by Griff Hosker
“I thought the witch and her daughter were dead?”
“We know not how many daughters she had. Julius Longinus had studied the cult and knew that the priestesses of the cult liked to have many daughters. He even told me that they strangled any boys who were born to them so that they could keep their purity. The Brigante had ever been ill served by the cult.”
“Then why do we not wipe it out?”
“That is harder than you might think. When the sacred groves on Mona were destroyed we thought we had scotched the snake but it re-emerged on Manavia. It is like the Hydra and has many heads. When you cut off one head another appears.” He spread his arms. “Will you accept the commission? I do not order, I ask. There will be no shame in a refusal.”
Rufius considered. As an Atrebate he knew the significance of such royal accoutrements. It would do much to bring the southern tribes more firmly into the Roman fold. If the north revolted then the south might become restless too. He had not been back to his village and his family for years but he knew that they embraced the Roman way of life and a revolt would end in tears for them.
“I will do this. All I need to do is to find where the family of Ban live?”
“That is all.”
He nodded. “Who is the king of the Votadini now?”
He spread his hands, “We do not know. Since Lugubelenus was killed and Radha, his queen, disappeared we have heard little from them. It seems they have hidden away their new royal family. Their king lives in the far north of the land at an oppidum called Traprain Law. He may be descended from a relative of Ban, we simply do not know. Since we abandoned Alavna we have little intelligence from the region.” His face showed the disappointment he felt in his own actions. “The Votadini have been more peaceful than the Selgovae and I have not paid them as much attention as I ought.”
Rufius studied the map on the Legate’s wall and began to work out the best way to complete his mission. He had neither shaved nor cut his hair since his mission and he looked less like a Roman soldier. He just needed a story for his presence north of the wall. He realised the Legate was watching him with amusement. “I am sorry Legate. I was working out how best to do this.”
“There is a convoy of merchants who are travelling through Votadini country to trade with them.”
“Have the Votadini anything worth trading?”
“They have some fine sheepskins and they smoke fish. With winter approaching the merchants are keen to get some stock while they can. They are being escorted by some mercenaries. You could accompany them.”
Rufius nodded, “That would help me. Tell me, Legate, is there any of the black stone from the south, the jet in the fort?” Sometimes the soldiers confiscated goods in lieu of taxes. He knew that some had been taken earlier that month.
“I believe there is some. Why?”
“The Votadini and the other northern tribes revere it. I could go as a jet trader.”
“I will get some. There is a small box of it in Julius’ office. The convoy leaves in the morning.”
Rufius left to plan his trip. He would not risk Felix and Wolf. There was no need. Besides he owed a life already to the young Brigante. Honour demanded that he repay the Brigante before becoming indebted a second time.
Livius gathered the decurions around him. “The Legate wishes us to make our presence felt across the valley. In a perfect world we would travel south too but, with autumn approaching, I deem it prudent to let the Brigante know we are close. Each turma will be allocated a patrol area.” He smiled, “Decurion Princeps, you can have the area to the east of Via Trajanus and that way your turma can enjoy the comforts of your home for a night or too.”
Metellus showed his relief with a huge smile. “Thank you, Prefect.”
“Marcus, you know the area around Stanwyck better than any and, I dare say that Drugi can be of some assistance to you. As for the rest, you will be spread out from Metellus west in turma order. I will accompany our newest Decurion, Sextus Decimus.”
Marcus was happy that he would see his family again but he knew that he would not allow it to interfere with his work. Of all the warriors in Marcus’ Horse the burden of duty sat heaviest on the young man’s shoulders. It was not just the sword but his adopted brother who rode beside him. His new troopers always asked why he kept looking in the air when there were birds around. They were told that the spirit of his step brother lived in a hawk. To those born in the land of the Brigante that made perfect sense. The world of animals and man was intertwined; any fool knew that.
Marcus forced himself to visit with Drugi first. He would not lay himself open to a criticism that he saw his family first. Even though the troopers were watching for the hunter he surprised them all when he appeared from the undergrowth. He bowed, “It is good to see you, lord.”
Marcus leapt from his mount and embraced his companion. “Old friend, having escaped from slavery there is no lord between us. I am Marcus still and you are Drugi.”
He nodded, “What brings you here?”
“Rufius’ news of the training camp has meant that we need to find the weapons they are hiding. What have you heard?”
“Stanwyck is quiet and that is wrong. I have lived here long enough to know that it holds a place in every Brigante heart.”
“You think that they are pretending?”
“They are not what they seem.”
“Then I will visit there first. Would you come with us tomorrow when we see other places where they may have hidden weapons?”
“As ever, I serve you.” He waved at them and then disappeared in an instant. Chosen Man Gnaeus chuckled, “How someone his size does that is beyond me.”
“He is part of the forest as much as the boar, the wolf or the bear. He is a truly special person.”
“We are going to Stanwyck, sir, but Drugi said we would find nothing.”
“And that is why we must go there. If we do not, it will look suspicious. Besides, Drugi is correct, it does hold a special place and those elders there will be part of Briac’s plan.”
“I thought we had finished with him when he revolted the last time.”
Marcus’ voice was cold. “The only way you finish a warrior’s desire to fight is to kill him. Briac is a noble of the Brigante or the Carvetii and he will only stop fighting when he is dead. Remember that, Gnaeus.”
Gnaeus shivered, his Decurion had become harder since his step brother had been poisoned. He had heard that some of the priestesses of the Mother cult had survived. If they fell into Marcus’ hands it would go ill for them. There would be no mercy.
Although the defences of Stanwyck had been destroyed many years earlier, the ramparts and the ditches remained. It would have taken too long for the legions to destroy them. The villagers still lived in the round houses as they had in the time of Cartimandua although her hall had been destroyed during the fighting. The ramparts and ditches provided some protection from the elements and wild animals.
Elidr was the headman of the settlement. He was a cousin of Briac and was devoted to the fight against the Romans. He had fought against the Romans and the long scar down both his cheek and his chest were testament to his courage. He had been the only man Briac could trust to oversee Stanwyck. He was privy to all parts of Briac’s plan and had even helped to transport the weapons from Eboracum. When the rebellion came he would command a five hundred. He pretended that he was an ally of Rome and the local Roman garrisons sang his praises. The villagers knew the truth and knew just how ruthless he could be. Any sign of deviation from the plan resulted in pain or death for the offender. Two youths now lay at the bottom of the sacrificial pond.
When Elidr was told of the arrival of the horsemen he was neither worried nor surprised. The discovery of the training camp was the cause. He did not panic, nor did he bother to tell his people how to behave. They knew. He strapped on his old sword. It was part of the disguise. He was a warrior and had the battle rings as evidence. It would look wrong if he did not. The
re were, however, few weapons in the old fort. They were buried some way away beneath the remains of an old settlement, long abandoned. When the time came he and his warriors would join his cousin in the uprising and then the Romans would see the real Elidr.
Marcus did not take anything for granted as he led his men through what had been the main gate when there had been wooden walls on the ramparts. He ignored the smiles and the waves; they were merely for effect. It looked to be a prosperous settlement which surprised Marcus. He had not seen animals in the fields nor had he seen the signs of crops. It begged the question; what did these people do to survive?
The headman who strode down to meet them from the largest roundhouse was obviously a powerful warrior. He had a sword and he had battle scars but Marcus noticed his physique. This warrior trained still. He had not hung up his sword.
“I am Elidr, leader of these people. How can we serve the Emperor?”
“We have heard that some Brigante have been practising with weapons and heard rumours that an uprising is being planned.”
Elidr smiled, “We have old weapons and we love Rome. We have heard of small groups of young men who are anxious to prove themselves in war but they are a handful only.”
Marcus smiled his own false smile. “Then I am pleased that we have such a friend as you Elidr.” He scanned the huts. “To satisfy my Prefect’s curiosity would it be possible to search the huts? I believe you when you say there are no weapons but if I return without examining your huts I would be in trouble.” Marcus said it with a smile and saw the smile on Elidr’s face.
“Of course.”
Marcus turned, “Chosen Man, search the huts but be careful and try not to disturb too much.”
As the turma dismounted so did Marcus.
Elidr’s eyes suddenly widened involuntarily when he spied the hilt of the sword. “Is that the mystical Sword of Cartimandua I see; the sword of the Brigante?”
“It is, Elidr, and it protects the people still.” Marcus noticed the avarice in the headman’s eyes.
Gnaeus and the troopers soon emerged from the huts. He shook his head to indicate that they had found nothing worthy of mention. They remounted and sat in a column of twos behind the decurion.
“Farewell.” Marcus led the turma all the way through the fort to emerge at the far gate. He wanted them all to see Marcus’ Horse.
As they headed back to Drugi’s Gnaeus said, “Did you notice the strange thing about the villager sir?”
Marcus had been too busy with the headman to notice anything. “Not really.”
“There were no men at all in the village save the headman and four or five old men. There were only boys there and I mean very young boys.”
Marcus frowned. Boys meant they were not yet seven summers. Every man and youth over the age of seven was missing. That was sinister.
They headed for Drugi’s and found him waiting on the road to Ailis’ farm. “I thought you and your men would like a comfortable night at your mother’s.” He smiled, “And of course, Frann.”
Marcus blushed a little. It had been some months since he had seen his wife and he missed her. He would feel guilty knowing that he had home comforts while his troopers did not but he also knew they would not begrudge him a night in his own bed. Ailis greeted all of them as though they were her sons. She had been rescued by Marcus’ Horse over thirty years ago and she thanked them every day.
For their part the troopers enjoyed the food and the comfort of the farm. Drugi was a fine hunter and they would all enjoy meat, something which the Roman soldier was largely denied in his daily diet.
The following morning Drugi led them some way away from the hill fort and the farm. The trail they followed was familiar to Marcus. He, Decius and Macro had used it to hunt hares and game birds when they were growing up. He struggled to remember where it led. The entrance to the old abandoned village was somewhat overgrown but the path was well trodden.
“I know you have not brought us here just to give us exercise.”
“No, Roman, although I think some of your men need the exercise after the meat they ate last night. I brought you here because I found many recent tracks leading from Stanwyck to this old village.”
Marcus dismounted. “Gnaeus, put five men to watch the trail. The rest of you come with me.” Drugi led them to the centre of the five crumbling roundhouses. “What did you find?”
Drugi shrugged, “I found tracks and disturbed earth. Drugi is a hunter; he does not dig!”
Marcus laughed, “Does he tell us where to dig then?”
Drugi pointed to the largest hut. “In there.”
“Gnaeus, see what you can find in the deserted hut.” As his men entered the decrepit and ruined hut Marcus asked. “Are there any more places like this?”
“Not close but there were mules using the old paths to the west.” Marcus did not ask how he knew they were mules. Drugi knew the spoor and track of every animal that walked, crawled or slithered.
Gnaeus emerged. He held in his arms six spears. Titus followed with six swords and finally Decius carried the mail shirt. Gnaeus shook his head. “These are ours sir. These are quality weapons.”
“Right. Give the spears to the first six troopers. The Prefect wants us issued with them so we can be the start. Let another six of our men see if these swords are better than theirs.”
“And the mail shirt sir?”
“I think the prefect should see that, don’t you Chosen Man?”
Rufius did not like the merchant who organised the convoy. His name was Manius Postumus. He affected a Roman style of dress and speech but he was a Brigante trying to impress the Romans. He had tried to charge Rufius for his participation. “After all we have paid for these soldiers to escort us.”
Rufius had cast his eye over the ten so-called warriors. They were all tribesmen who had no other function. They had a variety of arms and helmets and none of them looked at all military.
“If you have paid these then you have been robbed.” He had drawn his own sword which was obviously better than those of the guards. “I will rely on my own weapon. When the Votadini have picked over your carcasses I will let your families know.”
“Do not be hasty. We are, after all, Romans. You may join us.”
Rufius had laughed, “Very generous of you I am sure.”
That had been the previous night and now, just after noon the thirty mules, ten guards and six merchants trudged up the half built Roman road. It had been started to provide communication with Alavna. The Roman fort had long been abandoned and the road was little better than a cleared trail but it was largely flat and even. The auxiliaries who had begun the road had cleared the sides of undergrowth which made ambush unlikely. Despite his words to Manius, Rufius was not worried about a Votadini attack. They had been quiet longer than the Brigante. They were a poor people with few resources. In the past they had been victims of attacks from the Selgovae, Carvetii and even the Brigante. Even so he watched every blade of grass, rock and bush for possible enemies.
Ernan, the son of Annis, was a Selgovae warrior. He had long ago learned that attacking Romans did not pay but the Votadini were a different matter. They provided a constant source of slaves. Slaves meant trade and provided the Selgovae with weapons and wine. He had led his fifteen men through the forests of the high country and now they waited close to the old Roman road and the village of Am Beal. They had spied the mules and the merchants long ago. Despite the fact that the merchants and guards outnumbered the Selgovae, Ernan was convinced they could overcome them. This would be a greater haul than just slaves. The mules looked laden with trade goods. They probably carried the fine pots and jugs the Romans made.
Ernan made his plans. He had six men on each side taking whatever cover they could find. He and the other five waited in the middle of the road. The road rose to the south and they would be hidden until the convoy crested the rise.
Rufius rode at the rear of the column. The mules made it the most pungent p
lace to ride but he wanted to watch the others. He had learned that riding at the back could have advantages. You saw how men rode, walked, talked and sometime, fought. Only one of the hired guards looked to have anything about him. His weapons were well cared for and he had an alert look about him. The others looked more likely to rob than to protect.
Suddenly Rufius heard a shout from the front of the column. One of the guards ran back towards the wall. The merchants each grabbed the nearest mule as though it might afford some protection. Rufius kicked his horse on and rode to the top of the rise. There he saw fifteen well armed Selgovae warriors. They were spread out in a half circle across the road. Only Rufius who had the best horse would have been able to escape. The rest would have been caught had they tried to run.
Manius addressed the guards. “Defend us! It is your duty! We have paid you!”
The leader of the mercenaries, an overweight warrior of the Carvetii called Senlan, spat on the ground and snarled. “They outnumber us. If we negotiate they won’t take all of our goods.”
Manius looked desperately at the others for help. The rest of the merchants feared for their lives and the hired swords began to back away. The Selgovae leader, confident now, strode forward. He grinned insolently, “It looks as though the warriors you hired are not willing to die. We will allow you to live. Just leave us your mules, weapons and your goods. You may return to the wall.”
Rufius nudged his horse forward. “You will take nothing of mine, Selgovae. Take what you will from these sheep but I pass.”
Ernan frowned. He had not expected resistance. He had correctly assessed the quality, or lack of it, of the hired men but he had not seen this warrior on a horse. His men looked at him. This was a challenge and Ernan had to meet it. He looked at the warrior. He looked handy but he only had a sword. Ernan had a shield, a long spear and a long sword. He could defeat him.
“Will your actions match your words? Will you dispute the road with me?”
“If it gets me to a bed for the night quicker then yes, I will.” He dismounted and handed the reins to the warrior who had the weapons which looked to be the best cared for. “Watch the horse for me. I will not be long.” He dropped his cloak and drew his sword. He put his hand around the back and ensured that his dagger was still in his belt. The Selgovae had warrior bands on his sword and his arms. He had killed men in battle. However he had never met an Explorate before and Rufius noted that the warrior was both short and stocky. Rufius had the advantage to height and he had a longer sword. The barbarian had leather armour and no helmet. As he approached him, Rufius noted that the shield had neither metal nor leather protecting the wood. It was not a good shield.