by Griff Hosker
Four voices shouted in unison,”Clear!” Marcus was pleased to see that his tirade had resulted in faces which looked happier than when he had started. He would have to ensure that Quintus and Marcus were kept apart and the bad blood would not worsen.
The next day was cold and clear which helped Marcus to sharpen his mind. He would leave two turmae at Derventio under Vettius and Quintus. The experience of controlling such a large area would do their confidence no harm and it would keep apart the two decurions. Should he need the two turmae, they were but half a day away. As he rode through this wild country he realised that there was not as much Roman control as there might be.
Derventio had been an early fort and as such only the outline of the fort remained. The town had grown quite well and Marcus saw the potential for horse breeding country. He said as much to Quintus and Vettius as he briefed them. “I want you to rebuild the fort. Make it large enough for four turmae. I will send some men to help establish a stud. This would be a perfect place to breed horses. Your task is to ensure that the populace is safe. We have not shown our presence enough and there are bandits and pirates hereabouts. Make it safe.”
The two decurions nodded. They saw that the acting Decurion Princeps had the bigger picture. Already in awe of the hero they now realised that he was a thinker; for decurions like Vettius and Quintus this was like being a leader under the great Julius. When they asserted their agreement it was heartfelt. Marcus looked at the two men and nodded. He had made the correct decision. He turned to the other two decurion. “We ride. We are going home.”
By the time they arrived back at the fort the prefect had left for the new colony being established at Isurium Brigantium close to Stanwyck. Marcus approved wholeheartedly with the police for it meant that veterans such as Flavius would provide Roman stability in a changing barbarian world. He was also pleased for it gave more protection to his wife and child. He yearned to see them but now that he was the senior officer he could not desert his post.
As he rode past the gyrus he could see a difference in the recruits. Decius had them sparring with the heavy wooden swords and shield. When they first arrived they could barely lift them but as he watched he saw them using them almost as well as men who had served for years. Decius had done his work well. Leaving the two decurions to return to their barracks he headed over to Cato. The sergeant came to attention when he saw Marcus but he could not keep the smile from his face.
“From the expression on your face I assume you have finished the schooling?”
“Yes sir. Just waiting for some new mounts to start the process again.”
“While you are waiting I have another task for you. We always have to wait for wild horses and then train them it seems to me that we could breed them ourselves.” Cato’s face showed the thought process racing through his head. Marcus was pleased Cato was more than a horseman he was an intelligent horseman. “Select a good stallion and some breeding mares then take them to Derventio. I think we can begin our own stud. We will need to find some civilians to man it but there must be some locals who know horses.”
“There are sir. There are a couple of lads been helping out. I’ll have a chat with them.”
“Good. I’ll leave that with you then eh?”
“Yes sir.”
As Marcus led his horse back towards the gyrus he felt more than a little pleased with what he had achieved. He eagerly anticipated the arrival of the new prefect. He felt sure he would approve.
Decius saw him coming and handed over the training to one of his assistants. “I see you managed to lose two turma sir.”
Marcus smiled at the banter. “I traded them for a new fort.” Decius looked puzzled. “I left them rebuilding the old fort at Derventio. We are getting a little crowded here. Any sign of the new prefect?”
“Not yet but we haven’t had our weekly supplies yet so it may be he’s travelling with them. I don’t mind. It gives me more time to knock these dog’s dinners into shape.”
“How are they coming along?”
“Most are coming along well but there are a couple of them who will never make horsemen no matter how much we try. I’d like to ship them out to an infantry unit. They will make good soldiers just not horsemen.”
Marcus nodded. He had told his junior decurions they had to make horsemen out of the recruits but he knew that Decius would have tried everything to ensure that they became riders. “I’ll see the prefect when he arrives. There’s nothing worse than someone who sits on a horse like a sack of grain. Carry on.”
Chapter 4
Rufius Demetrius had only stayed long enough in Eboracum to get the latest intelligence from the tribune of the ninth. He looked up at the straight line that was Dere Street. This was always a sight which gave him satisfaction for it meant that Rome had tamed the land and put its indelible mark on the landscape forever. Behind him the column of wagons and mules moved inexorably northwards. He wished they could get there quicker but he knew that the supplies and men behind him were vital to his plan for the ala. For the first time in his career he could mould the men to suit him. He would join the great leaders from the past Fabius Africanus, Pompey even Julius Caesar. Soon he would take command of the Pannonian cavalry the Brigante would be swept aside and then the world would know the name of Rufius Demetrius.
Marcus had men posted along Dere Street to warn him of the arrival of the new prefect. He wanted to impress his new leader. The fort was immaculate; it had been cleaned as Decius had remarked, within an uncia of its life. The standards all fluttered in the breeze near the Praetorium and every trooper had gleaming armour. Inevitably it was Macro who galloped in as though the whole Brigante army was chasing him.
“Sir Sir, the prefect...”
”Take your time Macro. How long before he arrives?”
“Within the hour.”
“Good then you have time to walk the sweat off your horse and clean up both you and him.” As Macro slumped dejectedly off Marcus added. “Well done.” The spring immediately returned to the keen trooper’s step.
So it was that when the new prefect crested the rise above the river crossing he could not help but be impressed. The white stone of the bridge seemed to shine amidst the greenery of the vegetation lining the twisting river. The guard of honour were as rigid as statues on magnificently groomed horses each with the mane and tail braided. As he came level with the guard he halted and without a command each man saluted in unison. Marcus rode forward, “Marcus Aurelius Maximunius acting Decurion Princeps of the First Sabinian Wing of Pannonians. Welcome sir.”
“An excellent turnout decurion you put us to shame after our dusty ride from Eboracum. After we have washed and bathed we will meet with you and the other officers and I will introduce you to the rest of the new officers.”
Marcus watched the patrician ride into the fort. He was the first Roman he had seen who was not in the legion and he felt in awe of the man already. He looked like every statue he had ever seen the sharp nose and chiselled features. Behind him rode more smartly turned out officers and Marcus noticed that some of these had the same look about them as Rufius Demetrius; Decius would have to watch his manners for these were not barbarians, these were noble Romans.
The headquarters office was a little cramped later on as Marcus stood with the other decurions awaiting Rufius and his entourage to return from their bath.
“There looked to be a couple of boys with him. Do you think they are his family?” queried Drusus.
“He looks old enough to be a father.”
“Decius…”
“I’m just saying he looks older than the rest of us, maybe not as old as Flavius but older than Ulpius. You know what I am saying and if he has only just got this promotion well…” Decius’ further musings were halted by the snap of the sentry’s spear and the ‘sir’ from outside.
As Rufius entered they all stood to attention. “Sit down, sit down.” When they were all seated Marcus noticed that two young men, who looked lik
e they could be brothers, flanked Rufius. Marcus looked at Decius who tapped the side of his nose knowingly. “Let us get the formal part out of the way.” He grasped the parchment and read from it. “I, Rufius Demetrius am hereby appointed to lead the First Sabinian Wing of Pannonians. I am authorised to make all appointments and to ensure that this ala is ready for battle in two months.” A low murmur ran around the seated decurions for many of the recruits would only be half trained. An impatient stare silenced the mumblings and the prefect rolled up the parchment. “There are one or two other points but the salient point is that we will be ready for action by the end of the month.” This time no-one dared to speak. “The new Governor, Quintus Petilius Cerialis, is bringing the Ninth Hispana with a number of other auxiliary units to finally suppress the rebellion that is festering here in the north. Julius Agricola will also be bringing the Twentieth Valeria Victrix but they are further away. We gentlemen will be the main cavalry unit. I know that you distinguished yourselves previously and I assure you I expect nothing less from you now.” He paused to let his words sink in and then he sat back in his seat. “I will be relying on you experienced decurions to facilitate and smooth the transition. I would like to thank personally Marcus Aurelius Maximunius for taking on the role of acting Decurion Princeps.” Marcus looked suitably embarrassed by this praise. “However, for the moment we will not have a post of Decurion Princeps as I want to assess the potential of this ala.”
“But sir…” Decius half stood to protest.
“Decurion, perhaps you misheard my orders. I am now running this ala and I will run it my way, the Roman way and I will not tolerate insubordination of any description. Do I make myself clear?” They all responded with a ‘yes sir”.
“It may well be that when I have seen my new officers in action and seen how they perform their duties I may be able to appoint my own Decurion Princeps. Let me introduce the four decurions who have accompanied me. First my sons Julius Demetrius and Fabius Demetrius.” They both nodded in adismissive fashion as though the rest of the decurions were beneath them. Their reaction was noticed by the rest of the decurions.” Over there is Quintus Augustus and Metellus Saenius. I am sure you all have duties to perform and,“ he smiled wickedly, “things to discuss so until tomorrow morning you are all dismissed. Marcus Aurelius Maximunius if you would stay behind I would like to be briefed on any actions you have taken in your role of acting Decurion Princeps.”
As they were all leaving Marcus could feel the resentment from his comrades on his behalf. In his own mind Marcus knew that the prefect was correct. He could make any decision he wished and puttin a more positive spin on it, he would have less duties to perform and less responsibility.
“First of all can I say that I meant what I said. I believe you have done a fine job and there is nothing personal in this. The Decurion Princeps is an important role. He is my deputy. As you know there were two Decurion Princeps before this unit suffered such high casualties. When our numbers rise we will need two.” He smiled and poured two goblets of wine. “Let us drink to the day when I can appoint you as Decurion Princeps.” They touched goblets and drank. Marcus was no wine expert but he recognised that this was un-watered, expensive wine. “Now then tell me everything you have done.”
Marcus went through all his actions and appointments from the appointment of Decius as training officer through the patrol to Derventio and his plans for a stud. He also mentioned the unsuitable recruits. “Excellent and I think I can go along with most of those actions however the young acting decurion…”
“Gaius sir.”
“Yes quite I think he should return to his turma as we have enough decurions for the twelve turma and as you won’t be Decurion Princeps there is no need for an additional decurion. The training officer, I take it he is the one with the mouth?” Marcus nodded. “Yes well he can use his mouth for training then, for the time being. This sergeant in charge of schooling is a good idea. I will arrange some extra pay for him. Our horses are vital however we haven’t got the time to build and maintain a stud to produce our horses and, although I like the idea in principle it will have to wait until after the campaign. By the same token we do not need to garrison Derventio all of the action will be in the north and west. As for the unsuitable recruits I am afraid that beggars cannot be choosers. We have ranks to fill and, at the moment even a sack of grain on a horse has value. Thanks again for all your work. I daresay you too have things to do so until the morning.”
The four original decurions were waiting for him along with the two newer ones. “Well I think it is an imperial disgrace!”
Marcus put his arm around Decius’ mouth and moved him away from the headquarters building. “Will you keep your voice down? You heard what he said about insubordination.” He hurried them out of the fort and towards the bridge. When they were at the bridge he turned to them. “What is a disgrace?”
It was Gaius who spoke up. “Well sir the fact that you won’t be Decurion Princeps.”
“And appointing two bloody babies as decurion. I waited ten bleeding years to get it and they haven’t even started shaving.”
“As he said it is his right to do what he wants.” Marcus turned to Gaius, ”and one of the things he wants is to have just twelve decurions. I am afraid you are back to being my chosen man Gaius.”
Rather than being disappointed Gaius actually beamed a smile. “Suits me. I told you I needed more time.” He grinned wickedly at Decius. “Now you only have two babies to watch out for.”
“I never meant you, you know that.”
“I know. Well it looks to be an interesting time ahead. I’ll go and move my gear back into the barracks.”
Marcus turned to the rest of them as Gaius whistled his way back into the fort. “The rest of you be careful what you say. This man looks to be a stickler for convention and wants things done the legionary way. Just do your job and then he can’t find fault.”
“Whatever you say Marcus,” Drusus put his arm around his friend, “all I can say is that it is a shame. Ulpius and Flavius both wanted you to run this ala and what do we end up with? A ‘by the book’ man and two whelps for us to wet nurse! Well I for one am going to get drunk. Anyone join me?”
“That’s the best idea you have had in a long time. Come on then old son. I’ll join you.”
Marcus followed them into the fort reflecting on the fact that he was glad to be back amongst friends. The isolation of a leader was gone.
Fainch
As soon as the priestess reached the uplands of the land of the lakes she began to feel danger. Although she had been close to the Romans on her journey from Mona she had not felt threatened for she felt the holy island of Mona protected her; here in the North it was a different story for the people were a divided people with some loyal to the Romans and some to King Maeve. Which one could she trust? She had already decided that as Maeve was the successor to Venutius he would be the best choice to manipulate the Brigante and Carvetii to her will. She knew that he was massing an army but she needed that army to be ready at her command. She smiled inwardly to herself; she had always been able to make men do as she wished. Venutius had been the last in a long line of men who had succumbed to her power. The mistake she had made with Venutius was allowing him to make so many decisions. Like all men he made decisions based on heroic deeds; as a woman she had learned that sometime the straight line was not the quickest journey.
She had avoided those parts of the North frequented by Romans for she wanted anonymity and so the journey to the lonely lake that was Maeve’s home took her longer than she wished but when she arrived on the side of the fell which overlooked the stockaded settlement she felt relief for her journey was over. This time she would not hide as a spy in a hut she would be as a spider in the centre of the web. No more moving at the behest of others here she would mould Maeve and make people come to her. This time she wanted more control over the men who carried out her wishes; that had been her mistake in the first war against
the Romans she had not been close enough to Venutius, Maeve would be a different matter.
The guards at the gates gripped their holy amulets as she approached for they knew of her and recognised her for what she was, a witch and a priestess. Had she been a warrior she would not have made it through the gates, as it was the guards parted as grass before the wind when she approached. Others ran before her to warn King Maeve, as he now styled himself. By the time she approached his round house he was waiting for her. Although he did not know her name he had known of her. The witch who had worked her magic for Venutius was a legend still spoken of in hushed whispers when the warriors were in their cups. The witch who had made the poison which killed a Queen was a woman to be feared and respected.
“Welcome we are honoured by your presence.”
“It is my honour to serve a mighty king and enemy to Rome.” She glanced around her at the crowd and dropped her voice. “Perhaps if we could sit and talk quietly for I am weary and my words are only for the ears of the king.” Maeve nodded. He could feel himself drawn towards this priestess. Her voice seemed to him to be enchanted and musical. To talk quietly and alone would be fitting.
When they entered the darkened roundhouse, lit only by the fire in the centre Maeve spoke to his bodyguards. “We are not to be disturbed. Please sit priestess.”
Taking off her hooded cloak her hair cascaded down her back. Maeve suddenly realised that she was still a young woman. He had believed her to be older for she seemed to have been around forever. Her violet eyes were piercing and seemed to search into his head, insinuating their way into his thoughts. “My name is Fainch and I served Venutius. I am a priestess of Mona and I am here, oh mighty king, to help you to defeat the Romans and rid the land of their pestilence.”
Her voice continued to enchant and mesmerize him but he remembered the last war and the slaughter of so many of his warriors. “But they are too organised, too well armed; my men are brave but courage is not enough the last time we fought my warriors and those of King Venutius were slaughtered.”