by Griff Hosker
“As Boudicca did in the early days but the legions held and so will we. When they break through the walls they will have to fight through narrow walkways. We can make them narrower and negate their numbers. We just need to slow them down, Prefect, until relief arrives and it will arrive.”
Vibius murmured, to no one in particular, “I just hope that some of us are still alive when that happens, if it happens.”
By the time dawn broke Julius and his pitifully small relief column was already marching south. In the sky lightening from the east they could see the pall of smoke. Livius turned to Decurion Cilo. “Are we too late? Do you think that is Eboracum?”
“I would be surprised for they had warning and the Ninth are a good outfit but it does not bode well Livius.”
“If the whole of the Brigante have revolted we stand no chance.”
“I don’t think it will be all of them. Many are Romanised. If it hadn’t been for those Caledonii raids I don’t believe this would have happened. I just can’t understand where their leaders have come from. No this is a large rebellion but it is not all of the people. I wish Gaelwyn and Marcus were here they knew the Brigante better than anyone and they would have been able to give us a better idea of who is fermenting this discord.”
Livius noticed the past tense. “Don’t you mean know the Brigante.”
Salvius’ eyes suddenly looked much older as he turned to his young comrade. “If they are still alive, which I very much doubt, then they will be in an even worse situation than us. At least we are close to friends and we could head south to Lindum if disaster occurred. There are just three of them against every tribe north of here. Everything has to go perfectly for them to succeed, one piece of bad fortune and they will die. If they are still alive then the Allfather is watching over them.”
The scouts returned just as the sun finally cleared the hills to the east. “There are many Brigante with carts and women they are camped between the river and the fortress. South of the fortress the town is burning and the river has risen.”
Julius conferred with the two Centurions and Salvius. “It is as I feared they have surrounded it. I was hoping that they would naively attack the main gate.”
“They must have a wise head leading them.”
”Yes Salvius but who? “ He shook his head as though to rid the unwelcome thought from its new home. “It is irrelevant. Centurions I have one hundred men who are good archers; I will place them on this side of the river to harass and annoy the barbarians. They will be expecting support and my one hundred may persuade them that that is where the danger lies. Meanwhile the rest of us will skirt the river and, if it is dammed, it will be lower down, south of the , so we could attack them there in numbers. They may draw off warriors to fight my archers, in which case they could mount and retreat. Salvius?”
“As good a plan as any. And when they do pursue me?”
“ Ride north west and then circle around to join us and if they do not pursue you then repeat until they do.”
The Batavian Centurion coughed, “But what if they outnumber us? What then?”
“With a little help from the Allfather I am hoping that your cohorts can break in and reinforce the garrison. My horses are best placed outside the walls where we can harass the enemy. I am assuming that there will be reinforcements heading up from Lindum. Someone will need to link with them. It is agreed then? Let us try to save Eboracum and put down this revolt.” He turned to the Decurion Princeps. “It will take at least an hour to get into position. Begin your attack in an hour. Do not risk the men but make them pursue you. Annoy them.”
With a sad smile Salvius said, “That is where we need Macro. He could annoy any barbarian, just by standing there.”
Chapter 9
Close to Wyddfa Decius Lucullus had received word of the Brigante revolt. He had known that there would come a time when he would have to leave in a hurry; he had just assumed it would have come because the Romans had discovered their deception. There was nothing between Brigantia and Deva. Once Eboracum fell they would pour south and Deva would be the next target. He had his men load all the wagons and mules with their ill-gotten gains and while they were securing the beasts he and his lieutenant went to the mine entrance. The beams which held up the entrance had been built while Decius had watched; he knew where the weak points were. He and his companion took their axes and demolished the supports. At first nothing happened and then suddenly the whole of the entrance collapsed in on itself burying the twenty miners and dooming them to a suffocating and slow death.
The murder was justified in Decius’ mind as it meant they could leave at leisure with no pursuit. Just as he justified deserting Aula as a necessity and when the time was right he would abandon his men but he needed them until they arrived in Italy. First he had to get to Deva, secure a ship and then avoid the Classis Britannica but he was well satisfied, he had achieved his first aim, he had his fortune. He smiled to himself as they set off down the twisting road from the mountain, perhaps the confusion with the rebellion might actually help to obscure his movements. Aula might believe him dead and the trail would go cold, he could re-invent himself in Rome itself.
Seeing the huge numbers of barbarians gave the auxiliaries the incentive to move swiftly. If this were not nipped in the bud then they would have even greater numbers to face. Julius halted them just where the river was shallower because of the fallen trees and brush. He could see the Brigante trying to scale the newly revealed banks. “This is where we attack. I will charge with my horse and then you can bring your cohorts to join in the attack. Once you join us we will wheel and attack those at the rear. When we have cleared a breach take your cohort and try to join the Legate in the fortress. Your extra numbers should enable him to hold until the Ninth arrives.”
“Look Prefect!” Livius pointed. There was consternation amongst the Brigante and he could see a warband leave the attack and move northwards. “It must be Salvius!”
“Good then we have time to prepare. Form two lines! I will lead the first, Livius you take the second.”
Inside the fort the Legate had been resigned to his last morning in the fort when suddenly they saw Brigante racing north. “Vibius! It must be the reinforcements. Tell the men, there is hope. We just need to hold out when the attack comes.”
Morwenna was calmer than the Brigante leadership who were clucking like hens when the fox is in the farmyard. When the news had come that the ala was attacking north of the river she was pleased for she wanted her mother’s killers in her grasp. It also meant that she knew where they were. “Aodh let Colla and the others race north to fight off this attack of the cavalry we must still breach the gate. We are very close to taking it. You had better stay here and take charge for I fear that these warriors do not have your wise head.”
Inside Aodh was almost bursting with pride although he knew she was right. “Ownie!” The Brigante chief rode over on his pony. “Take charge of the assault. The banks are easy to climb and we have weakened their walls.”
Giving a lopsided grin because of the new scar he had picked up at Cataractonium he hefted his sword from its scabbard. “Tonight we dine on Roman flesh! With me!” With a roar he leapt from his mount and raced at the head of his warriors to begin what the whole Brigante horde thought was the end of Eboracum.
The timing from the ala was perfect for so intent was the mass of screaming warriors on massacring their victims that they did not notice the line of grim faced horsemen racing towards them across the lowered banks of the now shallow water. Although denied archers, the troopers were just as adept with their javelins and they managed to throw two each before they wheeled. Two lines of over two hundred troopers meant that the attack that was meant to be from a barbarian army already tasting victory, withered and died before it even started. Julius swept them around in a perfect half circle to crash into the mob that was waiting to pour into the gap created by the attackers. The long spathas of the Roman cavalry found no armour to imped
e their progress and vicious, deadly wounds were created, the attackers had no defence. The warriors at the front of the lines had had shields but those at the back had merely swords and spears; they were cut down like wheat. As the sheer weight of opponents slowed down the mounted horse warriors, the nine hundred auxiliaries, foot and horse, smashed, like a huge battering ram, into the remnants of the first attack and then the mob burst and ripped open like a ripe plum.
Morwenna was, for the first time, surprised. She had not expected the attack to come from that quarter. Aodh, as a seasoned warrior who had already fought against Marcus’ Horse, reacted the quickest. “Form a line of spears and stand shoulder to shoulder!” He roughly pushed into line, with the flat of his sword, those who looked as though they were fleeing.
Morwenna realised that she had to play her part and she screamed out an invocation. “Mother come to our aid and show our enemies your vengeance! Devour these unbelievers and give your people victory!”
To a primitive mob that had seen wind and fog created by the sorceress and seen her read men’s minds this was enough to stiffen the sinews and strengthen the line. Suddenly the barbarian horde became solid again and the horses of the ala found themselves facing a solid line of steel. The huge mass of men which thrust from the back forced those at the front into the horses and the troopers found it difficult, on the upslope, to control their horses. Blades, knives, clubs all struck the horses which reared and snorted in panic and in pain. As horses fell so did riders, to be torn apart by an angry multitude intent on revenge. The momentum all gone the line foundered and collapsed in on itself. Livius’ second line became embroiled in the first and Livius had to lay about him with both his sword and his shield. Using only his knees and his heels he extricated himself from the front line and tried to reorganise his men. “Second line hold!”
Julius heard the command and knew, for he had fought in enough battles to know that a horse will not charge unbroken men, that they were doomed if they stayed where they were and he shouted, above the din and wreck of war, “Wheel and withdraw!” All of the troopers grabbed the reins with their left hand and tugged back to make their screaming, rearing and bucking horses withdraw. With their right hands they used the long reach of the spatha to hold at bay the unruly warband armed with much shorter weapons. As the horses withdrew from the angry blades they became much calmer and more controllable. “First line withdraw behind the second!”
“Second line, if you have javelins use them!” Livius strident voice carried and the last javelins flew over the head of the retreating front line to create a small gap.
There were thousands of barbarians poised on the slight slope and, seeing the ala pull back hurtled down after them. Julius was aware that the two cohorts were still some way from the gate and he had to withdraw slowly. “Second line retreat behind the first. Javelins!” There were far fewer javelins this time and it was like throwing snowballs into a firestorm, they did nothing and soon the two lines were intermingled again and troopers were fighting enemies on both sides of their mounts.
The two Centurions had been watching the charge as they despatched the last of the attackers and saw the line of horses judder to a halt. The Prefect’s orders had been quite clear and the buccina sounded the retreat. Inside the fortress they heard the retreat and the Centurions on the walls sent down the order to open the gates. Such had been the speed of the Roman attack that there were no Brigante near to the gate and the two cohorts made it inside almost intact. Marcus’ Horse was not so lucky. Julius roared, “Retreat!” As they tried to disengage the barbarian archers took their toll and arrows rained down striking both shields and horses. Those on the edge on the edges were plucked from their saddles by spears as they tried to wheel away from the danger and a fearsome mass of infuriated Brigante desperate to wreak revenge on these horse warriors who had killed so many and frustrated their attack. When they finally reformed and were clear of both missiles and enemies Julius saw that they had left almost a hundred of their comrades on the field but they had achieved their aim. “Back to the Decurion Princeps!” The frothing bleeding horses lurched and limped away from the blood soaked battlefield carrying troopers, every one of whom carried at least one wound.
Far to the north Gaelwyn was outlining his plans. “Since they have built their camp and returned closer to their homeland they are more relaxed. The captives are no longer fettered but they are closely watched. At night they have one guard on the gate which is but loosely latched. Lulach arrived yesterday with some Selgovae and many of the Caledonii left. We will never have a better chance for it will soon be the time of the bone burning.”
“The boat will be off the coast tomorrow night. We must strike this evening or in the morning.”
“Morning.”
They all looked at Macro for there had been no discussion. “Why?”
“If there is pursuit then I do not want to be waiting with our backs to the sea for too long. If we take them in the morning and then head south, we can cut back west once they are following the trail. We have horses and should be able to out run them.”
“Good and perhaps we can lay some traps today when we scout the route.”
Gaelwyn snorted, “If you have all finished deciding what you will do when we have them could we come back to the problem of how we rescue them.” Suitably admonished they listened. “Macro you will take out the sentry with an arrow. Marcus you will wait with the horses. Gaius we will enter the round hut in which they are kept and get the children and Ailis. Macro you will cover our retreat. There is but one gate and if there is a pursuit you should be able to hold long enough for us to escape and then you can follow.”
“Where is Lulach?”
“He and his men have a large camp up river. Probably five miles away.”
“Which gives us an hour at the most. That is not long.”
“It is all we have.”
“Very well.”
Marcus looked sharply at Macro. He had expected more of an argument. And the giant was right, an hour was not long enough to lay a false trail and evade pursuit. But as Gaelwyn had said those are the bones cast by the Parcae and man has no control over them.
Gaelwyn and Macro created a few nasty surprises on the trail south from the captive camp. “We want to make sure that they cannot follow quickly. The more time they spend looking for traps the more time we have to escape with a woman and three bairns.” Gaius was the most nervous of the four men. He was close to regaining his family.
Macro, in contrast, was the most relaxed. “You worry too much Gaius. Gaelwyn’s plan is a good one. The guards will be less alert, after all they are close to their homeland and there was no pursuit. We’ll be in and out before they know.”
“We have three small children remember.”
“Which is why there will be two of you and Ailis, each one can carry a child. Ailis is a good horsewoman. You should know that better than anyone.”
“And what if Marcus or the boat is not there?”
“And what if my sister was my brother!! Listen to yourself. We have planned this as well as we can. Short of going back in time and preventing their abduction there is not a great deal we can do.” Gaelwyn watched the two Romans arguing. There was nothing else anyone could do so why not just accept it. “Look Gaius,” Macro’s voice became quite gentle and soothing, “we all have things in our past we want to change. Like if I hadn’t taken up with Morwenna then Decius would still be alive. You have to live with things like that. It is life. All you can do is your best and try to make amends. The Allfather knows I have tried to make amends for my mistake and I promise you this, Gaius, you will get your family back. You have my word, for your family has looked after my son and I would do anything in my power to protect them and give my life to do so.”
“Well if you two girls have finished your argument, kiss and make up and then we can get back to the camp. We have to be in position well before dawn.”
The Prefect led his weary men to m
eet up with Salvius. Livius brought up the rear, one of only two Decurions to survive the battle. Cassius, the other survivor had a long cut running from his knee to his ankle and Livius knew that he had cuts to his arms but there was so much blood he could not tell which was his and which the enemies. The ala had suffered greatly but Livius had seen, as he led the second line that they had broken the back of the enemy. They would not attack for at least another day as their braver warriors, those who had led the assault, now lay dead and dying in the ditches surrounding Eboracum. If the Ninth arrived, as Julius had predicted, then the Brigante would have to lift the siege. The Decurion Princeps and his archers looked to have fared better than Julius and Livius could see no empty saddles. The eight turmae of the ala were no more. They would be lucky to field six and the mounts were looking the worse for wear.
“Well Prefect it looks as though we halted the attack.”
“Yes Salvius but at a great cost.”
Decurion Princeps Cilo pointed beyond the remnants of Julius’ charge. “Look yonder, some of the Brigante has had enough. They are leaving.” They could see knots of people wandering west from the carnage.
“True but they still outnumber the garrison. Livius when you and what remains of your turma have rested take them towards Lindum to meet with the Ninth. I would be happier knowing that they were on their way.”
“Let me send one of my turma, they are fresher and Livius is wounded.”
“No Salvius yours are the turmae who will have to fight tomorrow for I believe the Brigante on this side of the fortress may either attack the fortress or us and either way I need your one hundred warriors to combat whatever comes at us.”
“Very well. We will camp yonder, well away from any surprise attack.”
The trail and traps they created took them a long way south before they turned west. It was a fine balance they were trying to achieve. In a perfect world their pursuers would not realise that they had turned off and they would have all the time in the world to get to the boat. They all knew, however, that the Caledonii would send their best trackers and they would find their trail which would be heading north west. Their hope was that they would slow them down enough to get to the coast well before the pursuers but just in time for the ship. None of the three cared to think what would happen to them if the boat did not arrive but the Tribune had assured them that the boat would be there and Marcus had never let them down before.