by Griff Hosker
“Cassius what can we do about Aneurin? He is not the trooper he was.”
“He’ll snap out of it, trust me.”
“No Cassius, we cannot afford to ignore these things. Good troopers are hard to come by and Aneurin has the making of a good one.”
Cassius was a plain speaking soldier. All this talk of feelings and emotions was beyond him but it was Marcus Gaius Aurelius who had asked him and he had to think of something. “I’ll ask Scanlan to have a word. He seems to get on with the lad and is a bit more sensible, if you know what I mean.”
Scanlan appreciated the task he had been given, it showed him what his officers thought of him and Scanlan aimed to be a decurion some time. He too had noticed Aneurin and his moods; he rode next to him as yet another wave of rain drove in from the east. “Filthy this weather eh Aneurin?”
His dull flat voice told Scanlan his mood. “The whole place is filthy. I don’t know why we hang on to it. What is the point?”
Scanlan looked askance at Aneurin. His tone became sharper. “I do not believe you Aneurin. Do you hate your family so much? Do you hate the decurion?”
His mouth opened and he looked briefly like a fish taken from a river trying to gulp in air. “No! Of course not! What a horrible thing to say! I would do anything for the decurion and the sword! And I love my family!”
“Well that is the point isn’t it? If we weren’t here defending this bit of land, which, I agree, is filthy and apiece of shit not worth dying for but,” he paused and pointed to the south, “down there are our people and the decurion’s people live and work. They are living in peace and do you know why? Because we are willing to fight to keep the barbarians at bay. I, for one, am happy to be fighting here for that means my family is safe and my land is free from war.”
There was a silence for the slop of the hooves in the puddles and the whoosh of the sleet filled wind. Scanlan glanced at Aneurin. He could almost see the thought processes at work. The grin returned, for the first time since Vibius had left. “You are right! Sorry Scanlan. What was I thinking?”
“That is your trouble Aneurin you think too much, don’t. It does you no good in the end. Just follow orders and you will be fine but I think you need to apologise to the decurion. He has been worried about you.”
“Me! I didn’t know he even saw me.”
“There you go again. Of course he does. He watches us all. That sword he carries is more than a powerful weapon it is a symbol of the Brigante and that, old son, is you and me!”
The messenger reached Scaeva and the chiefs at dusk on a day where the sun had barely lightened the day. “Chief Briac is in position and is ready.”
Scaeva had now become the unofficial leader of the group. All of his predictions and plans had borne fruit and it saved Iucher and Randal from arguing over trivialities. “Tomorrow morning we attack the Romans on the length of this wall. Remember, when they respond we must do as they expect us to and flee south. Briac is waiting at the narrow valley near the Allyn River. The Romans will follow you and when you turn at the head of the valley they will think they have you. That is when Briac will launch his attack from the hills.” He looked sternly at each of them. He had only been a trooper for a couple of years but he had taken on all the discipline of the Romans, something the tribes did not have. “They must obey orders or we are lost!”
“They will.”
It was as though the very earth and skies were on the side of the barbarians as the day dawned; or it would have dawned were it not for the thick clinging fog and low cloud which meant that the soldiers could only see someone four paces in front of them. The icy chill permeated their armour and their cloaks. The soldiers tramping towards the wall that day were in no mood to work.
The Batavians were still in their armour, although bareheaded, when the Votadini struck. The muddy bog in which they worked made it hard to shift the cobbles. When the arrows struck, they appeared to come from nowhere. The archers were blind but they loosed so many that they knew they would have struck men. The Batavians were disorientated; the arrows appeared to come, not from the north, where the Votadini lived but the south, the Stanegate. The hesitation caused more casualties as the Votadini swordsmen plunged in to hack the auxiliaries who were facing the wrong way before the officers and sergeants had time to organise their men.
The picture was repeated along the wall. The legionaries were the first to recover but they too took heavily casualties. The wagon drivers on the road were massacred as the barbarians appeared like wraiths alongside them to drag them from their seats and ruthlessly butcher them. They took the draught animals from the traces and drove them away then they upturned all of the wagons making the road impassable in places. As instructed they withdrew to the woods to await the Roman response.
One of the horsemen who rode at the rear of the wagons which had left Coriosopitum managed to escape and he fled back to Cilurnum. He was the first to deliver the news of the attacks. Julius Demetrius immediately ordered Livius to take the whole ala and find out what was going on.
“Sir, this may be something bigger than a raid on the wagons.”
“What do you mean Livius?”
“All the intelligence we had was that the tribes were planning something big. They have been quiet for too long. Luckily we didn’t send this ala back to Eboracum but they may think we have gone.”
“You may be right. I will follow with the Hamians and I will pick up the Dacians at Vercovicium. We will meet you south of the new fort.”
When Livius and the ala reached the wrecked wagons and slaughtered drivers they could see the size of th devastation. “Sextus ride to Vercovicium and warn the Dacians that they are to march when the legate arrives. Marcus, take Felix and scout the gap. Find out where they have fled.”
He turned to Metellus. “We will keep the rest of the men together. This looks like a big warband.”
“Sir.”
“Yes Marcus?”
“Felix has found out where they went.”
“That was fast.” He looked north, although the fog still hid all.
“No sir. They went south. There are no tracks to the north.”
Livius was nonplussed. “Well done. Follow the tracks.” He turned to his decurion princeps. “Metellus, send a rider back to the legate tell him the barbarians have fled south. And send out scouts. In this fog we could easily miss them.”
They rode with weapons at the ready, all thoughts of the cold gone. Livius kept them in a column of fours ready to deploy at any moment.
The trooper, Sextus, rode towards them. “Sir! They are attacking Vercovicium.”
“Ala wheel right. Turma frontage!”
The ala rode off in twelve lines. The land between the Stanegate and the wall was treeless and, if they were careful they could avoid the few dips and hollows. They would, however, have the maximum number of spears and javelins to bring to bear. They could hear the fighting long before they could see anything but the Votadini who were engaged with the Tungrians had no warning either and the thirty troopers crashed into their rear ranks. Metellus and his turma overlapped and the barbarians were caught between the Tungrians, with the newly arrived Dacians and the troopers. They fled but, to Livius’ amazement, they did not flee northwards but west and south, taking his horsemen by surprise.
Gaius Culpinus, the prefect of the Tungrians took his helmet from his bloodied head and extended his arm. “Thank you Livius. That was well timed. We were losing too many men.”
“Any idea where they came from?”
He pointed to the Stanegate, “South! They took us completely by surprise.”
“The legate is coming along with the Hamian archers and he is going to take your Dacians as well.”
“Don’t worry about us. We will improve the defences and sod the building!”
“Metellus take four turmae and ride to the Sixth, find out what has happened there. I will ride along the Stanegate and make for Vindolanda. Meet us there.” Vindolanda was
only a construction site but there were Gauls there and they might also need help.
Marcus was taking no chances as he followed the Votadini south and east. It was undulating land, with scrubby bushes and copses. The dells and hollows made perfect ambush country. Felix and Wolf were good but even they only had a certain amount of luck. They rode in a loose formation. Marcus had seen them being to use arrows and a tight formation, whilst effective in many ways, was not while being attacked by arrows. It also afforded him a wider frontage and they could see further although with the fog that was not very far.
Felix returned, like a ghost from the mist. “They are moving quickly decurion. They are running.”
“Cassius, does this make sense to you? They successfully attack a wagon train. They are not disturbed and then they run, not north for home, but south, away from their tribal lands.”
“No sir. But I don’t like it. If they were Roman then it would make sense. We would do this to lead them into a trap.”
Suddenly it all became clear to Marcus. “And of course they now have a Roman.”
Cassius looked confused for a moment then he said, “Scaeva!”
“Lucius, ride to the prefect. He will be on the Stanegate heading west. Tell him I think that they are leading us into a trap.”
Livius reached Vindolanda and saw the pitiful remains of the four centuries who had been building it. He sent out his skirmishers and then tended to the wounded. Lucius reached him at the same time as Metellus and the legate. The legate listened to all the reports. “The Sixth and the Twentieth were attacked, from the south again sir and the Batavians, further west, well they suffered badly again.”
“Thank you Metellus. And this news from Marcus; what do you make of that?”
“He is a bright lad, always has been and it makes sense. The tribes normally run for home and when they do they run fast.”
“Right.” He looked down at the Gauls, “Centurion, take your men and go to Vercovicium. You can bolster the garrison there until this is over. Livius, send a rider to the Sixth. I want the whole cohort here.”
As the rider galloped off and the Gauls began to tramp through the fog north Livius asked, “It will take them some time to reach us sir.”
Julius smiled, “I know what you are thinking Livius that the Governor will have my head if I am wrong. Well it is an old head but think about it. If Marcus is correct and this is an ambush then we are merely keeping our enemies waiting. If they are intent on raiding the land of the Brigante, which they could be, then they have a long way to go before they can do any serious damage and you could catch them and, if they are intent on returning north then we still block their route. We will try to have as many men as possible.” He waved a hand at the Syrian archers and Dacians. “I do not think they can know about our reinforcements, perhaps they may get a shock when they do.”
Centurion Quintus Broccus led the cohort to the gathering. Marcus could see that they had lost men but they had the determined look of soldiers who mean business. Julius briefed him and the small army set off south. Marcus, with his Brigante scouts was the point of the force and he and his turma were five hundred paces in the van of the rest of the ala. The Hamians followed then the legion and finally the Dacians brought up the rear. They were a good cohort, according to the legate but, as yet, untried. The Syrian archers could hide amongst the legionaries if trouble occurred. Everything now depended upon Marcus and his men finding the enemy.
Chapter 23
Felix and Wolf did not ride down the old Roman road, even though the main trail of the enemy followed it; Felix might be young but he was not stupid and he knew that the tribes did not follow regular lines of march. They wandered all over the route and Wolf was happily following the Votadini who had massacred the wagon drivers. The land rose steeply and the valley twisted and turned as it wound its way south. Rather than hurrying Felix went slowly and that saved his life. He was above the half built road and negotiating a steep slope; Wolf was above him sniffing out a Votadini smell. The archer, who had hidden in the rocks high above had spied the scout and wanted an easy target. The growl from Wolf made Felix drop to the ground and the arrow flew harmlessly over his head. He was up in an instant and had notched an arrow and aimed at the rock he thought the archer had loosed from. Sure enough the head popped up and the arrow took him in the middle of his forehead. Felix used speed to race to the dead man. Wolf growled at the dead body. Felix stood on the high rock; from the vantage point the Brigante scout had a good view of the thousands of barbarians who were filling the end of the valley some thousand paces ahead.
“We can return now Wolf. I hope the decurion has a plan to defeat them for there look to be many.”
The trooper saw the two scouts scampering down the hillside. “Sir, Felix, on the left.”
“Halt.”
“Sir the main army look to be at the head of the valley. There are many more than there are Romans.”
The doubt in the boy’s voice made Marcus smile. “It is a good job that we are better warriors than they are eh?. Titus, ride to the decurion and give him the information. Tell him I will scout the large hill to the east.” The hill in question was like a large dome, an upturned jug.” Cassius, you take half the men and go the right. I will take Felix to the left.”
There were some bushes and trees around the top but, to Marcus’ eye, there didn’t appear to be any gullies or cliffs. He realised he had the recruits with him and their lack of experience might be dangerous. “Keep your weapons ready and your eyes peeled.”
Livius sent a messenger back to the legate and then took the ala forwards at the trot. He could see the valley narrowing and knew, instinctively, that the trap Marcus had suspected was ahead. They had led the Romans on to their spears. As soon as the valley turned left he could see them; there were thousands of them arrayed in many ranks along the terraces of the hills. Even at a thousand paces he could see the archers and the spear men. Scaeva had advised them well. The only advantages the Romans would have were their discipline and their shields for few of the tribesmen had them. He held his hand up and halted the thirteen turmae in a long line, filling the whole valley. When they attacked the frontage the legionaries would have would be less than this. It would be a tight killing zone.
Julius Demetrius had made his plans as soon as he realised what they faced. The Sixth strode up with the First Century, flanked by the Second and Third, with the Fourth and Fifth in reserve. They were eight hundred of the finest warriors Rome had but they would be fighting over four times that number. Half of the Dacians were on the left flank with the other half on the right and the five hundred Syrian archers were between the two ranks of the Sixth.
Livius waited until he heard the command for the cavalry to withdraw. His ala fed through gaps left for them by the legionaries. The troopers nodded to the men of the sixth that they knew. Livius nodded to Centurion Broccus. “There seem to be a lot of them Quintus.”
“It doesn’t matter how many there are, they can only fight us one to one. They may have picked this place because they can’t be outflanked by you horse boys but it suits us more. It might take us a little longer but we will grind them down. Believe me!”
Livius shuddered, when Quintus said grind down, that was precisely what they meant. They were like the mill stones turning the lumps of corn into a fine powder; but this powder would be the bones of men. Julius nodded to him. Put half your men on each flank.”
“Metellus take half on the right. And I will watch the left. Keep your eyes on the hills. They may have men there.”
As the buccina sounded the three double centuries and the Hamians moved forwards. The jeering and cheering of the tribes diminished to be replaced by a whoosh of arrows. He watched as the legionaries held up their shields but most were not needed as the enemy arrows fell short. The legion halted and presented their shields to the enemy. Then the Syrian archers pulled back on their bows and five hundred arrows plunged into the unarmoured men in the front ran
k. Almost before the first had struck a second wave flew and a third. It was as though someone had punched a hole in the enemy’s centre. The three centuries moved forwards and the reserve centuries joined them. Once the five centuries had overtaken them the Syrians moved forwards and stopped eighty paces closer to the enemy. The Votadini and Selgovae archers and slingers kept sending missiles towards the Romans who contemptuously blocked them with their shields. The Syrians now showed that they could aim as well as any and the archers in the second ranks were targeted.
Julius could see that the centre was now weak and he ordered the Dacians forwards to take the pressure off the legion’s flanks. This would take time but they would finally defeat the tribes. Just then a rider galloped down the hill waving and shouting at Livius. Julius could see and hear the commotion. He wondered what disaster it heralded.
“Sir! The Brigante! They are attacking. There are thousands of them.”
As Livius and Julius looked up at the hill, which moments earlier had been empty, and they saw thousands of Brigante warriors pouring over the top of the hill and running down in a mass. They would strike the left flank of the Roman line and, quite simply, bowl it over. “Ride to the Dacians and tell them to halt and face the enemy. You,” he gestured to another aide, “bring the Dacians from the right as quickly as you can and the rest of the al.” There was little point in halting the Sixth, they were committed but he could save the Syrians. He had run out of aides. He kicked his horse forwards and shouted to the prefect of the Hamians. “Withdraw to me. We are being attacked from the hill to the left.”
Livius had moments to come up with a plan. He knew that Marcus would not sit idly by and watch the attack. That meant he had six turmae to try to halt ten times that number. “Wheel left! We are going to charge them! Follow the Wolf!” With the Wolf Standard to the fore the two hundred men galloped uphill to the charging Brigante. Livius held his javelin overhand and, aiming at a chief with a torc he hurled it; striking the man and pinning him to the hillside. His second javelin he held like a long sword and he stabbed left and right at every Brigante who crossed his path. Although they killed many, more evaded the charge and carried on relentlessly down the hill. The ala was also taking casualties. Scaeva had advised well and axes hacked into horse’s legs allowing others to stab and kill the riders.
