Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 10] Roman Hawk

by Griff Hosker

  As the two recruits disappeared Ailis took charge. “You boys dismount and we’ll get you fed. Drugi,organise the men to get rid of these bodies. Mara let us get some food while Frann sees to my son.”

  ******

  By the time that Snorri and the men reached the temporary bridge they had constructed, they were exhausted. Snorri gathered them together to count the cost. He would not abandon his chief even though he had been ordered to leave. He would wait. He counted and found but twenty five of the warband remained. He peered around and could see nothing of Gurt or any of Gurt’s men. “Where is the fat one?”

  His men laughed at the nickname they had given to Gurt, a man who liked his food.

  “When I reached here there were some of them crossing the bridge. I think he was with them.”

  “Good riddance. We will wait on the other side in the village. You four into the woods and keep watch.” Even as he took the men across the river, Snorri wondered if Gurt would reach the trader and the other ships. If he did then they would be left without anything to show for their raid, just empty oars on the way back. Snorri was just pleased that they had sent their own men for their boat. At least they would have less far to walk.

  “Someone coming!”

  Everyone grabbed their weapons and then breathed a sigh of relief as their chief and three wounded men hobbled in. Trygg looked at the remnants of his men. “This is all?”

  “Aye, Gurt has gone on.”

  Trygg shrugged. “It was to be expected. Now we had better move swiftly and see if we can find our ship before the Romans find us.”

  First Spear and his men had spent the night at the ransacked settlement on the hill above the Dunum. They had seen no sign of the raiders but they could see the devastation they had left in their wake. They had missed the ships which were now waiting closer up stream in the twilight hours. What they could not see was any sign that the raiders had returned. Centurion Marius Pompeius turned to his friend, the Centurion of the second century. “Appius I think that they are somewhere between here and Morbium. They must have been south of the river.”

  “Do we go back to find them then?” Appius had served for ten years along the Dunum and knew that the only way to cross the river was back at the fort.

  “No. They must have some way of crossing the river because they definitely came through here. I think we will stay here and give them a little surprise when they return. Place pickets along the path and then rebuild the gate. If we put the third century by the river then they will be trapped against the walls of the village. Send the fourth century up the river to Eabrycg. They can catch any who manage to get by us here.” Appius went quite happily to give the instructions; this way they would be rested when the raiders came along the path. First Spear was quite right, they would get a surprise.

  ******

  Gurt and his men were running along the trail as fast as they could. When they had reached the temporary bridge they knew that they had survived. With twenty of his men with him, and another fifteen aboard his ships Gurt hoped ha had fared better than the Tencteri. At least he would have the iron aboard the trader as his reward. Trygg had overreached himself but Gurt would return. This was a rich land and he could harvest it annually. They had been unlucky when the horsemen stumbled upon them but the Eudose knew that they could find many unguarded places in this rich province of Britannia.

  “Look the ships!”

  One of his sharp eyed sentries saw the two ships just as they turned the bend upstream. Gurt was a little worried. He had thought they would be waiting for them at Oegels-Dun? Had Trygg somehow tricked him? “Was the trading ship with them?”

  “No Chief Gurt, just two of the Tencteri ships.” Gurt’s treachery was matched by Trygg’s but at least they would have their own ship and the trader once they reached Eabrycg. The muddy conditions by the river had made them take this higher path and Gurt wondered about the Norns who had forced them this way. Had they been by the river then they might be aboard Trygg’s ships instead of still trying to find their own.

  “First Spear. There are barbarians heading down the path.”

  “Stand to!” The three centuries who were close to the path formed three ranks with First Spear on the right. His left flank was secured by the river and the Third Century. He would have liked to know how many men he faced but he was confident that even if he was outnumbered he could defeat them. He had fought barbarian raiders before and they could not fight against the discipline of his men. “No one throws a javelin until I give the command.” He glared at the men who knew better than to disobey this twenty five year veteran. No one would escape this trap.

  When Gurt and his men reached the top of the bank they were met by a steel wall of shields, armour and bristling spears. One or two of the braver warriors hurled themselves at the wall but Gurt and the remainder plunged down the bank to the river. The men of Third Century heard the clash of arms above them and were waiting with javelins at the ready. The Centurion had placed his men at an oblique angle to maximise the effect of the eighty men. In the event, the twenty warriors who tumbled and crashed through the bushes, mud and tangled grass were in no condition to give the auxiliaries any resistance.

  Gurt knew that his raiding days were over but he determined to go out like a warrior, sword in hand. He watched the man before him plunge to the ground, pierced by the javelin and he took the opportunity to stab the auxiliary in the throat. Emboldened by his success he punched the next man in line who was struck in the thigh by the axe of the warrior following Gurt. Gurt could see the river just a few paces away. If he could make the river there was a chance he could either float to the other bank or further downstream, beyond this wall of steel. He thrust his long sword forward and although the auxiliary deflected the blow it enabled Gurt to slip through the gap and stab another auxiliary in the side. Behind him the survivors were following Gurt through the gap.

  The Centurion saw the breach. “Fuck this! Third Century! On me!” The whole line wheeled as one and the survivors were hacked down where they stood.

  Alone out of all his men, Gurt managed to reach the water and, throwing his shield at the auxiliaries trying to catch him, began to wade out into the water. Fortune favoured him as a log, displaced by the fighting drifted by. Still clutching his sword the chief grasped the life saving tree trunk for all that he was worth. He kicked and quickly reached the middle. He was safe. The Centurion saw the single survivor; he had other ideas and, taking a javelin from one of his men he hurled it towards the log. Its arc took it into the air and them plummet down to pin Gurt’s right arm to the log. He was trapped. He could not free the javelin which had firmly stuck in the wood and, with the blood seeping behind him Gurt drifted towards the sea.

  The Fourth Century took two hours to reach Eabrycg. They would have covered the ground faster if it had not been for the mud which slowed them down but, as they turned the bend in the river, they saw the masts of the ships. The Centurion had expected to find the settlement deserted and he was delighted. There were some of the raiders close by and they had the element of surprise. He led his men away from the river to approach the moored ships from the north. He knew the port well and the settlement would hide them from view. The stench of death hung over the ransacked town for the raiders had left the bodies where they lay, unconcerned with the smell and the animals who chewed on the carcasses at night. Sending his optio, with half the men. to the east the Centurion took the rest to the west. He halted close by the wall of the settlement and peered around. There were two ships, a dragon ship and a trader. A quick glance told him that there were less than ten warriors left with the ships. As long as they did not slip their cables they would have them. His optio had been told to wait until the Centurion struck and when he saw that the warrior’s attention was on some dice game on the deck he raced forwards. Had the warriors kept the gangplank aboard they might have escaped but the Centurion, young and newly promoted, sprinted up the wooden board and leapt amongst the wa
rriors. His men flooded behind and the unarmed raiders died to a man; their game of dice still unfinished before them.

  Chapter 19

  Marius had easily spotted and then avoided Trygg and his men as they crashed about in the woods heading for the river trail. Once he knew they were behind him he kicked hard on, eager to report the success of his fellow recruits to the man who had first trained them. He was slightly disappointed when he saw the auxiliaries piling up the bodies of the raiders. He had thought that he and his fellows had disposed of a greater number.

  The Centurion watched as the keen young rider brought his horse smartly to a halt. “Sir. Decurion Marcus Gaius Aurelius sent me to tell you that the warband attacked his brother’s farm but we managed to defeat them.”

  He looked so proud that First Spear couldn’t help but smile. “You and the Decurion all on your own defeated a warband?” He gave a mock bow and turned to his men. “We are truly among the gods.”

  As his men laughed the chosen man blushed. “No sir. It was the recruits the Decurion was training. And I was told to tell you that they are heading this way.”

  First Spear was more impressed that Marcus had taken them on with recruits. “Are these not the raiders then?”

  “No sir. This was a band which fled first. The others are further upstream. I passed them a while ago.”

  “Thank you and forgive me for having fun at your expense. You and your comrades have done well. Now ride to Eabrycg and tell my Centurion there to watch for the raiders in case they slip by here.”

  Disappointed that he would not be fighting by the side of the auxiliaries he smartly saluted and galloped off. “There will be more of them coming soon. Scouts out again.” He turned to Appius. “This is my kind of fighting. Wait in one spot and they come to us.”

  ******

  Trygg had worried that something had happened to his ships but, as they waded through a particularly flood part of the path they saw, hidden in the willows, two of them moored and guarded by his ten worried looking warriors. Once they had boarded the ships the warrior responsible for the ships came over to Trygg. “We heard some Roman infantry go by last evening. It sounded like many men.”

  “You did not see them?”

  “No we saw their standard and their red crests but we could not count them. “

  “It matters not. We will be aboard our ships soon and they cannot touch us.” Trygg sounded confident when talking to his men but in his heart he worried that there might yet be the problem of the Roman ships in the estuary. They had sneaked through but if they had returned then they would be trapped. There was little point worrying. He waved to Snorri in the second, slightly smaller boat and then he went to the stern to steer. The two boats had barely fourteen men each to row and their progress would, perforce be slow. When they reached the trader at Eabrycg then he would have to make a decision. There would be men there and it might be expedient to burn all except for his own boat and crew the trader. It would be sad to lose such fine boats but it could be there was no alternative. “Lower the sails.”

  Snorri shouted over, “There is little breeze.”

  “We need all the help that Odin can give us. As long as the wind is not against us we will use the sails and whatever wind he sends us.”

  The two scouts came racing back to tell First Spear that they could see the masts of two ships. First Spear had not seen the ships when coming down the river and wondered where they had been hidden. It made his task almost impossible but he would do what he could. He was fortunate that the river was relatively narrow close to Oegels-Dun. Further upstream it widened but a bend in the river narrowed it to sixty paces close to the settlement. The ships would have to go down in single file. He could see some debris close in to the bank and he shouted to the Centurion of the Third Century, “Throw those logs and branches as far out as you can into the stream.” He turned to the rest. “I want every man lining the bank. When these boats come by I want us to hit them with as many javelins as we can. There will be men pulling oars and a man steering. Aim for them.”

  Trygg had hoped that his fighting was over for the day but, as his boat edged around the bend he saw the red crests and shields which told him that there were Romans. “Up oars! Protect yourselves!” With his left arm he held his shield whilst he gripped the tiller. There was little breeze but the current was taking them towards the sea; it was already a little faster here where it narrowed.

  He peered over the shield. He could see what would happen next as he saw the auxiliaries holding their javelins and preparing to throw them. He wondered how many volleys they would get off before both ships had escaped. The first six javelins were all aimed at Trygg’s boat and one of them managed to beat the shields and strike a rower. They found that the javelins began to pull their shields down and they had to fight to keep them upright. The Chief thought that they might escape if only one wound resulted from a volley. Suddenly he heard cries from Snorri’s boat. They had just come under attack and two men had been struck but even worse the debris from the river had drifted in front of the bows and the ship was drifting towards the other bank; it was no longer pointing down stream. One man tried to free it but was pierced by three javelins. As Snorri’s boat ground next to the grassy bank the javelins targeted his ship.

  “Snorri! Abandon ship and run down the other bank. We will pick you up!”

  The survivors needed no further urging and they scrambled down the side, mercifully safe from attack as the ship afforded some protection and then clambered up the bank. The bushes lining the bank afforded them some protection and they ran as hard as they could. The slow progress of the boat meant that they soon outstripped both Trygg and the Roman javelins but Snorri knew that only eight of his men remained and the dragon boat he had left seemed to be shaking its head as the water rocked it back and forth. Trygg’s men had suffered another wound but they were moving away from the Romans. He heard the Roman officer shout a command and when he risked a glance he saw that they were forming up to follow him. “Oars out!” Once they began rowing they made much better progress and Trygg steered the ship towards Snorri and his men. They needed no urging to make all haste and once on board they joined Trygg’s men at the oars.

  They were just about to begin rowing when they heard a weak voice cry out. Snorri looked over the side and saw, entangled in the overhanging trees, Gurt, his arm still pinned to the log.”It is Gurt! He is wounded.”

  Trygg contemplated leaving the treacherous Gurt to his fate but then he thought better of it. This would improve his standing once he reached home, that he had risked his crew for a dishonourable man. “Help him aboard but we quick about it.”

  Snorri jumped over the side and, putting his foot on Gurt’s arm pulled the javelin for all he was worth. It popped out spraying blood on Gurt’s face. Snorri and the other crewman helped him aboard and then, after unceremoniously dumping him to the deck they grabbed their oars as they began rowing again. It was now a race down the river. The bends and loops slowed down the ship and every time Trygg looked to his left the Romans were keeping pace with them as they trotted down the river trail. If they slowed up then they would be in danger of another volley of missiles.

  Marius had made excellent time to reach the detached Century and the Centurion knew exactly what to do. He lined the trader and the dragon boat with his men. Although the river was much wider here he still hoped that his men could inflict casualties. Marius eagerly joined them on the ship and the Centurion smiled at the youthful enthusiasm. “Any good with that?” He pointed at the javelin.

  Marius grinned sheepishly, “We’ll find out soon enough won’t we sir?”

  “Good lad. Now everyone down and hide. If they see us they will steer to the middle.”

  Trygg was delighted that the two ships were where they had been left and he began to steer towards them. There was, however, a nagging doubt in his mind; where were the guards who had been left. They were not his men he knew that but he hoped they had stayed wi
th their ship. He shouted, “Ho! Jackdaw! Show yourselves.” The silence seemed to be deafening. They were not within hearing; perhaps they were drunk. The fat little trader seemed a very tempting prize. Snorri had told him of the iron it held and he could almost smell the profits but there was something about this he did not like.

  “Snorri. Get that javelin that was stuck in Gurt.” The unfortunate Gurt had passed out shortly after he had been dropped to the floor but the javelin remained where Snorri had left it. “Throw it at The Jackdaw.”

  Snorri did not argue but bent his arm and hurled the missile across the thirty paces which separated them. As it thudded into the mast the Century all stood up and hurled their javelins. “Shields up!”

  Snorri barely had time to roll into the guardrail before the deck was peppered with the javelins from the Roman occupied ships. One man was too slow to react and lay pinioned to the bench. Gurt would not return to his home for exposed as he was he was hit by three javelins and silently expired. Trygg pushed the tiller hard over and the second volley fell harmlessly into the water. By the time they had reached their last two ships their nerves were in tatters. Trygg pulled over to collect the eight men who had been left and putting Gurt in one dragon ship and the dead rower in the other they towed the boats into the middle of the stream and set fire to them. It was a warrior’s death and a warrior’s funeral; it was more than Gurt deserved but Trygg knew that this take would be told around fires for winters to come and he wanted men to think well of Trygg Tryggvasson, Chief of the Tencteri who had risked all to give two warriors safe passage to Odin.

  “Well horseman that was a good shot. My men hit the body and you killed the rower. Well done.” Marius took the plaudits but knew that he had thrown more in hope than expectation.

  ******

  Marcus did not have much time to spend with his family. Once Marius had returned with the news of the departure of Trygg he had to finish off the training of his recruits. They had lost eight men in the skirmish but, as the Prefect at Morbium said when they passed through, that was a small price to pay in the scheme of things. First Spear had lost three men but the barbarians had lost all but one ship and, so far, forty bodies had been found. It had been a victory.