by Griff Hosker
Chapter 7
Eboracum
The pleasure at the return of his acolyte was diminished for Ulpius by the fact that the Queen now had an entourage and he could not be as close to her as hitherto. He would have to forego the pleasure of waking up in her arms and making love before the dawn broke. He smiled to himself; there was no doubt that the queen would be missing it too. The few times they were in contact there was an audience. He had enjoyed the nights spent in her arms and the joy of awakening to her each morning. That was now ended and he had to get his pleasure where he could in small ways. He took a young boy’s pleasure in accidentally brushing her fingers and she reciprocated every action. He was sure that people must see their looks and almost smell the animal attraction they had for each other but everyone appeared to be oblivious or, perhaps, too tactful to comment.
It was on one such occasion that the love struck cavalryman had a body blow to his nightly visits. He was summoned to headquarters. Not only was Flavius there but also Queen Cartimandua and, most unusually, the tribune, Saenius Augustinius. The tribune was a small unimportant looking individual. He had the frightened look of a child found with his fingers in the sweetmeats. He had been given the post by his uncle in Rome, an uncle who wanted an incompetent out of the way in the wilds of Britannia. If the truth were to be known he had hoped that he would have been killed before now and from that he would have made much political capital. Tribunes had paper power but most were only in post for a year or two and then they would return to Rome and feast out on stories of the frontier. Although he was cowardly he had cunning and a guile which matched his uncle. He knew that he could gain much credit for the rescue of Cartimandua. He had visions of returning to Rome with her on his arm, not as a bride but evidence of his courage. He would emulate Claudius who returned with Caractacus in chains.
He shifted uncomfortably upon his couch when Ulpius entered with the leader of the other ala quinquigeria, Aurelius Suetonius; he found these auxiliary cavalrymen too uncouth and wild. They were not Romans and he could smell them before he saw them. He thought they all had the air of barbarians and they were, after all, only one generation removed from barbarians. They might wear Roman armour but their hair was still long in the style of their peoples, they wore amulets and still insisted on carrying the decapitated heads of their enemies; barbarians still. He was quite happy to waste their useless lives; it was the legionaries who would protect him behind their solid phalanx of shields. It was the legions who would defeat these tribes not barbarians from some eastern backwater.
He looked at the tall decurion princeps and found much to dislike about him even excusing the disgusting mess that had been one of his eyes which he, apparently, had lost it in the service of Rome; could the man not wear a patch? He also disliked the insolent look he normally gave to the tribune on the rare occasions when he actually had to speak to him and now he noticed looks exchanged between the Queen and this cavalryman. He had heard rumours, not only about Cartimandua’s sexual appetite, but also her liaison with a Roman. Heaven forefend that it should be this barbarian. All in all he decided that he needed to be rid of this ugly barbarian who might have too much influence over the Brigante queen. Even though the days were shortening and the harvests were being gathered he would have him away from the fortress. He was a constant reminder that the Queen had not been rescued by him, the tribune, but a wild barbarian. Once he was rid of him the story could change and move him into a more prominent light.
“You have done well decurion princeps and you have been rewarded. I have another task for you. Take your men and sweep away the last of these rebels.”
Ulpius looked incredulously at the tribune. “With five hundred men? Venutius will have at least ten times more!”
“Not afraid are we?” He sneered. “Is this the mighty warrior who snatched the beautiful Queen Cartimandua from under the nose of her husband?”
The Queen’s face coloured a vivid red. “Enough! I know of the courage of this man and I dislike your implication tribune. Be careful you are still a guest in my land. Think before you speak little man.” The threat was a powerful one for the Queen held the affection of many of the Brigante. Venutius just had the hotheads. If she chose to make the north rise then all the gains made in the last few years would be wasted. Augustinius visibly quailed before her onslaught. She was as wild a woman as any barbarian.
She turned to Ulpius her voice softened, almost gentle. “The tribune did not explain himself well. There are reported to be a number of bands still wandering on this side of the mountains. We wish you to destroy them before the onset of winter so that we...”
“That is all you need to know,” interrupted the tribune.
Flavius decided that the meeting had gone on long enough. “Take enough supplies for fourteen days. You need not go further north than Calcaria in the south, Cataractonium in the north and Virosidum to the west. That should scour the land around Stanwyck and anything further away is too far to harm us with winter approaching.” He paused as he wondered about giving Ulpius a task which ought to have been carried out in the summer. “If you deem it safe and the patrol is successful investigate the great river to the north for we may need to cross that in the spring if we take the war to the Carvetii.” All of them avoided mentioning the fact that many Brigante were still rebelling not only against Rome but the queen. All of them were diplomatic enough to realise it would only antagonise the queen. Even Ulpius had learned not to be the plain speaking warrior he had always been. The enemy was always Venutius and his Carvetii not the Brigante.
“If you find any of my loyal people please bring them back to me. I am feeling lonely. You may come across some of my bodyguard.”
“I am afraid not my Queen. When my men returned with your handmaidens they reported finding the slain bodies of all your guard at the river crossing where they laid their ambush. None of them made it to Cataractonium. He said they died well.”
“Good for I do not want the oathsworn to have died in vain. Be careful warrior I have still to reward you for saving my life.” The look was subtle but Ulpius saw it and felt a warm glow. Flavius also noticed it; he would need to have a word with his friend when he returned from this patrol for he knew the antipathy felt by the tribune for his friend. It would not do to have him risk the enmity of such a powerful and well connected patrician. Flavius had only survived as long as he had by holding his tongue and flattering the younger Roman popinjays. He did not intend to end his days on a cross in this empty land far from his homeland. His friend would need to curb his tongue.
As Ulpius left he spoke to the ala clerk. “Get all my decurions at my tent now.” His mind was already formulating a plan even as he walked. He would play the Carvetii at their own game; he too would use cunning and guile. His advantage was he had Roman discipline and weaponry.
He counted only fifteen men. “Ask Lucius Demetrius to join us as his decurion is still in the hospital.” He decided he would have to get a better clerk one who was able to think for himself. “This will be the first time you have fought under my banner.” Even though he was Roman he knew that the men in front of him still remembered their barbarian, tribal past. “My rules are quite simple. Obey me instantly. I do not like unnecessary questions. If you are still confused ask the new decurion of the second turma I am sure he can enlighten you.” They all smiled at Marcus’ obvious embarrassment. “Look after your horses and your men. That is it, those are my rules.” He nodded at Lucius who had just entered. “We are going out for a patrol. We will be heading southeast towards the Parisi just to make sure they haven’t got any ideas from Venutius. We will need enough supplies for twenty nights. We ride in an hour.” As they left he noticed Flavius standing by the tent entrance.
“Are you making up your own orders now decurion princeps?”
“No prefect. I will be obeying your orders and, once we are a good way from the fort I will issue new orders.”
“I am curious. Do you not trust your
men?”
“I trust my men not their tongues. There are too many people around here we do not know yet. I don’t believe in taking any chances.”
Flavius nodded. He had chosen well. His friend was a good leader and would go far and, more importantly, would not risk Rome’s soldiers unnecessarily.
The five hundred warriors made a magnificent sight as they left the security of the fort. Their horsehair pennants danced in the autumn breeze and the early morning light reflected from the gleaming mail. At their head sat Ulpius now with his own red horsehair standard carried by the beaming Gaius delighted that he had been chosen. Ulpius allowed himself a rare smile. He had been touched by the youth’s devotion and having had his life saved he felt honour bound to reward him. It was little enough he had done for the life of a standard bearer was considerably shorter than that of an ordinary auxiliary.
They were five miles from the camp heading towards Petuaria when the decurion princeps called a halt. He summoned his decurions whilst the troopers ensured that their saddles were tight and their equipment secure.
“Now that we are safe from prying ears and mouths too full of their own importance I can reveal where we are actually going.” He drew in the soil a crude map and pointed as he did so. “Lucius Emprenius will take turmae nine, ten eleven and twelve towards Calcaria, then to Verbeia and meet with me at Virosidum. Fulvius Agrippa, you have the harder ride. You will head for Stanwyck with turma thirteen, fourteen, fifteen and sixteen and thence Cataractonium and you too will meet me at Virosidum. You have seven days. Be careful near to the fort and approach cautiously for Venutius may have fortified it again. I will take the rest of the ala directly for Virosidum.” His officers looked at him and Ulpius realised he could not be as close mouthed as when he had been a mere decurion. He needed his officers to know his mind, he needed to trust them. If he fell they would need to carry out his orders. He was learning the lessons of command. Marcus noticed the change in his leader and saw too that he would also need to change with his new responsibility. ”I am stealing a trick from Venutius. You are to drive any groups of Brigante towards me. I will be going slower than you. It is important that no one escapes south or north. You need to keep in touch with me. The senior decurion will assign a rider to give me a daily report; where you are and what you have encountered.”
“What if we meet with a larger group? Larger than we can handle?”
“We are cavalry. We can move faster than anything they have. The only danger is when we are in their woods. Avoid them if you can. Any more questions?”
“If we do meet a larger force what then?”
“Shadow and send for me. We will be never more than a hard gallop apart. The land we will be travelling is supposed to be peaceful and any warriors you meet will be the enemy. I will be the anvil to your hammers. Conserve your men and horses. Seven days is ample time to get to our meeting place. We will not be able to replenish any supplies and more importantly we have the best horses. If you lose your horses you become a foot soldier and you will lose your head. Speaking of which, we are trying to leave a message. When your troopers take heads make them into a pile, a marker to show all rebels the folly of rebelling against Rome.”
“I thought they were rebelling against the Queen?”
Ulpius fixed the young decurion of the tenth turma. “That is one and the same thing. The Queen is an ally of Rome what is hers is Rome’s. Now get back to your men and ride.”
Cresens couldn’t wait to get to his contact. He had information which would rid him of Ulpius and would further cement his position with the barbarians. He ran his tongue over his fat lips as he anticipated meeting with the witch. She excited him; the women he could afford were skeletons by comparison with the alluring and seductive witch. Her power and sexuality excited him and he felt himself becoming larger as he thought on her. Her threats did not worry him. He had taken many women against their will in the past and when the time was right he would have her and she would in no position to fight back, but for now he would be compliant; the lure of gold was strong.
There was a faint plume of smoke coming from the hut and he tentatively tapped on the wood. “Come in Roman.”
His first thoughts were, ‘how did she know it was him’ and the second was ‘was she alone’?
“You smell like a girl Roman. I knew it was you when you were a hundred paces from my home.”
He was so taken aback that he could barely speak; had she read his thoughts? She truly was a witch! “I have news. Five hundred of the auxiliary are heading south to the big river. They will be gone for twenty nights.” He paused, expecting a reaction. “Are you not pleased?”
“I merely pass on the messages it is our master who will show pleasure,” her mouth opened in an evil smile which did not bode well, “or displeasure.” She passed over a piece of gold. It was not a Roman coin but he had not expected it to be. It was gold and he quickly pocketed it. “Now go.”
As he left he wondered how she would deliver the message. Hearing a flutter of wings over his head he realised that she would be using pigeons. He was beginning to understand that these barbarians were not quite as primitive as he had first thought and he would need to watch his step he would need to be wary and choose the best time to betray them and preserve his corpulent neck. These were not the poor he regularly swindled or abused; these were cunning and crafty.
Venutius was close to the Brigante fortress of Stanwyck when he received the message from his rider. The Romans were securing their base before tackling him they were heading south and east to pacify that area. Good that suited him for he had not had time to order his people to gather food for the winter. He had been so confidant of defeating Cartimandua that he had thought he would have been able to take what he wanted from her. If the cavalry had been in the north they could have prevented his men from foraging. He turned to Brennus, his leading war chief. “Send out your men in small parties; I want every morsel of food, every weapon, every animal collected and taken to Brocavum. The Romans must find nothing that will help them. When the earth warms we will take the war to them. We will be rested with full bellies while they will be tired and hungry. I want every Roman killed and every sympathiser slaughtered.”
“How will I know they are sympathetic to the queen?”
“Give them the chance to join us. If they do not, they die. Do not be gentle Brennus.” As Brennus rode away to give his orders Venutius smiled to himself. The first part of his plan, the death of Cartimandua, had not gone well but he was well placed now to destroy these Romans. The messages from the south were good. The Romans were not having an easy time in Mona and the wild mountains. The invaders were like fleas, annoying but few enough in numbers so that they could be picked off before they became an infestation. This was the time to strike before they could bring more legions in the summer, before they could reinforce their garrisons. Now was the time, his time!
The warband headed north west through the darkening skies and threatening clouds. Wrapping his cloak even closer around him the king felt, not for the first time that Mother Earth was on their side. Fainch and her sisters could summon the power of Mother Earth to their aid. Winter would soon be upon them when the food would disappear and the cold of these islands would become a weapon against the enemies who came from a much warmer climate. Venutius smiled to himself; this land belonged to him and his people and the land itself would fight to rid them of this relentless enemy.
Less than a half a day’s ride away the very Romans who Venutius was cursing were huddled in their cloaks as their mounts plodded through the sharp shower which had emerged with incredible ferocity from the thick black clouds massing on the skyline. Marcus nudged his mount closer to his leader. “Just like being at home eh?”
Ulpius smiled a grim smile.”Aye we all thought that joining the Romans meant warm Mediterranean postings, wine, women and song. It seems we have traded one cold and damp corner of the outer world for another one.”
Marcus tur
ned in his saddle to look back down the line of troopers and to make sure none were lagging behind. Satisfied he scanned the horizon. “Do you think we will catch any?”
Ulpius rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded. “I would expect to. They will think that we are tucked behind our palisade licking our wounds. They think because we bather we are soft. Much as we thought when they came to Ad Mure. They do not like fighting at this time of year and they will think we are of the same mind. Remember they do not have an Empire to supply them. They have to gather in the food and make their clothes and weapons. They cannot do that whilst they are fighting. This is why we will win Marcus. We have a behemoth at our back. You travelled as I did across the Empire and across the seas to get here. Think of the cities and peoples we saw. Think of the fields filled with crops and animals. Britannia may have treasures under the ground but they cannot be eaten.”