by Griff Hosker
The Votadini raced from the tree line, their cover blown. Unhampered by armour and any kind of order, they raced across the open ground to hurl themselves at the legionaries who were desperately trying to form a defensive line. “Lock your shields!” Colonus cursed the fact that they would not have time to get their javelins and would have to defend themselves with gladii only. This would be a bloody business! The first Votadini threw himself at the rapidly forming shield wall and died at the hands of the centurion who chopped down at the unprotected neck, severing the head. His momentum, however, caused him to knock over the legionary who had no one behind him to brace. The next Votadini exploited the gap. The centurion and the optio were on opposite sides of the barbarians and they both urged their men to close the gap. The warriors were desperately throwing their own warriors into the shrinking gap and both sides were taking casualties. Colonus could see that they were well outnumbered and the Votadini could afford a battle of attrition. Well at least they would know they had been in a fight. “Come on ladies! These are fucking half dressed barbarians! Kill the bastards!”
Rufius heard the clash of metal and knew that meant trouble for someone and in this part of the world that someone would be Roman. He shouted to the men holding the prisoners. “You men wait here. The rest of you, javelins and ride like the wind is behind you!” The line spread out trying to make up the distance to the rear of the warband. Rufius gripped his knees and hurtled his javelin, watching with satisfaction as it thudded through the back of the surprised warrior. He drew his spatha and as, as the Votadini warrior turned to face him, cleaved his skull in two. Around him his men were carving a path of death through the barbarians who were caught between two camps, defeating the vaunted legionaries and defending themselves from the unknown horsemen behind. They failed and the warband broke and scattered.
“Form a perimeter!” Rufius knew that they could return and he saw that the century had suffered many casualties.
The centurion mopped the blood from his scalp wound. “Nicely done, decurion. You timed that well!”
“The Allfather smiled on you today. We had prisoners and were heading for the gap.”
The centurion held out a gnarled and muscular arm. “Whatever brought you here you have my thanks for I thought I had fought my last.”
It had been a close run skirmish and thirty of the century lay dead whilst another twenty had suffered wounds of one type or another. “I think, centurion that we can end the work for today and we will escort you back to the fort.”
“Aye and a beaker of something when we get back eh?”
“Decimus, fetch the prisoners.”
As the line of prisoners was brought from the forest one of the younger troopers, Publius approached Rufius. “Sir, can I have a word please?”
“Yes Publius what is it?”
“Sir I can speak a little Votadini and when we were waiting in the woods I heard the prisoners talking to each other. Some of the other troopers wanted to stop them but I didn’t see the harm, they are little more than lads.” Rufius disguised the smile at the young trooper’s words. “Anyway one of them is the son of a chief, Iucher.”
“Which one?”
Publius pointed to a tall red haired youth who had a number of amulets around his upper arms.”Him sir. I think this was a part of an initiation ceremony you know, watch the Romans and report back.”
“Well done Publius. You take charge of the prisoners and let me know if they say anything else.”
Julius Demetrius was tired of the journeys to Eboracum and back. He longed for the simpler days when he had been a prefect of cavalry and had little else to worry about than a barbarian ambush. He saw Rufius leading his patrol back into the fort with his strong of prisoners. At last they would have increased ala support now that the Governor had released more turmae.
The legate slumped into the seat in the Principia. Julius Longinus looked up from his work. “Hard journey sir?”
“At my age every journey is hard. Is it my imagination or is it very quiet around the fort these days?”
“I will be glad to see the prefect and the men back sir. I hate to say it but I do miss them.”
“I know what you mean. They annoy the life out of you when they are there but when they are not…” The sound of a challenge and then hooves clattering into the fort alerted them to the arrival of horsemen and they both left the office.
Rufius’ face told the two men that he had something important to say. “Legate. I am glad you are here. We have captured a war chief’s son.”
“Which one?”
“Iucher.”
The clerk looked in his lists and said, “His name was mentioned by those other prisoners. He is one of the important warriors.”
“Well done Rufius. Now, the question is how to use him to the best effect?” He offered Rufius a beaker of wine and continued, “You never met Julius Agricola did you?” Rufius shook his head. “He was a brilliant general and a cunning leader. He often avoided battles by holding hostage the families of his enemies. Queen Cartimandua did the same. Bring me one of the other prisoners and someone who can speak their language.”
Rufius returned with a surly youth and Publius who seemed proud of his achievement. “This is Publius; he is the trooper who discovered the boy’s identity.”
“Well done Publius. Tell this one that we are going to let him go.” Publius looked surprised but Julius continued, “Just tell him son.”
Publius did so and the boy’s surly expression changed to one of suspicion. The boy said something in his own language and Publius said, “He asked why sir.”
“Tell him I want him to take a message to Iucher.” Even before the word was translated the boy’s eyes flashed back at the legate. “Well that confirms Iucher’s identity anyway.”
Publius translated and there was no change in the barbarian’s face. He still looked suspicious.
“Tell Iucher that unless the attacks cease then I will execute the other boys, one by one. I will crucify them.”
Publius showed surprise but he translated the words. The Votadini lurched forward; fortunately his hands were still tethered behind his back. He yelled something and Publius grinned as he said, “He doesn’t like you sir! I won’t translate what he wants to do with you but it isn’t pleasant.”
Julius laughed wryly. “Many barbarians have promised me such pain in the past.” He turned to Rufius. “Have Decius take him north of the wall and let him go.”
When Rufius returned he asked, “A bit of a risk sir. What makes you think he won’t try to rescue the others?”
“Oh he might but if we can’t stop one youth from breaching our security then it is time to go home eh Rufius? We will know soon enough if we have succeeded. According to Julius here they are attacking somewhere along the wall every day. If we go two days without an attack then it means our threat is working and we will then have to worry about the father trying to rescue him. And hopefully the other turmae will be here soon and we might actually be able to do our job.”
Marcus and the four turmae arrived shortly before dark. They had been slowed by the wagons they had escorted. Now that the Governor wanted the wall facing they had had to ensure that there were enough materials to do the job. Rufius looked at Felix and the dog. “New recruit Marcus?”
“A couple of scouts Drugi found for me. This is Felix and the other is Wolf. This is Decurion Rufius.” Felix bowed formally while Wolf eyed the officer suspiciously. “Go with the other men Felix and they will show you where the stables are and your barracks.” Felix clicked his horse after the other troopers while Wolf sniffed everything his nose could reach. “How are things?”
“Interesting. We have a chief’s son as a hostage and the legate is threatening to kill him if the tribes don’t behave. We will find out how successful a ploy it is in the next two days.”
Iucher took the news remarkably calmly. The surly boy had told of the attack and their capture and Iucher had blamed himself for a
llowing his son to join such a reckless adventure. Torin was his only child, for the boy’s mother had died in childbirth and Iucher was loath to throw away his son’s life. Besides which they had lost more men in the last few days and he wanted his warband to build up their numbers and then they could have a night time attack. The first one had been so successful that it was worth repeating but this time it would be near the horse fort where his son was being held. “I will travel south of the wall and visit our Brigante brothers. It is time they delivered what they had promised.”
Chapter 8
Briac was shocked to find Iucher and ten unhappy Votadini warriors waiting for him in his camp. Not only were they unexpected, they had managed to evade his sentries and the Brigante chief felt foolish. “Chief Iucher, I was not expecting you.”
“No? Perhaps that is because you have not delivered on your promises. The Romans on the wall are still well supplied and they still attack. My son is now a hostage Briac. What will you do about that?”
“I am sorry Iucher but the horse warriors have prevented us from stopping the wagons. We intend to kill their leader.”
“Well do it quickly. And what of my son?”
Briac chewed his lip. Suddenly an idea came to him. “We could gain a hostage of our own.”
Iucher was intrigued. “It would have to be the son of one of their chiefs.”
“They have them not but there is a wife and she would make a valuable hostage.”
“How will you get her?”
“I told you, I have a spy in the fort. I will go with some of my men and we will bring the hostages to you and you can take them back to exchange for your son.”
Iucher could see no flaw in the plan and, north of the wall his men were still gathering for an attack on the horse fort. If this kidnap failed he would do it his way and sever his ties with the false Brigante. When the Romans fell he would deal with his faithless allies himself.”Very well. I will return to my people but our alliance depends upon the success of this operation Briac. Make sure that you succeed.”
The spy was less than happy when he met with Briac and the other Brigante warriors. “You want me to kill the prefect and kidnap the Governor’s wife? You do not expect much from me Briac.”
“Instead of a knife in the night we will use poison and all I need from you is to let the five of us in. We will do the rest. Your identity will still be safe.”
The spy relaxed a little, “You have poison?”
Briac handed over a small earthenware jug. “Pour this in the food he is to eat and he will die. We will strike tonight. Draw me a plan of the Governor’s quarters and where the guards are.”
As he did so the spy explained. “You will need to don Roman clothes for no-one will question you once you are inside. I know how to get you inside too. Bring a deer and tell the sentries that you come from the farm of Decius Aurelius, his brother serves in the ala and they are well know. They will allow you in. Bring it here,” he marked a place on the drawing, “to the kitchen and I will await you there.”
Livius preferred being on the road with his troopers and, being stationed at the fortress meant he was at the beck and call of the Governor. He now knew why Julius had left as quickly as he had for the frontier. He had spent the whole afternoon poring over maps with Appius and the Governor so that the aide could find the putative copper mines as quickly as possible. The only advantage of being in the fort was the comfort of the dining arrangements. He and his officers were able to eat in comfort with hot cooked food. Metellus and the others had finished their escort duties as Marcus’ journey north had meant that they, too, could spend a comfortable night in barracks and, perhaps, a night in the vicus.
“Have you managed to see Nanna yet Metellus?”
Metellus was too honest to lie and he and Livius shared a long history of working together. Despite the difference in their ranks they were friends; a friendship forged in Aquitania when hunting Livius’ traitorous brother. “Yes, we always manage to call in, however briefly on our journeys north.”
“I envy you at times Metellus but then I think that I am glad that there is no one to worry over me. Ours is a perilous profession and few reach their pension.”
Julius, the decurion of the tenth Turma shook his head. “Your problem sir, is that there are over five hundred people who worry over you.”
“Kind of you to say so Julius but some commanders would feel that that showed a weakness of leadership.”
“No Livius; it shows you care for the men and they respect that.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the bowl of stew which was carried in by two of the fortress cooks. “Venison stew sir. Courtesy of the decurion’s brother, Decius!”
“Excellent! It is an advantage having the farm so close. One gets tired of the constant porridge and bread. And I am starving.”
The other officers had all ladled the stew on to their plates. Julius could not resist a mouthful. Livius stood and help up his beaker. “To Marcus’ Horse!”
The officers all stood and roared “Marcus’ Horse!”
“And now the stew…”
Before Metellus could even sit Julius had fallen over and was clutching his throat. A white, green froth erupted from his lips. “Poison! Don’t touch the stew! Send for the capsarius. Metellus get the charcoal!”
Metellus was already going to the cold brazier to get a piece of charcoal. Livius sniffed the water jug and tested a drop on his finger. “Tastes fine.” Metellus used the pommel of his dagger to grind up the charcoal and mix it with the water. Julius’ eyes were already rolling back in his head as Livius forced the black liquid into his throat. “Hold his nose!” While Metellus held the decurion’s nose Livius poured the whole of the concoction into Julius’ mouth. Once it was in he held his mouth closed.
The capsarius raced in. He took one look at Livius and said, “Charcoal?” Livius nodded. “Well done sir. Best remedy for poison. I assume it was poison?”
“Yes looks like the stew.”
Just then Julius started to retch and vomit. The green and black liquid smelled foul but the capsarius looked pleased. “Good lad, get it up it’ll do you good.” The capsarius took a water skin from his bag of equipment. Let’s try some pure water.” He cradled Julius’ head in his arms much as a mother would do with a baby. “Keep drinking son. The more you drink the better chance you have of living.”
“Metellus. Take some men and get down to the kitchen see if you can find out how the food was poisoned. I’d better see the Governor.”
The Governor, his wife, his aide and his wife’s companions were just sitting down to eat when Flavia Nepos noticed that she did not have her fruit knife. It was an ornately made piece of cutlery but particularly special to Flavia because the Emperor Trajan’s mother had given it to her and she always said that the fruit always tasted better cut by the Empress’ knife. Lucia began eating and avoided eye contact; Vibia sighed, “I will get it madam.”
She walked down the long corridor to the rooms the Governor used. She was already tired of working for the annoyingly fussy woman who bored her to death with every utterance. If only Appius had more money then she would marry him and enjoy a much more luxurious life, the life she had been born to. She was, therefore, somewhat distracted when she opened the door and was suddenly grabbed by the four huge and foul smelling Brigante. Her eyes opened wide as she recognised one of the troopers from the ala. “You!” A fierce warrior clamped his hand across her mouth, his other gripping her tightly across the chest, pinning her arms at her side.
The spy cursed,” Shit! This is not the wife of the Governor. This is one of her servants!”
Just then Livius and the other officers clattered down the corridor outside. “She will have to do! Just get us out of here and then see if the poison has worked. Adair, smack her one.” The warrior holding her dropped her and, before she could shout, hit her hard on the chin with his enormous fist. She passed out and Adair slung her over his shoulder. The spy led
the way as they made their way to the northern gate. Already word had got out about the attempt on the prefect’s life and the guards at the gate were alert and watching the buildings keenly.
Briac halted them in the shadow of the barrack building. “We need a diversion. “ Taking out his sword he stabbed the spy in the leg, just below the knee and avoiding an artery. “Crawl out there and shout for help.” He turned to his other men. “Put the girl down and when they come to help him kill them.” He was already working out how far they could get. Their horses were tied up in the vicus with three more of their men.
The spy rolled out from the barrack building and, with blood smeared on his hands from his leg wound shouted, “Help! There are Brigante.”
The four sentries were so shocked and surprised that they forgot their training and all four of them raced over to help their wounded comrade. As the spy thrust his pugeo into the throat of the first man, the others were butchered where they stood. “Grab the girl.” Ignoring the spy who was busy replacing his bloody dagger with a clean one from one of the sentries, Briac led his men out of the fort and into the vicus. The shouts and the commotion had drawn other guards who raced to find the wounded trooper and the dead sentries. The spy lay in a pool of blood, it was not his but it served its purpose. “Brigante! They have one of the Domina’s companions.” He then pretended to pass out.