by Griff Hosker
Chapter 7
Fortunately for Eboracum, Hadrian had made a wise choice in his Governor for Falco was both calm was level headed; he was not a man to panic when the refugees began flooding through the gates of the legionary fortress. Already warned by the messenger from Morbium, he had delayed the legionary vexillation’s departure. The erection of the limes was not urgent but a raid in the heartland was. He sent a rider to Coriosopitum to requisition some of the cavalry. Although he knew they were stretched he also knew that the mixed Gallic cohort should have arrived at the frontier alleviating some of the paucity of resources at the frontier. He also commandeered every vessel in port and their cargo. The captains bleated but Falco wanted to ensure that they could survive a siege. Finally he had ordered a cohort of the Second Augusta to be sent to Eboracum as a reserve in case of events worsening. He tried to cover every eventuality
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When Julius received the message from his fellow Legate he rode directly to Rocky Point to deliver the request in person. He hoped that Hercules and the Swan would arrive soon for he wanted to be able to travel between the frontier and the Governor both quickly and safely. As soon as Livius saw Julius enter he knew that there was trouble. The Legate knew Livius too well to beat around the bush. “We have an uprising of the Brigante close to Eboracum. And there is worse news there are Irish raiders at Stanwyck and Morbium and the Governor has requested your cavalry.”
Eboracum was a fortress and had been attacked before; Livius felt that it would be safe but Stanwyck? It was a peaceful settlement and, to make matters worse, close to Gaius and Ailis. Livius looked around at the half built fort. “I know we need to help the Dunum valley but what about the limes? What about the Selgovae? If we pull out then they will pour across the frontier and the problem will be even worse.”
“I said I wanted your cavalry. You will stay here.”
“On my own! I think you seriously overestimate my abilities Julius.”
Julius laughed. “No not on your own. The Gallic auxiliaries are here. They arrived in Coriosopitum yesterday. Their Prefect died on the way. I want you to take temporary command of them until this trouble is sorted. You can billet their horsemen in your forts and the infantry here.”
“Who will command my men?”
“Cassius I assume.”
Livius shook his head. “He and three turmae are off to Glanibanta to check on the garrison there.”
“Send a message to him and tell him to head directly to Morbium. Rufius can take charge until then.” Julius could see Livius biting back his anger. “I know what you are thinking Livius. You do all this work and then have to leave it half way through well I am sorry but the barbarians just aren’t cooperating. Had this been in a few months’ time we would have had legionaries up here and the Gallic cohort would have been trained but this is the reality and there is nothing we can do about it.”
Livius’ shoulders sagged and he sighed, “You are right and I know it. I just wish Rome knew it.” He turned to Julius Longinus who had been hearing every word, “Write out the…”
“I am already begun.”
Livius smiled at the Legate. “You see you could cut out the middleman and save so much time.” As they left the Principia, Livius asked, “Do you think we can hold on sir?”
“I don’t know Livius. This attack has come from nowhere. The Selgovae were to be expected, especially after Metellus’ report but not Glanibanta, that was a shock. There are few forts in the west and now that side of the country is open to raids across the frontier for the Prefect at Luguvalium will be stretched beyond belief.”
“You know what I fear the most?”
“Morwenna.”
“Exactly and knowing how she feels about her son perhaps I ought to retain Macro here.”
The two of them left the fort and peered northwards across the magnificent yet bleak and empty land which rolled northwards. “Would he thank you for it?” Livius shook his head. “Would he obey or would he desert to be with his brother? Perhaps you could leave both brothers here and protect them too?”
“Enough sir. I can see where you are going and besides it may not be Morwenna.”
“The reports did suggest Hibernians and it is known that she used those as her bodyguards. “
“If this is some plot of Morwenna’s then I know that the next focus of their attack will be Gaius’ farm. I hope they escaped to Morbium in time.”
“Gaius was always a canny warrior. He will be safe; of that I have no doubt.”
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The Fist was not sure that the ‘army’ he commanded was ready for revolution. The two thousand young warriors were well armed and trained to fight efficiently and they were keen to fight but, having seen many recruits in his career, these did not appear to have the backbone to carry a campaign through to its conclusion. He was preparing for flight, he had already hidden his gold and had the best horse in the army. When things went awry, as he knew they would then he would escape. He had heard that Manavia was recruiting mercenaries such as he and he knew that Rome’s influence would never extend to the realm of the Witch Queen. He would do as requested, he would advise but he would assiduously avoid any fighting. The whelps of Brutus’ army would do the fighting, the bleeding and the dying.
“Well, General, our army is ready and we can attack.”
The Fist fixed the young armoured warrior with his steely stare. “Where would you suggest we attack?”
“Eboracum of course!”
“It is a fortress and not easy to assail.”
“Which is the reason we employ you, as military adviser. What is the speediest way to capture the fortress?”
The Fist was tempted to say ‘with real troops’ but he bit his tongue. “You need to be subtle. A frontal attack will result in too many casualties. The gates are their weaknesses. They are open during the day. If you could send small groups of men with hidden weapons into the vicus they should be able to overpower the guards and the entrance could be rushed. There are probably only five hundred soldiers in the fortress. If you are lucky then you should not have to suffer too many casualties.”
Gaius’ face lit up with pleasure. The plan seemed eminently plausible. “Excellent. You have earned your pay already.” He turned to summon his four young nobles who thought themselves the next generation of Brigante leaders. The Fist turned away in disgust. This young whelp reminded him of every arrogant Roman youth who had arrived to command men twice their age and with twice their experience. Regardless of the outcome of the rebellion he and his men would be leaving. He rode towards the tent which housed his confederates.
The five of them were lounging outside awaiting instructions. “Do we fight?”
In answer the deserter who had chosen the wrong moment to say the wrong thing was kicked, hard, between the legs. “Don’t be a soft bugger all your life. Have a day off! No, we do not fucking fight. I want you to pack all our plunder on the backs of the pack horses. Pack food and tents. Once we leave for Eboracum I want the four of you to lag behind and take the first opportunity, you can to head west. Avoid the Dunum and mark the trail. Travel due west but south of Stanwyck. There is an old trail we can use. I will find you.”
“Where are we going?” The Fist noticed that the tone had become far more respectful and his men feared an attack on them.
“Eventually Manavia but first we get as far away from here as we can. These soft buggers don’t seem to realise that, even if they beat the auxiliaries, the legions will come and they will all end up on crosses.”
“Why are you going with them then?”
The Fist put his face close to the small weasel faced ex trooper. “To buy you ladies time to get my treasure well away from here!”
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The sentries were on high alert. The rumours were racing around the fort but all of them had one thing in common, two groups of auxiliaries had been badly handled by some barbarians; one of them massacred to a man. Every one of the sentries
scanned every face to see if they were foreigners. It was with some relief when the drunken Brigante youths wandered up to the Porta Praetorium. The guards smiled, drunks they could handle. Behind them they could see their mates all laughing at them. Obviously they were celebrating a coming of age.
The optio wandered over to them. “Now come on lads. You know you aren’t supposed to be here. You could get in trouble.” One of them looked as though he was going to vomit. “Hey none of that! If you can’t hold your ale get home.” He put his arm around the boy to steer him away. He looked down in amazed shock at the knife which suddenly ripped open his guts. The four sentries were equally surprised to be attacked and killed by the drunks.
With a roar, the party of celebratory youths raced through the open gate, their cloaks discarded to reveal armour and shields. A mounted warrior whose face was hidden behind a visor galloped up and roared, “Today Brigantia is free!” and led the mob into the open fort.
Governor Falco did not panic. He turned to the centurion who had returned to the fortress with the vexillation of the newly arrived Sixth Legion. “Centurion, form your cohort in front of the Praetorium.”
Quintus Licinius Broccus was a twenty year veteran and he nodded his acknowledgement and strode off. He was already annoyed at having to leave his pleasant little billet with his Batavian slave girl. The fact that he had had to march twenty miles north to be summoned back had merely added to his ire. These barbarians would pay for fucking with the legion.
The Fist waited outside the fortress walls and watched his acolyte lead his brave but foolhardy warriors forward. He had seen the standard of the Sixth and knew that whatever happened, the rebels would die. The legion did not lose. None of the rebel army cared what the deserter did for they were now doing what their ancestors had done; they were fighting for their country, and they were winning. He turned his horse around and kicked hard. With luck he could rejoin his men before the rebels had all been slaughtered and the sweep for others began.
The Brigante rebels were ecstatic; many had not expected to breach the gates but now all fell before them. The auxiliaries they met were disorientated and confused and easily despatched. The vaunted Roman Army was a myth and these young warriors would prove it. Gaius was almost orgasmic with excitement. He had killed his first enemies. Five auxiliaries had fallen to his blade. Behind him were a thousand young bloods. How could they lose?
The vexillation of the Sixth was but a thousand strong but all of them had at least ten years experience and many of them had double that. They watched the young unarmoured warriors rushing at them and began to work out what time they would eat supper. First Spear checked his chin strap and began to estimate the distance to the enemy. They were not warriors; he could see their inexperience and their youth, they were little more than boys but that would not save them. He waited until the front rank was but thirty paces away and then he roared. “Front rank release.!” A heartbeat later and he shouted, “Second rank release!” Finally he roared, “Rear rank release!”
Gaius Brutus could not believe what happened in a few moments. His thousand warriors became a heaving, bleeding, dying mass with the few hundred survivors vomiting over their dead friends. As the Roman line tightened the young nobility of the Brigante fled but to no avail. The legionaries double timed forward and scythed down the retreating, fleeing unarmoured would be warriors. The gate they had breached proved to be their undoing as it was soon clogged by a mass of fleeing humanity who were ruthlessly slaughtered by gladii well used to this sort of butchery. The only survivor was Gaius Brutus who, with urine dripping down his leg, kicked his horse westwards towards his home and safety.
First Spear just spat and said, “Tossers!”
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The Decurions and their turmae wondered why they had been summoned so hastily to Rocky Point. When Rufius saw Julius Demetrius present he had a premonition that it would not be good news. Livius took them into the Principia to give them their orders.
“There are raiders in the south around Morbium.” He glanced at the two brothers whose faces were impassive. “The Governor has no idea how large the force is but it may have destroyed a garrison at Glanibanta before ransacking Stanwyck.”Marcus and Macro exchanged a nervous glance. Morbium was one thing but Stanwyck was too close to home, literally. “The Decurion Princeps and four turmae are investigating the raid at Glanibanta but Decurion Rufius will lead you to Morbium to either act as support or to pursue and destroy these raiders.”
Julius held up his hand to interrupt and stepped forward. “I know that this information is a little vague but you need to know that the Emperor intends to build a solid frontier here and we have legionary vexillations on their way to begin the building. But we need stability behind the lines before we can start work. You have just become settled here but you are the most mobile force we have.” He paused, “Some of you are wondering why the Prefect is not leading you, well he will still be in command here but there is a Gallic mixed cohort who are coming to reinforce the frontier. When you return you will no longer be alone.”
“When do we return sir?”
“Good question Rufius. The Decurion Princeps has orders to head east after he has been to Glanibanta. Once you have rejoined him and the threat is gone then we will send orders for you to return. You will not be taking wagons for you will need to be swift. You will use the remounts as pack horses and when you get to Morbium acquire more remounts from Cato.”
The ala needed no urging to make good speed south. All of them had connections with the area around Morbium and the Dunum. Marcus and Macro’s turmae had even stayed at the farm and had great affection for Gaius’ family. The Legate stayed at Rocky Point to await the arrival of the mixed cohort and Rufius led them across country to save time. They picked up the main road well south of Coriosopitum.
Macro and Marcus were riding together, as was their habit in days past; “We should reach Morbium by nightfall.”
“Brother it is not Morbium that worries me but home.” Marcus had always been the strategist, the one to see the bigger picture. “If there are raiders at Stanwyck they have three directions to take, Eboracum, the farm or back to the west. The easiest option is the farm.”
“But father would have seen the signs and left for the safety of the fort wouldn’t he?”
“I hope so but he was behaving strangely the last time we had leave. Perhaps it was my imagination, I don’t know but I will be happier when we ride through the gates and their smiling faces greet us.”
There was still a pall of grey smoke to the south as they rode through the Porta Decumana at Morbium. Rufius halted the ala outside the walls for he knew they would not have accommodation within. He turned to the brothers, “Organise the camp and, when it is erected, join me at the Principia.”
Macro was about to voice his objections when Marcus restrained him and shook his head. “Yes sir.”
Rufius smiled his thanks. He was fond of the two brothers, regarding them as family rather than fellow warriors but he did not want emotion to rule their heads. The task of building a camp would take their minds off the bad news they might receive. Rufius knew that events might not have gone the family’s way and he would have to assess the situation and then deal with the consequences, whatever they were.
As he walked through the gate he could see the signs of the conflict, wounded soldiers and men preparing to march. Admitted immediately to the Principia the Prefect greeted him warmly. Marius Arvina knew the ala well. “Rufius I am I glad to see you. Things are on a knife edge.” He glanced at the door. “Are the boys with you?” They both knew that Marcus and Macro were, ‘the boys’.
“They are building the camp.”
“Good. You will have some bad news to give them. The farm is destroyed and their father, Cato and their men dead.”
“The family?”
“They are safe, within these walls. But there is more bad news, the Brigante have risen and attacked Eboracum.”
R
ufius was taken aback. “Have they taken it?” Everyone knew that, once Eboracum was taken the whole of the north of Britannia was vulnerable.
“No for the Sixth had a vexillation there and they destroyed them but it is imperative that you find these raiders and destroy them and then get to Eboracum and reinforce the Governor.”
“It will have to be first light. We have travelled hard to get here.”
“By first light I will have men to support you. I need to know what the situation is just south of us. That will enable you and your ala to pursue these raiders.”
“Do we know who they are?”
“My First Spear thought they were Hibernians.”
“A long way from home but I smell a witch in all this.”
“I pray to the Allfather that this is not so. The Governor is keeping us informed of the events in the city and I will send a despatch rider to inform him of your arrival. You were quicker than we had hoped.”
“This is the home of the ala Prefect, our home in every sense. Gaius was our last link with Ulpius Felix and the time of Cartimandua. It will be a hard task to tell the boys.” He sighed and then stiffened his shoulders. He was in command now, not Cassius, nor Metellus and he had to shoulder this unpleasant responsibility. “ And now Prefect if I might see Ailis.”
“Of course. They are using my quarters although Decius was keen to return and rebuild the farm.”
“Just like his father.”
Ailis threw her arms around Rufius. “My boys, they are safe? They are here?”
“Aye they will be entering the fort soon.” He pulled back to see her face. “I feared the worst and I wanted time to prepare to tell them the bad news. I am glad that I did so for it will be a hard task.”
She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek and then stepped back shaking her head. “You are a good man Rufius and a good officer but that is the task of a mother. I will tell the boys of their loss and then the three of them can share the grief and the honour.”