by Griff Hosker
“No sir.”
“There you are Decurion. You have fought barbarians before. Do they ever fight in solid lines?”
“No they charge like mad buggers and every warrior tries to reach the enemy first.”
“And that is how we will whittle them down. We show them one turma. They will charge to get to grips. The turma will release their javelins and retreat. The next turma will do the same.”
“So that the barbarians will think that we have used all of our javelins.”
“Exactly and we will be killing their best and bravest warriors. Eventually whoever leads them will make them halt and try to advance in a single line. I have another plan to deal with that.”
Decurion Ulpius Marcus Albius thought it was a good plan. Then a sinister thought passed through his head. “And where will you and your lads be during all this? At the back watching my lads get killed?”
Rufius looked at him. “No, decurion, our turma will always be with those throwing the javelins. We will use our spears to protect your men and it will add to the illusion that it is the same men.”
“I am sorry that I doubted your honour.” He turned to his men. “First Turma to the fore.”
While they arranged themselves in a straight line Rufius said to Felix. “Find the ala. You may have to walk all the way to Cilurnum but you need to let the Prefect know what we are doing.” He pointed to the spare horses from the dead troopers. “Take a horse. You will be quicker.”
He nodded and left.
As he rode away Marcus was happy. The scout would survive. He was not sure any of the rest would but that did not matter so long as they stopped the barbarians.
Chapter 17
Far to the west King Ardal was less than happy with his young brother. Despite his initial success they had had to withdraw back across the wall and he had lost too many men in the abortive and premature attack. King Ardal wished that his little brother had obeyed his orders. However he had been led to believe that the Romans would withdraw their soldiers to face the threat from the south. Caronwyn and the Roman, Severus, had been confident that the Brigante attack in the south would draw Romans from the wall. There appeared to be as many Romans now on the wall as there had ever been. At the back of his mind was the impression that they had been duped. The Brigante were letting his warriors bleed so that they could attack when soldiers were sent north. This was his first test of leadership. He determined to make one more attack. If this failed then he would take it as a sign from the gods that they did not support this uprising.
After he had spoken to his leaders he watched their faces for any sign of dissension. There was none. His plan was the best that he could come up with and it met with the approval of those who would lead their men against the fort.
“Brother, let me lead the attack!” Banquo was desperate to make up for his failures a few days earlier.
Ardal’s smile was without both humour and warmth. “Banquo, you have done more than enough. You have put your life in danger for our people. It is my turn to lead.”
Ardal was already annoyed. He had promised the priestess and the other kings that he would attack when they did. Banquo’s reckless assault had meant a delay. Even worse the Romans would be expecting the attack. They would have reinforced the walls. The mile castle and the turret they had taken would now be strengthened. Since he had been told of Banquo’s actions the Votadini king had wracked his brain for a solution to his dilemma. Had he not promised his mother on her death bed to care for his little brother he would have had him executed out of hand.
He turned to his oathsworn. “Find men with axes. I want as many large trees cutting down as they can.” He turned to his brother. “There is something you could do while we are making preparations. If, that is, you still wish to gain some honour.”
“I do brother. Anything!”
“I want you to take your warband to the north western wall of their fort. Go close to the northern gate but stay out of range of their bolt throwers. Challenge a Roman to single combat.” He saw the look on Banquo’s face. “Do not worry brother it will not be accepted. The Romans have no honour. I want you to keep their attention on you.”
“I am happy to fight any Roman in single combat.” King Ardal nodded. “And what will you do, brother?”
“I will attack the fort.”
When his oathsworn returned just after noon he saw that they had managed to cut down twenty trees. “I want them tied together to make five rafts.”
“You are going to attack the bridge!”
“I am going to use them to get a large number of men to the bridge so that we can pin down their men. There are neither towers nor turrets on the bridge. They have one tower at each end. My brother took one such tower easily. If we take the bridge then the fort is cut off.”
The leader of his oathsworn, Barac, looked almost disappointed. “Then we do not attack their fort?”
“That would merely waste men. When night falls we will do as my brother tried to do and use cunning to breach the walls. My brother and his men can continue to distract the Romans.”
Barac was much older than the young king but he saw in him a wise warrior. He would not throw lives away.
Livius and Julius looked over the wall at the Votadini. Banquo had disobeyed his brother’s orders again and ridden to within a hundred paces of the Roman fort. He was doing so to show his men how brave he was. He enjoyed the adulation and attention he would receive. The six hundred men of his who remained were all out of range of the bolt throwers. Banquo could not know that they would not waste an arrow or a bolt on one man. He thought that they were afraid of him. He paraded up and down shouting out his challenge. At one point he turned his back on them and lowered his breeks to reveal his bare rear. His warband hooted and cheered their approval. He strutted like a young cockerel.
Livius and Julius were almost ignoring the young warrior who kept shouting insults. “The attack might have been repulsed but it has stopped us sending out the next three turmae.”
“Yes Legate, but we now have more men within the fort.”
“I would they were out there sowing the seeds of doubt in their mind. Besides, I hate to think of the three turmae we sent out isolated in the west. Poor Metellus is beside himself. He feels it should be him who is surrounded by barbarians and not those other decurions.”
“The question is what is this all about? Why is the young man still parading around? It must be obvious that his challenge is not being accepted.”
“They are planning something. We now have extra guards. I want a watch kept on all the walls but the southern wall.”
Livius left to organise the extra sentries and Julius began to walk along the north wall. The defences had held. The casualties had been heavier than they had hoped but the Votadini had lost more. That did not help the Romans. The barbarians could be reinforced with an almost inexhaustible supply of men eager to fight. Julius could not even replace one man! The problem was that the Legate had not had any word from the south. He was blind. He knew that he should have arranged for vessels to be at Coriosopitum. They would have been able to travel to Eboracum and gather news. It would have been slow but he would not be in the dark.
Livius caught up with him. “I can see what they are up to. They have rafted men down to the bridge. They are attacking there.”
“Reinforce the tower at the western end.”
“I have done so but we do not have enough men on the bridge. They will be able to capture it. Our artillery is sited to cover the north. We have no weapons which can clear the bridge save the arrows of the archers and we have few of them.”
Julius smiled, “You know this is very thoughtful of the barbarians. They are finding out all the flaws in the wall.” He patted Livius’ arm. “Come we will go to the east gate and put our minds to the problem.”
Barac and King Ardal had managed to ferry a hundred warriors on their crude boats. Only three men had been lost before they reached the bridge. Th
e Romans had been taken by surprise and they had managed to scale the bridge. The sentries had fought bravely but they were too few and they had fled to the two towers at either end of the bridge. The archers had killed three warriors before the Votadini withdrew to a safer range.
Barac signalled the waiting warriors. They were ready to move down the river bank and assault the tower. It was only made of wood and held but twenty men. He looked admiringly at King Ardal who hefted his shield around as he prepared to lead a wedge of warriors to attack the wooden gate in the tower. This was a good leader.
The king nodded to Barac who shouted at his men. “You men with the bows, I want the Roman archers’ heads kept down! I’ll take it out of your hides if their arrows strike the king.”
The handful of archers had been chosen for their skill. They were all hunters and although they were not using war bows the arrows could still kill. The auxiliary archers were gradually whittled down. When King Ardal and his men reached the gate they raised their shields while the two men with the axes began to hack a hole in the door. Stones were dropped on to the shield but King Ardal had anticipated that and the shields were angled out so that little damage was done.
One of the axe men died when his axe finally punched a hole in the door and he was speared as he barged in. King Ardal killed his killer and his sword sliced and hacked the auxiliaries who stood in his way.
The optio knew when he was beaten. “Back to the fort!” The ten survivors ran the hundred and ten paces back to the east gate and safety.
Livius and Julius had moved two bolt throwers to the ramparts above the gate and they were ready to clear the bridge but were puzzled when the Votadini made no attempt to follow the auxiliaries. Metellus had joined them and he pointed to the river. “Sir, they are reinforcing the bridge from the river.”
“Very clever. The bank protects them and they have now cut the wall in two.”
“They will attack tonight.”
“Of course, Livius. I want your ala mounting just before dusk. Take them out by the southern gate. Just issue javelins; five for each trooper. We will attack the men on the river bank.”
“What about those on the bridge sir?”
“We will use the bolt throwers and the ballistae. The tower should burn well.”
Julius stayed there while the afternoon dragged on. He became alarmed when he saw the Votadini beginning to damage the piers on which the bridge stood. “That won’t do.” He turned to the crew of the bolt thrower. “Gentlemen I want you to stop them damaging my bridge. Take your time but I want the barbarians discouraged.”
He watched as they carefully chose their bolt and then aimed the wooden and metal machine. Julius smiled. He could almost smell the tension. They were under the eyes of the legate. Normally it would just be the centurion who would watch them but they had the most senior officer north of Eboracum.
The Votadini obviously thought that they were safe. Six warriors formed a barrier with their shields whilst the other twelve worked with axes to scrape away the mortar. Decius and his bolt thrower crew had watched the bridge every day for the past month of their duty and they knew where the barbarians would be working. Even though their view was masked by the shields they were confident in their aim.
Decius nodded to his crew and then released the bolt. It made the reassuring crack followed by a whoosh as it sped towards its target. It went through the shield of the first warrior and the warrior himself. It did not stop there but plunged through the head of the next Votadini sending a bloody mass of bone, blood and brains over the warriors around. The last two men were pinned together in death. The bodies of the warriors who had been struck hit other warriors, knocking them into the river. With just one strike twelve of the eighteen men who had been working at the bridge were either dead or incapacitated.
Julius Demetrius patted Decius on the back. “Excellent work soldier!”
Decius was also delighted. They were far closer to their targets than they normally were and even he had been astounded at the effect of their weapon. They reloaded as the Votadini tried to begin their work again.
Julius was confident that the Votadini would not be able to destroy the bridge; it was too well made. He wanted their attention on the gate and not on the open ground to the south. Julius could have sent the ala out by the lesser east gate but he wanted complete surprise. As the second bolt thundered towards the Votadini the Legate knew that they had surprise for the barbarians all looked towards the fort and began to realign their warriors.
He walked over to the crew of the small onager which had just been moved into position between the two bolt throwers. “Now you see what your comrades have done?” The crew nodded. “Let us see if you can do as well. I want you to burn that tower.”
They looked at the wooden tower which was less than a hundred and forty paces away. “It’s a bit close for us sir.”
“I know lads, just take your time but when it gets dark about two hundred of our hairy arsed friends will suddenly erupt from there and come across here to do fairly wicked things to us. I think it would be better if we stopped them before they got here eh?” Julius was used to talking to such men and his words had the right effect.
The optio grinned, “Will do, sir. Gaius, go and get the incendiary ammunition. You two bring that brazier over here but be careful. We don’t want to burn the Legate do we?”
“I’ll get out of your way, optio.”
Julius felt some sympathy for the crew. They were there to attack an enemy who was further away. They had not envisaged having to attack their own defences. The crew had had to swing the machine around as it normally defended the area to the north. All the time the crew were preparing their machine Julius could hear the regular crack of the bolt thrower. He glanced to the south. There was still no sign of the ala. He knew that Livius would want everything in place before he attacked.
“Ready sir.”
“Very well, optio.”
The optio released the machine which made a softer crack than the bolt thrower. The flaming ball flew high and over the tower to strike the bridge beyond. One poor warrior was struck by the missile and he and the ball of flame fell hissing into the Tinea. His companions immediately took shelter behind the tower. It was a mistake. The next missile was short and burned on the stones of the walkway but that seemed to please the optio. He made a slight adjustment to the mechanism and then rubbed his hands. “Right sir, third time should do the trick.”
This time the flaming missile hit the wooden tower half way up and the wooden structure burst into flames. They loosed their missiles far quicker now that they had the range. Julius turned to the second bolt thrower crew. “Right boys. See what you can hit eh?”
The crew were eager to join their companions and they sent bolt after bolt into the fiery tower. Soon the onager crew had stopped wasting missiles for the tower was almost destroyed. The Votadini who had been within were either dead or hurling themselves from the bridge to the waters. Even King Ardal was forced to escape that way. The effect was to make every Votadini warrior stare in horror at the burning pyre.
When the buccina sounded, heralding the charge of the ala, there were no warriors facing south. Livius himself led the first turma along with Metellus. They galloped the hundred or so paces to the Votadini and hurled their javelins. Smartly wheeling to the west they cleared the space for the second turma. By the time the fifth turma had thrown their missiles the Votadini were flooding north away from the disaster of the bridge. Soon the only Votadini who remained within sight of the wall was Banquo who could not believe the disaster which had unfolded almost before his eyes. He was the last warrior to leave the wall as the Votadini part of the rebellion ended in failure. He trudged off alone wondering where it had all gone wrong. The rest of the Votadini either floated down the river or lay in untidy and bloody heaps on the banks of the Tinea.
Once the bloodletting in Morbium had finished Briac gathered his leaders around him. They needed to plan their ne
xt moves. He looked around, irritably, for Severus. He was nowhere to be seen. Severus and his Romans had not participated. They were in this for the money. Whilst Briac and his men had butchered and dismembered the garrison, he and his men had found the Praetorium and removed the chest containing the auxiliaries’ money and the next month’s pay. It was a hefty chest. Severus, as leader, took the lion’s share but all gained more money than they had been paid during their whole service to Rome. Between them they had decided to stay with the rebellion so long as there was money to be made but at the first sign of defeat then they would head for the boat they had bought. Even now it was lying moored off the coast. Their three crippled comrades were there to guard it. Severus kept their share for them.
When they emerged from the office, Briac said, “About time too! We have plans to make!”
Severus shrugged, “You and your warriors seemed happy to be torturing the Batavians. We did not wish to interrupt you and spoil your fun.”
“We have finished now. I intend to sweep north and conquer the land up to Coriosopitum.” He waved a hand towards the west. “The farm is a distraction. This is our business; destroying Roman garrisons! The Votadini and the Selgovae should have subdued the wall by now. We don’t want them claiming too much Brigante land.”
Despite all his training with the tribes and the new weapons Severus doubted that the tribes would have succeeded. They would hurt the garrisons, of that he was certain but the barbarians were not equipped to take Roman forts. But for his trick the fort at Morbium would still remain in Roman hands.
He nodded, “Then my men and I will guard this crossing for you.”
“Surely that is unnecessary.”
He laughed, “Now I know why you Brigante have failed in all your rebellions thus far. If you leave this fort then when the VIth come north, and believe me they will, then there will be nothing to stop them reinvesting it and then trapping you and your army between here and the wall!”