by Griff Hosker
“I know but just pretend and we will get out of this.” He turned to Belenus. “We have stopped the wagons of the Romans in the south.”
“Aye and we have bloodied them here too. The Selgovae have destroyed a camp and part of the wall and with your spy in the Roman camp we will soon drive them from our land.”
Marcus froze. A spy! It confirmed what the prisoners had said and that he was a Brigante. “Yes he gives us good information.”
Belenus took another swallow of the beer. “Aye. It is a pity he is not in one of the legions but still the horse warriors are a fierce force and it is good to know what they do.”
This was even worse. The spy was one of their own. He suddenly looked at the three men he had with him. They were all Brigante; could one of them be the spy? Then his dismissed the idea, they did not volunteer for this, they were chosen and a spy would have revealed himself to the Votadini straight away. Still, it paid to be patient and he would wait until he had returned to the fort to tell someone. He knew whom he could trust but it shocked him to his core to think that there could be someone who was an enemy.
They talked and joked for a while; Marcus made sure it was inconsequential but he also learned that the tribes were planning a big offensive and it would be timed to coincide with a Brigante uprising led by Briac. It was obvious to Marcus that Briac was the key and, having seen him, he would do all in his power to capture him. He also discovered that they had been stockpiling weapons for some time and were prepared for a bigger war than hitherto.
When he could, he caught the eye of each of his men and nodded. They returned the nod and, one by one they fell asleep. Even Wolf feigned sleep; Marcus did not know how Felix told him to do so but he did. After Marcus, who had pretended to drink copious amounts of beer, fell over and feigned sleep, the Votadini left them by the fire and returned to their tents. Marcus had deliberately fallen so that he lay on his arms and could watch the two guards. The guards had been changed once and Marcus had to wait until everyone was asleep and the guards relaxed. He whispered to Felix, who was the nearest one to him. “Go and take a pee and when you return sleep a little closer to the pole.”
Felix rose and Marcus watched, through half lidded eyes, as the guard gave him a cursory look. Wolf followed obediently and when they returned, the two of them curled up in a ball about five paces from the pole. The guards did not seem to mind. Vibia, too, was watching, with interest what was happening. When she had seen Marcus and recognised him her heart had soared but she still could not see a way out of her dilemma. When the boy with dog came a little closer she began to gain hope.
Marcus stretched and sat up. He held his hands to the dying embers of the fire. A subtle glance told him that the sentries were ignoring him. He leaned forwards and murmured, “Cassius and Aneurin go and have a pee. When you come back go behind the guards, one each and have your knife ready.” Marcus was proud of the way the two troopers slowly stood, unsteadily and, holding on to each other, as though still drunk, they staggered away.
“Scanlan, get ready; when I tell you, get to the guard on the right and put your hand across his mouth.” A slight nod, as though from a sleeping man, told the decurion that he knew what to do. He saw Felix wink, his knife already in his hand. Marcus stood and warmed his backside against the fire and then began to walk slowly towards the guards, a smile on his face. Behind them he saw his two men approach. Marcus’ movements made the two guards suspicious and they pointed their swords towards him. He feigned surprise and held his open hands out. He watched their eyes relax and he grinned as he said, quietly in Brigante, “Now!”
The two troopers behind moved so quickly it was though a snake had struck. Marcus walked quickly to the guard nearest to him and holding one hand with his right hand put his left hand over the man’s mouth. The sticky hot blood from his throat spurted all over him. Even as the man was dying Felix was slicing through Vibia’s bonds and the second guard was joining his fellow in the hereafter.
“Can you walk?”
“Of course and tha…”
“No time for that. Felix, take Wolf and check the way to the horses. You three watch the girl and I will bring up the rear.”
Vibia didn’t know what to make of it as the five men took her swiftly from the encampment. She kept glancing over her shoulder at Marcus who was fifty paces behind, sword drawn watching for enemies. They climbed through the forest and they all became aware that it was not as dark as it had been. Dawn was breaking. At the rear Marcus knew that men’s bladders would begin to work and when they saw the girl gone, the pursuit would be on. Even as he scanned the land below him he knew that they had been more than lucky to have achieved what they had done. Everything now depended upon Sextus and his traps and deadfalls.
By the time Marcus reached the horses, they were all mounted save Felix. “Felix, get behind the girl we have no time for you to run.” The scout looked as though he was going to argue but two things happened, firstly Marcus snapped, “Get on the horse,” and, there was roar from the camp as the Votadini discovered that their prisoner had been spirited away.
Cassius summed it up well, “Well there it is lads! We are in the shit now! Felix, get on the fucking horse now!”
Felix clambered up and they fled. Marcus shouted, “Watch for the marked trees. Ride between them!”
Behind them the camp was in uproar as Belenus roared around berating everyone in sight. One of the warriors spotted the trail and the warband hurtled up the path after the Brigante. They grabbed whatever weapons they had. They did not have many horses, they did not need them but Belenus grabbed one as did the other leaders. The war chief cursed his luck and the spies who had fooled him. He would be the laughing stock of the tribe unless he could recapture the precious hostage. He kicked viciously into the flanks of the horse as it struggled up the hill with his weight. One of his scouts was waiting at the top. “They had horses waiting. They are heading for the wall!” He pointed south at the trail which led to the frontier.
“After them. They must die!”
Sextus heard the hooves, muffled by the pine carpet, of Marcus and the others. He was in no doubt who it was but he had to be certain. “Stand to!” He hoped that the trail had been clearly marked or this would be a disaster. The deadfalls and traps would, he knew, slow them up but the trail had to be accurate. To his relief he saw Wolf racing towards him followed by the girl and Felix. He had never been so glad to see a dog before. “Sir! Here!”
The girl, it had to be admitted, was a good rider and she deftly steered her horse towards the waiting turma. The five horses reined in. Marcus voice barked. “Get your helmets on and shields we may need them. Sextus, they are behind us. Give them one volley of javelins and follow us.”
Sextus grinned like a child at Saturnalia. “Good to see you sir. Don’t you worry, they won’t get by us! Get your javelins and mark your targets!”
Belenus was fortunate, or perhaps just lucky, that he managed to follow the safe trail. As he heard the screams and shouts of his men to the left and the right he realised that his enemies had laid traps. “Follow me! Stay in the trail!” His men began to move towards the central line which appeared to be safer. In the forest men lay with legs broken, arms and torsos pierced by stakes.
Sextus and the twenty odd men held their shields before them and their arms braced with their javelins. They were beyond the traps and spreads out in a wide semicircular line. “Wait for my command!” Dawn was now breaking to the trooper’s right as they saw the warband hurtling towards them. Sextus waited until the enemy were less than forty paces away and then roared, “Loose!”
Belenus and his horse took three javelins and he was dead even before both his and his horse’s necks were broken by the bole of the tree into which they crashed. The other riders were also plucked from their mounts. “Retreat!” Sextus had taken out the only riders; the rest were on foot and now, after the traps, cautious.
Marcus knew that they had a long ride ahead of them a
nd the barbarians could move as swiftly through the forests as horses. He kept up a steady, ground eating pace. He never once turned around; he trusted Sextus and knew that he would follow. He kept his eye on Felix and Vibia in front of him. He needed no scout on point for Wolf ranged ahead and he would alert them to a barbarian quickly. Dawn broke slowly to his left but it made him feel better. He could see the wall now, albeit in the distance and it shone like a beacon in the new day. He hoped that the Selgovae had not overrun the defences for if they had then the Votadini behind him would rip through the frontier like a knife through butter. He now had even more reason to get back as swiftly as he could.
Chapter 11
Iucher, Briac and the other warriors reined in at the bridge of Cilurnum. The Tinea rushed below, the recent rains in the hills having sent it surging towards the sea. Its white flecked waves perilously close to the bottom of the stone bridge. The sentries at the gate were not worried for there were few riders before them. The barbarians just sat there impassively viewing the wall. One of the auxiliaries turned to the optio. “What do we do then sir?”
The optio stroked his face. He felt the stubble; it meant that his relief would be here soon. He would let him have the problem of sending for the legate. “Nothing son. They aren’t going anywhere. We’ll let the next shift worry about what they want. I can’t be bothered trying to talk to some hairy arsed barbarian at this time of the morning.”
The sentry pointed to Iucher. “That one there has one of them torcs on that means he is a chief. Shouldn’t we send for the legate?”
“If you think I am going to risk waking the legate just because a bunch of barbarians with fancy jewellery come calling then you are out of your mind.”
Iucher turned to Briac. “Why do they not speak with us?”
Briac shrugged, “Their chiefs are in the fort, across the river. The men guarding it are not important.”
One of the Votadini fingered his bow. “I could hit them easily from here.”
Iucher restrained the eager warrior. “We will wait until we get our boys back.” He turned to the Brigante. “Briac ask to speak with their chief.”
Briac rode a few paces closer to the gate and looked up at the eight men on the gate. His Latin was imperfect but was understandable. “We would speak with the general. We have a Roman hostage.”
“Shit!” The optio could not ignore the barbarians now. The whole fort knew that an important relative of the Governor had been kidnapped. He turned to the grinning auxiliary next to him, “All right smart arse. Go to the Principia and tell them that we have a delegation of barbarians with news of the hostage.” As the auxiliary descended the stairs and ran back across the bridge the optio shouted down. “I have sent for him.”
A heavy atmosphere hung over the gate as the two groups stared at each other. It was the first time either had seen their enemies when they were not intent on death. They were able to look and examine them. To the auxiliaries the barbarians seemed fierce but vulnerable. The ordinary soldiers identified the lack of armour and the many weak spots their blades would find. The barbarians wondered at the soldier’s courage, or lack of it, that they needed to hide behind stone walls and wear such awkward armour. To the Votadini it just proved that the Roman soldier was an enemy who could be defeated easily once he was prised from his wall.
Julius Demetrius eventually arrived having put on his full armour. He had paused to tell the duty centurion what he intended and what he wanted him to do. When he reached the bridge gate he shouted to the optio. “Open the gate I will go and speak with them.”
“Sir? Isn’t that dangerous? They might take you hostage too.”
Julius gave a wry smile. “Son, I have been fighting these barbarians since you were sucking your mother’s tit. They have come to talk but if it makes you feel any happier then aim your bolt throwers at them eh?”
“Open the gate.” As the men opened the gate and the tent party aimed the bolt thrower the optio said, “He’s a game ‘un. I’ll give him that. Mad as a fish but game.”
Julius strode across the bridge and Iucher said, grudgingly, “This is a warrior.”
Julius saluted, “Hail, Iucher and you,” he looked at the Brigante, “you are Brigante. Are you the one who took the girl??”
Briac nodded. “I am he, old one. My name is Briac. We have the hostage. We took her from the fort in the south.”
Julius nodded, “And?”
Briac looked confused. “And we want to exchange her for the prisoners you took.” He pointed at Iucher. “The chief’s son and the other ones.”
“Those prisoners are surety against your good behaviour. Taking a hostage from the Governor’s residence is not classed as good behaviour by the Emperor. I am afraid that one of the hostages will have to die.” He held up his hand. His guards appeared at the top of the gate holding one of the hostages. The centurion put a noose around the youth’s neck. “Unless the hostage is returned to this fort by sunset I will execute one prisoner each morning, beginning with this one.”
Iucher laughed, “You would not do this.”
In answer Julius dropped his arm and the youth was thrown from the gate. The crack of his neck was so loud it sounded loudly even above the torrent of water rushing beneath. The barbarians all grabbed their weapons. “Before you compound your error look at the wall behind me. “ The small party looked up to see twenty archers and two bolt throwers all aiming their weapons at them.
Iucher angrily thrust his sword back into its scabbard. “This is not over Roman and I will eat your heart while you watch for this treacherous act. This I swear!”
As they galloped back towards their forest camp, Iucher knew that he would never see his son alive again. The Romans were ruthless but he would bring the girl back to this very spot and have his men rape her where the Romans could watch and then he would have her dismembered. He would show them that he was a true leader who paid back acts in kind. This day marked the beginning of the end for Rome.
When he reached the gate Julius glanced up at the body dangling from the gate. The centurion asked, “Should I cut him down sir?”
“No leave his there as a reminder to the Votadini that our word is law.”
As the legate entered the gate the centurion turned to the optio,”Well lads it will get a little smelly here before too long.”
The optio pointed to the birds already gathering at the forest edge. “I wouldn’t worry too much sir. The birds around here will soon get rid of him, they are hungry buggers and they don’t care who gives them the food!”
Rufius and his turmae had spent the night camped close to the Sixth Legion’s camp. The Selgovae were somewhere ahead and it had not seemed prudent to Rufius to go wandering in after dark. He and First Spear discussed their options. “Have we any idea how many Selgovae there are?”
“No decurion. We know, from the survivor of the Gallic cohort who made it here, that they have over run the wall and surrounded the vexillation. To hear the survivors talk the army is the size of Boudicca’s but I suspect they are exaggerating.”
Both men knew that the ones who were stouter and had stood would have given a more accurate description and the fact that they had escaped spoke of their terror and fear which inevitably meant every barbarian became ten. “Even so my hundred and fifty men will be outnumbered. “
“All me and my lads need you to do is find the buggers, stop them escaping and we will do the rest.”
“Oh we can find them. We will leave now and head west. I will send a messenger back when we have them. How many are you bringing?”
“We have four centuries of Gauls here. I will leave them to guard the camp.” He sniffed in a derisory fashion showing his opinion of the Gauls. “They would be about as much use as a one legged man in an arse kicking contest.”
“You don’t rate them then?”
“Your lads are all right. They have proved it over again but my men still hold out. These ran. Get my point. Anyway I will bring the Fir
st Cohort, eight hundred men. If they can’t deal with them then we might as well pack up and go home.”
Rufius shook his head. He had yet to meet anyone from a legion who did not think he could defeat the barbarians single handed. “We’ll be off then.”
Rufius sent out his best scouts to range ahead while the turmae, all five of them, rode in a column of four. He wanted to be able to deploy into line as a soon as possible. His direction was obvious for there was a pall of smoke to the north west. The Selgovae were still burning the wooden gates and destroying the recently constructed parts of the wall. The first scout returned.
“Sir. The camp is surrounded and they are attacking its walls.” He pointed behind him. “About a mile up the Stanegate sir.”
“Right Gaius, get to the Sixth and tell First Spear. We will try to discourage them.” As his scout rode off Rufius turned to the turmae. “Get your javelins ready we are going to charge the Selgovae as soon as we see them. Attack by turma. Charge, throw the javelin and then wheel behind the next turma.” Marcus Aurelius had devised the tactic as a variation on the Cantabrian circle. It kept a constant rain of missiles and the troopers did not tire as much.
Rufius led the way, his grey eating up the road as he rode along at a steady lope. He could hear the noise of the battle and see the smoke rising from the places where the Selgovae had started fires. They had arrived none too soon. “Third Turma, deploy into line.” Rufius had one of the two buccinas in the ala and he turned to the signifier who carried the instrument. “Sound the charge. We might as well let them know we are coming. It will give hope to the poor buggers in the camp.”
As the strident notes echoed across the Stanegate the thirty two men galloped forwards in a single line. Had they not sounded the charge then they might have caught the Selgovae at the rear with their backs to them but Rufius wanted the pressure relieved if he could. A line of Selgovae turned to face them and they began loosing arrows. A charging line is a hard target to hit and every trooper knew how to use his shield to best effect. Most arrows flew harmlessly overhead and those that struck hit the large scuta each man carried. When they were forty paces away Rufius roared, “Loose!” Even as they threw their javelins he shouted, ”Wheel left!” Every trooper executed a smart turn as the next turma charged in and repeated the manoeuvre. As Rufius rode back he saw that the arrows were more accurate and some of his troopers and horses lay on the field.