Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 05] Revolt of the Red Witch

by Griff Hosker

  “May the gods watch over you.”

  “She will.”

  His men had finished burying the bodies and they awaited his orders. Decurion Cassius chewed idly on a liquorice root he had taken from his bag. “Will they head for Morbium do you think?”

  “Possibly but there is a garrison there.”

  “There was a garrison there.”

  “True but I think we will follow their trail for a while. If Morbium is their destination then the Prefect will intercept them, for that is his patrol area no we will follow them for I feel they will head for the Dunum and the narrow place.”

  “The water there can be deep.”

  “I know but in high summer it is often low, especially at low tide and there are bluffs on the other side to afford protection. It is but two extra days in the saddle. I think it is worth it.”

  Cassius sniffed. “Just means the turmae of the Decurion Princeps will have first choice of food and we will be left with scraps. They will get back to the fort before we do.”

  Livius laughed. “Always thinking of your stomach.”

  “If I don’t then who will?”

  As the troopers rode away the old woman waited in the village. When she saw that they were out of sight she gathered her possessions together. She was leaving the settlement and leaving forever. Before she left she needed to make sure she had enough money to support her on her journey west. She went to the headman’s hut and moved away the dead ashes from the fire. Taking a mattock she scraped away until she struck wood. The villager’s money and valuables had been hidden there in case of such a raid. She felt neither guilt nor remorse in taking the wealth of the village for the inhabitants were either dead or enslaved and the money would do them no good. She would be able to pay for herself to be transported on a merchant’s wagon leaving Eboracum for Deva and once there it was but a short journey to Mona and her sisters.

  Decurion Princeps Cilo was a very contented leader. As a trooper he had incurred the wrath of a martinet Decurion and almost been dismissed from the ala. If it were not for the weapon’s trainer, Decurion Macro and the then Prefect, he would have had to do something else other than this job that he loved. He, like the whole ala, loved Decurion Macro for both his skill as a warrior and his genial good humour; he was great fun to be around. Decurion Macro did not resent the fact that one of his protégés had been promoted above him he preferred to be weapon’s trainer and to be given all the dangerous jobs. His turma were all as madcap as he was and were both feared and respected by the rest of the ala. Macro also had a son to think about and that was more than enough responsibility for him.

  The Decurion Princeps had brought his quartet of turmae further north than he would normally because he had heard of bandits and raiders operating west of Cataractonium. The burnt out villages and dead Brigante were a clear trail to follow. Decurion Macro had been more than happy to take his turma north west to find the trail of the raider. He thought it might also bring him along the line of the Prefect’s patrol. He just liked the freedom of ranging far and wide and,, hopefully, finding an enemy to fight. The only nagging doubt in his mind was that two thirds of the ala were being dragged north west leaving only Livius and his four turmae to protect the rest. Cilo reminded himself that Livius was well over to the east. The central vale was devoid of cavalry, it was unprotected. He shook his head, angry with the Imperial penny pinchers who begrudged paying for more troops for the far flung Province of Britannia. As long as the gold, copper, tin and grain left the shores they were content. Perhaps the new Emperor, Nerva, might be different but the Decurion Princeps had heard that the new Emperor was having difficulties in Rome with rivals so it was likely they would have to make do with what they had.

  The trooper from Macro’s turma came galloping up. “Decurion’s compliments Sir and we have found the trail of the bandits. They are about five miles across the moors.”

  “Right column of twos.” Perhaps their luck was about to change and they were actually going to catch these elusive bandits. But at the back of Cilo’s mind was the thought that they may be a Caledonii warband trying to draw the ala away.

  “Modius!” Without bothering to answer the shout the giant glared around. “Roman cavalry, to the south.”

  “Did they see you?” The downward glance told the leader all he needed to know. “Shit!” He had one patrol to the east and now there was another one to the south. “How far away?”

  “Three or four miles.”

  “Damn!” That meant they could be with him in less than thirty minutes. “Ditch everything that is too heavy and double time. We have cavalry after us. If we can make the waterfall we stand a chance. If not then we die. Anyone left behind….” The unspoken reality was that they would die.

  There was no loyalty in this band. For a big man who was aging, Modius could move swiftly. He had no need to discard anything as the only plunder he carried was the gold he had taken. The ten men who formed his bodyguard had also done the same. Soon the eleven men were pulling away from their weaker comrades. As the path began to climb towards the falls the gap became even greater. Half way up Modius paused behind a straggly thin elder to survey the horizon. He could see the cavalry now; it was a turma and even from that distance he recognised the enormous figure of Decurion Macro. He remembered him from his days in the ala. He was surprised that the big man was still alive; he had always been volunteering and Modius had convinced himself that he would be dead by now. The turma was within four hundred paces of the rearmost men and, further away Modius could see the rest of the ala. Perhaps the tail enders would hold up the pursuit but he determined to make the most of the gap. “Run you whoresons! Run!”

  Decurion Princeps Cilo could just see figures climbing the precipitous path adjoining the waterfall. If they managed to cross it then they would gain a lead. “Trooper. Ride north east. Find the Prefect tell him we think we are on the trail of bandits. He will know what to do.” As the trooper galloped off Cilo felt confident that they could catch and destroy most of the raiders but it irked him that some might get away.

  A small party of the bandits had decided that they were too exhausted to climb the steep rocky path, in addition to which these fifty had been loath to leave their hard earned loot behind. The large lump of a warrior who fancied himself leader should anything happen to Modius took charge of the rabble who remained. “There’s only twenty or so we can have these.” They turned and faced the approaching cavalry with weapons at the ready. They had an eclectic mixture of weapons from spears and axes to swords and bows.

  Macro had already ascertained what they were going to do; it is what he would have done. He would have to dismount at the bottom of the falls and pursue on foot. He glanced over his shoulder and, in the distance; he could see the red plumes of his comrades. That decided him he would destroy these and then pursue the rest up the path. “Thin them out with arrows but be quick we want to catch the others.”

  His men grinned; this was why they loved their leader, it was either death or glory with Macro, there was no halfway. Their arrows did indeed thin them out and when they hit them with their horses and swords the survivors threw their weapons away and prostrated themselves on the ground. “You four guard them until the Decurion Princeps arrives. The rest of you follow me on foot. When the others have taken over the guarding of the prisoners you four take the horses around the bluff and meet us at the top of the waterfall.”

  The shell shocked survivors huddled in the midst of their slaughtered comrades. Any thought of escape had ended with the first flurry of arrows. Macro glanced up. The bandits were spread out in a long line negotiating the treacherous and slippery path which wound up the steep sides. The pursuers had barely gone twenty paces when they saw how treacherous it was as a bandit fell screaming to a bone crushing death amongst the rocks at the bottom of the falls which waited like some huge predator with its sharp and jagged teeth bared.

  Modius had reached the top of the falls. One of his men start
ed to cross. “No not here they will find our trail too easily. It will take them some time to get to us. We go upstream and then cross.”

  The first few bandits encountered by Macro proved to be no problem. They did not know he was behind and he was able to cut them down as they struggled to escape, concentrating on the foot and hand holds on the treacherously wet rocks. The screams of the dying finally pierced the stormy thunder of the falls and three of them turned to face the foe who stalked them up this rocky ladder of death. They had spears and the advantage of height. With any other turma it might have gone ill for the leader but Macro’s men raced to fight and protect their leader, and they climbed perilously close to the edge of the falls, to give support to their enigmatic Decurion. Scrambling up the falls with three men together slowed up their pursuit but ensured that all that they caught died.

  The situation was clear to the highly experienced Decurion Princeps Cilo as he rode up to the bundle of bandits sitting miserably at the foot of the torrent. Macro’s chosen man told him what Macro had asked. “Good plan.”He turned to his own chosen man. “We will join Decurion Macro on the other side. You escort these vermin back to Cataractonium.”

  He dismounted and walked up to the sullen looking prisoners. “Where are you from?” There was a silence more from bravado than any conviction that they would not tell. None of them wanted to be the first to betray their comrades. Nodding Cilo pointed to the large ugly warrior, the erstwhile leader, who looked more sullen than the rest. “You where are you from and who is your leader? Are you Caledonii? Is your leader Lulach?” The man shrugged and gave a half grin to his comrades. “That is your choice is it? Silence?” The man, still grinning, nodded. With almost no effort Cilo sliced his spatha backhand and removed the man’s head, still grinning. After a few moments the body crashed to the ground and rolled into the river whilst the unseeing eyes stared at the clouds.

  Cilo said to two of his men. “Pick him up.” He pointed at a warrior now cowering near the rocks. They both grabbed the man whose eyes rolled pleading into his head.

  “No please, please!” He screamed.

  “Same questions; where are you from, and who is your leader?”

  The terrified man looked at his comrades, all of whom looked at the ground. “We came from the west, the Land of the Lakes and our leader is Modius.”

  Suddenly Decurion Princeps Cilo stopped and stared as did the older members of the turmae. “This Modius. Did he fight with the Romans?” Having given some information the man found it easy to give more and he nodded, pleased to be alive still. “Well, the Prefect will be interested. Rest your horses and then escort these back.”

  The last thirty warriors had no energy left when they reached the top of the falls and they could see no sign of their leader who appeared to have been swallowed up by the river. Below them they could see the fifteen troopers struggling up the side and a few of them decided to brave the stones which made a crude, if dangerous path across the shallow bed of the falls. The rest decided to see if they could despatch the fifteen and then continue more safely. It was an uneven contest. The bandits had only fought farmers and merchants; they were facing the hardened elite troopers of Marcus’ Horse.

  Macro, although out of breath, was keen to follow the ones who had half waded, half run across the river. The small rearguard died to a man having no other option than to fight. Before he pursued the rest Macro glanced down the path and saw Cilo leading the rest of the turmae around the bluff. As he had expected, Macro would be leading the pursuit with his fourteen troopers. “Well lads, until they bring our horses up we are going to have to run. Rip up some of the bandits clothes and we will leave a trail for them to follow.” Already the ones across the river were making good their flight and opening up a lead. Unencumbered as they were by arms and armour they thought to make good their escape.

  Further up the river Modius watched as the auxiliaries crossed the river in pursuit of the last of his men. “Looks like we made a good decision. We’ll stay this side of the river a bit longer and then head south towards Brocauum. Another few days and we’ll be home and safe.

  The end of the foot race was inevitable; Macro and his troopers were far fitter than the bandits they were chasing. Inexorably they caught them up one by one and they were despatched one by one. Macro could afford no mercy for he only had fourteen men. Once he could see there were only four remaining he shouted over his shoulder, “We take these prisoners. Find out where they are from and who their leader is.”

  The last four accepted the inevitable when they heard the shout to stop. At first they had thought they would escape but as they had heard their fellows being killed they knew it was only a matter of time. As they squatted on the ground trying to catch their breath all of them wondered what had happened to their leader.

  “Good run lads. If you have been auxiliaries you might have outrun us. Now I’ll give you a while to get your breath but then I want two questions answering. Which of you is the leader and where is your home?”

  The looks on their faces and the blank looks they gave each other told Macro that none of these was the leader. Resentful of the fact that they had been abandoned to slow down the pursuit, they all happily volunteered the information requested. “We come from the Land of the Lakes and none of us is the leader, he is Modius who fought with the horse warriors.”

  “So the treacherous bastard is still alive. Right if you can talk you can walk. Let’s get back to our horses.”

  Decurion Princeps Cilo was waiting with their mounts when they arrived back at the falls. They were both pleased that their information matched but both surprised at the leader. “Last I knew he was still with Aed.”

  “Aye and I thought he died in that last battle.”

  “No-one found his body did they and the Prefect had a good look.”

  “I didn’t see him. He wasn’t with the ones we killed or captured, which means he went along the river. Do we follow?”

  “As much as I would love to catch and crucify that treacherous snake I don’t think we can leave the east of the province unprotected. There is no one else left. Livius only has four turmae.”

  “I could go on my own.”

  Cilo grinned, “Still volunteering eh? Maybe that isn’t a bad idea. What we will do is ride up both sides of the river until we find where they crossed and then I will return to Cataractonium and you can pursue. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds good to me.”

  They travelled four miles before they found the place where they had crossed. “He’s still as crafty and cunning as ever.”

  “Aye Macro and heading south.”

  Just then a trooper rode up. “Prefect Sir.”

  Julius was tired and he dismounted to greet his friends, stretching his aching back. “Are these all of the bandits then?”

  “No Sir we sent twenty or so back to Cataractonium. Macro here, with your permission, is going after the rest. Their leader and a small band he has with him.”

  “How many are there?”

  “We don’t know Sir. We chased them hard and the survivors don’t know who escaped with Modius.”

  “Modius?” Julius face became filled with anger and hate. The younger troopers had never seen the mild mannered Prefect react in such a way before.

  “Yes Sir, the same. The old treacherous snake is till alive. Two of the prisoners corroborated the story; they called him Modius who rode with the Roman cavalry.”

  “I knew the bastard wasn’t dead! How many men did you say he had with him?”

  “Don’t know Sir. Looking at the prints it could be anything from ten to twenty.”

  “Heading back into the Land of the Lakes. Back to the same place he hid before. Right let’s follow him then.”

  Decurion Princeps Cilo was shocked. “You can’t do that Sir we would leave most of our patrol area unprotected besides we have been out for a week and if our eight turmae have spent five days in the west then anything could have happened in t
he west.”

  Even Macro, who knew Julius better than any, was shocked by his reaction. “I do not care! That man betrayed the ala and my father and killed my brother not mention all the other innocent deaths he caused.”

  “I know Sir. I was there. But the patrol area… the Caledonii is always raiding. Let Macro go. You know he will catch him.”

  Julius’ face softened. “I know he probably will but I want certainties. Morbium can hold up any incursions from the north. Decurion Princeps Cilo, take Decurion Galeo and your two turmae. Escort the prisoners to Morbium and station yourselves there, we will rejoin you when we have captured this renegade.”

  Macro shrugged at his friend as much as to say, ‘that is all you are going to get’ and indeed the Decurion Princeps had resigned himself to the fact that he would have to patrol Brigantia with six turmae not twelve. “Very well Sir. I just hope the Caledonii don’t raid.”

  Chapter 2

  “Do you miss the ala now Gaius? Do you miss the danger of riding to war and commanding men?”

  “Macro is forever asking me that and, in truth, no. The time I spend with Ailis and the boys is precious to me. I love watching them grow up. “

  “Are you not bored?”

  “Well Marcus let me ask you, are you not bored? “

  “No I asked you because I find more to do each day; whether that is talking to Annius about the crops or the house or just watching the land change. I wondered if it was just me or all old soldiers.”

  Gaelwyn snorted. “You two are like a pair of old women. We are here to hunt and not gossip.”