by Griff Hosker
The sailor wandered up and greeted another sailor as his eye spied the empty jug. He strode up to it and grabbed it; looking around fiercely to find the culprit. Vibia waited until he was satisfied that the perpetrator had left and approached him. “Sir. Do you have a boat?” She lowered the sound of her voice to perpetrate the illusion that she was a boy.
“Aye young man. What is it to you?”
“I would like to hire it and you for a short voyage down the river to pick up my brother.” She had learned, with her lies, to keep them close to the truth and easy to remember.
“Hmn. How far down the river?”
“Just five miles, perhaps six.”
“And why not walk down the road to meet your brother? It would cheaper and easier.” The sailor was, rightly suspicious and, although the youth appeared to be harmless he had learned through bitter experience that appearances could be deceptive.
“We have a box we wish to bring back to Eboracum.”
“How big is the box?”
“I can lift it.”
“And how much are you willing to pay?” She held out four denarii. “Ten.”
“Sir you are trying to rob me and take advantage of my youth. Six.”
“Eight and that is my final offer.” She nodded as though she had been robbed when, in reality, she would end up robbing him. “It is too late to leave this night.”
“I want to leave as early as possible.”
“There is a tide just before dawn.”
“I may also be bringing a servant.”
“You didn’t say that before.”
Her voice hardened. “That was when the price was four, for double the price I assume I can have a servant.”
The man had already charged her far more than the going rate and he shrugged his shoulders. “When we get the box and your brother I will decide how many we bring back. I am not overloading my boat for you, young man. Not for eight denarii. I will meet you here before dawn and I want half now.” He held out his hand and she counted the coins. She knew that would not get those back for he headed directly for the tavern to celebrate his business deal.
When he had gone she watched the furtive youth who was trying to get aboard one of the bigger ships. She smiled at the effrontery of him. He was persistent. She could see that he was hoping to take advantage of lax security with most of the crews drinking in the taverns but he was unlucky. The men left on guard cuffed him and sent him on his way. She had to find somewhere safe to hide and she headed to the vicus. She would wait in the stables where she had sold the horses. She was suddenly aware that she was being followed and she knew who it was. She slipped her hand beneath her cloak and slid the pugeo from its sheath. She saw the narrow alley between two small huts and darted between them. She heard the slight footfall and tensed for the next movement. The furtive youth had obviously thought that Vibia was a smaller youth than he and he planted his hand on Vibia’s right shoulder. She was expecting something like that and she reached over with her left hand as she dropped her right shoulder and the surprised youth flew into the air to land on the hard packed ground with a thump which winded him. When he opened his eyes, there was a sharp pugeo pricking his neck.
“A little careless aren’t we?”
The youth’s eyes opened wide in terror. As he looked into Vibia’s cold green eyes he saw real evil and he was afraid. “Please don’t hurt me!”
She laughed and the coldness of it frightened him even more. “If I wanted to hurt you then you would be dead. No, I may have some use for a thief. It all depends upon your answers to my next questions.”
He nodded, eager to please. “I will do anything I swear!”
“Good. Can you sail a small boat?” He nodded eagerly. “How would you like to work for me?”
He nodded and then a frown appeared, “What for? Why do you need me to help you?”
She pushed a little harder on the knife and a tiny tendril of blood trickled down his throat. “I am the one asking the questions and, if you want to live then you need to answer them quickly and to my satisfaction. I will ask you again. Do you want to work for me?”
He squeaked a, “Yes.”
She stood and he put his hand to his throat looking, with fascination, at the blood. “The man you stole the jug from.” He looked up with shock on his face. “Yes I watched you. The man, do you know him?”
“Aye they call him the old one. He used to captain larger ships but he was shipwrecked once and now just plies the river.”
“Is he honest?”
“As honest as any.” He was about to ask why but remembered, in time, about questions and he grabbed his neck to prevent another wound.
“I have hired him to take me down the river in the morning. You will come with us as my servant. When the time is right I will ask you to do something for me.”
“What?” The knife was in her hand and pointed at his nose before he could blink. She cocked her head to one side. “It doesn’t matter. I will do whatever you ask.”
“Good and what is your name?”
“Arden.”
“Good. Well Arden, you may call me master. Now where do you normally sleep?” The shrug told her he was homeless which suited her. “We will sleep in the stable nearby and, before you get any ideas I am a light sleeper and if you run I will find you and kill you. Do you understand?”
He smiled as he said, “Yes master.” He had no intention of running. The lonely life of a quay rat was hard and this youth looked as though he could handle himself. He would stay with him just to see if his lot could be improved; his pickings on the river were slim and there was something about the green eyed boy which suggested power.
They were both waiting at the boat when the Old One arrived before dawn. He looked suspiciously at Vibia. “How did you know this was my boat?”
Arden came out of the shadows. “I described you and my servant told me.”
“What that thief? If he is your servant I should sleep with one eye open. He’d take the coins off a corpse would that one.”
Vibia shrugged. “That is my problem, not yours, is it not?”
“Your funeral. Get aboard and sit in the middle. Don’t move around.”
Vibia sat in the middle with Arden in front of her. The Old One was competent enough and he untied the boat from the metal ring and pushed them away. Vibia noticed then his knotted arms. This was a powerful man. It would not do to underestimate him. She would watch and wait. Once they had picked up her brother then they could decide what to do about the Old One.
Chapter 22
Vibius had spent a cold and uncomfortable night. He had seen the Romans build their camp eight hundred paces down stream on the opposite bank. Once he was sure that they were settled for the night he finished emptying the gold from the chest and packing it in the three saddle bags. The three saddle bags were filled and the rest he had put in his satchel, now worn on his baldric. He saw the first glimmer of light on the horizon and he slowly made his way closer to the bank. Once he saw Vibia he would waste no time getting aboard but he would avoid the icy waters for as long as possible. He saw a faint white movement on the river. It was a boat. He could make out the white faces but not who they were. He chewed his lip. What should he do? Then he deduced it was unlikely to be the Romans; it was either his sister or another innocent traveller on the river. He stood and raised his arm. When he saw the arm raised in return he knew it was Vibia. They were going to succeed; that had done half the task they had promised their other; they had their father’s gold!
The sail dropped and the boat nudged closer to the bank. Vibius picked up one of the bags and stepped into the shallows; they came up top his waist. He saw that there were two crew on board but, most importantly, he saw the smiling face of his sister.
The old man on the tiller said, “I thought you said a box?”
“It is three bags. Here is the first.”
As soon as he handed it over and it thudded to the thwarts the old man said.
“Are they all as heavy as that?” Vibius ignored him and went back for the second. “If they are then the servant stays. They are too fucking heavy.” There was a truculent tone in the old man’s voice.
He did not notice the evil look flash across Vibia’s face nor did he see her slip the dagger to Arden and give a slight nod. “Wait until they are all aboard Old One and then make your decision.”
When the second one thudded down he began to become quite agitated. “No, get the thief off now or leave your brother.”
As he made his way back Vibius noticed with some alarm that the noise from the boat was loud enough to be heard in the Roman camp and, equally worrying, dawn was breaking. He hurried back to the boat and slung the last bags over. This time the boat sank a little deeper into the water.
As Vibius began to pull himself up the Old One tried to push him back. “No I said just one. Either the boy stays or your brother. “
He was now shouting and Vibius could see movement at the Roman camp. He looked at Vibia. “The ala, they are over there!”
She nodded and said to Arden, “Now!” The two of them stabbed simultaneously with their daggers. Even had he been expecting it he could have done little but, with a strangled scream he fell with a huge splash into the river. “Quick, get the sail set and I will help him aboard.” The boat bobbed dangerously close to the river and threatened to be swamped but, miraculously it settled with no damage done.
Arden might have been a thief but he was quick thinking and he had the sail hoisted in two tugs of the sheets. The wind caught it and they began to move, with the current and the slight breeze, down stream. Vibia hauled Vibius on board but, even as he slumped to the bottom he spluttered, “Keep to the right bank. There are Romans there!”
In the Roman camp the sentries had woken Rufius when they heard the commotion. They had witnessed the murder and the body of the sailor drifted by, the crimson trail marking its passage. By the time Rufius had reached the riverbank the boat was level with them and he could see both Vibia and Vibius. “To arms! It is the deserter and the murderer! To horse!”
Vibius struggled to the stern where he grabbed the tiller. The boat dipped and the side almost dipped below the river level, once again threatening to swamp it. “The two of you! Stay in the middle or we’ll be in the water. You… boy… whatever your name is. Keep the sail trimmed or whatever sailors do with it.” Vibius did not want to spill the content of the boat with escape so close.
Vibius kept as low as he could, almost crouching below the side of the boat. He had to keep looking up to check that they were not going to hit the bank. “Vibia, watch the bow and tell me if we are going to strike anything.”
The troopers quickly mounted, “Flavius, take ten men and cross the river. I want them either taken, or dead!” Flavius marked off his men and they plunged into the river. “The rest of you follow me. Have your bows ready!”
To Rufius’ dismay the boat began to pick up speed as both the wind and the current helped it to speed across the water. He strung an arrow to his bow and tried a ranging shot. The arrow arced and struck the water ahead of the boat. “Loose arrows!” The rest of the turma were neither as accurate nor as strong as Rufius but two arrows struck the boat while others fell on either side. Glancing across the river he saw that Flavius and his men had reached the other side but were further behind. He saw Vibius, for he could now see him clearly, turn and see Flavius. The tiller went over and the boat headed for the middle of the river which brought him closer to Rufius and his men. Unfortunately the boat was now moving faster than the horses could travel and they were escaping. “Keep loosing arrows! We may get lucky!” Rufius took out another arrow and this time aimed carefully, if he could hit Vibius on the tiller then they might have a chance. He held his breath and loosed. The arrow arc high; the rest of the turmae were peppering the boat and sails but none had struck . Rufius’ arrow plunged down and struck Vibius in the neck. As his life blood erupted over the boat the arrow pinned his body to the side of the boat and it carried on down the middle of the river which now entered a straight phase. They were escaping. Even as they watched the boat sped beyond arrow range, even that of Rufius.
On the boat Vibia was watching ahead and she suddenly saw that they were in the middle with no obstacles before them. The sail stopped her seeing her brother and she crawled back to speak with him. As soon as she ducked under the sail she saw that he was dead. His glassy eyes stared at her and seemed to mock them both. Arden had been too busy trimming the sails to see the tragedy unfold. Vibia saw Rufius and his bow and she looked to heaven. “Brother I swear I will have revenge, not only on Livius our uncle but on Rufius who took your life.” She went to the stern and snapped the feathers from the arrow then she snapped the arrow in two and said, “Forgive me brother but I need to be able to steer.” She gently moved the corpse into the middle of the boat and then said to Arden. “Keep a sharp lookout. We are heading for the sea!”
If Arden was shocked by her words he said nothing as he had looked into the green eyes and felt himself frightened beyond belief. He had left one lonely life on the street and who knew where he would end up; one thing was certain, he was now the slave to Vibia, daughter of Aula and Decius, and she was a killer. Vibia stared over her shoulder at the troopers who had, once again, thwarted her in her plans.
Rufius had seen his arrow strike the deserter and knew that he had killed him. It did not make Rufius feel any happier about allowing Vibia to escape. He saw her leaning over the stern of the boat and felt those eyes boring into him. She was a dangerous woman and he would not underestimate her. He had tried to capture or kill both and he had not succeeded. He was left with a bad taste in his mouth as he ordered his turmae back to camp. They would destroy the camp and return to Eboracum. Their job was half finished only.
The Governor did not seem bothered by the escape of the murderess; he was still worrying about the possible uprising of the Brigante. He had already summoned reinforcements from the south and, when Rufius reported, he still demanded that the two turmae seek the Brigante rebels.
Rufius knew that it was a waste of time but he saw a way to allow the rest of the army to remain on the frontier. “Governor Nepos, I will take my turmae on patrol and sweep further out each day. If we do not find the rebels within three days then there is no immediate danger to the fort and the vale.”
Quintus looked at the map. The land of the Brigante was huge. It was the largest tribal area in Britannia. What the decurion said made sense. “Very well but I want you back here in four days to report and then you can go further out.”
Rufius sighed, “It was a waste of time but at least the other fourteen turmae would not be wasting their time. “And if I might put your mind at rest Governor; the Brigante have never managed to capture a fortress like Eboracum. The best they ever managed was a sneak attack on a marching camp and even then the cohort killed more of them than they lost. If you use ballistae on the walls then you will be safe within this fortress.”
Both Appius and the Governor took some solace from the decurion’s words. Neither were warriors and Rufius left their company desperate for fresh air and troopers who knew how to fight and to die.
Briac and his Brigante were already well to the north of the Dunum. They had slipped northwards in warbands of a hundred warriors. Between Vinovia, in the east, and Bravoniacum, in the west, lay forty miles of rough and open country through which the Brigante had flooded. Warriors had travelled from the furthest corners of the land of the Brigante. Every young warrior eager to prove himself a man had left his farm, his village, his family to join the army of Briac. Briac’s promised a final defeat for the Romans and the young wanted to be part of it. The fathers and uncles; the older ones did not join the exodus for they remembered the previous uprisings which had seen the Brigante suffer. Their meeting point was south of the Stanegate and north of the wall Scaeva and the chiefs planned their attack to coincide with the arrival of the hidden army.
Me
anwhile, Iucher and Randal, had been slowly feeding their men across the turf wall at the western side of the wall. The auxiliaries were still in a state of shock following the earlier raids and were fearful of the dark beyond the wall. The land to the south of the Stanegate now had many warbands waiting in eager anticipation of the attacks. The two chiefs wanted as many men south of the wall when the attack started while the remainder of their armies lurked close to the gap, ready to rampage across the land once the soldiers marched to meet the new threat on the Stanegate. The priests of the tribes had made offerings to the gods for aid against the invader and they gods had smiled on them. The autumn rains began early, the Stanegate was passable but the new military road and the construction site became a sticky morass which sucked caligae into its depths and armour rusted as you watched. It was a miserable time for auxiliaries and legionaries alike.
Iucher and Randal took it as a sign that the mother and the gods were on their side. Patrols beyond the road ceased as the horsemen of the ala huddled beneath their cloaks trying to keep dry, an impossible task. The barbarians benefited from shelters they threw up, invisible to the Romans, who found it hard to peer through the rain which appeared to come down continuously and not only downwards but sideways too!
Livius and the other officers were also depressed when news of Gnaeus’ death reached them. He had been popular with all of the ala but Marcus felt particularly close to him, having mentored and coached him to reach his elevated rank and now he was murdered, killed by the woman who had fooled them all. What galled Marcus was that he had risked his young troopers to rescue her. At the back of it all was the knowledge that Vibius, too, had deceived them. Scanlan viewed it philosophically, the incident was Nemesis but Aneurin took it as a personal slight. He had been, for a time, the closest to Vibius and felt he was a friend. The news which reached them from Eboracum made Aneurin, the youngest of the troopers, doubt everything in his world. Marcus saw the young Brigante drift deeper into depression.
