Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 01] The Sword of Cartimandua

by Griff Hosker

  The next day he summoned Ulpius who frowned as he looked up at the crucified bodies of the cooks and kitchen staff. He shook his head. They had been largely innocent but it was the roman way to make the punishment as sever as possible to encourage all to obey. He saluted as he entered the headquarters.

  “Ah decurion. I understand that you are to escort the queen’s sisters to her burial.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Good well I am going to give you some further orders, “he gestured to the prefect who sat, unhappily in a chair at the side of Bolanus. You are to take your ala and a cohort of legionaries to the west of Brigante land. I want you to secure a base from which you can harry the enemy. Later in the year, when we have reinforcements we will begin our invasion and we will use your new fort as our base. Understood?”

  “Yes sir but we can’t go yet.”

  The face of Marcus Bolanus began to swell and redden as he detected insubordination. “I have given you an order you will carry it out.”

  “I am not questioning the order sir but we have no supplies prepared and half the ala is still on patrol. It seems to me that if we are to spend time isolated from support we need to be as well prepared as possible. We all want this to succeed don’t we sir?”

  Realising that, much as he wanted rid of the embarrassment he did not want to be accused at some future date of deliberately risking failure. “How long will you need to fully prepare decurion?”

  “Seven days.”

  “Good seven days then.”

  “There is one more thing sir.”

  “Another demand?”

  “No sir a request. When can I meet with the centurion in charge of the vexillation so that we may make plans?”

  “Decius Brutus arrived last night. You can meet whenever you wish.”

  Ulpius had been silent since he reported to Flavinius and Bolanus. He had been silent because he was not only mourning the death of his love but imagining life without her. For the past thirty years he had known only war and fighting interspersed with boring garrison duty. He had only known the comradeship of men. He had been thrust into a world for which he was unprepared. A woman had come into his life and, he had just realised, taken it over. All the things which had seemed important, duty comradeship, Rome had all fallen into insignificance. He was about to spend the rest of his life with a woman who had captivated his heart, he was about to become a father and it had all been snatched away. He was under no illusions; he would not have the opportunity again to feel the comfort of a loving relationship or the intimacy he had known with Cartimandua. It was a bleak future he faced. The only glimmer of a lining to this black cloud was the fact that he could revenge himself on the Queen’s killers and then die a warrior’s death. That it was more than one killer was obvious to him. Whilst Venutius might want the Queen dead the others were an irrelevance. He might have given the orders but someone had to get the poison and someone had to administer it. He was certain that the poisoner was Gaius Cresens. He needed no further proof than the fact that the man had disappeared following the death. Venutius was known; who had provided the poison? For in his mind they were as guilty as the fat quartermaster. Her death had not been glorious it had been painful and ignoble. The mighty Cartimandua deserved a better death. He would not rest until he had had his revenge and the revenge of his dead love.

  There were other thoughts racing through his mind. He was a warrior and he was going to war. He could not help but think of the expedition he was about to command. Despite what he had said to the governor he was not confident. He would be more than a week away from help, even in high summer, and in winter it could take two or three weeks. He would in a land of enemies, a land unknown to every Roman. He was relying on a man he did not trust. The main driving force in his decision to obey an order which bordered on the suicidal was that it brought him closer to Venutius. All he wanted was the chance to be within a sword’s length of that murderer and the death of Cartimandua would be avenged. Almost without thinking he gripped the scabbard of her sword even tighter.

  “Does this not seem a little hasty to you?” Marcus spoke quietly to the decurion princeps as they sat astride their horses waiting for the last of the pack horses to join them.

  “The queen must be buried and, cold as it is, she needs putting below the ground.” Inside Ulpius was mourning and was as grief stricken as he had been about anything, never having witnessed a loved one die before but he was trained to be strong. Much as he thought highly of Marcus he would not let him inside his tough outer shell. Perhaps that was a hope for the future for Marcus and Macha might have the hope that he and the queen had had. He swore that he would protect the two of them with his life.

  “Some of the men say it is suicidal.”

  “Some of the men may be right and I am sorry that many of our comrades will die and it will be my fault for both the Governor and tribune want us to disappear, to die. Indeed I think they secretly wish I had eaten the poisoned food. It is of no matter. We will survive if only because I promised the queen I would care for her family. I cannot do so in Eboracum but if I can build a fort then I believe I have the chance to protect the sisters, my men and keep this old body alive just a little bit longer.” He gripped the pommel of the sword tighter. “I am not ready to meet the Allfather and Queen Cartimandua yet. Once Venutius dies…”

  Marcus looked anew at his leader. He knew just how strong his feelings were for the queen. What he did not know was that Ulpius’ child had died with the queen. If he had known then perhaps he would have seen the still, hard glint in the decurion princeps’s eye. “I know that but what of this plan to build a fort on the other side of the country? That seems to me the job for legion not a vexillation with a handful of legionaries and a few cavalrymen. In my years in the cavalry I have never known of such an undertaking.”

  “Nor have I but if I tell you that before she died the queen had that idea too. She spoke to me in great detail of a site on which to build a stronghold.” He grinned at Marcus for the first time in a long time, “for sometimes young Marcus we did talk. Her sisters too know of the place. To me it sounds like a perfect site to defend for it has water to protect it and many natural resources. It also has the advantage that it will not occur to the enemy that we could be so bold as to do this.”

  “But to travel before the spring has melted the land and made the journey easier?”

  “Who said the Roman army ever has anything easy? At least this journey now will show us some of the land we are to travel. We will have longer days when we journey and I think that the enemy will be still wrapped around his women in his stronghold. . Do not fear Marcus. I for one am glad to be away from this pestilential hole. It will be good to be away from potential murderers and intrigue. We will be with men we know and trust. I do not know what goes through the mind of the governor. Perhaps it is not good to know. I am a soldier, I have been given orders. I give the orders to you. Life is simple. It may be a short one but it is simple.” He looked up towards the hills. “Soon we will arrive at the sacred site and they, she will be at rest.”Lowering his eye he tightened his grip on the hilt of her sword.

  Marcus turned to check on the progress of the wagon and pack horses. “It is rumoured the quartermaster has disappeared.”

  Ulpius’ face hardened. “I will find him when the time is right fear not. He caused many deaths and I will make him suffer slowly for each one for each one. The fat little weasel cannot run far enough to escape me. But remember Marcus he was but the knife. That poison was directed by another hand and we know who that was.”

  “Venutius,” Marcus shuddered at the tone in his friend’s voice. He would not like to be in the sandals of either man when the decurion princeps caught up with them. Changing the subject to a more neutral one he asked. “What do you know of legionary centurion Decius Brutus who is to accompany us?”

  “I have not served with him but Flavnius chose him because he is the most reliable centurion in Eboracum. He has ser
ved Rome for many years and risen in the ranks. His first action was against Boudicca and it is said that those who survived that war are the best of Rome. He was in command at Derventio. Fear not Marcus we can trust and rely on him and his men.”

  Marcus nodded. Derventio was to the north east of Eboracum and whoever commanded there had a hard task. It was close to the sea and they had to contend not only with local brigands but pirates and robbers who came across the cold sea to raid.

  Brigante royal tomb south of Stanwyck

  The Brigante place of death was a large barrow in a gentle valley to the north west of Eboracum. It was cunningly hidden on a low crest of land jutting out from the valley sides. Unless you knew where to look it would appear natural. The entrance looked like a small rock fall. They arrived there towards sunset. All the omens looked propitious for the burial; the sun was slowly setting and the evening was as calm as it had been for many days. Overhead the ravens and crows circled and called to each other, it seemed to be an omen from the gods. Macha and Lenta were in charge of this part of the ceremony. In the Brigante it was the women who buried the dead and said the holy words. Ulpius had left the legionaries and his auxiliaries at the camp and he stood with Marcus and the last of the queen’s bodyguards as Lenta and Macha prepared her body for its final journey. The jewels and ornaments brought by Marcus from her capital were placed on her body. Her torc was fixed around her neck.

  Marcus wondered how they would get the body into the barrow for they had no tools and there appeared to be no entrance. At last the women were finished and the bodyguards took up the body lifting it above their heads. Lenta and Macha led the way around the outside of the grass covered barrow. When there were at the western side they bent down and began to remove loose stones which appeared, to Marcus, to be a rock fall. The auxiliary looked in amazement as he saw the entrance to the barrow. The few stones had hidden an opening large enough for the funeral procession to walk down. The guards had to bend slightly but it was still a dignified group who walked in torchlight into the bowels of the earth. Inside it was not earthen walls but stone which was dressed and, from its look, ancient. This had been here since the time of the ancients and Marcus gripped his charm even tighter. The musty, damp smell was no surprise but it was the lack of a smell of rotting flesh which surprised him. It was not a straight path and when it turned he was plunged into darkness. When it straightened and lit by the torch he caught glimpses of bones in its flickering light as they went further into the grave. Lenta and Macha stopped and Marcus could see recognisable bodies. Each had jewels and weapons with them but none as fine and rich as those worn by the dead Queen. Now Marcus knew what had been in the box carried from the fortress of Stanwyck. In the tomb there were both men and women; the queen was joining her ancestors. The bodyguards laid the body gently onto the empty bier. Marcus could see others prepared deeper in the darkness. The Brigante all bowed their heads and Marcus sensed, rather than heard the low moaning which emanated from their lips. He did not recognise any of the words but know that they were all saying the same thing. Suddenly there was silence and the torches were extinguished leaving them in darkness with only the faint light of the sunset coming through the entrance. It was Lenta who spoke the last words. “Allfather receive our queen and sister Cartimandua we honour her in death as we did in life.”

  No-one spoke again even after they had replaced the stones and covered them with soil; after they had walked in solemn silence to the camp even then no-one spoke. Marcus glanced at Ulpius but he could have been the stone they had just to cover the grave for all the emotion he showed. He was beginning to realise that he did not know the decurion princeps as well as he had thought for he knew the man was mourning but he could not see a single sign.

  Later Ulpius asked the question which had burning in his mind since they had laid the Queen’s body into the barrow. “When you spoke over the Queen you said sister. I thought you were her handmaidens?”

  “We were handmaidens but we had the same father. He lay with our mother, one of his slaves and we were half sisters.”

  “Doesn’t that make the elder the Queen?”

  “No Roman. It is for the council to choose and Venutius is still King. He has been crowned. The Queen is dead and so he is the king. He now leads the Brigante.”

  “But,” added Lenta, “Many of our people will not follow him as he tried to kill our Queen, our sister.”

  “Which doesn’t help us for that means any Brigante could be a friend or a foe?” He gestured at the Brigante warriors sharpening their weapons.

  “These men are oathsworn to protect the Queen. As her family they are oathsworn to protect us. But you are right we will have to be careful as there are as many untrustworthy Brigante as there are Romans. For was not Gaius Cresens a Roman?” There was a mischief in her voice which reminded Ulpius of her half sister.

  “Then it is fortunate for you that I am Pannonian by birth and we are the most trustworthy of warriors.”

  Laughing the two sisters left the decurion princeps to ponder his next dilemma, how to survive in a land where an enemy could be hiding behind every tree, in every gully and in every hut. He would need all his wits about him. As soon as it was convenient he needed to sit down with the Brigante warriors and Decius Brutus for they needed a plan which, at the moment was beyond his ability.

  The party returned to Eboracum in silence each one wrapped in their own thoughts. For Ulpius he was reflecting on the changes the queen had wrought in him. He was gentler with women, he was less mercenary, he thought more of the future at least he had thought on the future until it was robbed from him. She had brought hope into a hopeless, loveless life. He did not know if it was love he had had with the queen but to his unsophisticated mind if it was not love it was the nearest he would experience.

  The two half sisters were also musing on their parlous future. Now that Venutius was king, although in truth he had been king for some time, they were in constant danger. He could pay many murderers to kill them and they were not safe at the fort, as their sister had discovered. The only people they could rely on were not Brigante but Roman and they were the warriors who now rode at their side. Macha determined that, when they left for their new fort, they would be with them. Despite any hardships on the road they would be as nothing compared with the dangers of Eboracum where every hand could wield a killer’s blade.

  The day they left Eboracum was both cold and frosty. Rising early Ulpius looked around the fort. It was now taking shape and life would be more comfortable now but even so he was glad that Marcus Bolanus was sending them away. He knew that the man had his own reasons and those reasons were not thoughtful in any way shape or form. He was an embarrassment and he wanted him away to, preferably, die on a forlorn hillside away to the west. He saw the governor emerge from the Praetorium a thin hard smile upon his face. For him the world would become safer with each step the vexillation took away from Eboracum.The days were now longer but the wind was still bitingly cold. It was as though winter had lulled them into sense of false security and descended a savage, second time.

  Ulpius called over Marcus to join the Brigante warriors and Lenta and Macha. He looked at each of the warriors. “You have served the queen to the end and now you are released from the vows you took. We are taking her sisters west to build a fort in her honour. You are welcome to join us there but some of you may wish to rejoin your own people. If that is so then go with honour for you have all served the queen loyally and well.”

  It was the senior warrior, Orrick who spoke. He was a powerful warrior and his skill was shown by the bracelets and amulets he wore. The scars on his face and chest ably demonstrated that he faced and fought his enemies fearlessly and never turned his back. When he spoke the emotion rang through his words. “Our oath to the queen means that we cannot rest until her murderer is found and killed. We would have died to protect her and we failed. We will find the man who ordered her death. We believe it to be Venutius who did not have the co
urage to face the Queen and end her life by his own hand. He paid someone and that is base and dishonourable. For that alone he should die.” The men murmured their agreement and Ulpius nodded.

  “Are you going after him then? For if so it would be a glorious death, futile but glorious.”

  “We hold our lives cheaply and would gladly pay with our lives to avenge the queen but you are right. We were known as the protectors of the queen and Venutius would have us slaughtered as soon as we appeared. We would not get close enough to him and we will no kill in the night. When he dies at our hands he will see who it is and know why we do it. No we will continue to travel with you and we will protect the Princesses.” He smiled. “We believe that Venutius will pay a visit to this new fort of yours and so he will come to us.”

  Ulpius nodded. “That is well but if you travel with us then you obey my orders. You will be as Romans with the same discipline. Is that clear?”