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

by Griff Hosker

  Gaius’ son Decius thrust out his chest and said, “I am ready father.”

  Macro’s son heard the word, father, and looked like he was becoming tearful. Young Marcus put his arm around him and said, “Decius and I may be the smallest but we are ready, are we not brother?”

  Biting back the tears he said, “I am and I will be a warrior, like my father.”

  At first the path they took was gentle and undulating through dunes and thin scrubby trees but then it began to climb. Gaelwyn looked at the boys. “I will scout ahead and try to find some food and shelter for we will need it ere long. Stay on this path and do not deviate from it. If you see my sign obey it.” Suddenly he was gone.

  Ailis said, “Sign?”

  “Yes when he was a scout he would leave markings to tell us which way we ought to go. I am glad that the old man is still with us Gaius.”

  “If he were not my love we would now be dead.”

  They took it steadily as they climbed up the pass. Ailis kept looking at Gaius and Marcus for confirmation that they were on the right track but each time they smiled and nodded. This was where they were confident; it was like being back in the ala with Gaelwyn sniffing out the enemy. When Marcus sneaked a glance at Gaius the warrior was once again a young man. Finally they turned a corner in the pass and there was Gaelwyn with a small fire burning and two rabbits on a spit. “Had I known that you would take as long as you did I would have hunted a deer.”

  “Old man, we did not wish to push harder in case you could not cope with the pace.”

  “Pah! Make a shelter while I finish the food.”

  When the shelter was finished and the boys asleep Gaelwyn pointed east. There is a high pass and then the land drops down. I recognised it; once we cross the col we will be but twenty miles from Glanibanta.”

  “Glanibanta,” murmured Marcus. “We never seem to get too far from Glanibanta. Well at least we know we can find food and horse there and we still have the funds to pay for it.”

  Gaius looked westwards. “I think the Allfather sent the old man. “The others looked at him with unspoken questions written on their faces. “He came when we needed him and stayed until we did not. He came just in time to save us and out of time so that Macro could achieve the honour he wished.”

  “Do you not think Macro would have wished him to arrive earlier?”

  “No Ailis. Macro always wished for a heroic death, perhaps not one witnessed by his son, or then again perhaps. Are you not certain that the wind and tide which kept the boat from landing was not directed by the Allfather? No I believe that the old man lived long enough to save us and no more. He kept us long enough so that Macro could defeat more warriors in hand to hand than even the greatest gladiator in Rome. He truly became the Horatius at the bridge.”

  “Which means the Allfather is not finished with us yet.”

  “True Gaius. I think that the Sword of Cartimandua and the sons of Gaius and Macro still have much work to do in the land of Britannia long after we have joined Macro.”

  Morwenna led her band of warriors, Carvetii and Brigante, south to Morbium. Ownie had not returned but she doubted not that he would bring his forces to Morbium in time. Aodh had assured her that they had more than enough warriors to complete the task. Morbium had been attacked and assaulted so many times that one more determined attack, from a strong force such as she commanded, would cause the walls to fall quickly. The army took a leisurely pace south allowing Morwenna to garner as many warriors as possible and to glean as much adulation as she could from those who came to view the royal progress. They still looked magnificent in their armour with the flame haired goddess at their head. Encouraged by their women folk many men joined the ever growing column. The men found themselves behind the women who had joined. All of them were desperate to be close to the woman who appeared to be at one with the Mother. Aodh and his men guarded the Queen like a metal cloak.

  For Prefect Demetrius it was a simple task to keep the column in sight. There were so many warriors and women cutting a huge swathe through the land that even one eyed Ulpius could have followed them with his good eye closed. Julius had been close to the force and knew that it was just numbers rather than quality. He had counted the warriors with full armour and helms. He had seen how few had good swords and axes they possessed. He had observed the lack of organisation. This was not a Caledonii warband, with chiefs and order, with roles and responsibilities. This was a mob intent upon taking plunder. They would not have stood a charge against, a full ala let alone the might of the legion which was about to be unleashed upon them.

  “Cassius, take your turma to the west of the column. When the Legate destroys them follow them west. If they go east or north, which I think is unlikely then I will pursue.”

  “You are confident, Prefect, that the Legate will destroy them?”

  “I have seen the legions at work many times. There are some foes who might cause them problems but this rag tag army will not. If they head west send a rider to the Decurion Princeps to join you. We do not let this witch escape to cause more mayhem with her magic. We end it now.”

  Metellus had soon come back to tell the Prefect that the warband sent south had scouted the fort and was now waiting in the woods to the north. Lentius had still not returned and the Prefect was becoming concerned when two tired and weary troopers rode in. “It is Lentius!!

  “Sir the warband went to Seton and they are returning with the warriors who survived our roasting!”

  “Good. Cassius send a couple of riders across the Dunum. Find the Legate and give him the information we have gathered; a smaller warband approaching from the east and the large one travelling towards Morbium. We will have to wait to find out what role he has in mind for us.”

  The Legate was pleased with the condition of the roads for he had expected, with the privations of the rebellions and raids that they would have suffered damage but he and his legionaries made the safety Morbium in three days. As the auxiliaries took down the barriers, hastily erected by the doughty defenders, the Legate met with the Centurion in command.

  “I am glad to see you Sir. The Brigante scouts arrived yesterday and have been busy in the woods north of us. I think it means the main army is heading here.”

  “I agree and the reports from Prefect Demetrius would confirm that information. You have done well Centurion. Lesser leaders would have fled to the safety of Eboracum.”

  “When the Prefect told me what had happened at Cataractonium I was just pleased that we were still alive.”

  “How many men do you have in the fort at the moment? I mean how many are fit for duty?”

  The adjutant handed him a wax tablet. We have six centuries who are fit and two with either wounded or injured men.”

  “Good. Leave the injured and wounded to man the walls and you command the rest. We have a small enough force as it is.”

  “With due respect Sir isn’t that a little risky? If they get by us then…” the question hung in the air like the sword of Damocles.

  “Thank you for your honesty Centurion but if they, as you say, get by us then it means we have been defeated and I do not think that even with a cohort you could hold the damaged fort against a barbarian horde. But I do not think we will be defeated. My Tribune assures me his artillery will see off the rebel rabble. Isn’t that so Titus?”

  Titus looked up at the Legate. Those were the words of the Legate, not his. He could see that the Legate was a political creature; failure would see the blame heaped squarely on the Tribune’s shoulders. “Yes Legate as long as we have a field of battle which suits us.”

  “Good point Tribune. Centurion you know the area north of us where would be a good place to stop them? We need height to enable our bolt throwers to cause maximum casualties and we need some sort of narrow shallow valley to funnel them into the legion.”

  The Centurion went to the map on the wall and then returned to the Legate. “The other side of that ridge would be the best for there is a
quarry to the east which would force them west and the river takes a bend to the other side. The ridge is wooded which would allow the bolt throwers to stay hidden and not impede their rate of fire.

  “Excellent Centurion! We have finished our march and we get to sleep under a roof. Excellent! Titus, coordinate with the Centurion of the Ninth and build our camp on the field of battle. When the Prefect tells us where they are will end this rebellion. Oh and Titus, get the Tungrians to get rid of those scouts from the woods. It wouldn’t do to let our enemies know we have arrived eh?”

  Ownie and his warband joined up with the Queen as she camped five miles north of Morbium. Aodh was angry at the depleted numbers. “What happened? Where are the rest?”

  “After we left Seton, the cavalry returned and burned the settlement and killed many warriors. Some took the attack as a sign that things would not go well and they left to return to their homes.”

  Morwenna was not happy but she appeared philosophical about it. “We have more than enough to destroy Morbium on the morrow and, once we have captured it the rest of the land will flock to us. Only Eboracum will still remain as a symbol of Rome and it was so badly damaged the last time we attacked that the next time it will crumble like a piece of sheep’s cheese.”

  Ownie was not convinced but said nothing. He was beginning to realise that the Roman was machine was not as easy to destroy as the Queen and her advisors thought. He watched the wild women adoring her and shook his head. She was beginning to believe all that she preached. Ownie would prefer armoured men to a wild rabble of women if he were to attack a shield wall. He knew from speaking to the men he had brought from Seton that the attack by the Roman cavalry had severely damaged their confidence. They had seen how few cavalry there were and yet they had destroyed a strong settlement.

  Aodh called Ownie over. “Our scouts have not reported for a while. Send a few scouts out and find out the state of the fort.”

  “Aodh, you are a warrior. Can we still win?”

  “We can win but we need the legions to stay in Eboracum. This is a large army but it needs more training and preparation before we take on the best that Rome has. Were these Caledonii… but they are well trained and have never stopped fighting. They have never been conquered unlike the Brigante and Carvetii who have never won against the Romans. Do not get upset Ownie, for I know you to be brave, but the Brigante did not fight for many years whereas the Caledonii never stop fighting. “He smiled ruefully. “If there are no Romans then they will fight amongst themselves. You do not pick up the skills as quickly as that.”

  “I know. I am not angry with your words but the words of our so called leaders. If I had Colla here I would strangle him with my own hands. I will send out the scouts.”

  Morwenna and her leaders, men and women were planning the battle when the scouts returned. “Well where are the scouts?”

  “We never got as far as the woods. There is a legion at the fort.”

  Even Morwenna looked surprised. “A legion; are you sure? How many men?” The scouts could not use numbers and had not counted. They shrugged.

  Aodh understood their confusion. “You say a legion because they had the armour, square shields and red crests.” Eager to be able to give an answer they nodded. “Could you see into their camp?”

  “Yes for the walls were not high.”

  “Did you see an eagle?” They looked at each other in confusion and Aodh drew the eagle standard in the soil. They shook their heads.

  “They had a standard but it looked like this.” The scout drew a boar.

  “You are sure there was no eagle?” They shook their heads. As they were dismissed Aodh turned to the others. “It is legionaries not the legion. I did not think they would send a whole legion north. It is probably a few cohorts, probably two thousand men at most.”

  Ownie spoke up, “A legion or even part of a legion does change our plans does it not?”

  Morwenna nodded, “You are wise Ownie. It means that our warriors will not have to worry about the bolt throwers they had at Eboracum. Aodh you have fought the legions before, how will they fight?”

  “They will be in the centre with the auxiliaries, however many they have, on the flanks. They will have lines of three in blocks of three. If they have two cohorts then they will probably have six blocks altogether.”

  “Then we attack the weaker warriors on the flanks. If the legion pushes then let them. We can allow our centre to fall back and fall on their sides. The sign of the boar was a good omen for we will be the boar and the warriors in the middle will be the head.”

  Ownie was doubtful that there was enough discipline for such a manoeuvre but at least it was not the suicidal frontal attack he had expected. “I will take the right my queen.”

  “Excellent Ownie for that is the place of honour.”

  The Brigante chief wanted the right because that afforded him an escape route should the battle go, as he expected, ill and he wanted to be able to get back to his familiar hills and his homeland as swiftly as possible.

  “Sir the enemy are camped over the rise, about five miles from Morbium.”

  Julius was on the horns of a dilemma. Cassius was to the west and in a perfect position to observe the westward movements of the horde. If they were to turn north or east then Julius had the only force which could scout and trail them but he needed to meet with the garrison commander to coordinate his own movements. “Sergeant Cato.”

  “Sir. “The Sergeant was on the Prefect’s shoulder.

  “Detach four men and shadow the army. If they retreat stay in touch with them. If they deviate from a southerly or westerly direction then let me know.”

  The phlegmatic sergeant absent mindedly ruffled the main of his horse, “And where will you be Sir?”

  “In Morbium.”

  “Don’t forget that quarry Sir; you will have to go a long way around to get to the fort.”

  “Thank you sergeant. Good advice.”

  “As he rode away with his four men he shouted over his shoulder, “Wouldn’t want any horses getting injured.”

  It was dark by the time the weary troopers approached the fort from the east. “Halt! Who goes there?”

  “Prefect Demetrius of Marcus’ Horse.” Julius could feel the arrows being aimed at them and it was with some relief that he saw the light from the fort as the gates swung open to allow them entry.

  The Legate strode towards him. “Well done Prefect you and your men have done all that was asked.” Suddenly he saw how few men there were. “Is this all that is left of the ala?”

  Dismounting Julius shook his head, “No Sir. I have detached four turmae. One and a half are to the west of the horde and two and a half are at Brocauum watching the rebels who, apparently are at peace.”

  The Legate looked at the young patrician with new respect. He had used the limited forces he had well. “Excellent. We have a surprise for our young rebellious queen. I have brought some of the Ninth north. When she attacks this time we will be prepared. Come meet my new staff and have some food you look exhausted.”

  “I will just see to my men Sir and then I will join you.”

  When Julius finally joined the Legate, his Tribune and the three Centurions he was ready for bed but the Legate had other plans. “Have something to eat and drink while my Tribune, young Titus explains the battle orders.”

  Julius smiled at the discomfort of the blushing and uncomfortable young Tribune. “We will have two cohorts of the Ninth in three lines with the First as a reserve. The Tungrians will be on the right and the four centuries of the garrison on the left in front of my force. I will be in the woods with the artillery.” He leaned back pleased that the ordeal was over.

  Wiping his mouth Julius said, “And where will the cavalry be?”

  The Legate hid a smile as Titus looked around in confusion. “But you have less than thirty men Prefect. What can you do?”

  “Queen Cartimandua was rescued by less than thirty men. They fought off a warb
and as big as the one we face. They only emerged with a handful of troopers but they did their job.”

  Titus looked at the Legate for advice but the old soldier was enjoying watching the young puppy squirm. “Well Prefect, where would you place your cavalry?”

  The Legate smiled, young Titus was a politician. He had adroitly taken the initiative. “Cavalry can either be used as a shock force or a pursuing force. Obviously we are too few for the former but we need to be in a position to catch this queen when she flees.”

  “How do you know she will run Prefect?”

  “I know Legate because we knew her mother and we know her in the ala. She is slippery and cunning. She is resourceful and resilient. The only way she will be stopped is with her death.”

  The passion and hatred in his voice surprised all in the room. “You seem to have a personal vendetta against this woman.”

  “Her family were responsible for the murder of Queen Cartimandua, the rape and murder of Tribune Maximunius’ family and the death of Camp Prefect Flavius. There is not a trooper who would not give his life if it meant her death.”

  There was a charged silence in the room until Titus gave s small cough. “So Prefect your troopers will be where?”

  “She cannot go east, she has to go north and I have men watching that direction. I do not think she will flee there because the sea is a barrier and would prevent her escape. She will head west. Decurion Cassius is watching there but she is, as I said, cunning. She has allies in Caledonia and could go north west. She has friends in Mona and she could go south west and her father lived in the west. I will keep the ala in the woods to the west, close to your artillery. It will afford us the best view and when the fox runs then we will give chase.”

  The Legate nodded his approval. “When they have been dispersed Prefect what can you tell us of forces to the north?”

  “There is nothing north to worry about. They have emptied Dun Holme. There is one Roman fort still holding the road at Vinovia. After that the land is empty. The frontier begins and ends here on the Dunum.” He added sadly, “All the land won by Agricola and paid for with Roman blood has been lost.”