by Griff Hosker
Macro heard the shout and saw the figure streaking away. He dug his heels in and his mount responded instantly. The grain fed horse began to outstrip the rebel horse which had not been well looked after. Aed could hear the thunder of the hooves but he knew he dared not look around for fear of missing his footing on the treacherous, rock filled plain. Macro had no such fear and he was already sliding his spear in his hand to extend it beyond the tip of his horse’s nose. He used his knees to guide his horses and he reacted to the movement of the horse in front of him. The end, when it came, was a sudden shock to both men. A deer had been drinking at the lake and when it had heard the thunder of hooves it had panicked. It suddenly leapt in front of Aed’s horse causing him to swerve in front of Macro. Macro had the lightning reactions of the young and in one fluid movement he had thrust his spear through the gap in the breast and back plate of Aed’s magnificent armour. As he felt the life blood ooze from the fatal wound he wondered if Fainch knew of his death and how she would take it. The puzzled expression on his face made Macro wonder about the last thoughts of this, the last Brigante rebel. Had his last thoughts been of the power he had so nearly had or perhaps it was of his victories? Macro spent the long ride back to the battlefield with the dead rebel and the dead dear slung over the horse’s back pondering on such thoughts.
“Sound the recall!” The prefect did not know for certain if he had won. From the lack of enemies around him he assumed he had but he could not see far on this cloudless night. Night had fallen heavily as the battle had progressed. Any further pursuit was fruitless and he did not want to lose any men unnecessarily. He could hear the moans and cries of the dead and the dying and the last few combats played out in darkness. He turned to the men around him and shouted. “Form up in your turmae. Decurions report to me when you have ascertained casualties Gaelwyn!”
He almost jumped when the wily warrior’s voice came from behind him. All through the battle the scout had protected the prefect’s back, having saved his life once it was now his duty to protect his life for ever. “Yes prefect?”
“You gave me a start. Find us a good place to camp.” Without acknowledgement the man melted into the dark. His decurions started to arrive with their reports. He smiled as he realised that they were all there and then he counted again. Macro was missing! He hoped the impulsive but likable young man had survived. From the casualty figures supplied by the decurions he discovered that they had lost barely a handful of men so swift had been their attack and the shock it had created.
Decius was the last to report and he held the grisly remains of Modius’ head. “Found one deserter sir.”
They all turned, their hands going to weapons as they heard the thunder of two horses. “Friends! Friends! It is Decurion Macro.” As he reined in his horse Decius shook his head. “Killed their leader sir and I got us dinner, tonight we have venison.”
“You know son if you fell in a pile of shit you’d end up with gold in your hands.”
The next day as they surveyed the battlefield the prefect saw what a complete victory it had been. True, rebels had escaped and in that he had disobeyed his orders but the number of rebels who had escaped was so small that a couple of turmae could have defeated them. At long last Brigantia was safe and the northern rebellion was over.
Gallia Aquitania 77A.D..
Julius Agricola almost jumped for joy when he received his new posting. “Britannia!” He yelled at his wife. “Britannia. I am to be governor of Britannia.”
His wife looked decidedly unhappy, “But it is such a damp little province and they have no baths nor theatres…”
“I know my love which is why Emperor Titus wants me to finish the task of conquering it so that we can release the legions and make the natives lot in life better. You do not need to leave here. I chose this villa rather than the governor’s residence so that we could have a long term home. And one day we will return to Gallia Narbonensis and Forum Julii.” It made his heart glow when he saw the pleasure that brought. He would build a villa in his home town so that when he retired he could live in that idyllic land by the sea of blue and warm his southern born bones after the vicissitudes of his service in the cold harsh northern lands...
Glanibanta
The Prefect and the Decurion Princeps were enjoying the pleasant autumn morning. They were travelling the pleasant ride which encompassed the two small lakes closest to the fort. It had become daily exercise for the two warriors who had spent the autumn and winter tracking down and destroying the small bands of bandits who had escaped their clutches. The summer had been a time to consolidate, build roads, train recruits and manage the new trade routes.
“Do you know this is the first time since we came to this province that I have felt safe almost peaceful. It is a strange feeling. I keep looking over rises and behind bushes for Brigante and they are all gone.”
“You are right Decius. It has been a long journey since we rescued the Queen Cartimandua and began to fight these Brigante.”
“They were a tough bunch, not very bright but tough.” He gestured around with his hand at the steep hills and valleys. “This is a natural fortress. They should have held us here for years.”
“Yes Decius but they are not builders. You have seen Stanwyck; it is not as strong as this little fort and yet it is much bigger. Had they been builders we would still be fighting.”
“Well I won’t be sorry to get some fighting in and stop this road building. I hate it.”
“It is necessary and look how peaceful the land is now. Time to head back I think.”
“At least we have had the chance to get to get all our replacements trained and kitted out. These southern volunteers are quite good you know.”
“That’s grudging praise from you Decius. There was a time you thought they were one step away from pigs.”
“I admit it I didn’t like them but once they take to Roman ways they change somehow. Perhaps they just needed civilising.” Decius glanced up at the prefect who seemed to smile a lot more these days. “Speaking of civilisation and such matters have you finally reconciled your self about the witch?”
“What you mean do I think as you and the others do that she is dead? No. She lives.” Decius shook his head. “It is not just a feeling Decius there have been rumours of a woman being seen in the camps of the Pictii and Caledonii; I am sure it is she. She was ever the mischief maker using Venutius, Aed, Brigante, Carvetii, and Ordovice. She seems to have a power over all men.” He looked down at the back of Argentium’s head. “Did I tell you of our meeting? When she spoke to me?”
Decius looked at the prefect and was taken aback. The prefect never revealed himself. Perhaps it was a sign that they were becoming closer as leaders, much as Ulpius and Flavius before them.”No you didn’t. I mean I knew she must have spoken to you when they captured you but you never said about a conversation.”
Marcus sighed. “The woman I hated. The woman who had destroyed all that was dear to me and when she spoke. I was aroused. “He shook and hung his head. “I was aroused and it shamed and angered me. I only glimpsed her but her eyes have the ability to se into your soul but it is her voice Decius it has a power. A frightening power. If you ever see her do not let her speak. Kill her. Kill her as quickly as you would kill a snake in your bed.”
Decius had never heard his friend speak so powerfully and with so much hate. “Don’t worry prefect. She will die. Of that you can be sure.”
The land of the Venicones
Fainch was tired. She was no longer the young woman who had bedded kings and chiefs, who could move around quickly and silently like a ghost. She had travelled through the lands of the Novontae, Selgovae and Votadini seeking support for opposition to the Romans. She was tired because she had to repeat the same arguments and she received the same responses. The kings and chiefs would fight the Romans to the death when they crossed into their lands. She had tried to tell them that the peoples in the south had tried the same tactic and been swallowed piec
emeal as morsels at a Roman feast. Finally she had heard of one King Calgacus, who lived in the far north, who hated the Romans as much as she did. He seemed to be her last, if not her only hope to spark a fire which would engulf and destroy the Romans. Her guides were passing her from kingdom to kingdom to enable her to meet this mighty king. That they did so swiftly showed just how much they wanted her out of their kingdom. They did not want to offend a witch but they feared her nonetheless.
Glanibanta
“Messenger coming in and he looks like he’s in a hurry.”
“Who trained you to give a report you lump of duck shit?”
“Sorry Decurion Princeps.”
Julius smiled and turned to Gaius. “I just love his turn of phrase. He is so eloquent. Reminds me of Socrates or Aristotle.”
“Yes but he is effective.”
The Imperial messenger was taken straight to the Praetorium. Imperial messengers were rare and the decurions all found excuses to gather near to the Praetorium to find out quickly what was going on. They did not even bother with idle desultory chatter they just lounged. When the clerk came out to give his instructions to the guard he looked around with his mouth open. “The prefect would like to see all the decurions as soon as they can be found. “ He paused. “Very efficient gentlemen, very efficient. The Prefect will be pleased with such a prompt response.”
“Sit down. “ From the look on his face they knew that it was good news. “We have a new governor. Gnaeus Julius Agricola.” The sentries heard the cheer from the office and wondered what it meant. “He is at Deva and will spend the next few months tidying up the area south. Next year he marches north and we are to conquer the rest of this province. We are heading for Caledonia.”
“When do we start sir?”
“Macro don’t be so keen. We have to wait for the troops who will be guarding Glanibanta. They are a local auxilia force from Eboracum. Once they arrive we head north to the Taus and wait there for the general. We have at least six months before we start.”
The portly quartermaster groaned, “That means living in a tent and sleeping on the floor.”
They all laughed and Decius snorted, “What do you mean? You sleep in a bed in one of your wagons.”
“I know I was talking about you not me!”
Part Three
Caledonia
Chapter 9
When Marcus arrived in Deva he immediately noticed the vast changes which had taken place. The building was strongly built in stone and his journey to the impressive building had been on Roman roads. Travelling down the west coast he had seen the peace which the Roman influence had wrought. In the lands of the Carvetii and Brigante through which he has first journeyed also displayed this prosperity now that the warriors had been defeated. He had felt so secure he had travelled alone, enjoying the peace and solitude it brought. It was the first time since he had arrived in the province that he had had any time to himself.
The fortress itself was a hive of activity and the Prefect of Cavalry was surprised to see so many different units represented. When he presented himself to the sentry he was directed to the Praetorium where he was greeted by Agricola himself. The general warmly grasped Marcus’ arm and greeted him as an old friend.
“Marcus it is good to see you. Thank you for doing such a fine job for me up near Glanibanta.” He looked thoughtfully at him. “You are fully recovered from your ordeal?”
“Yes sir. “
“Good for I shall need both you and your cavalry if we are to subdue the north. You now complete my leaders. Return here after the noon break and I can brief all of you at the same time.” He smiled. “I think you will find some old friends here.”
Marcus did indeed and he was greeted loudly by Furius and Cominius as soon as he entered his quarters. As Marcus looked around Cominius said, “We are no longer the only auxiliaries Marcus. As he glanced around the room he saw that his friend was right; the room was filled with auxiliary prefects some cavalry and some infantry.
“It seems, “said prefect Strabo chewing on the bone of some deceased animal, “that this invasion will not be the work of the legions but of the auxilia.”
“So the general has carried out his idea.”
“What?”
“Oh nothing it is just something he said while we were travelling to Mona how he could conquer this land with just the auxiliary units. He said that he did not need the legions to conquer the province.”
The meeting was the biggest one Marcus had attended and the room was crowded. One wall was dominated by a crude map of Britannia; it was detailed up to the land of the Caledonii but just drifted into nothing north of that. It was a sobering thought for Marcus and the others. They knew not where they were ultimately going and what awaited them there. The superstitious Roman soldier still believed that the edge of the world and the abyss beyond lay somewhere close to this barbaric land.
The only legionary presence was the prefect of the Ninth although Marcus noticed an officer from the Classis Britannica stood in the corner. The rest of the room was filled with an eclectic mix of auxiliary officers. Some of them had the pale skin of northerners, some the olive complexion of the Mare Nostrum but some had the dark skin of Africa. General Agricola had certainly gathered a varied force drawn from all four corners of the Empire.
“Gentlemen. Welcome. I know some of you, “he nodded towards the trio of Marcus, Furius and Cominius who were sat together, “from our wars against the Brigantes and the Ordovice. Others are new to me. You will all have noticed we only have one legion with us. That is because I am leaving the legions to consolidate our success in the west and maintain order in the north. The Emperor Titus may well need those legions for the wars in Dacia and it is our task, “he emphasised the word our, “to conquer this province as soon as possible. I have faith in your ability to defeat the barbarians without the need of our legionary brothers. It is you the auxiliaries who will fight the battles and enable us to win this war. When we win the war we will have conquered the province. There will be more lands to the west for us to conquer!” There was a buzz around the room as the prefects commented on and discussed the idea. The general smiled and studied his maps briefly. “You may have noticed a sailor amongst us, Marcus Maenius Agrippa. Some of you may know him from his time in the auxiliary. He knows Britannia and I for one am pleased that he is to control the fleet in the east for I also intend to supply us using the fleet as an aggressive arm. Our ships will sail up the east and west coast. They will not only act as supply ships but as scouts for the barbarians have neither ships nor the ability to build them. Our fleet can act with impunity. They can sail into bays and inlets before we arrive and support our attacks with their artillery. First we will gather at the Taus and conquer the tribes north of Danum Fluvius. Thanks to the Pannonian cavalry and the Batavian infantry this will be easier than it was. I intend to raise local cohorts to build forts and guard the key routes across this mountainous land. That will not be the role of you and your men. You are the cutting edge of my blade not the spade. Others can build, you must fight.”
He paused again to allow his comments to sink in. “Another change will be that we will take prisoners if only to provide slaves to help build the buildings in the southern half of this province. I will also try to negotiate where I can. Any questions up to now?” His briefing had been so detailed that all the questions had been answered and the prefects sat, some of them bemused at the radical ideas he had put forward. The only man who looked unhappy was the prefect of the Ninth, Tulius Broccus for he had been relegated to a supporting role, a reversal of the normal way the legions worked. Marcus suspected that Agricola must have spoken to him prior to the meeting for he kept his mouth shut and offered no comment. “We will meet,” he pointed at a spot on the map north of Glanibanta at Luguvalium where the Ninth will build a fort. It should control the area and means we have a large base of operations. Those prefects whose units are in that area will sail with me and a cohort of the Ninth to be
gin the construction. The remainder can rejoin their units and make their way there as soon as possible.”
Walking back to their quarters the three prefects who had shared such trials in the north and Wales each caught up on the exploits and events of the others. The two Batavians were most interested to hear of the demise of Aed.”That decurion of yours, he is a handy bugger in a fight. I certainly wouldn’t want to face him.”
“Me neither Furius and yet he has such a gentle looking face.”
Marcus laughed, “His fellow decurions call him the baby faced killer. It does annoy him but then a few moments later and he is smiling again.”
“Well I for one am pleased to be travelling on a ship. It is more comfortable than the roads, or what passes for roads.”
“Aye and we will get to see what the land looks like from the sea that has always interested me.”
“I didn’t see Prefect Bassus. Any idea what happened to him.”
“Oh he’s here but he is with the surgeon he fell over and broke his arm.”
“Fell over Cominius?”
“Fell over drunk. It was Strabo’s fault he gave him unwatered wine.”
“These Gauls can’t handle decent wine. They are too used to drinking gnat’s piss. It was a waste of good wine.”
“Thank the Allfather you never change prefect.”
Furius stopped and looked offended, “Me change? Why should I? I am perfect as I am. I am the perfect prefect.”
As the bireme sailed on the sluggish wind northwards Marcus found himself looking south to the towering peak of Wyddfa and the other terrifying mountains which towered over Mona. Despite his assertion to Agricola that he was unchanged by the incident with the wicker effigy it had affected him. It was as close to death as he had come. What had frightened him was that he was not afraid of death in fact part of him wanted to die. That was worrying. Would he feel the same when leading his men for he had their lives in his hands? Would his death wish result in the deaths of friends? His hand went, as it did in times of worry, to the hilt of his sword, the sword of Cartimandua and he found it reassured him. It was the physical link to his closest companions, Ulpius, Macha and the Queen Cartimandua. He could only hope that the Allfather still protected him from himself through the power of the sword.
