Marine 2: A Very Unusual Roman (The Agent of time)

by Tanya Allan

  The third group were encamped by the river, a short distance away. They were obviously taking turns at laying siege to the fort, so using the two other camps as somewhere to go for R&R while waiting for their next turn.

  Once furnished with the intelligence and a crude map, we returned to the main body of troops.

  Gallinas had stopped in a good place. It was out of sight in the forest, and because of the trees and raised ground, easily defendable. A stream gave fresh water and it was dry for those who needed to sleep.

  The heavily forested landscape gave the advantage to the local tribesmen and their system of warfare. The set pieces the Romans so favoured would be difficult to execute with all the trees and uneven ground. However, they were learning to adapt all the time.

  The girls were all buzzing with excitement when they returned. They had seen the enemy, achieved our objective and taken a prisoner to interrogate.

  Gallinas was miffed we had not brought him back for him to question.

  “Can you speak the language?” I asked.

  “No, but...”

  “What other questions would you have asked?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We know how many there are, what their armament is like, what condition they are in and the level of their willingness to fight. They are drunk and lazy, preferring to wait for the Roman garrison to starve to death rather than risk an assault. In my opinion, as soon as you appear, most of them will run away.”

  Gallinas turned to Gaius, who was looking at the map I’d made.

  “What do you think, Gaius?” he asked.

  “I agree with her. The last thing we want is for them to run away and disperse into the forest so we will never find the leaders and make them pay for the crimes against Roman legionaries. I propose that you split your force into four. Keep the larger First Cohort as the main thrust to relieve the fort and to chase down the main body of tribesmen who are there. As it is large, the enemy will certainly believe that you have committed your full force to the relief. Split the Fourth in two, and along with the cavalry, attack the two camps at the same time. Place the Third here, to catch those who would flee to the north along this valley, away from the First Cohort.”

  “And the recon unit?” I asked.

  Gaius regarded me for a moment.

  “Where best would you feel they would perform, bearing in mind that they are not properly suited for face to face combat?”

  “This valley here leads to the south west, away from the fort and between the other two camps that we will be attacking simultaneously. Many of the warriors may flee north, while some might head towards the fort to join the bigger party there. Some, however, will sneak down this valley beneath the trees. I shall place my unit here and see what pickings can be had. Given that slaves are in short supply in the Empire, it would be of great benefit to bring back a large number who could face each other in the arena or sit on the benches of the galleys and pull oars for the rest of their lives. There are many women and children, so you all might come out of this with a hefty profit.”

  We all regarded the map for a moment.

  Gallinas clapped his hands like an excited schoolboy.

  “Excellent! Then, Gaius, draw up the plans and instruct the commanders of my plan. What time should we attack?”

  They both looked at me.

  “The warriors in this camp were all drunk as skunks when we saw them. That means that in the morning they will all be hung-over, headachy and not at their best. I should attack just before dawn when the alcohol is still numbing their reactions. They’ll be deeply asleep, so the attack will be almost home before many of them wake up.”

  “But the light will not be to our advantage,” Gallinas said. “And the gathering clouds speak of rain before too long.”

  “Both to our advantage. They will not know how many Romans attack them, and the darkness will confuse them as they try to regroup to defend themselves. They have no sentries out, so there will be no warnings given, so most will be slaughtered in their beds before they know what hit them.”

  “Direction of attack?” Gaius asked me, ignoring Gallinas.

  “For the two camps, attack from the south, forcing them to run into those waiting for them to the north. For the main body, as they are encircling the fort, the firmer ground is to the west, so advance from here and from the south. You could divide your Cohort. Place a third to the east with archers and long pilum. For those who do not face us, they will try to melt into the trees. We can therefore force them to head north too, and create a killing ground as we pursue them into the trap. This will also allow those forces in the fort to come out and attack them from the rear if they decide they want to face us there.”

  Gaius nodded, making some marks with charcoal on the map. Gallinas was too excited to be upset about being ignored. Here was a battle that he would come from as a mighty victor, and he couldn’t wait.

  “How do we coordinate our attacks?” Gaius asked.

  “Simple,” I said, grinning. “Give everyone enough time to get into position and then release a flaming arrow into the sky over the fort.

  “All of our people will be waiting for it, and any of the enemy will be too drunk or asleep to worry about it, even if they do see it. The garrison, if they’re switched on, might twig that it’s an attack, so it will be a winner all round.”

  “How much time will be needed to get into position?”

  I did some rough calculations, taking the time of day, possible weather conditions, the weariness of the men and the weight of their equipment.

  “Two hours, max, from this location.”

  “Is there an advantage in setting off earlier?” Gallinas asked.

  “If we attack just before dawn, then there will be enough light to catch the escapers. If it is too dark, then they can melt away into the darkness. If our people can anticipate where they will most likely run, then we will be waiting for them. If we go too early, then there is every chance of being discovered and losing our element of surprise.”

  It started raining just after midnight. The grumbles of the legionaries started thirty seconds after that.

  I was pleased, for the enemy camps would be draughty and damp, so the warriors would all be wrapped up tightly against the rain. Little chance of sentries or any form of defences.

  Gaius found me as I sharpened my sword.

  “Still set?” he asked.

  “Absolutely. There is one problem, though.”

  “The arrow.”

  “Exactly.”

  “How else do we synchronise our attacks?”

  I thought about it.

  “Trumpets will alert them to a possible attack, so do your men march with a set pace to drums?”

  “Usually, yes, but not if we’re undertaking a surprise attack.”

  “Cover the drums with a skin and have one man march beside the drummer counting paces. I reckon the first camp we went to was around three thousand paces away. Add the same again to the other camp and to the main body. Have them count to six thousand, and then another four hundred just to make sure. At six thousand, four hundred launch the attack.”

  He nodded.

  “That would work. Even if the beats are slightly out, they’ll be as close as makes no difference.”

  It was still raining when we set off. The muted drums banging out an easy rhythm so the legionaries kept pace. They were remarkably quiet considering the amount of metal each man carried. My small unit slipped away from the main body, taking position as agreed. I felt the familiar feeling of adrenaline start to pump. This was what I was used to!

  We had a drummer with us. He simply clicked his stick on the side of his drum as he marched and the man beside him counted the steps. We were in position around the exact mark I anticipated, so the man kept clicking. He stopped on the right mark, so we readied ourselves.

  The sky above us was just beginning to show that it might think about getting light soon. However, the rain clouds meant
that it wasn’t a very enthusiastic thought.

  We heard sounds of combat emanating from various sites, all at the same time. I tried to imagine the legion marching almost silently against the enemy encampments. In a way, I was sad not to be a spectator, as marching legions in precision time, with shields at the ready and pilum deployed must be quite a sight.

  I ensured we were deployed using the trees as cover with bows at the ready. Sure enough, the retreat could be described as ‘in disarray’. The warriors were fine when facing numerically inferior forces locked in a fort, but when facing what must have appeared the very might of Rome itself, it’s a very different beast.

  The legionaries are not trained to take captives, or to fight to wound the enemy. They fight to win, in an effective and efficient manner. However, my quip about slaves was a very true one. The Empire was built on slavery. The daft thing was even some slaves had slaves, as it was a complex social system. Captives from battle rarely made good domestic slaves, as they were often rebellious and prone to assassinate their masters. However, there were many avenues for such people, as I intimated, the games always required new gladiators and the large navy needed oarsmen for the galleys. The spoils of war were such that the legions always benefited for the taking of captives that would eventually end up on the slave markets of the Empire.

  I heard the first trumpet blast from the first camp we had scouted. That meant they had finished and were moving on towards the main foe around the fortress.

  Shortly after that, the second blast signified that the other camp was clear and so we knew we were likely to receive some visitors shortly

  Receive them we did. These were the opposite of the regimented and disciplined legionaries. These were scared rabbits, fleeing for their lives. Many were wounded and more than half were not carrying their weapons, grateful, no doubt, to feel that they had at least escaped the slaughter that many of their comrades had experienced.

  Our arrows changed their view. Not knowing which way to run, as they could barely see us in the trees. They had no way of knowing whether we were six or six hundred.

  They decided not to test us, turning to the north and continuing to run. It was interesting that none even attempted to surrender. They knew that the legions generally do not take captives. They are costly to feed and look after and slow down any march as well as being a potential security risk. It was only well after the actual combat did the legion contemplate taking captives.

  There were no more following, so we gave chase, using our arrows sparingly and retrieving spent ones when we could. The rain stopped as dawn broke. A red sky gleamed from the east, and the panorama revealed that the battle was most definitely won.

  We could hear cheering from within the fort. As I approached, leading my small unit, the gates opened and the soldiers marched out with their centurion at their front.

  By the time the sun was up, the legionaries returned, marching a significant number of captives before them. These men were stripped naked, as was the custom, and roped together. There were also women and some children, taken no doubt from the camps. These were not stripped, but roped together. I wondered how many had been raped by the legionaries. Some commanders were stricter than others, but I guess they had not yet had time.

  I say significant, but actually, there were far more tribesmen dead than were alive. Few of the legionaries had fallen. I saw a line of men waiting for the surgeon to patch up less serious wounds, and only a few men were on the ground with more serious injuries; perhaps ten, no more.

  Iona was grinning, with blood on her sword. It was not a battle, as the enemy were at no time organised to offer more than token resistance.

  “The girls did well!” she said.

  “They did what they were told, yes. But this was not a true test. This was not a fight, but a slaughter,” I said.

  “Then thank the Gods!” said Gaius, as he appeared on his horse along with Gallinas.

  “A great victory, as you foretold, woman,” the young man said.

  I opened my mouth to tell him some home truths, but he was off again, riding to meet the besieged troops as they came to meet him.

  “He’ll take all the credit for this,” Gaius said, dismounting.

  “Of course he will. I wouldn’t expect anything else. Did everything go to plan?” I asked.

  “Perfectly. He was singing your praises so much I thought your head would be three times the size when we would see you. I am pleased it isn’t.”

  “So am I. At least he might take me more seriously now.”

  “Oh, he takes you seriously. He’s talking about taking you and these captives to Londinium and then on to Rome, to display his new corps of warrior women. He ordered the women to be taken so you can train more.”

  I nodded. That was all part of the plan.

  “You’re not surprised?” he asked.

  “Should I be?”

  He shook his head.

  “I have no idea. I’ve learned never to prejudge you.”

  “Are you coming too?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager.

  “Do you want me to?”

  I attempted to act nonchalant, as if it mattered not, but failed.

  “Perhaps,” I admitted.

  Grinning at me, he nodded and walked off.

  “What was that about?” Iona asked.

  “How do you fancy a trip to Rome?” I asked.

  Chapter Eight

  I was in London, again!

  This was a very different city to that I recalled visiting as Jane. No, what I found in the first century was hardly even a city by the standards of the nineteenth century. It was more like two settlements. There was a large one on the north bank of the Thames and a small one where the borough of Southwark is today to the south. One bridge spanned the river, linking the areas and facilitating the passage of goods by wagon.

  Following its foundation in the few decades before I arrived, early Londinium occupied the relatively small area of half a square mile, roughly equivalent to the size of present-day Hyde Park, with a fortified garrison on one of its hills. In the year 60 or 61, the rebellion of the Iceni under Boudicca forced the garrison to abandon the settlement, which was then razed by the British tribe. Following the Iceni’s defeat at the Battle of Watling Street, the city was rebuilt as a planned Roman town and recovered within about a decade.

  When we arrived in early autumn of the year 100, it was fast becoming the biggest city in this region. I have no idea as to the population, but would hazard a guess at around forty to fifty thousand people.

  The majority of the buildings were made from local timber, of which there was an almost endless supply. It was quite surreal when we marched south to see vast swathes of the countryside covered with forests.

  A few buildings were brick or stone built. The Romans obviously had a kiln and were making bricks and roof tiles, which were common in warmer climes closer to Rome. We passed long columns of wagons bearing stone cut from the quarries to the north of the city.

  Had I not known where I was, I would never have recognised it as the same place Jane had visited in the early 1800’s.

  The Romans had built some fine buildings to house the governor, his staff and several other public buildings. A fortified enclosure was erected at Plantation Place on Cornhill. The first forum was constructed in the 70s or 80s having an open courtyard with a basilica and several shops around it, altogether measuring about 100 m × 50 m (330 ft × 160 ft). The basilica functioned as the city's administrative heart, hearing legal cases and seating the town's local senate. It formed the north side of the forum, whose south entrance was located along the north side of the intersection of the present Gracechurch, Lombard and Fenchurch Streets. Indeed, my imprinted data memory told me that its forum and basilica were the largest north of the Alps.

  Forums elsewhere typically had a civic temple constructed within the enclosed market area; British sites usually did not, instead placing a smaller shrine for Roman services somewhere w
ithin the basilica. The first forum in Londinium seems to have had a full temple, but placed outside just west of the forum.

  We had taken many days to march south. The legion remained in York, having returned triumphant from the campaign in the north.

  Gallinas exaggerated the nature of the campaign in his report to Corvin Rufius, the Legion Legate, who in turn had simply passed it on to the Governor, with his own observations and recommendations. In the report, which incidentally had the three cohorts facing at least twice the number of warriors than had actually been there, and also omitting the fact that most had been asleep or drunk at the moment of attack, Gallinas had written of the fierce female warriors now recruited as a cohort in its own right. Gaius walked with me on the long march south, during which he told me of the report.

  ‘Their ferocity and efficiency in battle is beyond expectations and imagination,’ he had written. Of me he said - ‘While their commander, who stands as tall and strong as any man, displays almost gleeful pleasure in her craft of war.’

  “You saw the report?”

  “Certainly. He asked me to compile a report and then rewrote it as his own.”

  Factually inaccurate, as it is?”

  Gaius made a face.

  “He’s a Tribune and I’m a Centurion. We all have our place.”

  “That’s balls,” I said. “I have whatever place I want, and so could you.”

  “Well, I have no other aspirations other than those I told you about before. This place suits me for the time being. He, on the other hand rather fancies being Emperor one day.”

  “In his dreams!” I retorted.

  “You know the future?” he asked, with a chuckle.

  “As it happens, yes, and there is no Emperor of Rome called Gallinas.”

  “Don’t tell him that, he couldn’t cope.”