Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 09] Hero of Rome

by Griff Hosker

  Macro looked at Marcus as they both realised the implication of the dying man’s words. “They came to the farm for the sword. Father died at this Faolan’s hands for the sword. I swear brother that I will follow this Faolan to the ends of the earth and have my revenge.”

  “And I brother, will be at your side.”

  Rufius shook his head. They had just spoken of desertion in front of a fellow officer. He would have to talk to Livius at the earliest opportunity. He called over to Graccus. “Your men are freshest, decurion. Find the trail of the main band. They can only be a few miles ahead. Find them and then send me word.” He turned to the others. “Roll call. Find out how many of us are left and how many cannot move.” Although they had won it had been at some cost. He had seen many empty saddles and he could see trooper’s bodies lying amongst the fallen barbarians.

  At the furthest edge of the field lay Tearlach. He had been knocked over by a horse as Macro’s men had charged in. He had lain, stunned until now, some way from the rest of his dead comrades. He slowly raised his head and saw, to his horror, only Romans remaining on the battlefield. There was little point in a glorious death when he might reach Faolan and gain some reward for his report. He had news that his leader would want. The Sword of Cartimandua was within touching distance and the Romans who guarded it were small in number. He crawled unseen over the ridgeline and then ran south west. Faolan would only be a short distance away. He could be making his fortune.

  Chapter 10

  Cassius and Decius were making slower going than they had hoped. The trail which Metellus had found kept crossing the larger trail. In the small valley bottom close to the rising uplands they made a tragic discovery, the bodies of three despoiled young women. The position of their bodies and their state of undress left the troopers in little doubt as to their fate and what had happened in the short time before they had been killed. Cassius looked westward, Metellus was following the captives but he still did not know if this was the main band or not. “Decius, get the bodies below ground. I am going to ride to the top of the ridge, see if I can make sense of this trail.”

  As he rode towards the vantage point which would let him see many miles to the east he wondered if he had made the right decision. In his heart he knew that the main band of barbarians was still somewhere to the west, probably closer to Eboracum but he could have stayed with Metellus and followed the captive band. His problem was he had too few men with him. This was a task for half the ala where they could cover a larger area. He was also acutely aware of the inexperience of many of his decurions. Decius was keen and hardworking but he had been an officer for less than half a year and he still needed the guidance of someone like Cassius. Metellus had the same issue with Cicero. It was ironical that Macro and Marcus, although young, were probably amongst the most experienced officers he had. Suddenly he heard the welcome sound of the buccina; it was ahead of them and not far away. It was the ala; and he idly wondered, as he waved his men forwards, what they were doing this far west.

  They kicked their horses and crested the ridge, there, less than two miles away was an untidy mob of barbarians. Although spread out over a large area Cassius could see that there was some sort of order there with the horsemen to the front and those with helmets and armour at the rear. Decius’ mouth dropped open and Cassius smiled. “Yes Decius there is the warband. Obviously the ones Metellus is pursuing have the captives with them so, it would seem, that my decision has proved to be fortuitous.”

  “Fortuitous sir? Are we going to attack them?”

  Aulus, one of the senior troopers guffawed, to be silenced by a look from Cassius. “No Decius for they outnumber us by almost ten to one.” He pointed at their horsemen. “If their cavalry try to flee then we may well pursue them but otherwise this is a watch and wait situation. That buccina we heard sounds like a cavalry one. It may well be that the Prefect has brought the ala to reinforce us but whoever it is, they are Romans and, therefore, our friends.” He turned to the column. “Eat in the saddle and rest alternate troopers. We may be here some time.”

  “Sir?”

  “They have halted Decius and no longer moving so we will also rest, and eat.” He slid from the saddle and took out some dried venison and a piece of hard bread. He chewed contentedly. He had learned, as an Explorate, eat when you can.

  “Halt!” Faolan cursed to himself; Romans behind him and Romans in front.

  Loegaire nudged his horse next to his leader. “There is only a handful. We can sweep them before us.”

  Angus shook his head. “They will retreat before you. I recognise the standard. The sword you seek is in their ranks.”

  For the first time in many days Faolan showed excitement. Could it be that the witch had spoken true and the sword had sought him out? Truly it was both magical and mystical. Coming back to his present dilemma Faolan looked over his shoulder. “The most pressing problem is who is behind us? Is it more of the same?” As though answering him, Graccus and his turma appeared on the hillside two miles behind them.

  Angus spat into the turf. “I think that answers your question.”

  “Loegaire, empty the cart of the gold, discreetly, and mount the two guards. Split the gold between the two pack horses, our bags and the two guards. We may have to leave the bulk of the army and make a run for the coast.”

  Angus shook his head. “That would be a mistake. The cavalry can run you down. These are nags we have. They have grain fed, well trained cavalry mounts and they look after them. In a race, you would lose.” He could see the indecision on Faolan’s face. “At the moment the situation has not changed. We keep on heading west. If they attack us, and I hope they do, then we can whittle them down and make it easier for us to escape. If we stay together we are too large a group for them to attack and there are no foot soldiers here. It just means that we will take a little longer to get home.”

  Faolan considered the information. It made sense. He still had almost a thousand men and they were in good fighting spirit. The problem would be in making them resist the urge to fight. “Angus, go around the chiefs and tell them to resist charging the Romans, no matter what they do.”

  ******

  “Sir. They are our lads. I recognise the standard.”

  “Well done trooper.” Cassius could relax now. “Ride around the valley and tell them who we are. Return to me when you have discovered how many of our men are over there. Is it the one turma or more?” He added, as the man had ridden off, to no one in particular. “Hopefully the Allfather has thought to send the ala and a cohort of auxiliaries.”

  ******

  The Roman dead had already been reverently placed on a wooden pyre, Spurius had found the buried stakes in the river and they had been improvised into the funeral pyre. The barbarian dead were thrown together and wood thrown on the top on a separate mound. Altogether the ala had lost twenty troopers. The barbarians, fired by drink, had fought on beyond all reasonable hope of success. They had all wanted to die with their swords in their hands and it took many blows to kill them. The fact that over a hundred and fifty barbarians were slaughtered was small comfort to Rufius and his decurions who felt, somehow, as though they had let their men down. As Drusus lit the flames on the two fires each man said his own goodbyes to those he lost. Every thought was different, from the brother who had lost a brother to the decurion who had lost the youngest man in his turma. As the flames flickered and the fire began to take hold the only sound to be heard was the crackling of the fires. As the flames caught around the bodies and the smell of roasted meat began to fill the air, Rufius ordered the men to be mounted. They had lost more men than horses and had a string of remounts.

  “Sir! Rider approaching.” Before they even looked every trooper had a weapon in his hand.

  “It’s a rider from Decurion Graccus’ turma.”

  The young trooper skidded to a halt on the wet grass. “Sir, Decurion reports we have seen some of our men about three miles away and we have found the barbarians.
”

  “How many?”

  The excitable youth shrugged, “Hundreds of the bastards, er sir.”

  Covering his smile with his hand Rufius asked. “I take it that we are both in front of them and also behind them?”

  The trooper’s face took on a strange expression as he tried to work out the question and then the answer. “Er yes sir.”

  “Well boys it looks like my first independent command, thank the Allfather, will soon be coming to an end. It sounds like the Decurion Princeps has rejoined us.”

  It took longer for Rufius’ force to close with the barbarians as Faolan was moving them, as he had been advised, westwards. Cassius had feigned a couple of attacks to see if they slowed up but the behemoth kept its nerve and moved at the same pace it had done before the encounter. The Decurion Princeps felt the sun slipping behind the hills to the west and wondered if and when the enemy would camp. Once they did so then he would be able to contact the bulk of the ala and begin to make some plans. It had been almost ten days since he had left the Stanegate and he had no idea what had gone on in his absence. At least he would have enough men to send a turma to Metellus. Metellus’ despatch rider had told him of the decurion’s situation but he could do little about that until he had solved the problem of the beast which lay before him.

  By the time night had fallen, the raiders and their hunters were exhausted and camped a few miles from the first of the long lakes. Angus had selected the site as the valley was narrow and easy to defend; with a lake on one side and the steep mountain on the other, they would not be surprised. Even though he was tired Cassius had ridden around the huge barbarian camp to meet with his decurions. The fare was basic as no-one had had time recently to gather any additional supplies and Cassius sensed a depressive air. He listened while Rufius explained all that had befallen them and his face creased with pain when they told him of the last stand of Ulpius Felix’s companions, Gaius and Cato.

  The Decurion Princeps looked from face to face. “Do not berate yourselves. You have all performed to the highest standard. The fact that this band raided and destroyed Stanwyck was not your fault. You reacted as quickly as you could and your performance has been exemplary.” He paused and looked directly at Macro and Marcus, sat oddly, apart. “Gaius and Cato died as they would have wished, as I would wish. They had lived long lives and they died doing what they had done for the majority of their lives, defending Britannia.” He shook himself, the evenings were becoming cooler. “That is the past. It is time for the present. There will be no reinforcements to help us; that is obvious so we are on our own. By my estimate, including those in the turmae of Metellus and Cicero, we have about four hundred troopers left. That is not enough to defeat this band. There are more barbarians in the high pass and Metellus is watching them.” They all looked at each other when they heard the new intelligence. They had thought that the threat was contained within their circle of steel. Cassius pointed towards the long lake. “Many of us know this country well; the land ahead is difficult for us. The paths are narrow and a small band can hold up a large number however there are some places where we can ambush them.” He was pleased to see the interest and enthusiasm fill their faces once more as they leaned forwards. “I intend to send my turma to reinforce Metellus. Rufius will take his turma, collect Decius and prepare an ambush close to the valley of the two lakes.”

  Rufius closed his eyes trying to recall the terrain. “Close to the burnt out watch tower north of Glanibanta?”

  “Well done Rufius, the very place. I assume that they will take that route as it affords few opportunities for us to attack. Should they take the route they first used, west of Glanibanta then we have the chance to attack them where the land opens out. The rest of us will dog their trail. When the opportunity arises we will attack them but I notice that our supply of arrows is limited and it is unlikely that we will find a new source soon.”

  He paused to let his ideas sink in. Macro stood. “Sir. Why not let a couple of us sneak into the camp and kill this Faolan. A snake without a head can easily be killed.”

  “No Macro, for there are too many of them. I am sure there is more than Faolan driving this band. They have shown local knowledge that no Hibernian would know and besides it would be a suicide mission.”

  “But we would kill my father’s killer and our honour would be intact!”

  Marcus jerked his head around. This did not sound like the Macro he had grown up with. He was almost shouting at the Decurion Princeps. Cassius did not rebuke him. His eyes softened for Cassius knew the loss would be felt deeply by a young man whose birth father had also been slaughtered. “We are not about honour decurion; we are about doing our job and that is difficult enough. Any more questions?” Every head shook, while Macro’s reddened. “Good. I will lead this vexillation.” He turned to Rufius, “If you come with me I will give you my final instructions.” Once they were away from prying ears and close to the horses he asked Rufius about Macro. “Macro seems changed.”

  “Aye sir. He took his father’s death badly. I fear my influence on him has waned and I would that Metellus were here for they bonded when they were in the land of the Votadini.”

  “I will watch him. Now when you reach Decius you will need to ride all night. I know that you are tired but you can rest up during the day. I think they will reach you at dusk.”

  “I will send a couple of men to Glanibanta in case they take that route.”

  “Good.” He paternally put his arm around Rufius’ shoulder. “You have done well in your first command. Now go and may the Allfather be with you.”

  ******

  Metellus lay in the lee of the ridge his leg still pulsing with pain. The arrow had missed the bone but gone straight through the muscle. His men had disobeyed his orders and returned for him after the rest had reached the ridge. Had they not done so then he would have been a corpse for he had lain exposed on the scree. The capsarius looked at the angry wound. He had taken the arrow out cleanly but not stitched the wound. “I have put some moss and lichen on it sir. It will draw out any poison but it means that you cannot move the leg for a few days. Once it has done its work you will be able to walk and move. It will be a limp but you will still have a leg and still be mobile.”

  Metellus flashed an angry look at the capsarius. “Don’t be ridiculous man! I have to know what is going on here.”

  The capsarius stood his ground. “Sir, with respect, you can still give all the orders but you do not need to fight this battle single handed. We are a team aren’t we? At least I thought those were the words you used back at Rocky Point.”

  Metellus relented and sagged back. The capsarius was right. He turned to the troopers. “We are doing no good up here; we have no target to fire at. Get the captives down to the pass and then join the decurion. The capsarius will help me down.”

  The capsarius, Sextus, grinned. “Oh no sir. It will take a couple of us. You wait here and we will come for you when we have escorted the captives.”

  Metellus lay back, defeated. He was facing east and he saw the sun creep over the peaks in the distance. He was about to turn around and risk a look over the ridge when he remembered his wound. He cursed. Looking down he could see that he had been lucky. The barb had plunged down at a steep angle. A little to the left and he would have had a broken leg and then been out of action for much longer. By the time his men returned for him, his leg had stiffened up and every jolt and rock jarred his body on the tortuous journey down. His men carried him as gently as they could but the slope, going down, was even more treacherous than when coming up.

  Cicero was waiting for him at the bottom. Metellus noticed that he looked happier and more confident than hitherto. Perhaps, being on his own, and in charge for a few hours had made the difference. “Sir they are still on the other side. They have made no effort to attack but they have built a wall sir, with no gate this time.” Metellus nodded and Cicero added, apologetically, “We could have slowed them down sir but we didn�
�t have enough arrows.”

  “You did well decurion. Now the first thing to do is to get the captives organised and fed.”

  Sextus grinned. “I think that is done sir. The woman who ordered them around at the rescue has already done that.”

  “Good. Cicero, divide the men into three groups. I want one watching the barbarians, one resting and the third group can hunt and improve the defences here.”

  Cicero looked confused. “Here sir? But they are behind the wall and we have a wall.”

  “Have you forgotten decurion? This is not the main band. The Decurion Princeps is chasing the main band. I can only assume this group was to make sure that the main war band would escape. We could have an unknown number of Hibernians coming from the east any time now.”

  Shamefaced Cicero scuttled off. “Yes sir, sorry sir.”

  As Sextus fussed with the bandage he said, to no-one in particular. “Decurion Cicero is doing a grand job.”

  “I know Sextus. I know.” The capsarius nodded, satisfied that Metellus understood.

  The foragers returned at noon with some autumn berries and a couple of hares. Nanna, the organising Brigante woman quickly took charge and soon had the hares turning over the fire. She scurried around the dell and returned with wild thyme and garlic. The sentry guarding that side glanced over at Metellus and shrugged his apology, “I would have stopped her sir but she is scarier than a warband of Hibernians.”

  “I know trooper, just try to keep them safe. We don’t want to lose them again.” Metellus had counted thirty women and over twenty children in the group they had rescued. Sextus had told him that Nanna had asked him when they were going after the others, the sixty taken by the chief. At least they had a name for him now, Conan.