Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 02] The Horsewarriors

by Griff Hosker

  He stiffened as his scout returned. “Sir Roman cavalry.”

  “How many?”

  “Thirty, thirty five. Hard to say they are moving quickly.”

  “Have they scouts out?”

  “No lord.”

  Aed quickly made a decision. The path he would take led from this main path. He could not allow a turma to be in his rear and he did not know where the rest of the ala were. This turma would die. All of them. “Half that side of the path; the other half with me. Wait for my signal. No-one leaves the glade alive.”

  Fabius was elated. He had fought in his first battle and emerged triumphant. True, most of the enemies he had killed had had their backs to him but he had killed two in the initial charge. He was not certain how but the man tumbled from his horse with a wound so he was truly a warrior and soon, when the Governor lavished decorations and honours upon them he would be a hero as well. His men behind him were just looking forward to looting the bodies on the battlefield. They were unhappy at the speed with which he was taking them through these woods but that speed meant they would get to the battlefield before their comrades some miles behind them and with luck the dead would still lie where they fell.

  The first they knew of the ambush was when their decurion’s body flew from his horse run through by three spears. Before the last pair could turn around they were unceremoniously stabbed and hacked from their mounts. After that it was when and not if they died. Mercifully for these butchers of women and children they did not suffer long. Not a single Brigante suffered a wound. Although he was short of time Aed could not resist a cruel gesture. “Strip the bodies and mount their heads on spears.” Less than five minutes later every living thing had left the glade and all that remained was thirty six naked and despoiled bodies and thirty six heads adorning spears and marking the path.

  Aed and his men disappeared south to surface in the land of the lakes as the only survivors of the Brigante army. They would become the nucleus for the next army to fight the Romans.

  The Governor had had a small tent erected by the time his guests arrived. As each man arrived he clasped them by the forearm. When Strabo and Maximunius arrived the whole of the staff, including the Governor applauded. Strabo looked bemused whilst Marcus looked embarrassed. They both looked in a sorry state; Marcus had a heavily bandaged arm and leg while Strabo looked comical with a huge bandage around his head and another, seeping blood from his middle. “I am forever in your debt. Prefect Strabo had you not held the line my legions might not have had the complete victory which now lies in out hands. I intend to nominate you for a gold crown.” They all looked in amazement for such an honour was rarely awarded. “No, you deserve it. Never let it be said that auxiliaries are inferior to legionaries. You have proved the valour beyond any doubt.”

  Strabo looked at the general, “I for one would never have said that. Sir.”

  There was an embarrassed silence and the Cerialis let out the loudest laugh anyone had heard him utter.

  “Quite right too! Decurion Princeps what can I say to you? You did everything I asked and then more. Three charges! Gentlemen have you ever seen three charges by auxiliary cavalry? Sorry three successful charges?” They all laughed. “If only your prefect had had the same sense of duty. Your wounds speak well of your honour. I am especially in your debt. Is there anything you need? My surgeon perhaps?”

  “No sir, I am fine but there is one thing you could do for me.”

  The governor and the whole assembly looked at the Decurion Princeps for they all knew it was not in his nature to ask for things.” Yes what is it?”

  “There was a witch advising the King. Did she survive? Or have you found her body?”

  Cerialis looked around at his aides. “No sir no women but the king still lives. He will die but he lives for the moment.”

  “Could I be permitted…?”

  “Of course. You take him to the man.”

  Clasping arms with Strabo and Sura, Marcus bowed to the Governor and then left with the aide.”I think I shall request more auxiliaries they are so useful.” A cheeky smile played over his face. “And cheaper.”

  Everyone laughed and then Furius added, “Until you have to buy a round!”

  Marcus smiled as he heard the laughs. It could have all ended so differently; he and Strabo and all of his decurions could be corpses but they had had the Allfather supporting them and they had survived. Now if the Allfather willed it he would find out what happened to Fainch.

  The King was grey and ashen. As he entered the legionaries recognised him and saluted, respect apparent in every fibre of their being. One of them shook his head. “King Maeve.”

  The king opened his eyes. “You are the one. I saw you. You killed my cavalry.”

  “Yes king I did.”

  “You are the one with the sword, the sword of Cartimandua.” Marcus nodded. “You are a warrior and I salute you.”

  “King Maeve what happened to Fainch the witch?”

  His face became infused with anger. “That bitch tricked me.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She escaped. I think she had a boat.”

  “Where will she go?”

  “To Mona.” Suddenly the eyes became clear. “You will find her?” Marcus nodded. The king took off his torque; the pain was obvious. “I give you this. Kill her and I will be revenged. Kill her and you will be revenged for she ordered the deaths of you wife, sister and son. Swear it. Swear it on the sword.”

  Gripping the sword in both hands he intoned. “I swear she will die.”

  “Good,” he relaxed, now I can go to the Allfather. Please, le me have your sword for my journey...”

  The legionaries’ hands went to their gladii but Marcus shook his head and placed the sword of Cartimandua in the king’s hand. He held it, sighed and then King Maeve of the Brigante died.

  As Marcus took the sword from the dead man’s hand one of the legionaries said, “You took a chance sir. He could have gutted you.”

  “No for he worships the same god I do. He believes that if he dies with a sword in his hand he will be reunited with his comrades in the next world. Do you really think he would have slain me?”

  Neither legionaries nor aide had an answer to that but the aide said, “Sir Will you kill that woman, Fainch?”

  “Fainch the witch? Oh yes she will die the next time I see her. Believe me she will die and die at my hands.”

  The ice in his voice and the intensity in his eyes convinced the three men that Decurion Princeps Marcus Aurelius Maximunius would carry out the sentence of death.

  As the men saluted and Marcus left he suddenly realised that he had sworn an oath to another dying man. He shook his head and smiled the grim smile of the ultimate reaper. He had sworn the same oath to Ulpius Felix and over the graves of his family. This was no new oath this was his purpose this was his life.

  The object of the oath was even now sailing serenely south planning her next campaign against the Romans. The fact that her plan had not totally succeeded did not worry her at all. The main part had and that was the important matter. She had her own tame putative king in Aed and when the time was ripe she would use him as a thorn in the Roman’s side. He was still bewitched, still entrapped. Once the west was back in Druid hands she would turn her attention to the far north. They had been even more in awe of her than the Brigante. She would bewitch them too. Her laugh carried over the empty bay and echoed like the crying of the gulls. The sailors clutched at their amulets. The sooner the witch was delivered the better.

  The irony was that it was the prefect who first chanced upon the scene of the massacre and the first head he saw was that of his son. The shock silenced him and the blood drained from his face. He had placed all his hopes and all his efforts on his eldest son and his life had been snuffed out like a candle. He sat on his horse with his head drooped, silent tears coursing down his cheeks. The troopers looked around for command and it was a Demetrius who took command, Julius Demetrius.
“Septimus, Vettius, Marcus get those heads from the spears. You men find their bodies.” The young man seemed to grow in that instant and change from the youth to the man. “Father.” He put his arm around his father’s shoulder and held him as the prefect sobbed out his grief.

  By the time the bodies were laid out his father had straightened up. “I’m fine now.” Looking at his only son he said simply, “Thank you, son.”

  “I think it best, father if we burn the bodies here. It would not be right for them to be seen this way by others.” As his father nodded Julius again gave orders, “Quintus build a pyre. We will honour our fallen comrades.”

  As the afternoon drifted into the evening the battlefield was cleared. Bodies were piled up; the Brigante into one mass grave and the Romans into pyres of their dead comrades. A pen was built to contain the prisoners and the surgeons worked long and hard to save men, legionaries and auxiliaries. Gaius was with Marcus who was being stitched up when he saw the smoke. “Marcus in the woods to the far south, smoke.”

  Wincing with the pain Marcus said, “I wonder what that can be. Gaius take your turma out and investigate.” He saw the tiredness in his friend’s eyes. “I know you are tired and so are your horses but yours is the only turma with anywhere near a full complement of men and horses.”

  Smiling Gaius said, “Yes sir.”

  Decius who was in the next cot having a wound to his ribs being bandaged looked up. “That lad has grown up.”

  “We all have Decius.”

  When the orderlies had left them Decius spoke in a quiet voice to the Decurion Princeps. “Those bodies we found close to Brocavum?”

  “Yes Decius I know. I had put it from my mind. The only units who could have committed such an act were the turmae of Fabius and Modius. I will speak to the prefect when he arrives. I would like to keep this in house if possible.”

  “I know but it isn’t right that all the good lads, the lads who lie out there dead, should be tarred with the same brush as those…”

  “Even so. We keep this in house. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  When Gaius found them his comrades from the other ala were preparing to leave. He was surprised at just how many had survived. As he glanced around he could see that only Fabius was missing and the prefect looked like a man who has suddenly added twenty years to his life. He edged his mount towards the prefect but Julius intercepted him and placed his hand on his reins. “Not now Gaius.”

  “What happened?”

  “Here?” Gaius nodded. “Fabius was ambushed and killed along with his whole turma. Their heads placed on spears. My father found them.”

  “Aed.”

  “What?”

  “It was Aed who did this, we saw him escape with some of his men from the battle. The spears were the long Brigante ones.” Julius nodded. “Then it was Aed. We have a score to settle with him.”

  “Then the battle…”

  “We won. It was a close run thing.” He lowered his voice, “The Governor is not happy that the prefect took half his cavalry chasing a few Brigante all over the countryside. I fear he is in for a hard time when we return.”

  “I too felt it wrong to follow them but my father and brother… They wanted the glory.”

  “Now that they have it do you think they will feel it was worth it?” As the two decurions looked at the shell of the man who had been prefect their views were obvious.

  By the time that the Pannonian cavalry returned to camp it was almost dark. The pyres were still burning but the legions and auxiliaries were safely in their camps. The barbarians might have been defeated but the general was taking no chances. He did not want to lose a single more man. One of his aides rushed in, “Sir. The Pannonians. They have been sighted.”

  Cerialis’ eyes hardened. “I want to see the prefect as soon as he arrives.”

  The Governor and Julius Agricola were studying maps when the prefect reported. They were keen to find a way to get down to Mona and put down all traces of the rebellion there for it was obvious from King Maeve’s dying words and the intelligence from prisoners that the priests and priestess from that corrupt cult had been instrumental in the uprising.

  “You sent for me sir.”

  The dull flat tones alerted the Governor that something had happened. When he looked up he had to look twice to make sure he was looking at the same arrogant, cocksure patrician who had left the briefing that morning with such confidence. “Gods man what has happened?”

  Before he could answer there was a slight commotion outside and then a heavily bandaged Marcus burst in. “Sorry to interrupt sir but it is important.”

  The general waved away the sentries. “It had better be young man. If you had not been so brave today you would be enduring a flogging now.”

  “Sir I have just heard that the prefect’s son was killed in an ambush on their way back to the camp. He and his whole turma wiped out. I thought you should know before you er, interviewed the prefect who is obviously distressed.”

  “Ah. Yes I see.” He looked thoughtfully at the Decurion Princeps. “There is more to you than meets the eye. I will see you tomorrow when you have rested. You can leave the prefect with me.” The look on his face showed that he would brook no further comments. “Go back to the sick bay man before you fall over.”Glancing at the prefect Marcus left. The prefect had the same dull look on his face as though he had not heard a word.”Prefect I sympathise with your loss and I will make this as brief as possible so that you may grieve properly with Decurion Demetrius however I would be failing in my duty if I did not tell you that you are facing serious charges of dereliction of duty. Today we almost lost a battle because of your vanity and were it not for that young man who just left we would have done so. Now go and I will see you in the morning.”

  Marcus had disobeyed the general again and was waiting for the prefect outside of the tent. “I am sorry to hear of your loss sir. I know what it is to lose a son and to lose one in such a cruel manner.”

  The prefect looked up almost seeing Marcus for the first time. “I did not know such pain could exist. How did, how do you cope?”

  “You don’t sir. It never goes away. It is always that empty part of you that can never be filled. The only thoughts which bring relief are those of the happy times and you sir, well you still have a son and if I might make so bold a good son.” He paused, “Perhaps sir a better son than you know.”

  The old Rufius appeared for a moment in the prefect’s eyes and then subsided. “You are probably correct. Impertinent but correct thank you Decurion Princeps.”

  The Pannonian camp was a little quieter than it had been. With their losses it had been deemed more effective to build one camp. There were two tents for the decurions of the two ala and Marcus made for that of his own decurions. As he entered a very flushed and half drunk Decius waved a wineskin at him. “Result sir. Furius sent over some lovely wine, said he preferred ale.”

  “Do you know Decius I might just join you.”

  There was a small roar as he sat down amongst his comrades. They all looked around when the tent flap opened and Julius put his head through. “Sorry sir I will see you later I don’t want to…”

  “Come in Julius. You are amongst friends here. Join us.” The tone in Gaius’ voice was reassuring and inviting and the young decurion sat down.

  After toasting the ala Julius said to Marcus, “I just wanted to thank you for what you did for the pre… for my father neither he nor my brother treated you well and it shows your nobility.”

  Marcus shook his head. “I would do the same for any man in this ala for we are all brothers. We might not like each other but we are brothers. You know that. You did not always see eye to eye with your brother but you would have defended him with your life and you grieve for him do you not?” Julius eyes began to well up and he nodded unable to speak. “So you understand eh? You are one of us now. We are your family.”

  They all drank and ate and talked of the day Macr
o relived every blow thrust jink of his horse in excruciating detail. This would normally have annoyed or irritated the others but his heroics of the day had meant that they forgave him his idiosyncrasies and treated him as a rambunctious little brother. When there was a silence Lentius spoke. “Have you mentioned to the prefect about the incident near Brocavum?”

  As soon as the other decurions looked at him Julius spoke. “What incident?” They all looked down. “From your looks I fear it concerns my brother but the Decurion Princeps said I am one of you. Will you not share?”

  As they all shuffled around looking embarrassed there was a movement outside. Modius had come looking for Julius. He had already found himself isolated amongst the others now that Fabius was dead and he was clinging to the idea that Julius might become his brother. When there was silence he halted unsure of what to do. So it was that he heard the revelation.

  Metellus spoke, “We found women and children murdered and mutilated just outside of Brocavum. It had to have been Pannonians and …”

  “And the only units that were there were my brother’s and that of Modius. Yes I remember they were sent ahead to scout the stronghold but they returned with a few warrior’s heads.”

  “Aye well those few warriors were protecting almost fifty woman children and old men.”

  Outside Modius froze with fear but he stayed to hear more. “What will you do Decurion Princeps?”

  There was a silence and then Modius heard Marcus reply to Julius’ question. “It did not seem right to burden the prefect with the accusation today but when he is over his grieving, or as much over as one can be, I will tell him for Modius must be questioned and, if necessary punished.”

  The drunken voice of Decius rose loudly, “And this time I will flog him and I won’t hold back this time.”