young man’s ribs snapped and broke. “If Metellus is here then I had better look for him. He is a dangerous bastard.”
When Wolf left to seek out the other spy Morwenna took Macro’s left hand in hers and began to stroke it tenderly, it seemed incongruous to Radha. “So you are a warrior. I knew a warrior once, he is now dead and I am glad although sad that I did not have the opportunity to watch him die.” The R
ed Witch was looking carefully at the young red haired sergeant and a memory was sparked. “Warriors need their hands do they not? I wonder if they need their finger nails.” She took her knife and, very carefully, slit the skin on his left hand just where the nail met the thumb. The cut opened like a ripe, fresh fig, red and raw. She then took a pair of pliers and began to slowly pull the nail out of its, now severed, bed. She pulled as slowly as possible to make sure the pain would be excruciating. Although tears of pain trickled down his cheeks, Macro made not a sound. His hatred for the witch and Wolf drove the pain to the dim recesses of his consciousness. Radha could feel the bile rising in her throat but she was hypnotised by the cruelty of her mentor. Although there was little blood Morwenna took a burning brand and sealed the wound shut. “Wouldn’t want you getting an infection now would we? We need you to last as long as possible before you die.”
Radha looked at Macro and felt admiration for him. Even though he had fought against her she remembered the courage of those who had fought for the eagle. Here too, he was showing more courage than many men she had known. She wanted Morwenna to stop but she knew she would not and she knew that her mentor would think less of her if she did so. “I don’t think he is going to talk.”
“Neither do I but it is a long time since I was able to enjoy myself like this. Now sergeant I think you could at least tell me your name. That way when you die we can record it and your courage will be remembered. Would you not like to die with your true name and not the lie that you gave us when you lived here as a spy?”
Macro could see no harm in telling her that simple fact, reflecting he realised that he would be proud to, as it would afford him the same glorious death as his father. “I am Sergeant Decius Macro Culleo, the son of the greatest warrior in Marcus’ Horse, Decurion Macro Culleo.”
Morwenna laughed a blood curdling laugh which almost made the guards outside rush in and which caused Metellus to shiver as he heard it. “Oh Radha, the Mother was watching over us this night for this… this thing is the child I never wanted, the child I abandoned and hoped was dead, this is my son.” She leaned over and kissed him hard on the lips. “I am your mother and I am going to enjoy your death!”