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

by Griff Hosker

  Chapter 20

  As ‘The Swan’ came around the headland Livius could see that the harbour entrance would be a little tight for the ship to negotiate safely. Hercules shook his head. “We could be trapped in there and they could block us in with a fishing boat. I will land you on the seaward side of the stone breakwater. You will have to signal me when you want me to come in for you.”

  Livius knew that the captain was right, “Rufius get the men and be ready to get over the side as soon as we are within jumping distance of that wall.”

  Rufius looked down at Livius’ legs, “You up to a jump sir? I mean I know you are better than you were but…”

  “Thank you for your concern, Rufius, but I will be safe enough.”

  Hercules barked orders out as he tried to get the ship as close as possible. He had to time it perfectly or he could be dashed against the rocks and their escape plan ended before it had begun. “Get the foresail down! Put the spare sail and ropes over the side, I don’t want the rocks to hole us.” To Livius he shouted, “I will barely touch and then I will have to head out to sea. You will all have to jump at the same time.”

  “Rufius get the men along the side and be ready to jump on my command.” He could see the selected men with bows and shields slung over their backs. They were encumbered but Livius had no way of knowing how many Votadini and other enemies they would have to face.

  “Get the oars unshipped and be ready to push us off. Ready Livius?” Livius waved and the captain pushed the tiller hard over. The back surge from the breakwater held the boat up enough for it to almost kiss the rocks and Hercules shouted, “Now!”

  The twelve men all leapt the eight feet or so to the rocky breakwater. Miraculously only one slipped into the water, his caligae not finding any purchase on the weed covered rocks but his companions on either side pulled him up to safety and Livius watched as ‘The Swan’ slowly turned to move slowly away from the shore.

  Rufius and two men had raced down the breakwater as soon as their feet touched the rocks. The sharp eyed scout could see the small oppidum on the opposite side of the harbour but he had no way of knowing if they kept a night watch. There was nothing which he could do anything about that eventuality anyway. At the end of the breakwater he and his two scouts formed a defensive arc and scanned the few huts ahead. They appeared to be in darkness, their owners probably asleep. Rufius had worried that the shouted commands would have alerted the inhabitants but all he could hear was the sound of the sea breaking relentlessly on the rocks. They appeared to have landed successfully and he felt Livius tap him on the shoulder and point to the gap where the river flowed into the harbour and they could see a primitive wooden bridge. Rufius led his men at a jog and crossed over the bridge, spying the track which emerged from gloom in the west. By the time Livius had joined them Rufius had sent his two scouts to the road where they guarded the entrance of the small port.

  Livius led the troopers along the track to join the scouts and Rufius saw that he was limping. When they stopped at the road, three hundred paces from the nearest house Rufius knelt down and examined the bleeding scar on Livius’ leg. Livius shrugged, “It’s not so bad.”

  In answer Rufius took out the bandage from his pouch and the herbs. He rubbed the herbs, he had brought with him, on to the leg and then tied the bandage tightly. “You won’t be going far with that sir.”

  “None of us will Livius. We will wait here until we see our boys.”

  “Suppose they have gone or they are delayed. We cannot expect that we have come at exactly the right time.”

  “No but we can hide up there in the woods.” He pointed to the tree lined hills. “Besides Julius and I worked out how long it would take them to get here and how long it might take to get the information. The earliest would have been tonight.” He pointed back to the harbour. “No fishing boats! If Metellus and Macro were here they would be waiting for a boat. No we are on time, I hope.” He peered up the track as though willing the two troopers to appear. “Rufius send your scouts about a mile up the road. They will give us warning of any movement, friendly or otherwise and then send two to keep watch on the settlement. The fact that the boats are at sea bodes well for it means there are unlikely to be many men in the town.”

  * * * * * *

  Wolf reappeared at the hut. “Your majesties. King Lugubelenus has summoned you to the main hall.”

  “Has he found the other warrior?”

  “No Queen Radha, but they have discovered three horses are missing. He has escaped. The King wants a council.”

  “Has he summoned all the kings?”

  “No majesty, just King Tole and yourselves.”

  Morwenna was reluctant to leave off her task of torturing her son but she needed to be with the two kings whose plans she was directing. She could control both men, one through her own charms and one through Radha; besides there would be time to continue her torture later and at her leisure. She found that she wanted this more than she knew. She had hated Macro and had wanted to kill him. She had hated her child and wanted him dead. Now she had the chance to do both at the same time; to pay back her dead husband and to kill their son who bore the same name. The delay would only increase the boy’s pain as the two wounds he had suffered began to throb and pulse as the blood flowed again to the damaged parts. Yes this was the Mother’s doing, she was aiding Morwenna to extract the maximum revenge on those men she loathed. “Guard him well but, Wolf, inflict no more pain, that pleasure is reserved for me.”

  Wolf felt the full force of the green eyes and the latent power of the witch queen and he nodded. He watched as the two Queens swept out of the hut. As the door closed he noticed a slight lightening of the skies. Within a few hours it would be dawn and they could begin to search for the missing Metellus.

  As soon as he saw the two queens return to the main compound Metellus strung his bow. Now was his chance. He hoped that Morag would create a distraction but he could not count on it. He was just glad that Wolf was inside for it left him only two men, outside, to deal with. He could take one with an arrow and then cover the thirty paces to the second and use his sword to despatch him. He pulled the bow back and chose the man furthest away. At this range he would have no possibility of missing and he could choose his target to within an uncia. He chose the throat, he wanted silence. He was just about to release when he saw Morag approach with a jug of water.

  “The Queen sent me.”The two guards looked at each other in indecision. “Queen Radha will not be pleased if her commands are not obeyed.”

  ‘Good girl’, thought Metellus as they opened the door for her. When the two guards faced outwards again Metellus released and, slinging his bow with one hand, drew his sword with the other. The arrow struck the guard in the neck, a look of surprised horror on his face as he fell, dead. The second guard panicked and looked for the archer, turning to look in Metellus’ direction the sword sliced swiftly into his throat, silently ending his life as his arterial blood gurgled through the ripped opening.

  Inside Wolf turned to look at the girl. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”

  Bravely Morag stood up to Wolf. “The Queen sent me.”

  “You lying little bitch.”He threw the jug to the floor where it shattered and the he back handed her across the face. Drawing his knife he grinned evilly. “It has been a long time since I had a woman, even a scrawny little bitch like you; I am going to enjoy this.”

  “Leave her alone you sick bastard.” Macro struggled against the bonds, ignoring the pain which pulsed through his body from his wounds. On the floor Morag tried to edge her way away from this evil looking man.

  “It’s a good job the Queen said not to harm you or I would have your bollocks on the floor now.”

  Metellus opened the door and the movement caught Wolf’s eye. He whirled around, the dagger flying from his hand before he saw who it was. Although Metellus avoided the blade he was forced to move to the side allowing Wolf the opportunity to draw his own bl
ade. “Metellus! I am going to enjoy this and when I take your head to the King I will be rewarded handsomely. Maybe even become a general, how about that for a trooper?”

  Metellus stabbed forward with his sword. “Make sure you have beaten me first traitor.”

  Wolf easily deflected the blade and pulling his dagger from his belt attacked with two weapons. Wolf was younger and smaller; in the confines of the hut he had the advantage. Macro struggled against his ropes as he tried to free himself and help his friend. Morag struggled to her feet and, taking the pugeo from beneath her shift she started to saw through the ropes which bound Macro. Wolf sensed the movement behind him and he slashed, blindly, with his own dagger making Morag duck in fear. The opening was all that Metellus needed and he thrust his blade forward with his sword aiming at Wolf’s throat. The deserter desperately tried to deflect the blade but he only managed to push it towards his left arm where the point stabbed into the muscle at the top of his arm. Involuntarily Wolf dropped the weapon and then countered at Metellus’ head. Metellus dropped and thrust upwards at Wolf’s unprotected stomach. As his sword entered Metellus twisted; he could not afford to continue the fight, they needed to escape. Wolf had the shocked look of surprise that comes from someone who underestimated his opponent. He had always thought Metellus to be a gentle and thoughtful man and would have been easily despatched, as he tried to push his entrails back into the gaping wound, he tried to question Metellus but, instead he fell into a dying heap.

  Metellus had no time for congratulations and he used his sword to sever the last two ropes. Metellus and Morag looked in horror at the raw wounds on Macro’s body. The young sergeant just gave a painful grin. “It’s not so bad; you want to see the other fellow.”

  They both helped him to his unsteady feet. “Can you walk?”

  “Yes they hadn’t got to them yet.”

  Metellus turned to Morag. “Thank you. You can stay here. No one knows you helped us.”

  Morag looked at Macro and said in a determined voice, “I have no home here. I will come with you. Even if you do not want me.”

  Macro looked indecisive and Metellus cursed mentally. That was all that he needed, a lover’s quarrel. He had no time to waste and Morag could at least help Macro. “Right. You can come with us, at least until we get to the horses. We have to get down the summit to the mounts.”He took them outside and was horrified to see that the sky was even lighter than it had been. He took the cloaks, bloodied though they were, from the dead sentries and their spears. “Here put these on and hold the spears. We walk through the camp as though we are guards. Walk slowly and keep the cloaks above your heads.”

  It was the longest walk of any of their lives. In the oppidum they could hear the sound of men being called to arms and torches flickering. Groups of soldiers were marching across the camp looking, to Metellus’ relief, just like them. No-one appeared to pay them any attention. They passed through the camp of the retainers who were now being awoken as the news of the flight of the prisoner spread. Metellus only hoped that no-one would notice the two dead guards before they had reached their horses. As they walked down the winding path from the oppidum, Metellus wondered how he would deal with the six riders sent to the port. Macro was in no position to help him. One problem at a time ran through his mind. He had to get to the horses first and then he could plan for his next problem.

  “The Allfather watches over us today Macro,” Metellus said as he heard the welcoming whinny of their mounts. He had worried that they had either been spotted or worse, escaped, for afoot they stood no chance. “Morag do you ride?”

  In answer she sprang on to the back of one of the saddled horses. “I’ll take that as a yes. Macro, get on the other saddle horse and I will ride the spare.” He helped Macro on to the horse. He saw his young companion as he caught first his wounded chest on the saddle and then his thumb on the reins. “You are doing well Macro. Just hang on and leave the thinking and the fighting to me.”

  As Metellus mounted Macro said. “What is the plan?”

  “Try to get a boat from the port but,” he added, “there are six warriors waiting for us.”

  As Metellus led them down the road Macro, riding behind Morag, asked, “Why not ride across country?”

  Suddenly from the camp came a huge roar. “I think they have discovered the bodies of the sentries so that will not be an option. It is the port or nothing. E cannot out run the barbarians for long.”

  * * * * *

  Livius looked behind at the slowly lightening sky. “Well Rufius we may have to hide soon. He pointed out to sea where on the horizon were little spots of white.”

  “The fishing fleet.”

  “Aye. I wonder what they will make of ‘The Swan’.”

  “At least Hercules has arms for his crew. They may be able to help.”

  Just then the two scouts came rushing down the track. “Riders, six of them.”

  The second scout added, “And they are not our men.”

  Livius quickly ordered. “Riders coming on horses. Ambush!”

  The well trained men took positions on either side of the road, their bows aimed at some point in the middle of the track and ahead of them. They heard and smelled the horses before they saw them. They all had to hide in whatever cover there was to avoid being silhouetted in the lightening sky. Rufius was at the front to the ambush with Livius closest to the port. The six warriors had not raced along the track from the hill fort. They had taken their time to watch for places their fugitive might have left the road. They were convinced that he had not preceded them as there were no tracks on the frosty trail. They were the first to travel that way. Their leader looked ahead to the watchtower on the headland. “We’ll wait up there. If he does come down the trail we will see him easily.”

  They were the last words he spoke as two arrows thudded into his unprotected chest. Rufius’ arrow took out the rearmost man and the other four soon fell to the arrows of the Romans. “Get rid of the bodies. Rufius mount up three men and ride up the trail. See if you can get within a mile of the oppidum. If these six were hunting Metellus then we might have missed him. Don’t hang around.” Rufius chose his men and trotted up the trail which was now a little clearer. The Decurion Princeps began to wonder had he underestimated his men. They might have escaped already and he would have put his men in jeopardy for nothing.

  Livius turned to one of the troopers. “Go down to the breakwater, avoid being seen by the fishing boats and signal ‘The Swan’. I think we may need to leave in a hurry.” It was not going to plan. He had heard the warrior’s words and felt his heart sinking. He had said ‘he’ and not ‘them’. Only one had survived but which one? With a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach he could not say which one he wanted to be found.

  Metellus heard the noise of the horses in the distance. He estimated they had just over a mile start but just ahead were six warriors who were trying to close the door on his escape. He strung an arrow to his bow. If he saw them he would have no time to think; he would just have to react. He glanced over his shoulder, Morag could ride and was easily coping with the fast pace he had set. Metellus had decided that there was little point in saving their horses. They had to reach the port before their pursuers. Suddenly he saw movement ahead and heard hooves. He pulled his horse up and then aimed his bow. He saw the rider no more than thirty paces to his front and he began to release the arrow. Just as his fingers left go of the arrow he recognised Rufius and his left hand jerked the bow to the left.

  Rufius felt the arrow sing over his shoulder and then he too recognised Metellus. “A nice way to greet a friend.”

  “No time for niceties, we have the whole of the barbarian horde on our tails.”

  “Livius is up ahead, we have ‘The Swan’. We’ll cover your back.” The troopers spread out in an arc, their bows at the ready.

  Livius looked up and thanked the Allfather when he saw Metellus, Macro and a strange girl arrive. He had not time for questions. He jus
t pointed to the sea. “Get down to the port and get aboard ‘The Swan’.” He pointed to a trooper. “You take them. Where is Rufius?”

  “Waiting for our pursuers. I’ll wait here with you. Macro is wounded.”

  Livius slapped the rump of Macro’s Horse. “Go! Go!” He glanced at Metellus who had turned his horse to face the road and notched an arrow. “Get the information?”

  “Yes but they know I am a spy so it may be useless.” He shrugged. “I’ll explain, if we get out of this.”

  Rufius’ sharp eyes picked out the first scouts who were hurtling down the road. They had a chance. The pursuers were so keen to get their hands on their prey that they had thrown caution to the wind. Rufius said, out of the side of his mouth. “They must all die. I’ll take the last man.”

  There were six men and they found themselves facing a volley of arrows which took four out of the saddle immediately. Rufius took out his sword and spitted a fifth and the last man fell to three arrows. “Right lads back to the Decurion Princeps. That should slow them.”

  The six dead men were Selgovae and when Tole and Lugubelenus arrived they halted their men. “Spread out. They are here and these men were ambushed.“ Tole took charge and Lugubelenus showed his displeasure with a grimace.

  One of the scouts shouted, “They were killed by Roman arrows.”

  “Then there are more. Move but be very cautious. They may have another ambush set up.”

  ‘The Swan’ was edging its way into the breakwater. Hercules kept glancing over his shoulder at the fishing fleet which was getting ever closer. So far they were just curious but once they saw the Romans on the jetty then anything could happen. “Furax! Get the weapons on the deck and put them at regular intervals along the side. We may have a fight on our hands.”