by Griff Hosker
“I know. Are you suggesting yourself or Marcus for that? I know that your families would appreciate it.”
“No sir. Marcus and I are needed here and it needs someone who is not as well known. I was thinking of Rufius.”
Rufius had been an Explorate along with Metellus. He was a superb tracker and had the ability to blend into a settlement and be unseen. “A good choice. Brief him and write your letters. Autumn will be here soon and I would like to be prepared. This will be our first winter with a finished wall. I cannot believe that the Selgovae will let us enjoy peace.”
“Surely the presence of the VIth will deter them sir.”
“I have just heard from the legate, Metellus, that they are to be withdrawn to Eboracum for the winter. It will be just us, the Tungrians and the Batavians.”
Chapter 3
Rufius’ hopes of a speedy journey south were thwarted when the legate decided that Julius Longinus, the ala clerk, and Titus Posthumous, the Quartermaster should go to Eboracum and arrange for the shipment of spears and other urgently needed supplies. Metellus’ Chosen Man, Gaius Paulus, led the half turma escort. Rufius knew he could be at Marcus’ home within four or five hours if he travelled alone but they were forced to travel at the speed of the wagon. They would take all day to reach Morbium and the crossing of the Dunum. Rufius was anxious to reach the farm as soon as possible. He would be going into the Brigante heartland and he needed to establish himself for his journey undercover.
Julius Longinus was just unhappy about the journey itself. “At my age I should not have to endure the privations of the roads; no matter how well built.”
The Legate had been insistent and Rufius suspected that Julius would be doing some secret work for the Legate whilst in Eboracum. Julius Longinus was a very astute man who could not only read, he could read people too. Not all of the Roman officials in Eboracum had the best interests of the Province at heart.
Looking on the positive side Rufius realised that the delay would allow his beard to grow a little more. Although many Brigante now affected the clean shaven look of the Roman army far more wore a beard. Rufius would just need a few days to acquire enough growth to pass unnoticed amongst the Brigante.
It felt strange to be back in the guise of an Explorate again. He did not wear the armour and uniform of a cavalryman; instead he wore breeches, a tunic and a cloak. The sword at his waist was not standard issue; he had acquired it during his travels in Gaul. It was attention to details such as that which sometimes made the difference between survival and discovery.
He rode next to Chosen Man Gaius. He had served with him and liked the young warrior. He had a background like Rufius. He had joined in Britannia. He was an Atrebate but, like Rufius, he was now Roman through and through.
“Decurion Atrebeus, I do not know why we need a sixteen man escort. These lands have been quiet for many years.”
Although Rufius secretly agreed with Gaius he was an officer and he put forward the argument Livius had used with him. “The tribes may not be in revolt but there are still bandits and deserters who would seize the opportunity to steal the horses and the wagon if we had a smaller escort.”
“Perhaps but they would have to be desperate bandits to take on Marcus’ Horse.”
“They attacked Decurion Aurelius the other day and he had a full turma.”
Gaius dismissed that argument. “They were Selgovae and they are all as mad as a fish! The Brigante are a cowed people. I will bet you ten sestercii that the only trouble we will have will be old Julius moaning.”
Rufius laughed. Julius’ was known as a grumpy old man; well liked but irascible. “You are on.”
The southern road from the wall was well maintained. Just five miles from the fort they passed a working party of Tungrians who were cutting back the new growth of trees which had sprung up over the last year. The reassuring wave from the optio made them all feel happier. It was a tedious journey for the cavalrymen who normally travelled at least three times faster than the slow wagon.
They halted for food and to rest the horses at the hill surrounded by the Vedra Fluvius. It was still just a wooden bridge which spanned the fast flowing river and Rufius wondered how long it would be before it was made a more solid and permanent structure. Julius Longinus showed his knowledge and military acumen when he identified the features which would make this a good site for a fort.
Gaius asked, “Why is there not one here already?”
“That was General Agricola’s decision. He destroyed the tribes around here so swiftly and was so keen to come to grips with the Picts that he did not bother. And he built Vinovia; that eliminated the need for a fort here. Now that we have the wall it is unnecessary. Still, it would be an impregnable fort.”
Rufius smiled at the old man’s mind. Rufius had passed by this site for many years and had not even dreamed that it might be used as a fort. Now that it was explained Rufius began to question why it had not been made into one. As he mounted his horse to continue the journey he answered himself; the land of the Brigante was at peace.
The bandits under Carac hid in the woods which lined the hated Roman roads. The roads were an affront to the gods and to the Mother Earth herself. They did not call themselves bandits. They thought that they were fighting for the freedom of their land. In their minds they were heroes. They were a band of Brigante who had refused to follow the orders of Chief Briac. They would not bow to the will of a man who was not pure Brigante. His father had been half Carvetii. Carac had been disappointed when just thirty of the warriors followed him. Perhaps if he had left flagrantly and blatantly under the eyes of Briac there might have been more. That might have been seen as a challenge but Carac, and those who followed him, left in the dead of night. The ones who remained felt that there was no honour in this.
It had been some months since they had left the village and their pickings had been slim. They had waylaid a few solitary wagons and riders but the Romans who had patrolled this road had been too numerous to attack. His men, he knew were restless. This was not the glorious revolt they had anticipated. They had dreamed of fighting hand to hand with the Romans and defeating them. He worried that soon they would drift back to their villages and he would be left alone.
Now Carac spied a kind of hope. His youngest warrior had been scouting to the north and he had seen the wagon with the handful of horses guarding it. The swiftly moving scout had taken a short cut through the forest to reach their camp. Carac was animated as he spoke with his men. For the first time they outnumbered the Romans.
“Today, my brothers, we have a chance to rid the land of some Romans. They are coming down this road and we will attack them and destroy them here.”
One of the older warriors, Scanlan, was sceptical. He was already thinking of returning to their village. “These are horsemen, Carac. What if they are Marcus’ Horse?”
Carac frowned in irritation. The name of the horsemen always inspired fear in the hearts of Brigante. They feared the wrath of the sword. He waved a dismissive hand. “It matters not. We outnumber them by two to one. We will have surprise on our side. Scanlan, take half of the men and go to the other side of the road. When we attack and their attention is upon us then you can fall on their unguarded backs. It will be a slaughter.”
If Carac intended the task as an insult it did not work. Scanlan spat on the forest floor and picked up his shield. Unlike some of the others he knew the value of a shield and a good sword. He had fought the Romans before. He pointed to the warriors he wanted and they loped off across the road. He shook his head in disgust. None of these had shields and the weapons they held were of poor quality. He hoped the Romans who were approaching were equally poorly equipped.
Rufius was not complacent as they reached the marker which told them that it was a mere ten miles from Morbium. He had operated behind enemy lines too many times for that. He knew the potential of an inattentive warrior. They might be close to a bed for the night but that didn’t mean they could r
elax. Gaius was a good leader but he was not the tracker that was Rufius and so when Rufius turned and said quietly, “Ambush ahead!” He was surprised.
“How do you know?”
Gesturing with his head Rufius said, “Forty paces up the undergrowth on both sides of the road has been moved and the vegetation trampled. It has not moved back yet and so it is recent. I will go to the left.” He turned his horse and said to Julius and the Quartermaster, “Ambush ahead, prepare yourselves. Whatever happens, driver, you keep moving.”
“Sir!”
Everyone, the Quartermaster included, respected Rufius and no-one questioned his word. Acutely aware that whoever was waiting was now but thirty paces along the road, Rufius wheeled his horse around and drew his spatha. “Troopers on the left with me. The rest on Chosen Man.”
Once again the troopers obeyed instantly. They hefted their javelins and watched to the left.
Carac was neither an experienced leader nor warrior. He did not notice that the soldiers looked prepared and were alert. He thought that they had remained hidden. When the wagon drew level he led his warriors forward screaming their war cry which he knew would instil fear into the Romans. Of course he did not take into account that the tree line had been cut back to thirty paces from the ditch at the edge of the road. Neither did he anticipate that the auxiliaries would be ready for him. Gaius and his troopers wheeled as one and hurled their first javelins as soon as the barbarians left the woods. Even as three men fell to the ground another eight javelins followed. Not waiting to see the effect Gaius and his men used their last javelins as lances and charged the surprised Brigante. Carac was speared by Gaius himself. The javelin struck his unprotected middle. Gaius twisted and pulled it out. Carac’s dreams of glory ended, along with the lives of his fellow warriors.
Scanlan son of Osric the brave was more cautious and experienced than Carac. He saw the troopers turn to face the woods and knew that they were expected. He had chosen the three men with bows. “Aim for the horses. You men with the spears make a hedgehog.” The three arrows sped towards the Romans. Two of the arrows were taken on the Roman shields but one horse was struck in the rump. It reared and screamed its pain. The trooper jerked on the reins so that it turned away from the threat and, more importantly, did not frighten the other horses.
Rufius leaned forward over his horse’s neck. He charged for the archers. Even as they prepared to loose a second Rufius’ horse thundered towards them. He chopped down on the closest warrior, the long spatha almost severing the man’s neck. Behind him two other troopers despatched the other two. Had the spearman stood they might have had a chance but the sight of three of their comrades lying dead and the javelins of the others hurling towards them showed them that their element of surprise had evaporated like morning mist.
When Gaius and his troopers appeared, Scanlan knew that the attack had failed. He would return to Briac. Pausing only to throw his spear at the trooper who charged him he turned and disappeared into the woods. The trooper pulled up his shield to take the spear. It cracked into the wood and he shook it free. When the young trooper looked for the warrior he saw only trees. He wheeled instead to despatch the warrior fleeing Rufius. It was all over within a short time. The only survivor, Scanlan, hid in a dell and watched as the Romans eased the pain of the dying and collected the weapons. He idly wondered why they did that. Their weapons were patently better. He suspected it was to deny the Brigante weapons of any type. When the wagon and its escort moved south Scanlan stood and headed slowly west. He would face Briac and whatever punishment was coming his way. When he passed Carac he noticed the surprised look on the reckless warrior’s face. Scanlan had made a mistake but he was a man and would own up to it.
The prefect at the fort was not surprised by their encounter. “We suspected there was a band operating and we sent regular patrols along the road but they saw no signs.”
“Well they are all dead now. They were Brigante.”
“That surprises me, Decurion. They have been as good as gold around here. We have a good relationship with them. Of course we put that down to the family of Decurion Aurelius. They live close enough for us to benefit from their friendship.”
Rufius nodded, “Well Gaius, I will leave you here and go to the farm. I doubt that you will have any trouble further south.” He pointed to the trooper whose horse had been wounded. “If you call at the farm of Decurion Princeps Metellus, his wife will let you have a replacement. She is good with horses and his mount will benefit.”
“Thank you sir.” He reached into his pocket for the money from the bet.
Rufius laughed and shook his head, “No Chosen Man, I shall not take your money. You will learn not to make such bets in the future.”
Gaius was sorry to see the Explorate leave. He had more skills than the Chosen Man could dream of.
Rufius kicked on. He knew the trail to Ailis’ farm as well as he knew the back of his horse’s head. He was still alert as he rode down the tree lined trail. He knew that the farm was the most secure place in the world apart from a Roman fort. Marcus’ father, Gaius Aurelius, had made strong walls and deep ditches to protect it. Marcus’ brother, Decius, now ran the farm and he maintained the high standards. Marcus’ wife, Frann and his children lived there in safety. Ailis, their mother, had been a slave and neither of the brothers would countenance owning a slave; instead they paid men to work their land and to guard their property. All of Marcus’ pay went into the upkeep of the homestead.
The trees were well cut back on the approach to the very Roman gate. A sentry appeared from behind the gate. Rufius smiled; his approach had been watched from a distance. He was, of course, recognised and waved through. Marcus’ Horse had been instrumental in saving the farm on many occasions and he relaxed for he knew he was amongst friends.
A stable boy raced to hold his horse. Rufius noticed the eager look on the boy’s face. He would, no doubt, yearn to be a horseman like Rufius. It was Ailis herself who came to greet Rufius. The Decurion had no idea of her age but knew that it had been over thirty years since she had been rescued. Yet, apart from the grey hair, she still looked as bright and alert as ever.
She greeted Rufius as though he were her son. “Welcome Decurion. How is my son?”
“As ever, domina, he is well and sends his love and felicitations.” He turned and went to his saddlebags. “I have letters for you and his lady.”
She took them; gratitude written all over her face. She was nothing if not astute. “But Prefect Livius did not send a decurion all the way here with just a message, did he?”
Rufius shook his head. Ailis was said to be an acolyte of the Mother and had second sight. She was certainly sharp for her age. “Can we talk?”
“Come to my garden.”
She linked Rufius’ arm and led him through a narrow gate into a walled garden. It was still filled with late summer flowers. The fruit trees were laden with apples, pears and plums. There was a carved seat next to the wall. This was obviously a favoured spot. She smiled as Rufius sat next to her. “I like to come here. It makes me closer to Gaius somehow and dear Uncle Gaelwyn. You can speak openly here for no one can hear.”
“I have been tasked by your son with two missions. I am to return north with Felix and Wolf.” She nodded. “And, first, I am to find out what is in the hearts of the Brigante. They have been quiet of late.”
She frowned briefly and then gripped Rufius’ arm tightly. “I believe my son has the second sight as I used to have. There is something brewing amongst the Brigante. Marcus is correct. No-one is speaking of war and yet warriors are practising the art of war. Many young warriors were missing from the villages for most of the summer. I believe they were being initiated.”
“It is as we feared.”
“Is that enough? Can you return with just the information of an old woman?”
Rufius laughed and kissed her on the top of her head. “You will never be old, domina. But I will have to go into the camps of these Brig
ante warriors. We need to know more of their plans.”
“It is dangerous.” She patted his hand and then said, “Take Felix and Wolf. The boy has grown much and reminds me of you when you were first a trooper.”
“I had intended to. Where would you suggest I begin?”
“Not at Stanwyck that is for sure. That is visited by the patrols from Morbium and Cataractonium on a regular basis. They are greeted as friends and yet I know that the villagers there loathe the Romans. You were better to head west towards the land above Lavatris.”
“We have a fort there also.”
“It contains but half a century now and they maintain the road only. The peace has meant that the rest of the garrison was sent further north.” She chuckled, “I suspect they have an easy time and they bother no-one. Most of them have been in the province for some time and many are due to retire.”
Rufius laughed, “You would make a good frumentari.”
She feigned outrage, “You think I am a spy?”
“No, domina but you give better intelligence than I could receive in Eboracum.” He looked up at the darkening sky. “I had better leave if I am to find Felix.”
“You will not stay with us?”
“I mean no disrespect, domina, but I have my duty.”
“I understand. Call on the way back but, please, take one of our horses. Yours is clearly Roman. There is no point telling the Brigante who you are.”
As she led him to the stables Rufius could not help reflecting on this remarkable woman who had survived slavery amongst the Picts, fought off raiders and rebels and yet was still able to function with such clarity of thought.
Ailis insisted that he use one of their saddles and she took his spatha from him and gave him another. “This was Uncle Gaelwyn’s. It is a Brigante blade and it will arouse no suspicion.”