Caledonia

by William Kelso

  Corbulo shook his head. Eight days! He had wasted eight days. He closed his eyes.

  "But I am going to be alright now, am I not doc?"

  "Yes you are healing well but you need to rest. If you were still with the Legion I would order you to stay here for at least another week. You need to regain your strength. You are not a young man anymore Corbulo."

  Corbulo was staring up at the ceiling.

  "I remember now, I remember asking to see Quintus, he's the Centurion of the first company, eighth Cohort. Is he here?"

  The doctor nodded. The guard brought you to him and he brought you here. I will go and tell him that you are awake."

  The doctor turned to leave but Corbulo caught his arm. He managed a grin.

  "Thank you doc, it feels good to be back with the Legion," he said.

  ***

  "Well fuck the sacred chickens, he's awake at last," Quintus bellowed as he caught sight of Corbulo lying on his camp bed. The Centurion was clad in full armour and was wearing his Centurion's helmet with its broad cheeks guards, circular brass bosses and red horse hair plume. Oblivious to the other wounded and ill men in the hall he strode straight towards Corbulo. Quintus was a big powerful man with a broken nose. He stopped beside Corbulo's bed and the two men shook hands in the legionary way.

  "It's good to see you Quintus, " Corbulo grinned. "After my retirement I didn't think I would ever see you again but here you are and here I am."

  "You look like shit," Quintus grinned, "I couldn't believe it when the watch commander carried you into my tent. You were half dead. What happened? What are you doing here? I thought you had gone back to Italy?"

  Corbulo nodded. "You heard about my woman didn't you. She killed herself."

  Quintus's face grew solemn. "Yes I heard about that," he muttered.

  "You remember Marcus, my son," Corbulo continued, "He signed up with the 2nd Batavians. A few months ago I heard that he had gone missing here in Caledonia. So I have come to find him." Corbulo looked up at his friend. "Have you heard anything from Marcus? Anything at all, rumours, gossip, any news, doesn't matter if it's completely stupid?"

  Quintus shook his head. "No, I haven't heard anything. The 2nd Batavians are garrisoning some of the forts to the south of here. I didn't know that he had been listed as missing. Ah that's bad news. I am sorry."

  Corbulo looked disappointed. "Well I am going to find him, even if I have to go to the end of the world," he muttered.

  Quintus nodded and folded his arms across his chest.

  "These Caledonians," he said wearily, "they don't want peace. They don't want us here. They are too afraid of us to stand and fight in a proper battle. Instead they sulk in their forests and amongst their mountains and attack us when we least expect it. They don't do much damage but every ambush manages to kill one or two of our men. Then they flee back into the hills." Quintus sighed. "My men's morale is low. They want to fight but how do you fight against an enemy who acts like a ghost. It's the same with the auxiliary Cohorts. Everyone is fed up with this kind of warfare. I wish Agricola was back in charge. He would put an end to this shit."

  "Is it as bad as that?" Corbulo said looking up from his bed.

  Quintus nodded. "I was there at Mons Graupius. We all thought that would be the end of it, but it seems it was only the start."

  "I can't believe they made you a Centurion," Corbulo said with a wry smile. "How long is it before you retire from the Legion?"

  Quintus grinned. "I retire at the end of this year," he exclaimed. "Makes you think that the Legate was doing an old comrade a favour doesn't it. Shit, I served this Legion for nearly twenty five years and they only make me a Centurion in my final year. I should have been an officer years ago."

  Corbulo swung his legs onto the ground and stood up. For a moment he felt the earth sway beneath him. He steadied himself and turned towards Quintus. "Thank you old friend for what you have done for me. You saved my life. I cannot repay you for that now but I promise that I will remember and Marcus and I will look you up when this is all over. Now I must be on my way. I have wasted enough time already."

  Quintus caught his arm.

  "But not today Corbulo," the big Centurion said with a gentle shake of his head, "You can stay here for today. Tonight come to my tent and let's talk about old times. I would like that."

  For a moment Corbulo looked undecided. Then he nodded.

  "Let's talk about old times," he muttered.

  Chapter Thirty Two - The Twentieth Valeria Victrix

  Corbulo rose from his sick bed at noon unable to contain his curiosity any longer. He was back with his old Legion. He just had to have a look around and see if he recognised some old faces. The fever had broken but he still felt weak. Dressing himself in the new plain white tunic that Quintus had given him, he strapped on his Gladius and leather torso armour and slipped his cloak over his shoulders. It was a beautiful day and the sun hung in a clear blue sky.

  A work party of soldiers were labouring away on top of the turf ramparts and Corbulo climbed up to join them and to get a better view of the camp. The men ignored him. Corbulo grunted in satisfaction. Inchtuthil was a well chosen site he thought as he surveyed the construction. He had expected nothing less. The Twentieth were after all the finest legion in the Roman army. The closeness of the Tay gave the fortress added protection whilst also providing the troops with fresh drinking water and access to seaborne supplies. Yes it was a good location. He nodded in approval. Placing the camp just north of the river was yet another subtle message to the hostile tribes that Rome meant to conquer all the island of Britannia and not to just defend the richest parts. As he stood staring down at the construction works Corbulo felt an upwelling of pride and for a brief moment he longed to be part of the Legion again, the place he had called home for twenty five years.

  In the forest he could hear work parties chopping down trees and as he watched a large pine slowly toppled over and crashed into the woods. It was followed by the shouts of the wood cutters. Further to the north on the horizon he could just make out a line of heavily forested hills disappearing away to the north east. How much more land was there beyond those hills he thought? Did Britannia really stretch all the way to Hyperboria? He turned to look into the camp. The Legionaries had only just started building the Legion's huge granaries and workshops that would hold their winter food supplies and repair the Legion's baggage train and the men's equipment. The barracks buildings, all sixty four of them were in an advanced state of completion but in the very centre of the fortress, on a clearly marked out area, the soldiers still had to make a start on the Legions HQ where the Legate and senior officers would be billeted and where the Legionary standards, war diary and pay chest would be kept. The area had been levelled and prepared, but for now it was still covered in grass. The camp was crawling with soldiers and work parties. The shouts of officers and men mingled with the sound of sawing, hammering, the whinnying of horses, the rumble of carts and the bellowing of oxen. Beyond the main camp Corbulo saw the neat white tents standing in endless rows within the labour camps. Eight men would be assigned to a single tent. He grinned as the site brought back memories good and bad. Damn, he had missed the Legion.

  As he stared absentmindedly into the camp, a long supply convoy of carts pulled by oxen came rolling down the track from the south. The foremost carts were filled with thousands and thousands of long, shiny brand new iron nails. Corbulo started walking along the top of the turf ramparts. A wooden palisade was being built along the top and he had to be careful not to get in the way of the soldiers work. Here and there he ran into an old comrade and the two of them would shake hands and have a brief chat before the men were called back to work. Corbulo had a broad grin on his face when a sentry high up in one of the tall wooden watch towers suddenly cried out a warning.

  "He's back, down by the river, look!"

  The work party on the southern ramparts stopped what they were doing and every man turned to look in the direction
in which the sentry was pointing. At the edge of the river on the southern bank, a hundred paces or so away, a big dog had appeared from out of the forest. The dog sat down and stared towards the fort.

  "What is he doing?" Corbulo asked a soldier nearby.

  The Legionary gave Corbulo a quick examining glance. "He appeared yesterday," the soldier replied, "just sits there by the river until our men try and catch him. Then he runs away. Look, he's a big fellow, probably one of these Briton war dogs. He will be valuable."

  Corbulo stared at the dog sitting across the river. The beast sat perfectly still. A spiked iron collar hung around his neck.

  "Seems like he's waiting for someone or something," Corbulo muttered.

  ***

  Corbulo was making his way back through the labour camp towards Quintus's tent when he suddenly froze. Ten paces away three men and a young woman had just emerged from a tent. The woman had a black eye and around her neck an iron ring shackled her to a slaver's chain. Corbulo didn't recognise her. She looked miserable and her eyes were cast down towards the ground. But it was not the woman that made Corbulo gasp. The three men were talking to each other. One of them gripped the end of the chain to which the woman was fastened as if she were a dog on a leash. Corbulo's hand dropped to the pommel of his sword. It was Vellocatus and his two assassins, the auxiliary soldier and the bow man. What were they doing here? For a fleeting moment Corbulo wanted to run but his legs refused to move. Vellocatus had not yet seen him. Then another man emerged from the tent. He was big and tall and looked like a Caledonian warrior. Corbulo did not recognise him but the four men seemed to know each other.

  "Heh, fuck face, yes you," Corbulo suddenly called out, "I want to talk to you."

  Corbulo boldly took a step forwards. Vellocatus turned and his face went pale with shock. At his side the auxiliary suddenly looked embarrassed. Corbulo took another step forwards and pointed his finger at Vellocatus.

  "Welcome to the Twentieth Legion arsehole. I served in this Legion for twenty five years and I still have many friends here. Now I told your boy there that I have no interest in your business. I am here to look for my son. But he didn't seem to understand that. So I am going to tell you what is going to happen. You are going to leave me alone or else I am going to tell the whole Legion about your little secret up north." Corbulo took another step forwards. "Now do we understand each other?"

  Vellocatus was staring at Corbulo as if he was lost for words. He made no reply. Around them the Legionaries had turned to see what was going on. Corbulo glanced at the girl but she didn't look up. Then he looked at the auxiliary soldier who was smirking at him.

  "And if I see you again," Corbulo pointed his finger at the man, "I will kill you."

  Then without another word Corbulo turned and walked away. His hand however did not leave the pommel of his sword until he had vanished amongst the rows and rows of white tents.

  ***

  It was evening and Corbulo sat in Quintus's tent. The Centurion of the 1st company, eighth Cohort had a double sized tent which also acted as the companies official area and where the units standard and trumpets were kept until the permanent quarters could be completed. The two men were alone. Quintus was cleaning his helmet and Corbulo was trying to mend the hole in his leather torso armour that the arrow had created. A fire ringed by stones spat and crackled closed by.

  "So you say that these men attacked you on the road from Eburacum?" Quintus said looking serious.

  Corbulo nodded as he passed the bone needle and thread through the leather. "They did, I am sure it's to do with this amber cave they talked about. I tried to warn them off but they don't seem to listen. I don't know what else I can do."

  "The fourth man you described, the Caledonian," Quintus looked thoughtful, "I have heard of him. His name is Baldurix, he is a chief of the Decantae. They are our only allies amongst the native tribes. Baldurix is an important man. He speaks regularly with the Legate when he comes here. If this Vellocatus is his friend then he will enjoy Baldurix's protection. You won't be able to touch them."

  "I know," Corbulo said wearily, "but I could really do without their interference. I am here to find Marcus."

  Quintus was silent as he finished polishing his helmet and started on his body armour.

  "They had a girl with them. She had a slave chain around her neck," Corbulo said at last. He paused. "When I first met Vellocatus he mentioned that a girl was going to lead him to the amber cave. There was some sort of arrangement with his northern allies by which I presume he means Baldurix. I wonder if that was the girl which he mentioned? If so it looks like Vellocatus will be heading north too."

  Corbulo looked up at his friend. "I am going to leave at dawn tomorrow. I know you can't hold these arseholes but perhaps you could delay them for a while? I just need a few hours to get clear."

  Quintus stopped polishing and glanced at Corbulo.

  "I will see what I can do," he said.

  Corbulo nodded his appreciation. The two men were silent for a while as they both worked on their chores.

  "So have you given any thought to where you will retire?" Corbulo asked.

  Quintus nodded, "I have. I am going to stay here in Britannia. It seems a fair decision after all the time that I have spent here. There is a hill, some six miles due south of Londinium. It's a heavily forested but from there you have fine views for miles around including the city. I will buy my land there and build myself a farm and marry a fat local girl who doesn't mind an old soldier who farts in bed."

  Corbulo grinned as he remembered the first time that he had met Quintus. His friend had been a few years younger than him. The Twentieth had been ordered to march west into the land of the Orodovices. There had been a lot of trouble that year. It had been the year that Governor Paulinus had destroyed the druids and Londinium had been burnt to the ground. It had been the year when Roman control over Britannia had nearly been lost for good. The Twentieth had known nothing about this when they had marched off into the bleak, lawless western hills to confront the druids across the straights that separated Mona Insulis from the main land. Corbulo would never forget the sight of the fierce Celtic warriors lining the opposite shore or the Celtic women flitting in between them screaming for blood, nor the white robed priests holding hands in circles and calling down the wrath of the gods upon the heads of the Romans. The crazy and outlandish appearance of their enemy and the invocation of divine aid had struck terror into the hearts of the Roman assault companies. The druids had not feared death, they had been looking forward to it and for a moment it had seemed as if the Roman attack was going to stall before it had even began. But Govenor Paulinus had been an experienced soldier, tough, cruel and unforgiving. He had ridden out amongst his men shaming them for their cowardice and superstition and the troops had finally grown ashamed and humiliated and had responded with a frenzy of blood. Corbulo and Quintus had been in the same assault boat as they had crossed the straights. They had been the first boat to come ashore. During the amphibious assault Quintus had been knocked out of the boat and had nearly drowned. It was Corbulo who had pulled him out of the water. The two men had been friends ever since.

  "Do you remember that Agricola wanted to be on the first boat to hit the enemy shore at Mona," Corbulo said with a short shake of his head.

  "Agricola was a prick," Quintus muttered with a faint smile. "He really did believe that that would get him noticed by the Governor."

  "Well he must have done something right. He managed to make it all the way to the top didn't he," Corbulo replied, "Unlike us," he added with a grin.

  "He did," Quintus conceded, "and I wish he was with us now."

  The two of them were silent for a while as each seemed lost in his own memories. Finally Quintus laid his armour aside and rubbed his face with both hands.

  "So what are you going to now Corbulo?"

  Corbulo was staring at his leather armour. "I will go north," he said, "follow the supply routes that lead from fort
to fort until I come to the end of the world. Someone in those forts must know something."

  "And if they don't and you cannot find Marcus, what then? Do not be caught out by the winter up here. It's hell," Quintus replied.

  Corbulo looked up at his friend and smiled. "I will find him. Marcus is alive."

  Quintus looked away.

  "You don't think I am doing the right thing?" Corbulo asked.

  "I think you are desperate," Quintus replied with a sigh, "desperate men die. Have you not considered that Marcus may be dead. Is throwing away your own life going to change that? Maybe you should stay here. Come back south with me at the end of the year when I retire. I could use a good man around the farm."

  But Corbulo shook his head. "Maybe I am desperate like you say," he muttered, "But I have to try. I have promised my wife that I would try. I won't turn back now."

  Corbulo paused. "Would you be able to get a horse for me?"

  Quintus shook his head. "No, they are in short supply as it is. The Tribunes will never allow it, especially if the man is a civilian." He paused. "I can get you some provisions for the journey though. You looked all bone and no meat when you first arrived here, you still do."

  Corbulo nodded his thanks.

  "The hills and forests north of here are crawling with hostile tribesmen," Quintus said staring sharply at his friend. "Our supply convoys have to have a strong escort just to get through. Stay off the main pathways and if they do catch you then you had better have a good story prepared. The Caledonians have a habit of nailing Roman prisoners to trees. I have seen their work myself."

  "Same odds as against Boudica," Corbulo tried to smile.

  "No," Quintus said looking serious, "You are going to get yourself killed Corbulo."