by Griff Hosker
He notched an arrow and slipped a little further west so that the barbarians’ backs were towards him. They would not expect an attack from that direction. He breathed slowly. At thirty paces distance he should not miss. The arrow thudded into the back of the first Novontae. The second hesitated as his companion fell next to him. The delay allowed Felix to notch another arrow and, as the warrior turned the arrow struck him in the throat.
Felix saw that they were dead and continued to head west. He had travelled no more than five hundred paces when he heard the sound of battle. He ran a little quicker. The ground began to fall away as the sounds grew louder. He stopped when he came to the edge of the road. There, on the hill opposite, was a deserted Roman fort. He could see the warriors attacking it. The standard which still stood amongst the defenders told him that they were Rufius and his men.
He turned and ran swiftly back through the forest. The trail ran in a circle around the base of this hill and he made good time. He saw the turma. They were on the road. He ran as fast as he could and slithered down the last slope to appear next to Marcus’ horse.
“Sir, the decurion is being attacked. They are two miles away at a Roman fort.”
“Good work, Felix. You wait here for us.” Felix nodded and began to get his breath back. Wolf panted next to him. They had both run themselves to the point of exhaustion. They needed the rest.
Marcus urged Raven on and the turma galloped down the road. The decurion did not need to tell his men what they were about. The headless troopers and Felix’s agitated state told them that their comrades were in trouble. Every trooper readied his spear and, as they rode along the rough road, slung his shield on to his shoulder.
Marcus’ mind was working out the best approach. If he was able to then Rufius would have fled such a trap. That meant that he was surrounded. That helped Marcus to come up with a solution to the problem. The enemy would have to spread their numbers around a perimeter. Marcus would punch a hole in one side and provide an escape route for Rufius. He shouted as they rode. “Gnaeus I want a wedge when we near the enemy. We are going to clear the barbarians from one side of the fort.”
He heard, “Sir!”
“Titus, have the horn ready, I will tell you when I want the charge sounding!”
“Sir!”
Even above the sound of the horses’ hooves they could hear the sound of battle. Marcus hoped that they were not too late. If Rufius and his men were dead by the time they arrived then his own turma could be in dire straits. The road bent around the hill and Marcus saw the beleaguered turma. They had a barricade before them. The old Roman ditches helped them and Marcus recognised Rufius as he jabbed down with his spear. Had the Novontae had arrows then this would be over but they had been forced to fight an enemy with height advantage. Marcus saw at least fifty warriors fighting on their side of the fort.
The ground flattened out. “Wedge!”
Gnaeus appeared on his right and Titus on his left. The barbarians were so intent on the fort that they did not hear the drumming of the hooves until the last minute. As the warriors at the bottom of the hill turned, Marcus shouted, “Sound the charge!”
The buccina’s notes and the screams of the skewered warriors were almost simultaneous. Marcus had no spear and he leaned forward to slice his sword and split open the skull of the Novontae before him. He was the point of the arrow which was driving inexorably up the hill. Their momentum carried them half way up and then they started to slow.
In the fort a desperate Rufius had seen the attack and heard the buccina. He shouted, “Chosen Man, pull back those on the west of the hill and mount up. Help is at hand. It is the Sword of Cartimandua!” That magical name brought instant hope to the fifteen troopers who remained. Rufius jabbed his spear into the side of the warrior who made the mistake of half turning to see the danger below him.
“Get on your horses! Now!” Rufius swung his spear in a long arc. The Novontae recoiled and he ran to the picket line and leapt on to his horse. The remaining troopers had grabbed their horses and Rufius could see the barbarians flooding over the western wall. There were just fourteen troopers left.
“Charge!”
The ragged line leapt the ditch and the vengeful troopers hacked and stabbed at the shocked Novontae. Their horses had been rested and their leap struck and killed many warriors. Hooves killed as effectively as a spear sometimes. Suddenly there were no more Novontae. Marcus was there before him.
“Sir, head down the road. We will cover your withdrawal.” Rufius nodded. “Javelins!” His turma had one javelin each left and they threw them at the Novontae who appeared at the fort’s edge. The ones who were not struck took shelter. “Sound the recall, Titus!”
The buccina sounded. Marcus was proud of his troopers as they wheeled their mounts around and descended the steep slope. The infuriated warriors tried to purse them but the horses were more surefooted and they were able to leap the dead Novontae whilst the warriors tripped and fell. Gnaeus and Marcus rode at the rear of the column of troopers. They kept glancing behind them but the Novontae gradually stopped. He heard their cheers ringing at the top of the fort. They regarded this as a victory. Their enemy had fled. If so it had been a costly one. The bodies of their warriors lay in piles around the fort. Rufius’ men had not died without a fight.
Rufius did not stop until he and his men reached Felix. They dismounted for there were wounded. “Marcus we need your capsarius; mine was killed.”
“Capsarius, see to the wounded. Gnaeus, put scouts out on the road. The Novontae may return. Felix, we will camp where we did last night. See if it is clear.” The scout ran down the road
Rufius drank from his water skin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That was a timely intervention but we were not expecting you. What made you leave your patrol?”
“Marius’ turma were massacred. We didn’t find his body. He may be a prisoner. You will see their remains at the camp. We had run in with a couple of Selgovae warbands. We lost one trooper and I picked up this.” He pointed to his bandaged leg.
“You did better than us. We managed to hit a Selgovae warband but as we tried to leave the fort we found we were trapped between two bands of Novontae and the valley was too steep to escape. Had you not chanced upon us then I fear we would have been done for.”
“All sorted sir.” The capsarius lowered his voice. “There are a couple of deep wounds there sir. I have stitched them but they won’t stand up to combat.”
Rufius nodded, “Thank you.” He mounted. “I think this curtails our patrol. It would be foolish to risk the rest of the troopers. We have done enough I think. We were due to return tomorrow in any case. The Selgovae and the Novontae will be looking over their shoulders. We will cross the river and head for Luguvalium.”
Blatobulgium was empty but an air of melancholy hung over it. The smoking pyre was a reminder of their dead comrades. “I would carry on to the fort now but my men need a rest. We will leave in the morning.”
Marcus was pleased that there was someone else to shoulder the responsibility of command. “Right, sir. I’ll get Felix to go hunting again.”
Rufius shook his head. “No, I want him to scout out the fort.”
“Right sir. I will go with him.”
He shook his head. “You are wounded. I will go. You take charge here.”
Rufius was not being heroic as he rode down the road behind the scout and his dog. He felt he had made a mistake by getting trapped. He had meant what he had said to Marcus. The Allfather watched over his young friend that was certain. The road suddenly opened up and Rufius heart sank. They need not go any further south. The fort was surrounded by Selgovae and Novontae warriors. Their escape route was barred.
Inside Luguvalium the Prefect was also surveying the scene. The Legate’s warning had ensured that there were plenty of supplies in and they had prepared their defences. The bolt throwers and ballistae had carved bloody lines in the advancing barbarians. They would not attemp
t that again. They had made a classic barbarian attack in broad daylight and had not even come close to the ditches. They had lost no men and the bodies outside showed their success.
He had also sent his mounted troopers from the fort to harass and harry any barbarians not in a large warband. Horse warriors were of little use inside the fort and it was difficult finding feed for the horses. At least this way they could graze at will. They could use the Stanegate to find refuge in another fort along the wall if they wished. Despite his preparations, however, he wondered just how long the barbarians would wait outside his walls. He knew that they did not have the determination of the Romans and he hoped they would leave and find an easier target. Nagging at the back of his mind was the thought that they would simply attack the wall at a mile castle or a turret. If that was the case then they would be truly isolated.
That was, indeed, the debate between the Selgovae and Novontae kings. The glory of the slaughter of the turma had been tempered by the losses they had sustained attacking the fort. “Let us leave this edifice and attack an easier target.”
Tiernan was there with his brother and he took offence at King Feanan’s words. “We can take this fort!”
Feanan sighed, “You are right but it would cost us many warriors.” He looked at Tole who appeared to be more reasonable than his fiery brother. “Remember the plan, King Tole. We are to join up with the Brigante. If the Romans remain in the fort, they will not be in a position to come to their comrades aid, will they? My scouts have reported that the wall is lightly held further to the east. There are just turrets and small fortlets. The ground is also better for our warriors. It is twenty Roman miles to their next large fort.”
It was a persuasive argument and King Tole made his decision. “We will do as you suggest King Feanan.” He saw his brother redden. “You can lead the assault on the wall my brother and gain all the glory you wish. How is that?”
Mollified the warrior nodded, “And we will slaughter every Roman we find!”
The Roman troopers were relieved to leave the camp. They were all superstitious and the spirits of their dead comrades seemed to hang in the air. They headed west. Felix and Wolf, inevitably, ranged far ahead. The only crossings of the wall were at the forts. Men on foot could climb the turf and the stone wall but horses could not. They would have to ride to Banna. It was the newest fort on the wall and, as far as Rufius could remember, the garrison still lived in tents and the walls were wooden. If the Votadini and Selgovae scouts had been thorough they would have discovered that it was held by half a cohort of Tungrians and was the weakest part of the whole wall.
They moved cautiously. There would be many bands of barbarians prowling in the vicinity of the wall. The last thing they needed, in their depleted state, was to run into a warband in this land without roads. The ground undulated giving tantalising glimpses of the wall. Felix and Wolf suddenly appeared as they crested a rise. The scout had seen something. “Decurion, the barbarians have left Luguvalium. I went to the high crag and I saw them. They are heading towards the wall.”
“Damn!” Rufius looked west as though he could see them. When he and Felix had seen their camp he had been appalled at the numbers. There were two huge warbands: one at each end of the wall. “This is a large warband, Marcus. There could be up to two thousand men. If they cross the Stanegate then we are in trouble. We need to ride as quickly as we can.”
Banna was built where the crags started. It was a good site and, when it was finished, it would be almost impossible to take. The Tungrian sentry was surprised to see the troopers. The marks on the wall and the handful of bodies by the ditch showed that they had been attacked.
“Decurion Atrebeus and two turmae of Marcus’ Horse requesting permission to enter the fort.”
The centurion who allowed them to enter checked carefully to see that this was not a trap.
He pointed to the soldiers being tended by the capsarii. “As you can see we were attacked a day or so ago. We beat them off but…”
Rufius dismounted to speak with him. “I hate to be the bearer of more bad news but there are up to two thousand barbarians heading this way. They may attack you but I think it is more likely that they will attack your men in your mile castles and turrets. I don’t want to tell you what to do but I would pull them inside the fort. The river at your front will give you a little extra protection.”
“That is a good idea. We are undermanned here. Any chance of help from the Legate?”
Rufius shrugged, “I will send a rider along the Stanegate to tell the Legate but the Votadini attacked Cilurnum and the Brigante have revolted too.”
“Thank you for the warning.” As the turmae left the fort he heard the centurion ordering the signals which would bring his men from the isolated turrets and mile castles to the east and the west, into the safety of the fort. It would double his garrison.
As they headed for the Stanegate, Gnaeus asked, “Doesn’t pulling them from their turrets defeat the point of the wall?”
“There are too many barbarians. They would die. This way the barbarians might get over the wall but they will be on foot.”
They reached the Stanegate and Rufius summoned his Chosen Man. “I want you to take the other wounded troopers back to Cilurnum. Tell the Legate what has happened. I suspect he will pull the other turmae south of the wall. You had better tell the Prefect at Vercovicium too. Tell the Legate that I will try to harass the barbarians on the Stanegate but we need help.”
Rufius could see that his Chosen Man wished to stay but he obeyed his orders and took the twelve wounded men back along the Stanegate. There were just twenty four troopers left. Marcus realised that ninety three had left Cilurnum. The ala had paid a high price already and the rebellion had barely started.
He watched Felix and Wolf as they darted in the distance. They were not looking for the barbarians; their numbers were so large that they would be easily seen. Felix was looking for a sign that the tribes had crossed the Stanegate. Rufius had contemplated sending the young scout back with the wounded but he was invaluable. The needs of the many outweighed the risks to the individual. The wall was clearly visible as they rode west along the Stanegate. In the distance he could see the Tungrian auxiliaries running back along the wall to Banna. Rufius breathed a sigh of relief. They would have more chance of survival there.
Suddenly Felix disappeared. Rufius knew the young scout well enough to realise that something was amiss. “Stand to.” Even though this was largely Marcus’ turma, as senior decurion Rufius took charge. Like Marcus his spear had gone in the fight and, like Marcus, he drew his sword. He saw movement. There was a body of men coming along the road.
“Shall we recall Felix sir?”
“I think not. He has enough wit about him to evade whoever it is. We know that they have no horses south of the wall. Whoever it is we can out run them. Let us wait and see.”
They all breathed a sigh of relief when they saw the Batavian standard and the horses. It was the cavalry from the mixed cohort. That meant there could be eight turmae ahead. The Cohors Equitata was not equipped as well as Marcus’ Horse and they had less experience. Even so Rufius was happy to have them by his side.
They did not have a decurion princeps. The senior decurion was an older decurion who had served with the Cohors since its foundation twenty years earlier. He was a grizzled old veteran. As soon as he saw the turma his spirits lifted a little. He recognised the standard; this was Marcus’ Horse. He had heard of them. On their patrol the Cohors Equitata had seen many barbarians and had chased the smaller bands away. The large warbands they had just seen climb over the wall had made Decurion Ulpius Marcus Albius decide to head for Vercovicium for orders. His own fort was surrounded.
The eight under strength turmae all halted. He saluted Rufius. “I am glad to see you. Where is the rest of your ala?”
“Where we were this morning, north of the wall.”
Shock rippled down the troopers within earshot. “How, in the
Allfather’s name did you escape unscathed?”
“We didn’t. There were ninety of us set out. The Legate’s orders were to harass the barbarians. We did that but now they have spread across the wall.”
“I know we just saw a huge band of them climbing over the wall.”
One of the Batavians shouted, “Decurion look!” He pointed to the north west where Felix and Wolf were racing towards them.
“Rest easy Decurion, he is our scout.”
“We just passed that place and didn’t see him.”
“If Felix doesn’t want you to see him then you don’t.”
Felix drew up next to the decurion. Wolf growled irritably at the strangers. “Selgovae and Novontae warriors, decurion and they are heading for the Stanegate.”
The Batavian troopers looked over their shoulders nervously. The decurion said, “Perhaps we should head for the fort too.”
Rufius shook his head. “We have orders from the Legate. We will follow them. Besides we are impotent behind walls we will use our advantage.” He patted his mount, “Our horses and our speed.”
“You can’t be serious! We have less than two hundred and thirty men. If this is the same band that we saw then there will be more than a thousand of them.”
Marcus said amiably, “More like two thousand actually.”
“And you still want to harass them? That is suicide.”
“No, decurion. They have no horses and few bowmen. Your men each have three javelins. Have they still got them?”
“Aye we used our swords to despatch the barbarians we found.”
“Good. My lads have their spears. All we have to do is to slow down their advance. Pick them off. We attack and run. I have sent a message to the legate. There will be reinforcements.” Rufius was stretching the truth. At best there would be four turmae for the rest were north of the wall.
“Felix, did you see any warriors across the Stanegate?”