by Griff Hosker
“That means I sleep in my own cot each night.”
“True but remember we are the frontier. North of us there are no friendlies, not even ships since the general left.”
Decurion Agrippa was feeling his age as he led his young troopers along the banks of the Isla. He was coming up to over forty summers, he was not exactly certain of his age but his body told him that he had had enough of riding for up to twelve hours a day. His mind still wanted war but his body didn’t. He would have to discuss it with the prefect on of these days. He smiled. The prefect was a man you could approach. He knew of other ala and cohorts where the prefect was aloof and distant, not Marcus. “Sir?”
“Yes what is it Cassius?”
“Tracks sir, crossing the river.”
“You have good eyes, for I had missed them. Right lads be ready we may have found a warband. Cassius take the lead, I may miss something; you won’t.”
“Yes sir.”
The raiders were already crawling through the tree line, slithering along the ground and hidden by the alder and elder bushes lining it. They could see the increased sentries but it did not worry them for they had been the warband to almost massacre the Gauls. They believed they were invincible. Even as the sentries were dying the warband leapt to their feet roaring their war cries. The Batavians had been prepared and were wearing their armour. Even so the speed with which they were attacked stopped them for forming a shield wall effectively. The Centurion yelled, “Sound the alarm!” just a moment before the war hammer smashed sickeningly into his skull.
The Caledonii were not worried by the alarm. They would kill these foreigners and be gone before anyone could save them. Suddenly the warband at the rear started to scream as javelins and arrows poured down on them from the charging ala which sprang unexpectedly from the forest. Saoirse, their leader turned and yelled, “Run!” His men needed no further bidding and they disengaged quickly from their combat. Some of them rolled under the horses while others dodged under the bushes to avoid the cavalry and their steeds.
Agrippa saw the leader, recognisable by his armour and urged his horse on. A warrior tried to save his leader by thrusting a sword at Agrippa who swerved his horse and with a backhand slash ripped open the man’s face. The swerve took him too close to Saoirse who, in desperation swung his hammer at the horse’s head. The swerve of the horse and its instinctive reaction of self preservation meant that the hammer did not connect with the horse but smashed instead into Agrippa’s knee. The whole kneecap disintegrated and he screamed in pain. Dropping his sword he had the instincts to hold on to this horse which leapt over the warrior crouching before him and came to an exhausted rest in the middle of the partly built road. Agrippa slid from the horse in more pain than he had ever felt in his life. Blood and bone were pouring from the crippling wound and, mercifully, he passed out.
When the decurion came to he found himself in the camp at Marcus. His knee was still giving him pain but it seemed to come in waves and was a dull pain. He looked around and saw the surgeon. “Awake at last. Your wound will hurt. We can give you more relief for the pain but I am afraid that the wound is serious. I will fetch the prefect. He wanted to know when you awoke. He has been most concerned.” Even in the throes of pain Agrippa smiled. He would have been surprised had the prefect not attended his wounded decurion. It was his way.
“You had us worried. You were asleep for a day and a night but, as the surgeon said, sleep is the best medicine.”
“My men sir are they…?”
“Your men are fine. They all survived and they brought you in. I have never seen men so upset about an officer. They are good lads.”
“I know sir. They are only lads but they are so keen. How about the Batavians?”
“You got there just in time. Sixteen dead including the centurion but it could have been worse and your lads accounted for thirty of their warriors.”
“They did well then.”
“That boy Cassius remembered where they had crossed the Isla and followed them. That is where they killed most of them. Including the chief who gave you that.”
Agrippa looked down at the linen tent which obscured his view of the injured knee. I didn’t want to ask but…”
“It is a bad one. You know that. The whole kneecap has gone. The surgeon says he can have the blacksmith make you two metal rods which will help you walk but you can not ride again.”
“It’s funny sir. I was only thinking on the patrol today that I had had enough of riding and now that I have no chance of riding again I miss it already.” He looked helplessly at the prefect. “Sir what will I do? What can I do?”
“I could get you a pension. You have enough service in. We can get you some land in the land of the Brigantes close to Stanwyck.”
He shook his head. “I have only ever known the ala. All my friends, well you know sir, they died with Drusus. Since then you and the decurions, well you are my friends and family.”
There is a post for you but to be honest Decurion Agrippa I am not sure you would want it.”
“What is it sir? Let me make the choice. I can always say no.”
“Well I need an adjutant. Someone to tell the clerks what to do and to manage the camp and, ultimately, the fort. I am not a desk officer and I need to be out and about.” Agrippa was silent. “I told you it wasn’t the best job in the world.”
“No sir but it is a job and a useful job and I can still be here with the people that I need.”
“Good that is settled. Welcome to the ala Adjutant Agrippa.”
Later, sitting in the Praetorium drinking watered wine Decius asked. “It is a real job isn’t it sir. I mean if it isn’t I won’t tell anybody but I just wondered.”
“Yes Decius it was not out of pity. “He smiled at his deputy. “To be honest I was going to offer it to you.”
“Me? Why me?”
“Well none of us are getting any younger and I know that the riding is getting to me you are older…”
Decius was indignant. “I am sorry sir but that is out of order. I do everything the younger lads do don’t I”
“Yes Decius. I apologise. So to answer your question it is a real job and Agrippa will do it well.”
“Looks like the plans worked.”
“Yes but they are still causing too many casualties. Now that Agrippa has the role of Adjutant I can ask the Gauls to patrol up here as well and we can take the ala and see it we can hurt the Caledonii. It’s about time we took the offensive.”
“That is good news sir. When do we leave?”
“I will see the prefect tomorrow. If he agrees, the day after. You had better detail a turma to guard the fort and get Porcius to give us supplies for ten days.”
The morning of the departure Marcus held a briefing. He held it in the sick bay so that Agrippa would know what was going on. “Septimus you and adjutant Agrippa will stay here with your turma and the non-combatants. I want them armed, surgeon, clerks, cooks, the lot. With us gone the last thing I want is this camp to be overrun. I have asked Prefect Strabo to extend his patrol rout to us here and he will send a century to help garrison it the day after tomorrow. The rest of us will head north. Our first camp will be at the site of the battle then I intend to push on to the north coast.”
“Have you heard something then sir?”
Not really but when I was talking to the fleet commander he said that between here and the north coast the land was gentler. Calgathus will need to feed and house a large population, winter is coming and I can’t see him living on the tops of those mountains. The land he described sounds like perfect winter camp territory. We will stay together. He has over ten thousand men but I want to hurt him, burn out any huts he has, destroy crops and, if we catch them, destroy any warbands. It may just stop him sending them to raid us. Any questions? No? Well then Decurion Septimus and Adjutant Agrippa, Camp Marcus is all yours.”
Macro and Decius rode at the head of the column as it headed north east. Gaelwyn and the
other scouts were beyond the horizon. It was a pleasant day to be riding with a fresh breeze from the sea. The land looked peaceful and, as Marcus, turned to look at the ala behind him he could see the calm and peace reflected in his men. “Decius this is my last patrol.”
“What do you mean last patrol? You just appointed Agrippa as adjutant. I thought that was because you wanted to be out of the fort more.”
Marcus shook his head. “Decius I have seen more than fifty summers. I know, you are older but you have been luckier than I, Mona and the poison have not only weakened me but made me realise that I am not getting any younger. The prefect of this ala should be a younger man, someone who is able to deal with the new problems facing us now that we have almost conquered this land.”
“You are still young. You are too young to retire.”
“When the new Governor arrives I will ask him to appoint my successor. I will not be retiring for some time for one will need to be appointed. I can then consider what to do after the ala.”
Decius began, for the first time to consider what he would do. He had never thought he would be Decurion Princeps, he had never thought he would still be alive. All those who had joined with him and most of the ones who had joined since were dead. It was a sobering thought that, Marcus apart, all his friends were the decurions and they were all at least ten years younger, young Demetrius was almost thirty years younger! What would he do? “Will you go back to Cantabria?”
“No, I left when I was but seven summers. I think I will settle, as Flavinius Bellatoris did in Britannia.”
“He is dead you know?”
Marcus looked round, shocked. “I did not know. When did he die?”
“It was when we were in Mona, Aed’s raiders burned out his settlement, crucified the old man.”
“I wish I had known I would have made that bastard suffer at the end. Why did no one tell me?”
“You were still recovering from your imprisonment at the hands of Fainch and then, well other events took over and …”
“I will offer a sacrifice for his spirit.”
“Where will you settle?”
“Glanibanta is a beautiful place and away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the province. I think I would be happy there and our people still live there.”
Decius smiled. Only Marcus would think of the slaves as his people. “You are right it would be a good place. I just can’t see you hanging up your sword.”
They both looked at the sword, menacing even in its scabbard. “Yes I hadn’t thought of that. It should be used by a warrior not an old man raising horses. I will consider what to do with it. Did I tell you of the story Macha told me about its origin?”
“No I don’t think so.”
“It came from across the sea, made for a great warrior but as he was dying he hurled it into a lake and it was found by one of Macha’s ancestors. The magic and its power go back a long way. I think the power and magic should continue to work for the land it belongs to, this land.”
Not far away Calgathus and Fainch were considering the next strategies. Already the war chiefs had grudgingly admitted that Fainch was an asset rather than a liability. Her plans had worked out well and the Caledonii were striding around their camps with a spring in their steps. They were not remembering their retreat and losses they were dwelling on the success of killing Romans.
“The Romans have tightened up their defences and increased patrols. It is more difficult to attack them now.”
“Here? Yes but further south? Beyond the lines of forts in the land of the Selgovae? I think we need to send warbands further south. There are few Romans there and if we can cause them losses they will have to bring men from here, and weaken the frontier.”
“Lulach would you like to raid south of the Bodotria?”
The young warrior’s eyes lit up. “Give me a large enough warband and I will give you the land of the Selgovae.”
“Good. If you leave now then I can send another warband to the land of the Votadini in a few days when my son returns.”
Chapter 18
Lulach headed south with five thousand hardened and fierce warriors desperate to wreak revenge on the Roman invaders. They travelled in groups of a hundred to avoid detection and to increase speed. They went down deserted valleys, through uncharted forests and the only evidence for the Romans was the sudden drop in attacks on their road building for they left not a mark on the landscape.
Calgathus looked at the half empty settlement. “I will travel west to find my son and launch the second part of the invasion. Will you remain here or have you plans hidden even from me?”
The king was both cunning and wise and he recognised that Fainch used him just as much as he used her. He knew that she plotted but it was always against the Romans. His barbed comment was just a warning that he knew of her machinations and plots. “No oh king. I will remain here and brew up poisons for your warrior’s bows”
“Excellent!” The king was delighted when Fainch had told him that she could use Wolfsbane to tip his men’s arrows for it meant even a nick would incapacitate an auxiliary.
The king had furnished Fainch with some slaves. These were women captured in raids. Some had lived with the Caledonii for over twenty years; longer was rarer because of the harsh treatment they received. The women were particularly badly treated. As they were used by the warriors for sex the women of the Caledonii despised them, branding them whores. They took every opportunity to belittle and demean them. The five women who worked for Fainch had been pleased at first for it meant they were away from the Caledonii women. They soon found that their new bed was a far worse one for Fainch treated them as Roman collaborators. The eldest was Ailis, she had seen twenty one summers. Strikingly beautiful she had learned to hide her beauty with dirt, grime and a downcast look. She had no desire to be the subject of sexual advances from the warriors of the Caledonii. She had been captured first by Venutius and then given to Calgathus when the two kings became allies. She was prized for she was a member of the Brigante royal family being descended from one of the old king’s liaisons with a slave. The details of her origins were now lost in the seeds of time but her Brigante roots could not be hidden and Fainch knew that she had been captured by Venutius which made her the target of the worst abuses. The other four were just grateful that Ailis bore the brunt of Fainch’s venom. The image of Fainch as a snake fitted their perception of her well.
Ailis shuddered when Fainch insinuated herself into their roundhouse. A dark and smoky hut it was filled with the tools of Fainch’s deadly trade. In one corner there stood the wicker baskets contain the flowers, all members of the buttercup family, which appeared so innocent but, in the hands of Fainch became wolfsbane. The process was simple but potentially dangerous. The petals were first dried and then ground to a powder and mixed with water. The slaves did not mind the process at this point for the poison was not concentrated but the cauldrons were then boiled until they increased in venom. The fumes had been known to cause the slaves to pass out and they all feared touching the liquid once it was ready for use. Ailis was always given the task of stirring the foul liquid. She had taken to tying a piece of linen across her mouth and nose for she knew that if she passed out Fainch would do nothing to revive her.
As she stared, with only her eyes showing above the scarf there was pure hate in them as she stared at the back of the witch’s head. She longed to kill her but somehow she never got the opportunity.
“I can see you, you know. I do not need my eyes to see the hate you are giving me.”Fainch turned around. “Perhaps tonight I will punish you again. Perhaps tonight we will see just how much pain you can take.”
Ailis shuddered; she had not believed one woman could do such unspeakable things to another woman. “I am sorry. It is the fumes; they make my eyes angry I cannot help it.”
Apparently satisfied Fainch ordered, “Well get on with it. King Calgathus will need much poison for his warriors.”
Marcus a
nd the ala arrived at the scene of the battle. There were still remnants of the battle, discarded and broken pieces of armour. Any human remains had been devoured and scoured by animals. “Decius build the fort here.”
“Macro come here.”
“Yes Decurion Princeps?”
“You know I feel I have neglected your training of late.”
“Have you sir?”
“Yes now you have seen me lay out a camp many times?”
“Yes sir. Always the same way.”
“Good, well you get to do this one. Build it over there.”
Shoulders slumped, the normally ebullient Decurion wandered over to the site chosen. “Yes Decurion Princeps.”
Laughing Marcus said, “That was nasty Decius.”
“No sir you said it yourself we are getting no younger and these lads will have to take over eventually.”
“You are right. Gaius!”
“Yes sir.”
“While we are building the camp I want you to take Gaelwyn and scout the route north. Look for signs of large numbers moving across the land.”
“Do you think they are close sir?”
“This is their heartland. They would not travel far. The general wanted to push on northwards and see an end to this campaign but then he was ordered back to Rome. The barbarians probably think we have given up.”
“Right sir.”
He noticed the two new decurions Cilo and Galeo. He waved them over as he dismounted his horse. Argentium was no longer a young horse and Sergeant Cato had been making noises about replacing him. Marcus knew that the sergeant was right but he had wanted to retire the horse when he did.
“Sir!”
