by Griff Hosker
The attention of the guards on the walls was totally focussed on the drama unfolding before them. They were witnessing the end of an ala which had been famous since they had rescued Queen Cartimandua almost forty years earlier. The inns and taverns or Eboracum would have but one topic of conversation at the end of this working day and that would be the disbanding of Marcus’ Horse and the retirement of its swallow tail standard.
Julius rode to the end of the line. “I would like to thank you men, you brothers in arms, for all that you have done in my time with this glorious ala. You have always done more than even I could have expected, you have never retreated and never shown dishonour. Our brothers who are no longer with us but with the Allfather are looking down now proudly on the last of their comrades and I would like to clasp the arm of every one of the finest warriors not only in Britannia but the Empire.”
As he rode down the line speaking a few words to each man and clasping forearms in a soldier’s salute there were many silent tears shed. It was, as the Governor himself had said, ‘the end of an era’. Finally he embraced Sergeant Cato and then Livius both of whom were fighting to remain stone faced. As he turned to face the ala for the last time every troop pulled his spatha from its scabbard and raised it in a last salute roaring, as a man, “Marcus’ Horse!”
The silence echoed strangely around the fortress as every eye in the fort, sentries, clerks, farriers was fixed on the dramatic tableau. Time seemed to stand still until every man slid his sword back into his scabbard and led their mounts back to the stables and barracks. Only then did a murmur of comment rise like the buzz from a swarm of bees. Livius and Cato dismounted to face the Prefect. “Bit of a surprise eh Livius?”
“That is putting it mildly.” He glanced over at the Sergeant. “What about you? Did you expect it? Are you happy about the decision?”
Cato shrugged, “I was going to take my pension this year anyway, the prefect, er sorry sir, Marcus has asked me to help him with the stud.” He paused. “I am sorry to see the ala go but remember all my comrades are either dead or retired… a long time ago. I have buried enough comrades, now I just want to raise foals.”
Livius nodded, “And you sir? The Gallic cavalry or the Ninth?”
Julius’ face darkened and he became sad. “Neither, I am to return to Rome. My father is not well and I am to take his place in the Senate. I am going home.”
“But surely this is your home Julius!”
“It is my adopted home but I was always destined to return to Rome and take up my family obligations, we have always served in the military and then in the Senate,” he shrugged, “a tradition. Now that I am the only son… well let us just say that I feel obliged to continue to serve my family and Rome at the same time.”
Cato took the reins of their mounts. “Right then sirs I will see to these horses now.”
“A last dinner tonight eh Sergeant?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world sir.”
“And you Livius? Any thoughts?”
“It has all been so sudden I…”
As Cato led the horses away, talking to them all the time, Julius put a paternal arm around the last officer’s shoulders. “I would like to offer you some advice and give you some information. The role in the Ninth is a new one. They are to be called the Exploratores.”
“I’ve heard that term but I never knew what they were.”
“Well they are the eyes and ears of the legion. In the old republican days the Cavalry of the legions fought like the legions in blocks of men.” He looked pointedly at the soldiers on the wall. “Unlike the legionaries they were not very successful. Gradually they became glorified messengers and the men who would have formed the cavalry joined with either auxiliary units as I did or the legions as foot soldiers. Finally someone realised what a good job the auxilia did and decided to use them that way. The legions which did that showed how successful they could be, giving better warning of an enemy and not charging of to death and glory.”
“How are they different from the ala then?”
“Much smaller units not thirty men but little pockets of ten or so and they operate less openly.”
“Less openly?”
“Less battles and charges more information gathering, pretending to be locals, working behind enemy lines things like that.”
“Spies?”
Julius considered for a moment. “I suppose you could say that. Gaelwyn would have been perfect for an Explorate; able to track, hide, able to speak many languages. Which is why, young Livius I recommended to the Prefect of the Ninth that you would be perfect as a decurion in his Explorates.”
“You flatter me I…”
“I never flatter, you of all people should know that. I have watched you since your uncle placed you with me to gain experience. You speak the important languages. You are a good tracker.”
“Not in Gaelwyn’s league.”
“Who is? Most importantly you are a good cavalry officer who has intelligence. Your men worship you. If you take this post I guarantee that the Gallic cavalry will have no recruits from the last of Marcus’ Horse.” Julius paused to let his words take effect. “The other factor is to do with the posting. The Gallic cavalry will be sent to Wales to fight the Silures and Ordovices but the Ninth is staying on the border, here in the land you know.”
“Close to Morwenna.” Livius had a personal score to settle with the witch who had deceived so many in the ala and killed friends who were dearer to Livius than his own family.
Julius shrugged, “She could have gone back to Mona.”
“The new Queen of the Brigante? I don’t think so.” He looked up at the blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds appearing over the Praetorium. “I do like this part of Britannia. It is not my home, not the place where I was born but it is the place I love. I will take the posting with the Ninth.” His eyes became harder, “If only to rid this land of the witch Morwenna and make it safe for Ailis and her children.”
Chapter 2
Optio Septimus Aurelius was pleased to be out in the wild again and away from the camp. Although he had been with the Ninth legion for over twenty years he preferred the detachment duties better. He was old for his rank but he was an engineer. The six men with him were almost young enough to be his grandchildren but they were a good team. They were all eager to learn from the most experienced engineer in the Ninth. They had spent the night in the deserted fort of Glanibanta. It would soon be repopulated with Tungrian auxiliaries but it had been a pleasant way to spend the night, safe and secure in the work of others. He had been lucky to secure the services of a mule for it saved the backs of his legionaries and increased their speed. This would be his last engineering job before he took his pension and the little piece of land west of Lindum; he was to survey a route from Glanibanta to the coast with a view to building a fort somewhere on a high pass. He felt proud that he had been given the task, perhaps the engineering tribune had heard of his endeavours over the years, whatever the reason it was a fitting laurel to a successful, if uninspired career. He knew the younger optios teased him about his increasing waistline and receding hairline but, as he had trained most of them, he took it in good part.
As he looked around at the beautiful scenery he reflected that it was good to be walking in such fine country. He constantly scanned the valleys through which they passed seeking out the rocks and materials which would be useful to the legions when they came west to build the road and the fort. It was one of the skills he liked to demonstrate, the ability to do two jobs at once and do them very successfully.
“How far do we go today Optio?”
“Well Julius that depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“It depends in the country. We have to make sure that the road is as straight as it can be and that there are enough raw materials to make the task easier. If the valley is straight or the ridge straight then we will have an easy time but Mother Nature has a habits of making rivers and valleys curve, just to a
nnoy engineers.”
The young legionaries smiled. They had all been pleased to be working with the old engineer. In the legion he was a legend and they knew they would learn much from him. Unlike some of the younger optios he never felt the need to impress them with his knowledge or humiliate them with their lack of it. He was almost like a teacher or a kindly uncle demonstrating a skill. It would be a nice little holiday from the rigours of the legion.
He smiled paternally at them as they grinned and joked along the path. He liked to think that if he had had sons then they would have turned out like these young soldiers before him. Perhaps when he retired he would find a Brigante woman who would find an older, overweight and slightly balding Roman an attractive proposition and bear him some children; he would like that. “Come on you wasters we have twenty miles to go today and we have much to do. Drusus take the lead and find an easy path for my old tired bones.”
*
Tadgh examined the trail to check for footprints and breathed a sigh of relief when he found none. Aodh had given him the responsibility of looking after Morwenna, the Queen of the Brigante and her two acolytes and fellow witches, Maban and Anchorat. The handful of men at his disposal was far too small and it was only through the diligence of constant scouting and traps in the forest that had enabled them to survive thus far. Aodh had only been gone for a month but it felt much longer. Tadgh and his men were in total fear and awe of the three witches who seemed to be able to communicate without the need for words. Although all three had been pregnant when Aodh had departed one, Anchorat had given birth. Tadgh and his men had begun to celebrate as the newly born boy was brought to the entrance of the cave. In their innocence they had believed the witches had brought the child there for them to acknowledge it as a child of their lord, Aodh, but when the new mother smashed the newly born baby’s skull against a rock they knew otherwise. After they had buried the baby, as Morwenna requested, his men had pressed Tadgh to discover the reason. It was with extreme trepidation that Tadgh approached the Queen as she drank the green foul smelling concoction of nettles and mandrake leaf.
“Your majesty?” She lowered the beaker and peered over the steaming rim at the fearful warrior who had begun to wish that his men had not suggested this impertinence. “The men wondered, we all wondered, well, was the child deformed, or sick in some way?”
She nodded and Tadgh breathed a sigh of relief. Sickly babies were often left to die, perhaps not murdered but it was an understandable act and in many ways a kindness. “He was deformed for it was a male child and there will be no male children born here.” She stroked her swollen stomach. “This one will be a female but if the Mother is unhappy with us as she was with Anchorat then it too will die.”
As he trotted down the trail he shook his head. He had tried to explain it to his men but he could see that they were as perplexed as he was. Perhaps when Aodh returned he would be able to explain, Aodh could always explain things to the men that they found difficult to understand. Especially when the subject matter was women. Tadgh had wanted to ask more questions but the look on Morwenna’s face had frightened him so much that he had decided to be discreet and depart.
As he reached the edge of the forest and the clearing he paused and sniffed the air, like an animal would. He knew the smells as well as the sights and sounds of this new kingdom. He had learned that smells, especially strange smells, carried huge distances and he had found it the best way to discover strangers. So far they had only had to kill and dispose of four hapless travellers who were heading from Glanibanta to the coast. He suspected that, as spring became summer, the numbers of travellers would increase but he was determined to keep their presence a secret, at least until Aodh returned and it became the leader’s responsibility.
He suddenly stopped. There was a new smell; it was a mixture of garlic, oil and leather, only one creature carried that combination of scents- Romans. He dropped on to his hands and knees and began to crawl through the undergrowth down the hillside towards the rough and twisted track which wound its way along the valley sides. Tadgh made not a sound as he felt his way along the ground which was mercifully free of either dead leaves or branches both of which would have exposed him to a sharp eared sentry. His silence enabled him to hear the chatter of the legionaries and the crunch of their nail soled caligae. As soon as he heard them he froze. He knew from their voices that they were close but he was far enough from the trail and camouflaged by the bushes to avoid detection. The closer their voices came the greater the tension the warrior felt and unanswered questions rattled around his head. How many were there? Were they looking for them? Did it presage an invasion of this land? As the small group trooped along the path below him he almost breathed a sigh of relief. They were not a patrol hunting for rebels; the mule and tools told him that they were building something. When they had travelled some distance down the path away from him he began to back track their route; only by doing so would he know if they were alone or part of a larger force.
Their trail was clear for an expert tracker such as Tadgh and he smiled with satisfaction when he found the signs of their camp at the deserted fort at Glanibanta. As he trotted back to the cave he pondered on the problem. They were obviously a detachment from a larger force and as such would have to report back at some point. What if they were paving the way for a legion? That would mean that the hidden sanctuary of the cave would be at risk and with it the life of the Queen. She was heavily pregnant and Tadgh knew enough about women to realise that it would be a bad time to move her. He had to delay any departure and that meant eliminating the detachment. There was no legion close by and it might buy them the time for the babies to be born and for Aodh to return from Caledonia.
Morwenna’s keen eyes bored into Tadgh and he had the frightening feeling that she was reading his thoughts. He words confirmed this. “There is a problem Tadgh?”
“Romans your majesty. Only a detachment at the moment but it means a larger force will soon be here and in your condition…” The words hung in the air.
“Do not fear for us Tadgh for the Mother protects us and we are not the weak vessels which are men but it is not convenient for us to move at the moment. What do you suggest?”
“There are only seven of them and I have twenty warriors. We could ambush them and dispose of their bodies in the lake. Eventually they would be missed but they would have to look all along the trail to find out where they had gone”
“How much time would that give us?”
Tadgh shrugged for whatever answer he gave would come back to haunt him. “Three or four weeks would be as long as I would care to take the risk.”
“By which time Aodh and his Caledonii brethren should be here. Do it.”
So the fate of the old Optio and his six young comrades was sealed. Tadgh and his warriors armed themselves for combat for the first time since the first snows had fallen. All of them were glad to be doing that which they loved, hunting Romans. It would not be a fair combat, twenty against seven, but they all remembered the battles where they had been pitted against the mighty legions and seen comrades mowed down by the arrows and artillery of an army which liked to fight at a distance; the Brigante way was face to face and toe to toe, look the man in the eye when you killed him. This would be partial revenge.
They found the detachment unloading their equipment at the edge of a wood. The land before them dropped gently to a small lake and then rose to a mighty pass towards the west. Tadgh nodded to himself. They were obviously measuring for a road and this would be a camp once they had finished their work. He gestured for half of his men to spread north while he took the remainder south. They needed to attack from both sides at the same time. There was no hurry or rush needed, the detachment was going nowhere and Tadgh took his time, confident that Brennus, his brother, who led the other group, would attack once Tadgh had launched his assault. The leader knew that his men wanted to slay the Romans in single combat, as he would, but he had the Queen to think of. He could n
ot afford any losses amongst his twenty men and he had fought the Romans enough to respect them as warriors. Even old men like the crested leader of this detachment would be a good soldier with the deadly gladius. His men had their bows ready and when he nodded nine arrows flew through the air. As Tadgh watched them he saw another flight from the north. One legionary shouted a belated warning and managed to grab his shield but for the rest it was a swift death as two arrows hit each man. The legionary took one in the leg but still bravely grabbed his sword ready to defend himself.
Tadgh ran across the open ground with his mighty war hammer in his hand. The legionary had to crouch slightly because of the arrow in his leg but he pull his shield close to his face and held the gladius angled upwards ready to slash at the unprotected body of the wild warrior who was racing rapidly towards him. Tadgh had fought enough Romans to understand their tactics. In a line the legion was unbeatable as each man protected his comrade to his left with his shield. The man at the end of each line was normally the best warrior. Here the young legionary was isolated and Tadgh almost felt sorry for him as he smashed the war hammer against the shield. The blow broke the young man’s arm and both the shattered shield and broken arm dropped uselessly to his side. He bravely held out his sword but it was no protection from the next blow which smashed into the side of his skull driving the metal cheek guards into the brain of the young legionary who died instantly. “You died well boy. Gather the weapons and then throw the bodies and other equipment into the lake. Put the weapons on the mules and then get rid of any evidence that there was a fight here.”
Later, as they walked back to the cave Tadgh looked around the site; it was as though nothing had occurred and the seven men had never existed. Their armour had dragged the bodies to the bottom of the murky lake and would never be discovered. They would be reported as a lost detachment in the empty wilds of Britannia, a memory only to their comrades in the Ninth and a tale told to terrify new recruits in the inns at Eboracum.