by Griff Hosker
Felix found the trail of the Votadini hunters soon after leaving the fort. He waved to show that he was scouting and was away for a short time. He ran back, with an attendant Wolf, to the two officers. “Five men went along the trail, I think they were hunting. There is a camp a mile ahead. They came from there.”
“Cassius, Julius.” The two chosen men rode over. “There are five men hunting in that direction. Go with Felix and ambush them. We want prisoners. At least three.”
“Sir.” Julius paused. “And where will you and the decurion be… sir?” It was a weighted question. Chosen men were renowned for having a maternal nature.
Metellus grinned, “Well we will be lying here in the sun, enjoying some olives and an amphora of wine Julius. Happy?”
“Not really sir as I am fairly certain that you will be scouting the enemy camp.” He looked aggrieved. “I just need to know in case I have to rescue you. It would help to know where you are.”
“Don’t worry Chosen Man, Felix and Wolf will find us if we get lost.”
“Thank you Decurion Aurelius.” The chosen man wagged an admonishing finger at Metellus, “a little courtesy does not hurt, sir.”
As Marcus and Metellus left for the camp Metellus said, “I thought I just had the one wife. It seems I have two!”
They soon found the trail which wound down a shallow valley lined with scrubby trees and bushes. Although it was dangerous to travel in daylight along such a visible route they needed to spy out the enemy and be able to make a cogent and useful report for the legate. The tendril of smoke rising from the hill top ahead told them that the camp was close. They left the trail and tied their horses to a tree in a dell. They drew their swords and set off. Marcus held up his hand to stop Metellus and he sniffed. Metellus looked at him curiously but said nothing. When he was satisfied Marcus walked on, followed by the decurion princeps. Marcus stopped ever few paces to sniff. Eventually he went on all fours and slithered forwards. Metellus copied him and they found themselves at the tree line looking at an improvised camp. This one had an enclosure of stakes and a gate. There were sentries watching towards the woods; had they ridden or walked they would have been seen. The camp was huge; far bigger than the one seen and visited by Marcus. Inside they could see men practising with bows and swords and they could hear the clang and bang of a smith. This was a tribe preparing for war. They were both counting the warriors that they could see and, after a few moments they backed out and slithered along the trail to the point they had last stood.
When they reached their horses Metellus said, “Well there is no doubt about it they are preparing for war and, from the look of the men practising with bows, they aim to use the same tactic they tried against the legion.”
They kicked their horses on. “I made it at least a thousand men that I could see.”
“I made it the same and this is just one camp. I didn’t recognise any of the leaders we saw.”
“No. A worrying thought.”
“By the way what was with the sniffing?”
“Oh a little trick I picked up from Felix. The Votadini smell differently to us and when you sniff you are quiet so you hear more. He may be a boy but I have learned much from him.”
They returned to the place they had left the turma. Neither officer was worried about the outcome of their ambush. If their thirty men and two scouts could not capture a couple of Votadini then it was time to take the pension and head for the farm. The two decurion, both recently married discussed their home lives and how lucky they were to have such understanding wives.
“I would we were based closer to home Metellus.”
“As would I. I expect when the wall is completed then we may well be moved.” He looked seriously at Marcus. “The problem may come if they choose to move Marcus’ Horse overseas.”
Marcus had not thought of that. “Would they, could they do that?”
Metellus shrugged. He and Livius had discussed it at length. “We are a famous, some may say infamous ala. Who knows? There may be a problem abroad, such as happened during the Batavian uprising in the year of the four Emperors, and Marcus’ Horse may be the best answer to that problem. Once the land south of the wall is peaceful then we could be moved. For me it matters not. I could take my pension. To be honest I was thinking of doing so when the wall is completed anyway. The life of the ala is for younger men such as you and Rufius. I yearn for a comfortable life with my wife.”
Their conversation was ended by the return of their men with three Votadini tethered to their horses. Metellus nodded his approval. “Where are the rest?”
“Three are dead,” said Julius evasively.
“Where are the rest?” Metellus’ tone was terse.
“Two escaped; there was a rock and a gully. They leapt and we could not follow.” There was a pause. “Sorry decurion.”
Metellus held up a hand and smiled. “I know you will have done your best Julius but it means we have to move swiftly.” He pointed behind him. “There are over a thousand warriors less than two miles away. We need to move. Sling those three over the saddles of the three lightest riders and we will use the spare horses at the fort.”
There was an urgent air about them as they rode swiftly away. Marcus rode at the rear with Felix and Wolf for company. The dog would be their best warning of approaching barbarians but they made it to the fort safely. Whilst they prepared the spare horses Marcus and Metellus questioned the three prisoners.
“Why are you preparing for war?”
“Because you are Romans and you have despoiled our land and soon you will all be dead.”
Metellus was the most intelligent of all the officers in the ala and he attacked the problem obliquely. Direct questioning would get them nowhere. “We have our wall and our fort. What can a few Votadini do to hurt the might of Rome? You are puny!” He was being deliberately pompous to trick the barbarian into saying something he was trying to hide.
A second prisoner spat, “And that is all you know Roman. We have the Selgovae and Brigante as our brothers. We are not puny and we will have more men than you.”
“The Brigante arte far away and have no arms. It is you and the Selgovae and the wall will stop you.”
The three prisoners exchanged a sly and furtive look of joy. “When the Brigante come you will not see them. They will be the knife in the night and your families will feel their blades first.”
“Get them on the horses and tie them tightly.” Metellus turned to Marcus. “That sounds like a threat of an uprising in the south while we are fighting in the north.”
“You are right. The legate and Eboracum need warning. Should be send riders?”
“Yes. You have the best horses. Choose two riders; one to go to the legate and the other to warn Morbium and the Governor.”
“Two volunteers.” As expected Aneurin, Vibius and Scanlan put up their hands. Perhaps this was the opportunity to begin to heal the rift. He would choose one Brigante and Vibius. Perhaps they would bond again.”
“Scanlan. Ride to the fort and warn the legate that the Brigante may be planning to rise while we fight in the north. Vibius, give the same message to the prefect at Morbium and the Governor.”
They both grinned and poor Aneurin look crestfallen. “Yes sir!”
The two messengers had the advantage that they could ride a more direct route than the turmae who, needs must, stayed to the road and headed for the wall. It was close to dark as they wound their way down the well worn trail which led to their bridge. Marcus called over Felix. “Any sign of Votadini?”
He shook his head, “Nothing recent.”
“That is strange sir. They should have scouts watching us.”
“Not if they are planning something somewhere else. This confirms what those captives told us. It gives us the edge Marcus. For the first time we can do something to pre-empt their attack.”
It was dark when the messenger reached Iucher, Scanlan and Scaeva at their huge camp in the high hills some miles from th
e new fort. “Chief Iucher. We have had a disaster. The Romans have captured three of our hunters.”
“And you are worried that they will tell the Romans of our plans?”
The man bowed his head in obeisance. “Yes my chief.”
Iucher shrugged, “It must be the Allfather’s will. Do not worry. We will still win.”
When the man had gone Scanlan turned to Scaeva, grinning like a child. “Your plan works Brigante. The information we fed to our men will now be spread as the truth.”
Iucher frowned and scowled, “I like it not. My men are brave and they deserve the truth.”
Scaeva was calmness personified. In his mind any sacrifice was worthwhile to rid the land of the Romans. “They would have been captured whether we gave them the correct information or not. Would you rather they had been captured and told the Romans of our real plan to attack the Stanegate? This improves our chances of success considerably. Even now my brother Briac is bringing our army north through secret ways ready to attack at the same time as us. It may not be as large an army as yours but it does have the advantage of being invisible.”
Vibia had made Eboracum successfully. She had even managed to increase her money by offering to escort a merchant who was heading for Eboracum and thought she was a Roman trooper. His body would not be found for some time if ever; after she had slit his throat and taken his had hurled his body down a gully. Now with a change of clothes, money and a spare horse she was ready to embark on the final part of the plan to recover the gold. Her brother would join her when he could and she was disappointed that they had not killed their uncle; but they had tried and, when they were rich, they could pay an assassin to carry out their wishes.
She halted a few miles from the mighty fortress and changed her clothes. At the same time she picked the plenteous elderberries which abounded close by. The merchant’s cloak had a hood which hid both her hair and her face. She needed to arrive in Eboracum and disappear almost as quickly. She found the most disreputable inn in the vicus that she could. For a couple of denarii she was able to stable her horses and receive a tiny room. From the look on the owner’s face she was under no illusions, when he thought his guest was asleep, he would slip along and after murdering the occupant would receive far more than the paltry denarii she had paid him. Once in the room she began to cut off her lovely hair. A pragmatic woman she knew it would grow again. Once that was done she used the knife to remove the fruit from the elderberries and dropped it into a bowl. She was careful to avoid getting the stain on her hands. She took off her shoes and crushed the berries with her feet which quickly became a purple black colour. Finally she poured in some water to make a liquid. It was pure guesswork on her part but she hoped that the dye would change the colour of her hair. She had no idea what colour it would become but it would not be the distinctive red. Putting the bowl on the floor and an old cloth she had taken from the merchant around her neck she immersed her head into the liquid. She kept turning her head to ensure the maximum coverage. She was careful when she stood to avoid getting the liquid on any other part of her body and stood. She had no mirror and could not judge the colour but she would do that soon enough. She rubbed it dry and then, after dressing, slipped out of the inn when it was busy.
As she rode away she wondered what the inn keeper would make of the bowl of elderberries and the puddles on his floor. She headed for the fort. Close by, in the most expensive part of the vicus, was the mansio. She had chosen to play a youth, travelling north to see his father who was stationed on the wall. She had paid attention and knew the names of some of the senior officers. She was taking the chance that someone might know of the officer’s family but she was prepared for that saying that her father had had a secret lover. She hoped she would not have to use the full story and that they would not be inquisitive.
Although she kept the hood up she knew that they would see her hair this time as the mansio was better lit than the inn. She asked for a room for a week and stabling. There appeared to be no interest in either her name or her business. They were used to frequent traffic travelling the road. She was in a much better position than the last time she had been in the fortress. Thanks to her brother, she now had an idea of where the gold lay and thanks to her light fingers she had acquired much gold and jewellery, stolen when she had fled the fort. Now all that she needed was her brother and they could find the gold and start the new life their mother had wished for them.
When Julius Demetrius received the report he summoned all the commanders from the wall and the adjacent forts for a conference. For the prefects of the Hamians and the Dacians this was a chance to meet their new colleagues. “I have decided not to send our new cohorts beyond the wall yet, in light of this disturbing development. We now know that when the Brigante rise there will be an attack from the north. We need to keep a constant patrol along the Stanegate and the wall. Priority will now be given to completing the military way which will run south of the wall. I want to be able to move cohorts quickly to any point which comes under attack. I have no doubt that we will defeat the tribes but the Brigante may well enjoy some success in the south for there is but one cohort in Eboracum to face them. However we will cross that particular bridge when we come to it.”
When Vibius rode exhausted into Eboracum he reported directly to the Governor. He was rather less phlegmatic than his legate in the north. He summoned Rufius. “It seems we may have a rebellion here amongst the Brigante. You have the only auxiliary cavalry. I need you to find these Brigante.”
Rufius gave him a wry look. He had been looking forwards to a swift return north and the prospect of hunting down a Brigante army did not appeal. “And if I find them sir, then what?”
“Then you tell me and the legate and the legate can bring the army down and defeat them.”
“Who told us this sir?”
“Why, one of your troopers,” He turned to Appius who had been in the corner waiting patiently. “Bring in the trooper.”
Vibius came in and smiled when he recognised Rufius. “So trooper what exactly did you discover? I assume it was Decurion Aurelius who found this information?”
“Yes sir. He was with the Decurion Princeps. The Votadini we captured said that the Selgovae and the Votadini would attack when the Brigante rebelled.”
“With due respect Governor that places a different complexion on things. If the legate brings the army south then the tribes will attack and we will lose the frontier. “
“We can recapture it!”
Rufius saw, in an instant, that Governor Nepos was no soldier. They would have no chance of recapturing the frontier which they only held with their fingertips. He would need to get a message to the legate. “Very well sir I will leave in the morning but if you could put all the forts on alert it would help.”
“I warned Morbium when I passed through sir.”
“Well done Vibius. If you come with me I have a task for you.”
Once they were outside he said, “Take a room on the mansio tonight and return in the morning to the legate. I will send Gnaeus to the mansio with the message you are to take.” He handed some coins to the trooper. Vibius looked as though he would refuse. He handed him a small wax tablet. “Ask for a receipt and I will claim it back.”
Vibius was pleased with the task. It meant that Rufius thought well of him. Perhaps he would ask for a transfer when he returned to the fort. It was now obvious that Marcus thought more of the other two young recruits than of him. When he reached the mansio the official at the desk gave him a curious look but thought better of it. He took the money and gave the wax tablet to the man who wrote the figures down and marked the wax with his stamp. “There are few guests at the moment and I am sure the bath house is available. You have paid for the use of the facilities.”
As Vibius went to his room he reflected that the official’s attitude was symptomatic of this part of the world. Baths were seen as a luxury rather than an every day necessity. He decided he would take the opportuni
ty to bathe and, after putting his weapons and armour in his room, he headed for the bath house. He spent a luxurious hour in the bath house which, while not the most opulent, had all the features, save a slave with a strigil, that you could wish. He wondered where he would eat, as he went back to his room. He had just turned the corner towards his room when he came face to face with Vibia; although changed she was still recognisable. She too recognised him. They embraced. “Sister!”
“Brother!”
Chapter 21
“Gnaeus, take this message to Vibius in the mansio. Tell him to leave before dawn. It is imperative that this reaches the legate as soon as possible.” In the missive, Rufius had explained the Governor’s thinking and why he thought it was erroneous. Since arriving in Eboracum he had used his contacts in the vicus to ascertain the mood of the populace and, in the decurion’s opinion, there was no unrest; in fact it was just the exact opposite for the increase in commerce meant profits and jobs for all and people were more than happy to be under Roman rule. Rufius knew that once they began collecting their taxes in earnest this might change but that was in the future.
Gnaeus took the letter. He had enjoyed his promotion and did not mind performing a task which could, in all honesty, have been performed by a trooper but he appreciated the trust Rufius placed in him.
“Where is the room of Trooper Gemellus?”
The bored official pointed towards the eastern corridor. Gnaeus was thinking of his meal later in the evening for he and his chosen man were going to enjoy a night in The Saddle. As he stepped around the corner he thought he was seeing double, there was Vibius and, with a much altered appearance, was Vibia. The changes she had wrought had made her look more like her brother. Gnaeus took a step towards her, the memory of the murder forgotten. “Vibia.”
