Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 11] Roman Treachery

by Griff Hosker

  Chapter 4

  “We will have to train the men on the road Marcus. Rufius only has four turmae and he will be hard pushed to watch the wall. He needs the best troopers he can get.”

  Marcus smiled, “We have done this before. I always say that the battlefield is a better classroom than the gyrus. Mistakes are more crucial there.” Marcus had been the horse trainer when younger whilst his step brother, Macros, had been the weapons trainer. To Marcus, training was second nature.

  “Metellus, you can lead the column with your four turmae. Marcus you and your four turmae will form the rearguard and Gnaeus can escort the wagon.” Both of the officers showed relief. Lucia had been flirting with every officer she could find; the two men were happily married and well past flirting. Gnaeus was young, he could endure it.

  The weather was surprisingly clement as they headed south from Coriosopitum. Despite Lady Flavia’s fears the two young women begged for the sides of the carriage to be opened and, when they were not attacked immediately, she too began to enjoy the pleasant pine scented breeze which wafted along the road. Lucia tried flirting with Appius but he and the Governor were busily engaged in a conversation about the possibility of opening a copper mine close to Glanibanta. One of the Brigante officers had told of deposits washed down to the lakes there in huge quantities. Both men saw the potential of copper in this part of the world; copper was almost as valuable as gold and silver. There was a port on the west coast and it could be quickly exported to the rest of the Empire. The young girl pouted at her rejection and turned her attention to Gnaeus. With his new officer’s uniform he looked dashing and Lucia decided to try him.

  “Are there barbarians over there?” She pointed to the east.

  Gnaeus shook his head, “No my lady. We are south of the wall. We will be safe.”

  Vibia gave an innocent look. “But we were told that barbarians had stopped the wagons heading north. Is that not why you are travelling south?”

  Gnaeus became flustered, partly because of the question but more because of the effect Vibia’s voice had upon him. “They are Brigante my lady, as I am. We are not barbarians. The ones who stopped the wagons are bandits, nothing more. We will stop their raids.”

  “Oh I do feel safer now with such big brave men.”

  Both Gnaeus and Vibia ignored Lucia’s empty words. “You are Brigante then? Have you seen this mighty sword about which I have heard so much?”

  “Oh it is a mighty sword. I have held it and it is a powerful weapon.” To our people it is more than a sword, it is a symbol of our history and our heritage.

  “I hear that it had driven all the enemies of Rome before it when used on the battlefield?”

  “It has done that since the time of Ulpius Felix and Queen Cartimandua.”

  “Tell me, for I am intrigued, why does the prefect not bear the sword if he is from the royal family?”

  “It was passed down from Ulpius Felix to Marcus Maximunius who commanded this ala in times past, for he had been married to the Queen’s sister. He gave it to Gaius Aurelius who was married to the last female relative of the Queen and he gave it to his son, the decurion.”

  “Women have been important in the sword’s life then?”

  Gnaeus had not thought of that before that moment. “I suppose you are right. Certainly the Queen used the sword before she gave it to Ulpius Felix and I heard that was a good swordswoman who fought against warriors.”

  “Do you think the decurion would let me hold it, the sword I mean?”

  “I do not know but I could ask.”

  She leaned out of the carriage to touch his hand, much to the annoyance of both Lucia and Appius who had suddenly become aware of the flirting. “I would be so grateful if you could do that.”

  The journey to Eboracum was uneventful but tedious. The only ones who found the journey noteworthy were the Lucia, Vibia, Appius and Gnaeus. Vibia enjoyed playing the two young men off each other and annoying Lucia. At the rear of the column Marcus also enjoyed the opportunity to get to know his three new troopers; Aneurin and Vibius reminded him, very much of himself and Macro, his step brother. They got on well and they were both desperate to learn how to become good troopers. Their questions were intelligent and spoke highly of their determination to become good troopers. Vibius, in particular seemed to be interested in all matters military but especially the history and traditions of Marcus’ Horse. By the time they had reached Eboracum he felt happier than he had in quite a while.

  The ala was able to use one of the barracks as the Sixth was still building the wall which meant a comfortable bed and hot food. As they were in a safe place Livius allowed some of his officers to visit the vicus and the tavern, The Saddle. The original owner of the tavern had been a trooper from Pannonia who had lost his arm fighting Boudicca. It had become the unofficial meeting place of the ala for many years. His son now ran the place and always made the troopers welcome. The three officers settled into their usual corner with the amphora of wine. This was the only place in which they could relax apart from when they were in their own fort. They were safe and the landlord saw to it that no one bothered them.

  “Those new lads look like they will work out Metellus.”

  “Makes a change from the ones we have been getting lately. Most of them just seem to want the extra pay but not the extra risk.”

  This was Gnaeus’ first time with his superiors and he both looked and felt awkward. “Was I ever like that sir?”

  “We are Marcus and Metellus not Gnaeus. You are an officer. And no, you were not like that; you were born to be a trooper. Remember that and it will you help you train your men up.”

  Metellus took a long swallow of the deep red liquid and sighed. A mischievous look appeared on his face. “I heard that someone was the sole attention and focus of a very pretty young lady today.”

  Gnaeus blushed and tried to look away. Marcus enjoyed his old chosen man’s discomfort. “You are right Metellus. I was at the back but I could see the steam rising. I think something was going on.”

  “I was just being polite. She wanted to know about the ala.“ Gnaeus was desperate for the conversation to be changed but his fellow officers were enjoying themselves too much.

  “Yes well so did Vibius and Aneurin but I wasn’t riding close enough to count their teeth like you were with her.”

  “I’ll go and get some more wine.”

  He rushed to the bar and the two older officers fell about laughing. “Oh that felt good!”

  “Yes Rufius and I used to enjoy hazing you as well.”

  Gnaeus returned and quietly sat down. Metellus raised his beaker. “Here’s to the ala.”

  “To the ala.”

  Metellus leaned forwards. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this but when we interrogated those prisoners one of them said something strange. He said that we should watch out for knives in our back.”

  Marcus put his beaker down. “That is a strange thing to say. What do you think he meant?”

  “None of us were certain but Livius and I thought it might mean we would not be safe in our own forts.”

  “But we know our people and…”

  “Marcus you were an Explorate remember? We lied for a living. Is it unreasonable to expect that there may be barbarians out there who are willing to do the same? And remember Morwenna.”

  Gnaeus looked puzzled Marcus said, in explanation, “Morwenna was the daughter of the witch Fainch. She was the mother of my step brother Macro but she pretended to be something she was not and Macro’s father believed her.”

  “Not just Macro but all of us. Poor Decius believed her so much, he died for it.”

  “So it could be anyone?”

  “Yes, except he was looking at the prefect when he said it. I think there may be a traitor either in the ranks or in the fort.” He looked at them both. “Keep this to yourselves but keep your eyes open too. If there are no problems then the Votadini was just trying to make us look over our shoulders.” He swal
lowed off the last of the wine. “Anyway tomorrow we will hunt down these wagon thieves; we can worry about traitors when we get back to the fort.”

  Aula’s two children met by the river quayside; it lay close to a large warehouse which hid them from the prying eyes of the curious. They had both covered their faces but there were few people there for the river was low and the tide was ebbing. “How goes it?”

  “I have a good position and you?”

  “I am well thought of. I have discovered where the ala is to be based but I have not had time to seek the gold.”

  “That will be difficult but we must be patient. The hard part was reaching here without being recognised and insinuating ourselves into the town. We have both succeeded and now we must watch for our opportunities.” Giving each other the special handshake they had used since childhood, they parted.

  Briac felt confident moving around the city of Eboracum. He had grown up there and played in the woods by the river. When his family had moved to the farm in the vale he had been a youth and still visited the shadier side of Eboracum; the taverns and whore houses in the vicus. In this way he had become familiar with both the criminal and the military world. He knew many of the soldiers from the garrison and, latterly, had shown them sympathy and remuneration when their salary had not stretched as far as they wished. His uncle had led an abortive rebellion some years ago and he had misjudged the soldiers. Briac would not make the same mistake and he had cultivated the friendship of the men his uncle had wanted to slaughter. His greatest achievement, however, was placing one of his men, successfully, in the thorn in the Brigante side, Marcus’ Horse. There were problems with having a man on the inside of that force for they had tight security and it was sometimes difficult for Briac to meet with him but, as they were now stationed in the capital, it had become easier.

  Briac knew that Dagger, that was the name they had chosen for their spy, would go to the inn called The Fosse. Few of the ala went there and Briac had been there for three nights just waiting for Dagger to meet. He had only been in the ala for a year or so and his intelligence had not yielded much but Briac and the other Brigante leaders knew that haste had been their undoing in the past. They needed patience. When his contact arrived they ignored each other while they checked the customers for anyone who was paying undue attention to the two men. The Fosse was not a noted for its gentility and most of the people inside looked like criminals of one type or another but once they were satisfied Dagger sat next to Briac in a particularly dark part of the rark and poorly lit tavern.

  “Good to see you brother.”

  “And you. How goes life with the Romans?”

  He ruefully rubbed his short hair. “I do not like the haircuts and I do not like the baths and they seem to live on bread and porridge but I am not with them to enjoy life am I?”

  Briac patted his friend’s arm. “No but the work you do will free our people.”

  “I know when I feel like sticking my sword into the decurion’s throat that thought restrains me.”

  “So what are their plans?”

  “Two turmae have been left on the wall and the rest are to hunt you and your wagon thieves.” He laughed. “As soon as we heard the news then I knew it was you.”

  “It is good to know that we have achieved our ends. But this is just the start. I will send word to our Selgovae and Votadini brothers of the weakness on the wall. They will pay. Where are you to patrol?”

  “We have not been told yet. Some are to be sent to patrol the road and some to hunt you down.”

  “They will find that hard for we are well hidden.”

  “If I am on the road patrol then I will have my scutum on my back. If I am to search for you then I will carry it on my arm. If you have someone watching the gate then you can warn your people and ambush us.”

  Briac did not want to jeopardise his spy’s position. “I do not want my men to hurt you. How will they know you?” He swept his arm up and down. “In your uniforms you all look to be the same.”

  “My horse has a white blaze on his head and only one white foot. He is the only one with such a blaze.”

  “Good. If you come to close to our camp we will ambush you. Where does the patrol go?”

  “We have been designated to travel the road between here and Morbium. I think they will use two turmae from here to Cataractonium and two from there to Morbium. They intend to hold the grain wagons in the city until your threat is eliminated.”

  “So they still have wagons coming into the city?”

  “Yes they have a century of guards waiting south of the fort at the river crossing to escort them he last ten miles.”

  “Good then we shall have more grain.” He laughed. “Even now my uncle is taking the grain over to Deva to sell it to the legion there. As the price has risen it will cost them dear to buy back their own food.”

  “I will have to go back soon or they will begin to suspect my prolonged absence.” He finished off his drink. “I will not be able to get a pass for another seven days and I may be on patrol.”

  “I will return in seven days for three days. You are doing a noble thing my brother.”

  “Until the Romans are driven from our land my father’s death will not be avenged. I am resolute.”

  The Camp Prefect at Eboracum was worried. “The problem, Livius, is that I only have one cohort at my disposal here and using one of them to protect the grain convoy into the city stretches them a little too far.” He held up his hand. “I know, it is the legate’s decision and I agree that we do need the grain, without it our men will starve but ….”

  “I agree Titus. How about this as a strategy? After I have looked for these bandits I will detach two turmae to head south and meet the convoy below the river.”

  “I will still be using one of my centuries though.”

  “It will be just this once. If our plans work then my horsemen can rotate.”

  Titus Plauca breathed a sigh of relief. “But will that not stretch your men?”

  “The advantage my men have is that they can evade trouble by riding away. I am afraid the caligae of your men are not so swift.”

  As Livius left to give his orders he wondered about this sudden upsurge in Brigante activity. By the time he had reached his waiting men he had reached his decision. He smiled as he looked on the serried ranks of immaculately turned out troopers. They all looked ready for action. They had been trained well.

  “Officer’s call.” His officers dismounted to join him. He kept his voice lowered when he spoke, not because he doubted any of his own men but there were non-military workers in the fort and, until they found the spy, or the possible spy, then they had to be discreet. “Metellus take your turmae and patrol the road as we discussed. The first convoy will be leaving later today to head for Cataractonium. The men on the wall are on half rations and this precious cargo must be there within five days.”

  “Sir. What I think I will do is leave one turma just five miles from the fort and the other five miles from Cataractonium. It will save the horses and still give close protection to the wagons and their drivers.”

  “Good. “ He turned to the other officers. “We will be heading west to try to find the Brigante. We will not return here for eight days at least so make sure you have enough rations for that period.“ His officers saluted and turned to leave. “Marcus, a moment, if you please.”

  “I have another task for you. Once we are out of sight of the fort take your turma and head for Decius’ farm. We need a couple of Brigante scouts and I need intelligence about the mood of the Brigante. Your brother may well be able to help.”

  Marcus was dubious. “The problem is, sir, that they all know he is my brother and they know who my father was. I suspect that he would be the last person a rebel would approach.”

  “I know that but women talk and your mother and your wife may also have heard things. Remember you were an Explorate; it was the little things which gave us our information.”

  Ma
rcus smiled, “You are right sir. It is just that those days seem such a long time ago. And do I then join you?”

  “No, head south and pick up the grain convoy, escort it to Eboracum; it should be an easier initiation for your three new lads eh?”

  “Sir.”

  The ala, all fourteen turmae, headed out of Eboracum heading west. Metellus waved his goodbyes and his turmae trotted up the road. Once they were out of sight and closer to the hills Marcus also waved his goodbyes. As he watched the lone turma depart the spy wrinkled his brow. This was not part of the Roman plan. What did it mean? He had been pleased that he was with the Decurion Princeps for that meant the heart of the ala could be pierced with a successful ambush but the departure of the sword also created problems for every Brigante yearned for the blade. He would have to hope that Briac had seen the sign and had an ambush prepared.

  Marcus rode hard to reach the farm. It had been some time since he had visited and he wondered how much his son had grown. The farm was really a small fort for his father had created sound and effective defences to protect his family when he had been away and his brother, Decius, had continued with those improvements. The farm workers also served as an unofficial militia and guards. Thanks to the money his father and he had acquired and accrued they were a well off family and could afford to pay their men rather than having them as tenants or thralls. It bred loyalty and Marcus knew that they could fend off any bandit attack which dared to approach.

  Decius had grown broader with a more pronounced paunch and Ailis, their mother, noticed the difference between her two boys for Marcus was like a lean and hungry wolf compared with his more comfortable brother. She had outlived all those she had loved, save her sons and, thanks to their wives and her grandchildren she was enjoying a new lease of life. She still worried over Marcus; any mother would and she was grateful to see him safe and sound when he visited.