by Griff Hosker
Finally Ownie had had enough and he hurled a mighty war axe. It caught the Camp Prefect on the side of his helmet and as he staggered back, a young warrior thrust his spear into the unprotected throat of the veteran. The First Spear had no chance then for they were on him like a pack of wolves and, like a pack of wolves, they tore and hacked at his dying body as a punishment for holding them up for so long. Finally Ownie raised the decapitated head of the Tungrian Centurion who had held them and saved some of the garrison.
The eighty men who escaped thanked the Allfather for the courage of their two leaders and each swore that they would revenge themselves on the treacherous Brigante. Elsewhere in the troubled province of Britannia other Roman garrisons found that the people they were there to protect rising against them and the only force which could have done anything was patrolling north of the Dunum; unaware of the disaster in the south.
Chapter 8
At Eboracum the Legate, Appius Mocius Camillus could not believe the news but the battered, wounded Tungrians who trudged through the main gate proved to be a powerful argument. The garrison commander shook his head, “We haven’t got enough troops here to launch a counterattack. You will need to bring troops from further south.” Vibius Duilius Scaeva was a cautious man. He had spent many years dragging himself up the ranks to his present position of power. The last thing he wanted was for a disaster on his record. The Brigante were a dangerous tribe and if he marched his cohort off and lost then it would be remember for all time.
The Camp Prefect looked off towards Cataractonium as though he could actually see the hordes of barbarians flooding south. “You could always recall the ala operating north of the Dunum. There seems little point protecting that part of Britannia if we are in danger.”
The Legate was new to the province and he not need the last thing he needed was for a minor problem like a fort or two being overrun becoming a major disaster with a legionary fortress like Eboracum falling. His two advisors had been in Britannia for some time. Until the Governor came north and gave him orders he would take the advice of the two local experts. “Very well. Send to Lindum for the rest of the Ninth and recall the cavalry; once they are here we can put down this little rebellion.” He hoped that he would be able to put down the rebellion. He had served in the east and there wars were fought in a very different manner; control of water and passes was much more important than here where any barbarian band could travel in any direction. Here enemies could attack at any time with impunity. Nowhere was safe.
Morwenna was angry and frustrated. The Brigante chiefs had made much of their conquest of one fort. They celebrated long into the night burning every hated symbol of Roman rule. She had urged them to follow the Romans she knew had fled but this was war they said and men needed to rest after such a magnificent victory. She knew that they would not have had the victory but for Aodh; he had proved his worth with the plan to hide in the fog and attack when the gates opened. The chiefs had been most impressed that Morwenna had conjured the fog and summoned the power of the Mother. Morwenna and Aodh had merely exchanged knowing looks; the fog was predictable in the vale at this time of year.
The two of them sat, with the acolytes, apart from the whooping and celebratory Brigante and Carvetii. Aodh tried to placate the seething sorceress. “One day’s delay will not hurt us. Even if the Romans get to Eboracum before nightfall they cannot leave until the morrow and we could catch them on the road.”
“They will not leave Eboracum. I am more concerned that the refugees alert other forces and bring them to their aid. If the chiefs had pursued the Romans and stopped them from reaching Eboracum then we would have had total surprises. That is why I am angry. We have to fire the other tribes and make them join our rebellion. One little fort will not do so but Eboracum? That is a mighty prize. If that fell think of the effect on the rest of the province. The Silures and Ordovice could rise against Deva and the legions would be stretched. No Aodh, you did well with your plan but we had surprise. Eboracum has been warned and we will need a better strategy now.”
Aodh pointed to the west. “But the victory is bringing us more warriors.” A line of torches showed where other tribes, from further afield were coming to join, what looked like becoming a rout of the Romans.
“We will need more, especially when they bring the legions north.”
The messenger entered Morbium just as the ala was about to go out on the new patrols. “Prefect! Cataractonium has fallen, the Brigante have revolted.”
Dismounting Julius called, “Officers to my office. You come with me.” The messenger joined the ten men into the office, “well give us the worst.”
“Yesterday morning the relief column for Morbium was surprised by a huge force of Brigante as they were leaving Cataractonium. The barbarians broke into the fort and killed the garrison. There were less than fifty survivors. The Legate wants you to go to Eboracum where he will make a stand.”
“How many men does he have there?”
“A cohort of the Ninth and a cohort of Gauls.”
Livius burst out, “Less than a thousand men against the Brigante.”
“Let us not panic yet, we do not know how many Brigante there are.”
“As I came north I saw great burning to the west.”
“But none to the east?” The messenger shook his head. “Then there is a cohort of auxiliaries at Derventio and another at Vinovia. Camp Prefect, Aulus, I will send a rider north and bring the garrison of Vinovia here. I can then take this garrison south and join with the garrison of Derventio. That will give us a force of almost two thousand men.”
“But Prefect that will leave Morbium undefended!”
“There will be those soldiers who have injuries and it will only be until the garrison joins you. Think on it Aulus if Eboracum falls then there will be nothing to stop the Brigante from raiding south and north. It will not matter about Morbium if Eboracum falls. We will await the garrison from Vinovia before we set off”
“You are right. May the Allfather help us.”
Finally the Brigante horde began to move ponderously south; their numbers swollen by hundreds who had come from the west. Colla was preening himself in his new armour liberated from the dead Camp Prefect. “We will cut through the walls of Eboracum like a knife through butter.”
Morwenna looked scornfully at the warrior who, until seven days ago had just been the headman of a small town and now he was Venutius reborn. “I hope that the Romans do not realise that the warriors who come against them are so shallow and easily satisfied with minor victories.”
“They are keen and they are brave,” Aodh had been in the thickest of the battle and knew how well and bravely the Brigante warriors had fought. “They are new to war for it has been a generation since they have had to do so. They will improve and remember my love the garrisons have not fought for a generation. The only Romans who have experience offighting are north of Morbium. We are like a stone rolling down the hill. We are slow now but, as the people flock to fight for you then we will become unstoppable.”
“You are right but I want my revenge now not when I am old and grey.”
“You will have it now and the people have begun to worship you. They believe in your magic.”
Aodh was right for warriors would ask, shyly for Morwenna to touch their blades or their amulets just to have some of her magic rub off on them. She rode at the head of the column with Aodh at her side but to call it a column was generous for it was more like an enormous crowd spilling off the road along its sides with a straggling tail which stretched almost a mile behind the leading warband of warriors. Aodh had insisted that Colla put scouts out but the chief was full of his recent success and convinced that the Romans were fleeing and would not stand against such a mighty host. Aodh pulled the man to one side and spoke quietly and threateningly in his ear. “You are the Queen’s servant, I am her military adviser, you will put scouts out and you will listen to me. Do I make myself clear?”
Colla lo
oked at the clear blue eyes and saw the threat. It had been many years since he had fought in a battle and the success at Cataractonium had made him forget that man to man, anyone could lose. In the battle he had managed to avoid striking a blow whilst still being in the forefront. This Aodh was a dangerous man and he decided that he would heed his words, for the time being. “Of course. I will send out scouts but we do not have many horses.”
“Which is why we use them for scouting and then we can have warning of an ambush or an enemy.” Colla wandered back to the he mounted men muttering to himself. Aodh thought of how Lulach would have reacted and he knew that Colla would be missing his head.
The Prefect rode with his turma to Derventio. Technically he outranked the Centurion at the small fort but he knew that, sometimes, petty leaders would baulk at following orders from a stranger. They made good time and arrived at midday. As he approached the gate Julius thought that the Vinovian garrison should have reached Morbium, enabling Salvius to start the column moving down the road. They had to move at the speed of the infantry but in his heart Julius knew that the barbarian raiders could only move at foot pace themselves. Travelling down the main road should give them the edge that they needed. If the barbarians laid siege to Eboracum then so much the better for that would take time to encircle. Julius was confident that the fortress could withstand the early attacks, especially if they had warning but the river could be used against them. He remembered Decius Brutus the former First Spear of the Ninth, telling him of the floods caused by the river. Although there were no rains in the skies a wily opponent could easily dam the narrow river. He wondered, not for the first time since hearing the news of the revolt, who the leader was. He had known the Brigante well and neither Gaelwyn nor Marcus had mentioned any leader rising as a new Venutius. Speculation was a luxury he could not afford. Decius Flavius always said that he thought too much.
The sentries summoned the First Spear once they had admitted the turma. Julius breathed a sigh of relief when he recognised the Batavian Centurion; he had fought alongside the ala at Veluniate. “Centurion, the Brigante have revolted. You must leave half a century to guard your fort and then join us to relieve Eboracum.”
It spoke much for the links between the Batavians and the ala that the Centurion did not question the orders but quickly set about organising his men. Julius peered up into the sky. With luck, and a forced march, the two columns should be able to join up before Cataractonium, or what was left of it.
It was heading towards late afternoon when the Decurion Princeps and the Prefect met at Cataractonium, or what was left of Cataractonium. The rebels had taken all that there was to take and burned everything that could be burned. As for the dead garrison, they were spread over a wide area, dismembered and despoiled, food for the carrion feeders which flew and slunk away as the horsemen approached. “Tell the infantry to rest Livius. Salvius let us go and bury the dead.” The Decurion Princeps looked at Julius strangely as Livius trotted back to the Batavians. “They are infantrymen, the same race as the dead garrison. Would it do any good for them to bury their comrades? We need them angry tomorrow not fearful. Our troopers have seen it all before.”
“You are right Julius but just once I would like someone else to be given the dirty jobs.”
By the time they had finished the troopers were in no mood for food but ready for a fight. They rode back to the auxiliaries. The Batavian Centurion came over to Julius. “Thank you Prefect. My men would have done as yours did but I am not sure how they would have reacted.”
“I think we will march a little longer. I know we have to build a camp but, eve as we sit here, they will be attacking Eboracum. I want us there as quickly as possible tomorrow. Besides I would like to be away from the stink of death.”
“I think we can manage another ten miles.”
“Good for that is ten miles less before we fight tomorrow.”
In Eboracum the Legate viewed the hordes arrayed around the walls of the fortress. The first assault had been easily repulsed with bolt thrower but then he saw that the enemy had someone using their head and they pulled back having suffered minimal losses. They were planning something but he could not work out what. He and Vibius Scaeva had assessed the force against them and decided that, with the single legionary cohort in the fortress, a foray was out of the question. They were completely surrounded; fortunately the two rivers met close to the fortress making an assault only possible from the side with the civilian settlement. Scaeva had not wanted the civilians allowed in and argued against the Legate. “They are Brigante. How do you know they are not part of the rebels?”
“I do not but they showed genuine fear and they have more to lose than we do for most of them earn their money through the fortress. Have the auxiliaries keep an eye on them if you wish.”
“I will do believe me!”
“What are they up to?”
“They haven’t attacked since the morning and I for one am happy.”
“Sir! Smoke!”
One of the legionaries pointed south just beyond the settlement. “Now then what does this mean?”
The Legate was answered when a flurry of fire arrows plunged into the thatch and wood of the civilian huts and shops. They were as dry as kindling and soon they were a blazing inferno. The Legate nodded appreciating the military mind. “Someone over there has a military mind and they are using it.
Scaeva, who had spent most of his military career in garrisons, looked at him, puzzled. “It just means they can’t attack that way and the rivers stop any other attack.”
“The wind Vibius, the wind. It is from the south. The flames and the smoke will blow in this direction which means they can close with the walls. And they may even induce the fortress to catch fire. It is a clever move. We cannot see them and our most deadly weapons will have to fire blind.”
The Brigante leaders were looking with increasing awe at Morwenna who seemed to be able to summon the wind at will and control the elements. Any doubt about her power as a witch had now gone. “Now my warriors get as close to the buildings as you can for they cannot see you and fire your arrows over the wall.” As they raced forward to do her bidding she turned to Aodh. “Take your men to the river at the side of the fort. They will not be able to see you. Cut down the trees and make a dam.”
Almost afraid to question her immaculate judgement he asked, “Will that not make it difficult for us to assault on that side?”
“Yes but the water will be lower on this side, we will have a larger area for our attack and the water will flood parts of the fortress. By the time the river has risen it will be dark and they will not be expecting us to be able to assault at night.”
Inside Eboracum the initial salvo of missiles had caught many legionaries and auxiliaries unprepared. The Legate himself had only been saved by a quick thinking legionary who had put his shield above the two of them. “Get men to take water from the river we cannot let that fire catch hold. Order the bolt throwers to fire.”
“But they cannot see anything.”
“Neither can they but they are hitting us.”
As dusk approached the fires were dying down but a mixture of water from the defenders and old soaked wood meant that palls of smoke kept drifting into the defender’s faces. Aodh reported back to Morwenna, pleased with his dam which had already caused the water level on the Brigante side to drop revealing a gentle bank which could be easily climbed. The smoke had obscured the dam and the defenders could still only shoot blind.
On the north west and north east sides the defenders could see the fires of the Brigante spread out to encircle them. An exhausted Legate shared a beaker of wine with the garrison commander. “Well Vibius if we do not get help in the next couple of days we could be in trouble.”
“We have expended half of our bolts and we have taken many casualties. The extra mouths will mean that we will have to ration food soon.”
“I do not think that we will starve. The food will only need to last thr
ee days for by then we will either have been relieved or we will be dead.”
The stark assessment caused Vibius to down his beaker in one. “Then we had better pray to Mithras that either the legion marches from the south or that famous cavalry ala rides from the north.”
“The legions can only set out tomorrow. They will take another day, at least to arrive and that is where their main army even then they will have to face their whole army for they are on the south side of the fortress.”
“The men on the towers tell me that they can see bands of warriors arriving hourly and our friends from the north will have to pass their camps and the rivers to aid us.”
“Let us hope then that the Prefect knows his business and can unravel this Gordian knot.”
The night brought no respite for the defenders as the Brigante moved closer to the walls under the darkening night. The ditches and the traps slowed them slightly but the legionaries and auxiliaries found themselves under constant attack. It was only in the early hours of the morning, when the supply of arrows had diminished and even the most ardent attacker had retired to rest that the Legate was able to assess the damage. “We have less than six hundred defenders left Sir. The artillery has enough ammunition for an hour, nothing more. The waters are rising to the west and threatening to undermine the walls.”
“Have the engineers strengthen the buttresses. We need to build some barriers inside the walls for when they break through.”
The Prefect of auxiliaries looked aghast at the suggestion. “If they break through we will be slaughtered, they outnumber us ten to one.”