by Griff Hosker
He found a well and a water trough filled with rainwater. Once he and his horse had drunk their fill he allowed his horse to graze on the grass in the middle of the huts. The length of grass told him no one had been here for some time. The roofs of the huts were all sound and he made himself comfortable and, after eating some apples, he fell asleep.
The screaming which awoke him was that of birds and not danger. His horse, well trained beast that it was, still nibbled the grass. Rufius threw some water on his face and ate the last of his apples. He climbed the wooden ladder to the top of the guard tower and looked north towards Mercaut. To his amazement he saw a causeway linking it to the land. That explained the defences. It was too far away to be able to make out the people but he decided to trust to the thistle token and the headman. He would pretend to be on his way north and seek food. It would be no lie for he was hungry enough to eat seaweed.
He rode along the beach rather than the road. His horse was able to open his legs and gallop through the surf. Cato, who had been the horse master of the ala, had sworn that running in sea water strengthened a horse’s legs. He slowed down as he approached the causeway. He could see that the tide was coming in and soon the causeway would be sea once more. He rode to the edge and was debating what to do when a woman of eighteen or so appeared at the island end of the causeway.
“Can we help you, sir?”
“I have ridden far and seek food and shelter.” He held up his purse, “I can pay.”
“Come then but come quickly or you will be swimming.”
Rufius urged his horse into the water. The gallop through the surf had freed him from fear and he plunged up to his haunches. By the time he was half way across Rufius was afraid that he would, indeed, have to swim but then the ground began to shelve and the water remained around his waist.
The woman laughed as he dismounted. His lower half was soaking wet. “You barely made it, sir. I am Mavourna and my father is lord of this island.”
“I am Rufius and I am travelling to meet King Ardal.”
A frown passed across her face briefly. Then she smiled. “Do you know the king?”
He shook my head, “No, but the headman at Am Beal thought he might have employment for me.”
He led his horse towards the cluster of buildings which nestled at the foot of the knoll. She looked at this ruggedly handsome man. She had few opportunities to see anyone who did not have a greybeard. “You are a warrior then?”
“I have been a warrior but now I am a trader in jet.”
Her eyes lit up. “Have you some with you? I am sure we could trade.”
Rufius was glad that he had retained a purse of the precious black gold. “I have.”
They were a hundred paces from the huts and a cluster of men had emerged. “I have to tell you, sir, that my father does not take kindly to strangers. Be patient and leave your sword sheathed. It would be best for all.”
“I will, I promise, and if this will cause trouble then I will return to the mainland.”
She laughed, “Then I hope that you and your horse are good swimmers.” She pointed behind and they were an island again.
An old man came towards them. He had white hair and a white beard, his back was crooked and yet there was a defiant look in his eyes. “Who is this intruder?”
Mavourna sighed, “He is no intruder, father. I invited him over. He is a jet trader and he will pay for his food.” Her eyes implored compliance and I nodded.
“Aye well we have little enough but if you were invited then I reckon I will make you welcome. I am Ban son of Ban who was the last true king of the Votadini.”
Rufius nodded although his mind was a maelstrom of thoughts. “And I am Rufius of the Atrebate.”
“They are a tribe from the south eh? And you have a Roman name.”
Both were jabbed at Rufius in an accusatory tone. “Er yes sir, the Atrebate people live in the land close to Camulodunum and I was given a Roman name when I served with the Roman auxiliaries.”
The answers seemed to satisfy the old man. “You can leave your horse here,” he chuckled, “he canna go anywhere until the tide goes out.”
They climbed the twisting path. Despite his age and obvious infirmity the old man climbed it unaided. The rest of the inhabitants all went about their jobs. There was a large hall within the walls of the fort. It was rectangular rather than round. They entered and Ban son of Ban slumped down in a chair. “Mead!”
A slave, identified by a yoke, rushed in and gave him a horn of the honeyed drink popular in the area. He swallowed it down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Sit down. Sit down. Well what have you to trade for your food?”
Rufius noticed that the horn Ban used was well worn. He reached into his satchel and took out a pair of the horns he had traded for at Am Beal. “Will these do sir?”
Before he could answer the woman grabbed them. “These are more than enough payment.” Her tone and her look shamed the old man into nodding his agreement.
Rufius then took out a particularly fine piece of jet and proffered it to her. “And this is for you, my lady, for your kindness.” He had no idea what had prompted his action but he was pleased he had for she beamed, kissed his hand and fled with the jet.
Ban smiled for the first time, “That was kind, sir, and you must forgive my bad temper. Put it down to aching bones and a wish to be young again.” He gestured to the door through which his daughter had gone. “We do not get many visitors here and I forget that she might be lonely.”
Rufius nodded, “Was not, Ban, a king in this land at the time of the invasion by the Romans?”
“Mead!”
The question appeared to have angered the old man. The slave scurried in, refilled the horn and fled in fear. “Aye, but that was before my father’s time. My father should have been king but that usurper Lugubelenus stole the throne from him and now Ardal has stolen it from me.” His sharp eyes suddenly stared at Rufius. “How do you know of Ban the old king?”
Rufius smiled, “My grandfather met a Ban who was at the court of King Prasutagus. He told me the story although the way he told it the Ban who visited King Prasutagus was a king.”
Ban’s faced relaxed, “Ah King Prasutagus. He was kinsman to my father. Had he not died and his tribe not revolted who knows what might have been different.”
The mood was lightened and the evening proved to be a pleasant one. Rufius was convinced that he had found the right place. He had no idea if the treasure was still here but he could return to the Legate with more information than he could have expected. The Ban he sought had been this man’s father.
Chapter 9
Livius and the ala did not reach Cilurnum until the first, early snows had fallen. They were weary and their horses were exhausted. Whilst the troopers stabled their horses Livius reported to the Legate.
“We visited every settlement along the Dunum and all the way to the west coast. We found some arms, not many but enough to suggest that someone is supplying the Brigante with high quality weapons.”
“That is disturbing news. Would you say you discouraged them from rebelling?”
Livius shook his head. He knew the Legate too well to give a flattering lie. “No, Legate, short of digging up every village and hanging a few headmen it is hard to see what else could have been done. Their hearts and minds have been won already. We are the enemy. Even Marcus and the Sword of Cartimandua appeared to have little effect.”
Julius Demetrius suddenly looked his age. “Would that I had some good news to impart to you but I fear there is precious little. The VIth has finally departed for Eboracum. That should mean that the land south of the Dunum is safe but we are now in greater danger. The little good news is that we have two new auxiliary units on the wall. The 1st Aelia Dacorum, a double strength cohort, has arrived and is now stationed at Vercovicium and the 1st Batavorum cohort is to be based at Luguvalium. They are a mixed cohort. We have more cavalry now.”
“Well tha
t is a relief. We will need remounts from Nanna soon. I would not like to send the ala out on patrol any time soon.”
“And the Quartermaster acquired those spears you wanted. Training can begin straight away.”
“Well that is good news.” Livius stretched. “It will be good to sleep in my own bed again. If that is all, sir?” He stood.
“Yes, Livius you and the ala have done well. Rest.”
As he turned to go Livius said, “And I will give some thought to that box from my uncle. I confess it has preyed upon my mind.”
Julius guiltily looked down. “Er, Livius, I er, well the fact of the matter is that I took it upon myself to investigate the matter.”
A brief flash of anger appeared on the Prefect’s face before he composed himself. “Sir?”
“Sit down, please.” As Livius seated himself Julius began. “I sent Rufius to find out if he could find this Ban. He found his son and he believes that the treasure is on an island called Mercaut about two or three days’ ride north of here.”
Livius felt a mixture of relief and apprehension. “I think I hoped that it had disappeared. I worry that we are opening Pandora’s box. We know not what the consequences might be.”
“True but if we hold the box then at least we are in control.”
“You wish me to retrieve the treasure then?”
Julius sighed, command was never easy and he knew he was going to upset his old friend. “I wish your men to retrieve the treasure.”
“But sir!”
The Legate held up his hand. “You and the Decurion Princeps will be needed here to train the men with the new spears and to prepare for what I believe will be a bloody spring. I want you to send Rufius and Marcus north to this island. Rufius has already made contact with Ban’s son and I believe he will be able to successfully complete the task.”
Livius could not fault the Legate’s argument but this had been a family matter. He wondered how it might have turned out if he had not opened the letter in the Legate’s office. “Why two turmae? Marcus and his men have just had a gruelling few weeks away.”
“I know. Give them a few days and they will recover enough. I am sending two because I want to give them a cover. This will look as though we are probing north. I have no doubt that there are Brigante spies all around us. It will allay the fears of the Brigante. I do not want them to know that we are aware of their plans. I want them to believe that their apparent innocence has fooled us.”
“Have you informed the Governor?”
“I have but he is new and he is too busy making his palace more comfortable. Besides his intelligence reports suggest that the Brigante are pacified. Even your evidence of a few swords and spears will not convince him. I fear the frontier forces are on their own. The VIth has been ordered to stay in Eboracum. By the time we can deploy them the rebellion will have started. At least they will be in a position to prevent it.”
Livius had forgotten the box already; it was a minor consideration. “And how will we deal with the threat?”
“I intend to call a meeting of the Prefects of the auxiliary units along the wall. Now that we have two more I hope we can field two thousand men to meet this threat.”
“But the barbarians will have more men than that.”
“I know. And that is another reason why you need to stay here. Your ala might be the difference between success and disaster.”
Caronwyn was also gathering together an alliance of leaders. She had gathered the tribal representatives of many tribes. She had warriors and priests from the Selgovae, the Novontae, the Dumnonii and even a warrior from the Venicones. The only tribe she had invited who was missing was the Votadini. She was being shunned by King Ardal. It was a minor irritation. She suspected it was because she still harboured Radha on the island. Caronwyn had hoped that the former Queen of the Votadini might have been able to draw in the young king but her gamble had failed. She was philosophical about it. She still had enough warriors to flood the wall from both sides. When the leaders left her she was confident that by the third moon after Yule the frontier would be in flames. Severus had told them all how to defeat the Romans and each leader had been given fine weapons,
There had been a couple of minor irritations which danced around the back of her mind like summer flies you hear but cannot see. Her Nemesis, Marcus’ Horse, had swept through the heartland of the Brigante and found some of the weapons. She now wondered if she had a spy within her camp and Pedair Briac’s cousin had reported the curious incident of the Roman north of the wall. It was a small thing but she could not understand its significance. What were Roman spies doing north of the wall? She knew that she would have to find out more before the fire could be ignited.
Marcus, Metellus and Rufius were summoned to the Prefect’s office a week after the return of the ala. Livius had insisted that the task of telling the young men what they were to do was his. The Legate ruled the wall but Livius was still the Prefect of Marcus’ Horse.
When they were seated he began by telling them the story of the box. He told them of Rufius’ work and the conclusions they had drawn. Marcus and Metellus were fascinated while Rufius just listened. He had not got the lovely Mavourna from his thoughts.
“I want two turmae to go to Mercaut and get the treasure. Rufius, you will need this.” He handed him the ring. “This is the sign that you come from Prasutagus.”
Rufius examined the beautifully made ring. Marcus asked, “Sir, why two turmae? It will draw attention to us. Surely it would be better for a couple of men to sneak into their land and retrieve the treasure.”
“The Legate wants the Brigante to think that we are considering expansion north of the wall. We are not.”
Rufius put the ring on the table, “Sir, what happens if the Votadini take exception to our presence? Do we fight?”
“No. We need no more enemies north of the wall. The Votadini are quiet let us leave them that way. You will negotiate or you will back off. Besides Traprain Law is far from Mercaut and with winter upon us the news would only reach King Ardal when you had completed the mission.”
Rufius took a deep breath, “And suppose Ban does not wish to hand over the box? We have no idea where it is save that it is probably on the island somewhere.”
There was a pause, “Persuade him.” Rufius knew that he had to get the box at whatever cost.
In Traprain Law King Ardal was listening to his advisers. Some wished him to join the alliance led by the priestess of Manavia. Others wished him to consolidate the new gains made against the Venicones. His younger brother, Banquo, however had other concerns. When the advisers and nobles had left them the young man gave voice to his thoughts.
“It seems to me, brother, that none of those is our priority. We have held the crown for a short time. The evil Radha is hiding on Manavia and who knows what mischief she can cause. We should ask this Caronwyn to hand over Radha to us as payment for joining the rebellion. Then there is our uncle, Ban. He squats still on his island and we both know that he resents the fact that we have power.”
King Ardal shook his head. His brother was the cleverest man he knew. Yet he could not believe that old Uncle Ban would cause trouble. “He has few men and he must be close to death.”
“Perhaps we can make him even closer.”
“I will not spill the blood of our family.”
“Then at least allow me to get assurances from him that he will not oppose us. I will have him swear an oath.”
King Ardal could not fault that. He had been mildly irritated that his uncle had not attended the coronation. Alone out of all the nobles, he had not sworn allegiance. “Very well, but no violence. Ban may be cantankerous but he is a loyal Votadini.”
“And Radha?”
“I will consider your suggestion brother. It has merit.” Ardal was pleased to have his belligerent and ambitious brother away from court. He offended too many people.
Banquo left, pleased that he had been tasked with something which suited
his nature. Unlike his brother, Banquo was vindictive. Mavourna had humiliated him by rejecting his advances some years earlier. Now that he had power he would make her rue her decision. He would also enjoy humbling his uncle who had ever disparaged the two of them. He and his oathsworn had spent many months preparing for war. This would be a chance to put some of those skills to the test.
The two turmae slipped across the bridge over the Tinea when the late autumn rains were slicing down. Almost all of the troopers had been born in Britannia and knew the vagaries of the weather but it was still a shock to the system. Marcus was amused when Rufius took out his hood and fastened it over his helmet.
“What in great Belenus’ name is that?”
“I was given it by the Votadini. It keeps out the rain.”
Marcus cocked his head to one side. “It does not look good Rufius.”
He laughed, “When have I ever worried about how I look?”
“That is because you have no woman in your life. Frann would not let me wear such a thing.”
“Perhaps that is one reason why I have never taken a wife.”
“Or because you are too old and set in your ways.”
“Now that is a good reason.”
Marcus nodded up the road, beyond the horizon. “This is new land for us.”
“Aye. You know the land to the west; it is where you and Marco defended the eagle but this coast has remained unknown to us all.” He gestured towards the road where an unhappy Felix sat astride a pony with a suspicious Wolf trotting next to him. “I am hoping that Felix can become familiar with the land. I barely left the road when I headed north.”
“Do we need to worry about attacks and ambushes?”
“I think not. I saw no sign of the Votadini and the last we heard they were busy with the Venicones. I feel we are too strong for the Selgovae bandits.” As they rode in silence, however, Rufius was worried that they might not be as welcome as he had been when he had been Rufius the jet merchant. He would hate to have to show strength to Angus and those who had been kind to him.