by Griff Hosker
Atticus came out of the settlement and hugged Julius who had dismounted. “Thank you Prefect. It has been many years since we have met.”
Julius looked at him curiously, “How did you know I had been promoted to Prefect.”
“I am a Roman remember. I recognise the insignia. Please bring your men inside and we will feed you and see to your wounds. We have much to thank you for.”
“Very well but first I want to secure the prisoners.”
Although there were not many prisoners, there were enough to warrant a guard. And as Decurion Princeps Cilo said, “Every captive is worth a few denari. Better in our pocket.”
Chapter 12
“Where is Macro?”
“He will ambush them as they come up the trail and then join us.” Looking desperately around the old man suddenly said, “I have an idea. I will take the horses and ride down the beach, south. Gaius, Marcus bunch up your cloaks on the backs of two of the horses for we must make them think there is more than one person. They will follow me and I can lead them away while the boat comes in. When I have gone a mile I will wade into the water where you can pick me up.”
Marcus looked at his old friend. This looked a like a death ride to the Tribune. “That is madness old man.”
“Can you swim?” Gaius shook his head. “Can any of you swim?” They shook their heads. “Then it is the only plan. Go out as far as you dare in the water. I will tell Macro and he will join you.” He looked at their faces and ruffled young Decius’ head. “I am not going to my death. I will see you again.” Springing on the back of his horse Gaelwyn led the string of horses towards the waiting Macro in the woods.
“Come on let us do as he says or it will be a sacrifice in vain.”
“Where is my father?”
“Picking up Decius Marcus said, “He will join us. Don’t worry.” The three of them each picked up a child and waited until the water was chest deep. The water was icy and painful at first but their fear made them forget the pain and soon it felt warmer. They held the children as high as they could but they were limited in the distance they could move from the shore by Ailis’ height. They could see the boat tacking towards them but it seemed, to their landsmen’s eyes, to be taking an age against the off shore wind. The surf disguised any noise from the shore and, with the woods in darkness; the three of them were effectively blind and deaf to any impending attack.
Gaelwyn rode up to Macro, “Go to the boat and I will lead them south.”
“Very well old man. Thank you for all the times we have fought together and thank you for this quest to save my children.”
Snorting the old man said, as he galloped through the woods, “Thank me after. I go not to my death.”
Quietly the big man murmured. “No but I do.” Macro calmly planted some arrows in the soft soil and then walked forward to do the same at the next tree. When he had four places marked out he waited patiently for the warriors he knew would be hurtling up the path. The experienced scout knew that the barbarians had an easy trail to follow and his only advantage against whatever numbers were following was the darkness and surprise. His arrows would be coming from the dark and he would be invisible.
Gaelwyn made as much noise as he could as he galloped down the darkening gloom of the forest trail. He needed them to see him and to follow him. Even though he was looking for them he barely had time to react when the arrow came out of the darkness; he instinctively leaned to one side and it thudded into a tree behind him. He jerked the reins of his mount to the right and headed for the thinner patch of scrubby pine nearer to the beach. The shouts behind told him that some, at least, of the warriors had taken the bait.
Lulach was in the second group of warriors. One of his scouts waited with him where he had seen Gaelwyn. “They rode west, towards the sea.”
“Eoin, take your men and cut south and west in case they outrun our men. The rest of you come with me we will head along the trail in case this cunning group of Romans double backs upon itself.” Lulach’s warriors at his side were his elite; he wanted them with him for he was not convinced by the noisy horses. It was not in keeping with the escape so far. Whoever had led his men astray would, he thought, double back otherwise they would be easily taken on the open beach. As he had trekked north Lulach had become increasingly persuaded that the escapees intended to wait in the coastal forests until the hunt had died down and then would head south. It was what he would do. The Romans were many miles from home and were surrounded by enemies looking for them, better to wait for a quieter time than risk flight when the hue and cry was at its height.
Macro had made peace with himself. His son was now the most important part of his life. If he could escape then he would do so but he would only do so once he knew his son and Ailis were safe. His son’s future was paramount and Ailis and Gaius were the guarantee that he would have a future. He had made one mistake but the Allfather could be cruel when punishing mistakes. Morwenna had bewitched him. He knew now that she had been a test of Macro as a warrior and he had failed the test. He knew he had had a good life, he had hoped for a longer one but at least this way he would have a glorious end, a warrior’s end.
The first warrior up the trail was so intent on following their tracks that the arrow hit him without him seeing it or being aware of the danger. The second man had a moment’s notice as the warrior in front fell and then he too hit the ground, dead. Macro shot the remaining two arrows vaguely in the direction of the warriors and then silently and calmly slipped back to his next cache of arrows. He no longer watched the path for he knew they would try to surround him. He hit one pursuer in the thigh and another in the chest before they hit the ground. Once again he shot two arrows down the trail. The grunt told him that one at least had struck home. The next arrows were almost his last and he had to make them count. He heard a horse whinny and he looked in its direction. A flash of white was all he needed and his arrow flew straight and true. He looked to his right and saw a warrior racing towards him, not thirty paces away, a spear readied in his hand. The arrow sent him back with such force that he ended five paces from where it hit. Macro sent the last two arrows to his left and front and then jinked back to his last stash, close to the edge of the trees and waited while Lulach’s men exercised even more caution now that nine of their comrades lay dead, dying or wounded.
Gaelwyn risked a glance over his shoulder. The horsemen behind were gaining on him. He pulled the next horse towards him and, as he leapt on its back he let his first horse go. Gaelwyn knew that the Allfather was with him when it veered back to the woods and four warriors followed, hearing only its hooves and glimpsing the movement. With a fresher mount Gaelwyn was able to maintain his lead and even increase it a little. The further down the beach he could get the less time he would need to spend in the water and the chasing hunters would be further from Ailis and the boys.
Marcus and Gaius were now close enough to the boat to be able to see the old man steering. He was alone and Marcus suddenly realised that the boat would be heavily laden on the return journey. It was fortunate that the old man had thought of that. “Hurry! They are upon us.”
“Would that the wind was. Can you not swim out to me?”
“None of us can swim.”
“Then you will have to be patient. The Allfather controls the wind and the tide.”
Macro peered anxiously towards the sea and he could see that the boat was closer to his family, but still not close enough. He wanted to make sure that they were more than an arrow length from their enemies, now hot on his heels. Four more arrows and he would be able to join them; he would , after all, live and be with his son. Three warriors fell dead to the unerringly accurate Decurion but then there were too many of them for him to control with the couple of arrows he had left. He could see that the boat was but ten paces from Ailis and he took his last arrows and shot them at the warriors he could see. It was a good two hundred paces to the shore and Macro ran swiftly through the soft sand his powerful legs
taking him away from the Caledonii still expecting a flurry of arrows from the darkening beach.
Lulach and four of his warriors had edged around the side of the forest and they emerged less than a hundred paces from Macro. At the same time he saw the boat and the other fugitives. His face filled with anger that he was being outwitted and he yelled, furiously, to his remaining men. “They are in a boat get them.”
The three children had been hurled bodily into the boat. Marcus and Gaius both tried to push Ailis over the thwarts but her clothes were sodden with seawater and it was proving more difficult than they had expected. The old man called urgently,” The wind is blowing us off shore hurry or you will not get on board!”
With a lurch Ailis fell happily to the bottom of the small, increasingly crowded boat. As Marcus was helped over the side of the ship Gaius said, “But our friend…”
“Your friend is a dead man,” and he pointed to the shore where Macro had just reached the water.
Even as he began to wade in the shallow surf the Caledonii archer shot the arrow which plunged into his calf. Although he did not fall Macro felt the arrow rip into his flesh weakening him and he knew that he would not survive another one. He knew he had to make his final choice, risk swimming and dying anyway or turning to take as many Caledonii with him and guarantee his son’s safety. It did not even merit a moment’s thought. He sadly looked at the boat and raised his hand in farewell, his eyes seeking the pale, tearful face of Decius as he looked fearfully over the side of the boat. Gaius had just rolled into the bottom of the boat when he saw Macro’s wave and he roared,”No!”
Decius saw that his father was not coming and he began to cry, screaming, “Father!”
Macro turned on his pursuers with his sword in his right hand and a dagger in his left. The sea behind him was but ankle deep and he wanted to get at the warriors before they could use their bows. Even at this point, with death facing him he was thinking of his son. He did not want a stray arrow making his sacrifice futile. He raced towards the two archers who were notching arrows hurriedly into bows. The sword sliced through the bow and the man’s neck whilst the dagger sliced the other open from the crotch to the neck. Macro found himself grinning as he faced the finest warriors left to Lulach. “Come on then you Caledonii bastards! You have shown that you can fight women and children, now face a man, a warrior. Face Decurion Macro Curius Culleo the finest soldier in Marcus’ Horse!”
His sudden onslaught took the men of Lulach’s band by surprise. He charged at them rather than fleeing from them. They could not believe his aggression, they had expected him to be defensive. They did not know that this was how he practised and how he trained his recruits by fighting numbers of them. His reactions were like lightning. He was even more reckless than usual for he knew he could not survive and he relished the combat; if he was going to die then he would die as he had live, gloriously. Using his dagger to fend off blows and inflict deep wounds while his wicked blade, razor sharp sliced through arms and legs unencumbered with armour. He ignored the nicks, cuts and gashes which the warriors inflicted on him; it was as though he could not feel them.
For Gaius and Marcus, slowly drifting from the shore it was almost like watching s spirit or a ghost fight for he seemed to have a charmed life. Each warrior, or pair of warriors who faced him fell and he remained free, fighting unfettered by orders and responsibility. He was fighting for himself and his son.
“Get us ashore we can help him!”
The old man sadly shook his head and pointed, “No for their leader has had enough.”
With a sickening horror they saw Lulach’s remaining bowmen draw back their bows and six arrows plunged into Macro’s arms, legs and necks. Even though he was mortally wounded he continued to defy them. “You cowardly bastards!” Throwing his knife into one archer’s neck with his dying stroke he sliced the head from a swordsman who had raced in for the kill. As he fell to the ground the handful of warriors who remained hacked and chopped his body to make sure that the mightiest warrior they had ever fought was dead.
Sadly, looking at the old man while Ailis comforted the children, Marcus said, “One of our warriors is waiting for us south of here. Can you sail as close to the shore as possible?”
“Aye. “ Almost as an afterthought he added, “I have never seen such courage or such skill. Truly he will be with the Allfather now.”
“That he will, old man and the Allfather had better watch out for I think our friend was just getting warmed up.”
Gaius took Decius Curius Culleo in his arms and said, very quietly, “Your father has now gone to the Allfather. Do not cry tears for he is with his lost comrades and even now they are telling tales of great deeds and the greatest will be your father’s tale. There has never been one a warrior who achieved so much, not even the mighty Ulpius Felix. And know this, you are now my son and I will do for you as I would for Decius and Marcus in honour of the bravest man I ever knew. ”
Lulach looked at the desecrated and butchered body lying at his feet and noticed the smile on the Roman’s face. He shook his head in admiration, this had truly been a mighty warrior. If he had a hundred such men he would be able to conquer the world. He saw, with regret, the boat sailing away, beyond his reach. He would meet them again; these impudent warriors who had dared to steal from him in the heart of his own kingdom. When the snow thawed in the spring he would return south and the next visit would be more terrible and more lasting.
Gaelwyn released his mounts one by one as they tired and flagged as he rode them hard. Glancing over his shoulder he could see that the hunters were gaining ground. He had two mounts still tied to his own and they contained the cloaks of Gaius and Marcus. He ripped them from the backs of the horses and threw them in the air. Letting one of the horses go he took the other one towards the tree line. As he had expected the loose horse ran away from Gaelwyn towards the sea at the same time the cloaks fluttered to the ground before the pursuing horses making them check and veer to the side. A small gap opened and the furious Caledonii whipped their horses, angry with themselves for following the horse towards the sea. The man they were chasing would go into the woods to evade them. Gradually against a darkening sky Gaelwyn edged towards the sea. He avoided moving from side to side and aimed for a point in the distance. He removed his own cloak and lay flat on his mount’s back. In the darkness it was hard to see which horse had a rider. Throwing his own cloak in the air he kicked the spare horse so that it reared and traced away from the pain towards the woods. Gaelwyn went straight into the sea galloping as hard as his horse could manage. As expected the warriors chased the spare ignoring what they perceived to be another loose horse. They could not comprehend that anyone would go towards the sea where they would be easily caught. The loose horse stopped quite quickly and the warriors drew their swords ready to kill the elusive warrior. When they saw the horse had no rider they looked back to the sea where they could dimly see Gaelwyn and his mount both swimming strongly away from the shore. Shaking their heads in disbelief they headed towards the icy water. He would have to return to land some time and they could move faster on the sand than he could in the water. Lulach would be pleased; they had one of the raiders at least.
The water seemed like ice to Gaelwyn piercing his flesh with needles of pain. He lay on the back of his horse, his body as close to the surface as he could manage and his hands gripped the mane as tightly as he could; he had lied to the others, he could not swim.. Although he was not moved swiftly the current and the tide were taking him to see. He had done his part and he hoped that the others had done theirs. Whatever happened, events were in the hands of the Allfather now. He felt his feet turn to stone, the cold permeating up through his body making him feel strangely sleepy and his horse began to weaken as the water deepened and the currents strengthened. He peered through salt encrusted eyes out to sea but all he could spy was a black and stormy sky with whitecaps growing increasingly larger. Quite calmly he reflected that this was a strange way fo
r a warrior from the high country to die swept out to sea but he had done his duty and his honour was intact. When he met the Allfather he would be able to hold his head up.
“Gaelwyn!”
He heard the voice but where was it coming from? He looked towards the horizon but could see nothing. Perhaps he was dreaming or perhaps he this was death and he was dead already not knowing the moment.
“Gaelwyn! You soft old bugger! Behind you!”
Turning he saw that he had swum so far out to sea that the beat was behind him. He jerked his horse’s head around and it began to swim towards the boat. He was more exhausted than he knew and it took all the efforts of Marcus and Gaius to pull him aboard. As the boat slipped by Marcus smacked the horse on its rump, “Keep swimming noble beast and you will reach the shore.” The wild, white eyes of the horse showed its terror but it was swimming in the right direction and, without the dead weight that was Gaelwyn, was moving more quickly.
“What were you doing you old fool? Trying to swim to Ireland?”
“Hah! It is not impossible for a warrior such as me eh Macro?” The sudden silence made the old man open his eyes and glance around the huddled group sheltering in the bottom of the boat. Nodding he looked heavenward, “So he has gone to the Allfather. Was it a noble death?”
“You have never seen one as noble or as glorious.” As the boat tacked south to safety Gaius told the tale of Macro’s last stand to Gaelwyn and Decius sat with open eyes hearing for the first time the famous story which would be passed down and told around fires in the land of the Brigante until it became a legend, disbelieved by many but cherished by true warriors everywhere.
Ownie headed north when he left Streonshal. He knew Morwenna was less likely to have encountered Romans; until he reorganised and gathered more men he did not want to meet any. He would be hard pushed to fight off a single turma of cavalry. He pushed his men harder than they had ever been pushed before. He felt sure that they still outnumbered the Romans but, in the open, his men were no match for them. For the first time since the revolt had started he was regretting joining and throwing in with the witch who had used such plausible and persuasive arguments. The enemy were not as easy to defeat as he had thought. The initial victory had been gained by deception; it was not a trick which could be tried twice. The Romans were masters of the battlefield.