by Griff Hosker
The ten man patrol trotted off up the ridge. They dismounted just below the crest so that Marcus could belly up and spy out the land. He had been taught well by Gaelwyn, his mother’s uncle and he sought every piece of cover he could. He peered from under the bush and saw the trail leading to the settlement some mile and a half away. He found what he was looking for, a wooded area through which the path to the settlement passed. He rolled back down the slope and, detailing two troopers to watch their horses he led the others over the ridge and down to the woods. It was now a case of waiting and hoping to catch hunters as they returned, laden with game to their home. If there were none, then they would have to lie up overnight and catch early morning travellers.
The pheasants gave them warning of the approaching hunters as they flew noisily into the air. Using hand signals only, Marcus dispersed his men. They knew what they had to do. Four of them had cudgels and rope to bind their prisoners. They were, hopefully, far enough away from the village for any noise to bring help for they were now far to the north of the wall and safety. Soon they heard the Votadini voices as they approached the woods. The hunters had had a good hunt and there were no enemies this close to their stockaded settlement. They were relaxed. Marcus breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that there were only six men. The one at the front would be a leader and he needed to be captured. The four men in the middle carried the dead deer and that left the one at the rear to deal with. Marcus nodded to the trooper next to him who bore the cudgel; at the same time he jammed the wooden branch at the man’s feet making him stumble. As soon as he did so two of the troopers at the rear stabbed the Votadini rearguard and then the rest fell upon the last four. It was a noisy scuffle but the Votadini were tired and unprepared. All five were trussed, gagged and bound before the last warrior had expired.
“Quickly! Back to the horses.” Marcus allowed his men to run up the hillside to the ridge while he watched for any other hunters returning to their village- there were none. The men were still unconscious when they were tied on the backs of the spare horses.
Publius watched the sun begin to dip behind him. Now the waiting would seem interminable; every sound would be magnified and every broken branch would be a barbarian with murderous intent. It was a relieved decurion who saw the line of troopers ride towards them. He turned to two of his troopers. “Ride ahead of us and make sure the trail is clear.” As Marcus and his men donned their helmets and gathered their weapons Publius checked that the men were secure. “That was easy enough sir.”
“Yes indeed Publius, now we have the hard part. Get them though the enemy lines.”
“Bear killer!” Iucher smiled as his old friend used the name he had first adopted as a warrior.
“Yes Colm. What is it?”
“Are you sure we can trust these Selgovae. My father still tells of the time they betrayed our king when we were close to capturing their eagle.”
“Times change old friend and we must join together to fight our common enemy. Perhaps when the eagle has left this land we can once again fight the Selgovae.” The two war chiefs were leading their hundreds close to the wall to begin their attacks on the auxiliaries. As they strode down the Roman road, neither man marked the irony of using the Roman’s own road to fight them. It would take them another day to reach the land close to the Roman edifice and they would have left the road long before that.
Suddenly, one of the scouts came running back with something in his hand. He ran to Iucher who was his leader. “Horses. Roman horses.” In his hand he held a piece of horse dung, still warm. It could be seen to be Roman from the grain within; Roman horses were well fed. “There were more than fifty of them and they were heading east.”
Colm rolled the manure around in his hand. “Fifty may be just a patrol.”
“Or it could be a raid. We will wait here for a while. It will do no harm to rest and, if we can capture some Romans then so much the better.”
Marcus led the two turmae towards the fort. They had journeyed further south than their outward route in case they had been followed and it was for that reason that they escaped a total disaster. The last four Votadini scouts heard and then saw the Roman horses approach. One of them ran back to Iucher while the others watched. Marcus’s horse, Hercules, had a sensitive nose and, smelling the barbarians, gave a whinny. Marcus knew what it meant. “Barbarians! To arms! Gallop!” His well trained men needed no urging and their horses leapt forwards. They were riding in a column of fours with the captives towards the front. The last two lines of Romans came under attack from the scouts and the Votadini as Iucher brought them to join the fray. What the barbarians lacked in skill and finesse they made up for with exuberance. They hurled themselves at the troopers, throwing spears, daggers, and loosing arrows in an attempt to bring them down. Three of the troopers fell to the enemy whilst a fourth had a spear lodge in his back. He kept his saddle and the riders galloped along and down the road. The horses of the dead troopers kept on galloping and it was only when they reached the deserted fort that they discovered their casualties. The two turmae who were waiting for them spread out behind them to watch for any pursuit. While the wounded man was dealt with Marcus rode back to see if he could see his lost troopers; the ala did not like to leave their men on the field. From the saddles of the dead men’s horses he could read the tale and the blood which cove red both animal and sheepskin were eloquent.
Publius walked over to Marcus shaking his head. “Appius has died.”
“We will take him home. Gnaeus!” His former chosen man rode over. “We will return a different way. We will head towards the fort at Pons Aelius. They will expect us to travel west, especially if they follow our tracks.” He looked over his shoulder as though willing the troopers to appear.”
“Three men in exchange for the prisoners you have is a trade they would have all taken sir. They are soldiers and casualties happen.”
Marcus shook his head. “No it is not a fair trade but we have completed our mission and we will make sure that these men talk!”
Gnaeus thought he knew Marcus well but there was a chill in his voice which sent shivers down the decurion’s spine.
The prisoners began to stir as they wearily approached the coast. The capsarius, Decius, and Gnaeus sat them upright on their horses. “One didn’t make it sir. Someone cracked him a little too hard on the head.”
Marcus was philosophical; at least they had four men to question. “Leave his body there and assign two troopers to each prisoner. We don’t want to lose any more do we?” There was an edge to his voice which had not been there before his men were killed.
Once they passed through the fort at Pons Aelius they could relax. The wall was reasonably secure all the way to Coriosopitum but it would be a long twenty five miles to reach it. Marcus glanced to his left at the busy port on the south bank. The Classis Britannica now had a presence there which made the coastline better defended and pirate raids from across the Mare Germania had dropped significantly. It was now to the north where the danger lay. Marcus prayed for the day when the wall would be complete and the land to the south made safe. He worried every day about his mother, wife and child. There had been too many instances in the past when their lives had been in jeopardy; the completed wall would end all that and stop the barbarian slave raids.
The legate and Livius were at Coriosopitum for the monthly briefing of senior leaders. Julius had initiated the meeting so that the officers all saw their colleagues face to face. If you knew the man then you fought much harder to protect him.
“Publius see to the turmae. Well done lads. It was a good patrol. Gnaeus bring the prisoners with us.”
The Tungrians who were based at the fort knew the ala well and the salutes were crisp and respectful as Marcus led the prisoners to the Principia. “Wait out side until I call for you.”
The prisoners were still bound and gagged but their eyes burned fiercely with hatred for their captors. One of them spread his legs and urine hissed to the floor. Th
e sentry reacted quickly and rammed his spear haft between the man’s legs. “You dirty barbarian bastard!”
Marcus smiled at the man’s courage. “Just sit him down in it soldier. It will soon clean up.”
Julius was alone when Marcus entered. The relief on the Julius Demetrius’ face was palpable. The whole of the ala felt like family to the old prefect of the ala but Marcus was special for there was a close history between Marcus’ family and Julius’. “Successful outcome to the mission Marcus?”
“We captured four prisoners but we lost some troopers sir. I would have preferred not to lose any and, from the look of the ones we captured, it will be hard to get anything from them.”
“I think Prefect Sallustius and First Spear Broccus will manage; they can be very persuasive.” Marcus smiled grimly; Quintus Broccus was a large and tough warrior. He was from the old school and learned his trade fighting Dacians. However, sometimes brute force didn’t always work. It was as though the legate was thinking the same thing. “And if the centurion’s methods fail then Livius has a very persuasive tongue.”
“Where do you want them then sir? One of them decided to piss on your porch.”
“Feisty eh? Take them to the cell block. They can be its first customers.” As one of the older forts on the frontier Coriosopitum had been improved as the years had gone by. The bath house and granaries had been completed the previous year and now a small set of cells built to house and discipline the soldiers of the wall, had been completed. “You can take your men to your new fort. Rocky Point has been abandoned. Decurion Princeps Metellus is busy organising it.”
“You mean Julius Longinus is organising it and Metellus is pulling his hair out?”
The Legate laughed, the ala clerk was a fussy little man who liked things done his way and the officers of the ala had to comply. It was a trade off for the clerk was highly efficient and made life easier for them in other ways. “Would you expect anything less?”
When the senior officers arrived they discussed the prisoners. “Marcus tells me they are Votadini and they are warriors.”
“What do you want to know then sir?”
“Actually, Livius, we need to discover quite simple things. Who are the war chiefs? What is their strength? How prepared are they for war?”
“What about their plans?”
“That would be a bonus, Quintus, but we would have to be very lucky to have captured warriors who actually know the plans of the chiefs but I will take whatever I can get. We will use the cell block for the interrogation.”
As they waited for their first warrior they took off their helmets, swords and cloaks. It was unlikely that the prisoners would be able to do anything but it made sense to keep temptation away from them. The first prisoner was brought out of his cell. His arms were tied around a log which was fixed behind his back and his feet were shackled. He came out like a wild animal and tried to ram the guard who tethered him, with the log from behind his back. The guard just yanked on the rope and the barbarian crashed to the ground. The centurion picked him up and, pulling his fist back, hit him hard in the gut. The warrior doubled up trying to catch his breath. “Now that was just to get you to behave yourself.”
The man didn’t react and Livius said, “Well he doesn’t speak our language. I will have to try his.” He lifted the man’s chin, gently and looked at him in the eyes. “The centurion wants you to behave yourself. No more tricks eh?” The man shook his head but Livius knew he had understood. “Now tell me, what is your name?” The man spat at Livius who avoided the spittle. Broccus brought his fist back but Livius held up his hand. “Now if you do that again this man will hit you again and next time he will hurt you. What harm is there in telling me your name?”
He could see the man debating. Livius had no doubt that if the others were present he would say nothing but Quintus’ fist had hurt him. “Lulach!”
“There Lulach. That wasn’t so hard was it? And your king is still Lugubelenus is it?” He looked defiant and Livius gave a slight nod to the centurion who hit him square on his face. The crack of bone told them all that his nose had been broken. He nodded. “The officer who captured you said you had been hunting. Was it a good hunt?”
He could see Lulach wondering at the question. The blow had hurt him and he wasn’t sure if the information about hunting would help the enemy or not. He decided it wouldn’t and if it avoided another blow then so much the better. He would need his strength when he escaped and killed the big Roman warrior. “Yes. We caught two big deer.”
“And there were only six of you? Then you are mighty hunters.”
The man, despite the pain, showed pride in his achievements. “I am the best hunter in the village.”
“Well that is good for there are many mouths to feed, especially with the new warriors arriving.”
“The new warriors cannot hunt like Lulach!” There was an air of derision in his voice.
“And you will need them when you attack the ones on the wall.”
“We do not need them.” Now that he had begun to talk he could not stop the flow. “We need neither them, nor the Selgovae nor the Brigante. We could destroy the women who wait on the wall.”
It soon became obvious that they had learned all that they could from him and he was taken back. With that information the next three were questioned using the knowledge they had gained for confirmation. They did not need to use force and they wondered how the Romans knew so much. Finally the leader was brought out. Livius had seen the torc around his neck and he had left him deliberately until last.
“We have spoken with the others and know that you are mighty hunters and warriors. We know that your king, the powerful Lugubelenus has joined forces with the Selgovae and the Brigante to destroy the Emperor’s wall. The only thing we do not know is your name, the warrior who leads them.” He stubbornly remained silent. Quintus’ knuckles were bloodied to the bone when he had finished his beating but the chief refused to say anything.
First Spear Broccus looked over to Julius and shook his head, admiring the courage of the Votadini warrior. “We’ll get nothing from this one sir.”
“Right then we will crucify him and see what effect it has on the others.”
As he was picked up by the two sentries he spat out some teeth and snarled at Livius. “You will die Roman. You will all die. My chief, Iucher has promised me this.” He grinned a bloody, lopsided grin, “And in the night when you think you are safe, what of the knife in the night from one of your own.” He gave a chilling laugh as he was taken away.
“Brave man.”
“What did he say Livius?” Livius told them and First Spear looked puzzled but the Legate looked worried. “That sounds to me like they have a spy in our camp.”
“Not just in our camp Legate, in our ranks and that is worrying.”
Quintus looked confused. “Can’t be one of my lads.”
“No I don’t think it is. I think it will be amongst the auxiliaries. We are recruiting more from the Britannic tribes now. All we ask is that they fight for Rome. We do not check where they came from.” He looked at Livius. “I will brief the other prefects, Livius, but you had better watch your men closely for any sing of deception.”
The prefect could not envisage any of his men being a spy but he had heard the words; unless, of course, the man was telling a lie to make them worried. Livius watched the man being dragged away. He was a warrior he would not tell a lie and, chillingly, he had looked at Livius when he had spoken; the traitor was probably in Marcus’ Horse.
Chapter 3
Governor Nepos and his entourage had finally left the safety of Eboracum. Despite having been there for a month he had resisted the journey to the frontier. Although it appeared to be quiet he had heard, from his predecessor, that the tribes could take umbrage at a minute slight and pour south to slaughter all in their path. Flavia, who was even more nervous than her husband, had insisted upon accompanying her husband; this meant taking a covered carriage; inevi
tably it slowed them all down and the Governor had to suffer his wife’s complaints on the long road north. He was, however, grateful to Appius for his appointment of the two companions had proved to be a life saver. They were both attentive and intelligent and Flavia kept them closely closeted, bemoaning her fate the whole way up the Via Nero. Aulus was more than disappointed that they were hidden from view and conversation for both of them were young and very easy on the eye. Vibia in particular was vibrant and lively with a wonderful sense of humour. All of the troopers of the turma who escorted them were madly in love with her already; her reddish blond hair and her flashing green eyes were a wicked combination.
“Well Appius what do you think of this country?”
Appius, in truth was not impressed. His father had told him that it was a rich province but the only riches he had seen so far were rocks and trees. Admittedly the rocks were fine rocks and would make solid buildings but that was all. He decided to be diplomatic. “It has potential sir but there seem to be remarkably few settlements along the road.” He gestured to the west where the land rose to the hills in the distance. “We have travelled almost eighty miles from the fort and yet we have only seen two forts with tiny vici. Where are the towns? Where are the villas?”
Aulus smiled triumphantly. “That will be my work Appius. I will transform this barbaric land into a civilised outpost of the Empire. It will be the talk of Rome. Those rocks you see will make buildings which are bigger and grander than anything in Camulodunum. We will send engineers into the mountains to find the iron, gold and copper which will make us rich.”