by Peter Rhodan
Nor was Cambelyn happy with his senior foreman taking the opportunity to set up for himself over at Pons Aelius on the east coast. Only Arturo’s assurance that Cambelyn would always be the one he used to build new designs mollified the shipwright somewhat. They had several ideas for ships, like the steam dredge they were tinkering with. One of the barges used for outfitting the cargo ships had been used to test the idea of powering a water wheel like device with a steam engine mounted on the barge. Work was still progressing on their ungainly contraption, but so far it seemed like the design was workable, at least in theory. How it would work in practice was another matter.
Once the cargo ship now building was finished, a new, longer barge would be built. The wheel would be mounted inboard centrally at the front and the mud and slush scooped up by the buckets would be dumped in a storage area directly behind and in the middle of the barge. The steam engine would be mounted off to one side and power the wheel with a long driving rod. A crank jack would allow the wheel to raised or lowered as needed although the range of movement would be somewhat limited.
Centurion Sennylt was the man chosen to be captain of the Romulus. He had grown up in a fishing family, spent a couple of years on cargo ship operating out of Bononia as a young man before joining the army. He had been a Decurion in Coel’s militia unit but his ability to read and write had served to get him promoted to Centurion after the battle against the Selgovae.
Arturo had already spent some time with the man explaining how he wanted the navy run. Among other things he had the fellow work with the artillery century these last few weeks so he had some idea of what the catapults his ship would be armed with were capable of. The hard part would be finding men to form a crew, although if necessary Arturo intended to draft a couple of experienced men from the growing merchant fleet.
The rail line south extended nearly ten miles now, stopping at a small village called Hamlyn where the line branched to serve an iron mine that was being developed. The main work crew had been shifted north joining the rush to get the line to Lugowalion finished before the winter snows so there was only the small group of men privately contracted by the mine owner that were working and they of course were working on their branch line. The hamlet was only a couple of houses before the rail line came but now there was accommodation for the station and shed staff who outnumbered the locals. Arturo doubted the place would ever amount to much though, as without it having some industry or other there was little reason for people to settle there.
It took an hour to unload their horses from the two special horse wagons attached to the regular morning train and they were the only people who travelled south to the end of the line. There were a couple of people waiting at the station to travel up to Wern so the train would not be completely empty on its return trip north.
By lunch time they were still a day’s ride north of Glannoventa and clearly not going to make it there that day. A couple of hours later they came across a substantial farm house that had obviously been sacked by the Scotti in their raid. The place was occupied by a small family who were clearly struggling to recover from the attack. The main building should probably have been completely torn down and rebuilt but from the tattered, well-worn, look of the clothes worn by two wary men who faced his party in the courtyard, he doubted they could afford more than the patched temporary repairs they had undertaken.
“I am Arturo Sandus and my party seeks lodging for the night.” He said as they rode up scanning the wreck of the farm. The blackened remains of some barn or suchlike were over to the far side and the still standing typical workers barracks, now being used as a barn, had the walls above the door and window openings blackened by soot showing that the insides of the building had been burned by the raiders. This was the first time he had travelled south without a military escort and when he had been with them they had always camped alongside the road. The two men at this house did not seem overly excited by his identification.
“There not be room in the house for all of you.” One of the men answered gruffly. “We got our families in there.”
Arturo nodded. “What about the barn?” Pointing at the smoke stained building off to the right.
“It not be good enough for the likes for you Dux. The roof is just a patched shambles and leaks something terrible if it rains.”
Arturo scanned the sky. The day had been cool and somewhat overcast but the cloud cover did not look to be the rain producing type. “We are happy to take our chances. A solidi for the use of your barn and if you provide fodder for the horses.” He offered.
Oween started at this offer and went to protest but a quelling glance from Arturo restrained him. The two farmers appeared startled by the offer as well. “That is too much Lord.” The older one said.
Arturo waved his hand around at the farm. “No, it is too little too late. Think of it as some compensation for what you lost to Scotti.”
Oween cocked his head and stared at Arturo for a second then nodded. “Aye.” Then smiled a little as he turned back to the farmers who were still not entirely sure Arturo was serious.
Arturo dismounted and walked forward to the farmers. He reached into the pouch at his belt and pulled out some coins. Using his other hand to pick through them he found one of the gold coins and presented it to the still not entirely believing farmers. “There. We have an accord.” And he held out his arm which after some hesitation the older farmer reached out and grasped in return then nodded agreement.
The building had probably seen better days even before the Scotti raid but there was some hay for the horses and the farmer produced a small store of oats for their four-legged transport as an added bonus. Hay was not an entirely comfortable bed but certainly better than bare ground and the small party soon had themselves settled in for the evening. As usual, the three girls took turns at guard duty with the time each spent on duty now being calculated by one of the new hourglasses. Arturo had designed the original but the glassmaker Gilbyn had perfected the final product. They were already selling as fast he could produce them, following along from the other glass things recently introduced like the telescopes and large flat glass for windows. These were growing in popularity with new houses although the panes were not actually that large yet and there were still transparency problems. There tended to be patches where the view through the glass was sort of wavy or distorted but they’d sort that out eventually.
There were still other problems with the glass making, mostly to do with supply of raw material and complaints about the process from neighbours. The railway made transport much easier now and Gilbyn had been talking about moving his glass works to a site that used the more easily accessible sand south of Wern near the shore. Arturo had instead suggested Glannoventa and Gilbyn had agreed to come down and look the place over once the rail line was finished. Making moulded glass items using steam powered machinery was not something Gilbyn seemed to be able to grasp clearly and Arturo was fairly sure he would either have to force the man to adopt the new technology or find someone else take over the mass production of glass items such as drinking glasses.
Arturo was still smiling to himself about his arrogance in making over this society to match what he was comfortable with from his own time when he fell asleep. Next thing he knew he was awakened in what seemed like only seconds later by a female voice yelling “Alert! Alert!”
It took him a second to snap fully awake and then he reached for his sword lying in the straw nearby and jumped to his feet. As did Oween and the two off duty bodyguards. The third had her sword drawn and was backing into the barn. The three quarters full moon shone through the basically open roof and illuminated the scene sufficiently for all to see what they were doing. Marlyn was followed by several men armed with swords and shields who stopped when faced by the line of armed people which stretched across the barn. More of the armed men piled into the barn behind them and a voice from the rear bellowed “Attack you fools. Kill them all!”
Of course, this w
as going to prove to be easier said than done as a knife thrown by Briana took the closest assassin in the throat, his gurgling collapse serving to break up the concerted rush. Those facing the girls found that the katana’s they were armed with were more than a match for the traditional sword and shield each assassin carried, indeed if they had not been carrying the shields Briana and company probably would have carved the whole lot to bits in a few minutes. As it was the three girls were slowly forced to give ground.
This would have been a problem, exposing the two men’s flank unless they likewise retreated except that Oween was armed with his battle steel sword and was easily the best swordsman in the room. He overcame his initial surprise, took a stance against the first man near him then in move of great finesse first blocked and then skewered his opponent with a combination speed and balance the other could not match.
He then took on two of the assassins, allowing Arturo to face only one. This man had the edge until he discovered that his iron helmet did not offer as much protection as he thought it would when Arturo’s battle steel katana was brought down on it with some force. The blade bit through the iron of the helmet and into the man’s skull, splitting his head open sufficiently deeply to end the fight. The immediately deceased fellow collapsed to the ground and Arturo moved against one of Oween’s opponents.
The man Arturo moved against sensed his approach and swung his shield to block the blow Arturo directed at him. In doing so he was forced back slightly cramping the movement of the man behind him who was trying to replace the fellow Arturo had killed. Realising his opponent was slightly off balance Arturo drew back his sword and thrust with all his might in a forward lunge. With his full weight behind it the blade point punched through the round wooden shield the man carried, through the mail corselet he had on and into his gut where Arturo twisted his blade before withdrawing it.
The man crowding behind quickly stepped back slightly to allow Arturo’s victim to collapse then came forward purposely to face the Dux. By now the odds had evened out and there were only five of the attackers left, facing Arturo’s five and apart from the newest recruit Leana, the bodyguards were better trained and more skilful than their opponents. Only the combination of sword and shield was keeping the fight even. The man facing Oween discovered that even a shield did not necessarily compensate for lack of skill and in a move Arturo did not really see, being engaged to his front as he was, somehow Oween got inside his man’s guard and forcing the fellows sword arm up and to the right prevented the man from using his shield effectively and Oween’s sword slammed into the man’s chest with a sicking crunch.
At almost the same moment Leana went down from a thrust through her guts and this left Briana’s flank exposed. In the event it gave her more room to move and she now danced about her two opponents in a mesmerising dance of cut and thrust. Oween caught Arturo’s opponent in the side before the fellow realised his flank was exposed and the two turned and moved against the three remaining assassins. Oween got between them and the door to prevent their escape and pretty soon there was only one. “Prisoner!” Arturo panted, trying to catch his breath now that his active assistance was no longer required. The adrenalin rush was subsiding leaving him feeling shaky.
The lone assassin had other ideas and before Oween realised what he was about he threw himself forward and impaled himself of Oween’s sword. “Damn!” Oween hissed pushing the fellow off his blade. They quickly checked each other for wounds. Briana had a nasty cut on her arm and Marlyn one n her thigh. Oween, unsurprisingly, was untouched. Arturo had a cut on his forearm, another on his shoulder and a large bruise on the side of his head from the pommel of someone’s sword.
Leana was still alive but had blood trickling from her mouth so there was no hope of saving her. Briana and Marlyn knelt on either side of her holding a hand each as she faded away, tears running down Briana’s cheeks as the girl died. One of the bad guys was also still alive, as Oween discovered when he went around checking on them. This state did not continue for long and he refused to speak before the light faded from his eyes.
Figures appeared in the doorway and all four grabbed their weapons ready to fight but it was only the farmers. “Lord. What? How? Who are these men?” The older farmer spluttered obviously surprised by the scene that met his eyes.
Arturo studied the man closely, but his surprise and shock appeared genuine. “Assassins. Someone, it appears, objects to my continued existence. Rather strongly it would seem. Oween. Search them and see if there is anything that would give us a clue as to who they are or who may have hired them.”
“Oh, aye Arturo.” And he set to work.
“I will need your help in digging a grave somewhere soft to bury this lot. Their last resting place will be unmarked and soon forgotten. Leana here I will pay to have a proper tomb erected on the main road. Briana, please come up with a suitable inscription so all that pass will know who she was and what she did.” Briana nodded but said nothing, her face contorted in an effort to hold her emotions at bay. “I will hire the best stone mason in Wern to build the tomb. Please have someone ready to take word to him for me.”
The older farmer nodded. “Yes lord. I will send my son Dylffyn.” He turned to the younger man still looking shocked at the carnage, the barn now stinking of blood and faeces. “Dylffyn.. Take word to Master Corvus at Wern that his services are required here immediately by the Dux.”
“Aye father.”
“Take the morning train, I will cover the fare.” Arturo said.
The young man nodded again obviously excited by prospect of travelling on the steam train. “I’ll be going soon then.” He said trying to contain his excitement.
Arturo held out two silver coins which would each be more than enough for the train trip. The excited Dylffyn took the coins bobbing his head. “Thank you Lord. I’ll just go and grab some cheese and be off father.”
“The arms and equipment that are serviceable we’ll keep Oween. The rest our host can dispose of as he sees fit.” Arturo ordered.
“Very well Arturo. Going to need something to lug all this around in.” Oween commented, starting to pull the mail corset of one of the bodies. The two girls, obviously feeling the need to do something rather than just sit by their fallen comrade, began to help in stripping the dead.
Arturo thought about for a moment then waved a hand. “We’ll leave it here for the next change of garrison at Glannoventa. The century returning to Dervent can take it north with them.”
“Oh, aye. Good thinking. I’ll make a list for the centurion once we’ve finished.” Oween said.
It did not take long to strip the dead. Young Dylffyn headed off north under the moonlight and Arturo’s party, unable to get back to sleep packed up and headed south at what Arturo estimated was a good hour before dawn. He left written instructions for Leana’s tomb with the farmers for the mason to follow and trusted the farmer with a solidi for the mason’s trouble.
The skies had cleared earlier in the evening and the moon shone brightly enough in the clears skies that they had no trouble making their way south. Arturo found himself marvelling at the huge brilliance of it but then realisation of where and when he was brought thoughts of his own predicament that produced in him a sad melancholy that the others did not notice. It was fortunate that the darkness meant they were too absorbed in picking their way in the moonlight.
Their early start meant they reached the northern bank of the river that entered the sea at Glannoventa not that long after dawn. Just downstream from where the road forded the stream a small party of men were eating breakfast. They were in the charge of one of Theodorus’ foremen and were slowly building a stone bridge over the stream to carry the rail line south. They waved to Arturo’s party, but the road was really too distant for conversation.
The fort at Glannoventa was actually some way from where the port was going to be built, they discovered upon arrival. Eventually Arturo doubted it would need to be maintained at all but for the moment
it would be manned regularly, if only with a century of troops that rotated every month. He understood there was a massive fortress at Deva built to hold five thousand men or more and he planned that to be the next military base southwards. Once he had a few warships patrolling the sea the random raids by the Scotti should subside, thus negating the need for this isolated fort.
The small vicus that had been attached to the fort and which had served the naval base had long fallen into disuse but there were signs things were changing. The land where the new town would be was still largely being used for farming but there were pegs driven into the ground defining where roads were going to be laid out. The engineering party building the bridge were apparently staying with the small garrison in the fort which had already undergone some refurbishment from the rotating soldiers sent south to occupy it. Only being occupied by a single century meant there was plenty of room left inside the still dilapidated walls. Arturo discovered that the refurbishment had only extended to the making men’s accommodation liveable and to fixing up the nearby bath house for their use.
This last they all thought was a very good decision on the part of the successive garrison commanders as the whole party enjoyed a good soak after a journey that had been rather more exciting than originally anticipated. The garrison commander this month, an earnest young fellow named Cynloup, formerly in the cohort Brennus had commanded under Maximus, was aghast at the attempted assassination, apparently convincing himself that it was somehow his fault that the Dux had been attacked.
After disabusing him of this conviction, Arturo inspected the area, noting where the rail line would run and the position of the proposed station. It would be the southern terminus for the moment, but he noted that the surveyors had continued marking a route further south. Cynloup confirmed that there was a small party about a day’s march south marking out where the line should run when they came to extend it to further. Cynloup seemed quite enthusiastic about trains and kept telling Arturo how marvellous they were.
