Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 10] Roman Hawk

by Griff Hosker

Marcus blushed at the reaction from his family. He was not one given to fuss but all of them showered him with hugs and overt signs of affection. The warrior could not understand it and did not know the high regard the whole family had for this quiet unassuming warrior who was the embodiment of his father. Ailis could see, day by day, the son she had borne becoming the man she had married and it comforted her greatly. It was a circle of life and a sign that there was an Allfather, and he did have a plan, however convoluted and complex it might seem to the mortals who strove to exist in his dangerous world.

  *******

  Marcus had decided to take the first consignment of stone on the wagons back to the frontier. The patrol along the Dunum was an easier task and Marcus knew that Decius was inexperienced; he could learn leadership with neither pressure from peers nor enemies. He would be a good officer but he needed time to develop those skills. He remembered how others, Cicero and Graccus amongst them, had not had the time to become good officers and had both been taken too soon. The journey north with the stone filled wagons was quite pleasant for the first twenty miles as they were still within Morbium’s area of influence but, as they drew nearer to the border the old Explorate began to smell danger. The slow pace was too predictable and any barbarians waiting to attack them would have much time to prepare. His loyal turma, all oath brothers of the sword, recognised the signs and they too looked around for the danger.

  Suibhne had been sent by King Lugubelenus to watch the Roman road. He had with him his own loyal warband. They were forty of the most experienced warriors in the tribe and all of them had lived close to the frontier all their lives. They knew every path and tree in the huge forest which lined both sides of the Roman road. They had been chosen for this task by the king himself and all felt honoured to have been chosen. All of them hated what the Romans had done; it was unnatural to cut straight lines through the holy forest and to use stone to do was even worse. Stone was for monuments, for men to marvel at, not to plant their feet upon. The gods did not want man to leave his mark on the land and yet these Romans did just that, leaving their scar throughout the land. Days earlier, Suibhne had seen the wagons heading south, empty, and knew what it meant; they would be returning and when they did they would be full. He knew not what the Romans would bring, their needs baffled the simple tribesmen, but if he could stop it then it might persuade them to leave their land and to stop scarring it even more. Whatever was arriving on the wheeled wagons was valuable and if they prevented their arrival then the Romans would be weaker.

  He had watched the empty wagons head south and knew when they would return and, when they did so, they would be full and heavily laden. They would have to move slowly, even on the stone roads. That was the time to hit them, when they laboured up the hills to the fort at Coriosopitum. The rode rose for a long mile and the dropped easily down to the frontier fort. To create a trap he had had his men dislodge a line of stones across the road. It had taken them some time but he knew they had at least a day before the wagons returned. He then split his men into two even groups along both sides. They had learned how swift the cavalry could be, they would react quickly to any attack. All of the men with him were experts with slingshots. They had stolen skills and ideas from the Romans and now made smoother, rounder missiles which were more accurate and deadlier than the old stones which they had picked from lakes and streams. Now they made their own and they flew truer and hit harder.

  As Marcus and his turma escorted the incredibly slow wagons he reflected that he knew this road now as well as any in the province. That did not make it any safer. When it had been first built it was secure enough for lone riders to use it safely. However since the demise of the Ninth and the problems on the Stanegate it had become a dangerous place. The sooner the wall was erected then the sooner they could control the barbarians. Marcus was in no doubt that they would still raid; from what he had understood from Julius and Livius the wall was a deterrent only. Men could still climb over it and then raid in the soft underbelly of Britannia. What they would not be able to do would be to bring horses which would make the ala’s task that much easier; nor would they be able to steal horses, animals, goods and, most pertinent of all, slaves. They might get across the new wall but they would not be able to return the same way. He sighed to himself. All that was some way off and for the present he and his turma would need eyes in the back of their heads and every sense attuned.

  Just at that moment his new horse, Star, whinnied. He was a well trained mount and did not make a sound unless there were strange horses nearby or something which made him wary. “Halt!” Marcus had learned to trust him and his senses; it was better to arrive a little late but safe rather than on time with casualties and no stone.

  His men were a really well a well oiled team and they all stopped immediately and faced outwards with drawn weapons, their shields drawn up to protect themselves. The wagon drivers were neither well trained nor attentive and the command took a few moments to sink in and for them to react. Consequently the first wagon rode on for a few more paces to the dislodged stones. The huge front wheels stuck in the new rut and the driver could not move it. Suddenly a barrage of slingshots rained down on the column but the warning of Star meant that the troopers were safe with their shields protecting them and, as they were facing the forest they made a narrower target for the Votadini.

  “Half away!” Marcus’ command told the troopers to split into two leaving one with the wagons whilst the other half sought out the enemy.

  Suibhne knew that his ambush had failed in an instant. He had relied on being able to take out at least six of the horsemen and then he would have had parity of numbers. His men had not struck a single trooper. The odds he faced and the skill of the horsemen meant this encounter could only end one way, failure. He blew his horn and his men melted away. He had the satisfaction of knowing that they had killed three of the drovers and damaged a wagon; small victories but, as he had lost none in the brief encounter, he had a victory nonetheless. Marcus resisted his men’s eagerness to chase through the forests after the fleeing warriors. They would be wasting their time and risking the wagons. They managed to move the wagon on the rut and then replace the stones in the road so that the other s successfully negotiated the obstacle.

  When Marcus reported to Livius at the fort, having left his turma at Coriosopitum, the Prefect was concerned. “I think we had better put more men on the road patrol and less on the river patrol.”

  Marcus nodded. “It will be Decius on the next road patrol anyway and as he will be bringing some of the new recruits and the remounts I will just take ten of my turma. That should leave enough men to deal with another ambush.”

  “And I will have the Prefect at Coriosopitum have his men check the road. He won’t thank me for it but he won’t thank us if the fort becomes cut off!”

  ******

  The two decurions met up again at the new home of Metellus and Nanna nestling close to the fort at Morbium and the old Brigante fortress of Stanwyck. Formerly belonging to Sergeant Cato Marcus was astounded by the changes wrought in so short a time. Cato’s tastes had been utilitarian and everything had been functional and drab. Nanna had swiftly transformed it into a colourful home with murals and friezes on what had been bare plaster walls. The furniture was more decorative and definitely comfortable. As with Ailis, the former captive would brook no slaves in her home but there were many servants for Nanna had been a woman of substance before her capture and the money she had hidden she used well. Metellus himself was not a poor man for the ala had become adept, over the years, at acquiring money and treasure. The two of them were, by local standards very rich. Nanna intended her home to be the grandest in the valley.

  Nanna was obviously proud of her home and made the two decurions welcome. “Come in, come in! Bring in the troopers.”

  Marcus and Decius had looked at the sixty troopers and Marcus shook his head. “They will be happier in the barn for here they would worry about knocking over your statues
and precious objects.”

  “They are not precious, “was the lie she faced them with but Marcus had learned from Ailis and his sister in law that every object in a home, no matter how useless, was precious to a woman and that lump of pottery which was barely noticed by a man would become a rare and cherished item by the woman of the house. He noticed that she did not pursue the point but sent her steward to provide food and drink for the men.

  “How is Metellus?”

  The worry was not only in her voice but in her eyes. She knew how dangerous it was on the Stanegate. “He is safe. Metellus is a careful and thoughtful man, even more so since he became a married man. Fear not. He only has a few years to go before retirement and he will not throw his life away needlessly.” He smiled at her and touched her hand, “He now has something to live for.” As they relaxed with the watered wine Marcus brought up the real reason for their visit. “The horses, they are ready to be taken?”

  Nanna loved horses and regarded them as her children. “Well we could do with another month to really school them…”

  Marcus shook his head. “I am afraid that the Selgovae and the Votadini will not give us even one day and anyway the roads will become almost impassable in a month. The terrible rains we had in the last weeks have made the roads worse than they were.”

  Nodding her understanding Nanna asked innocently, “You will need more remounts in the spring?”

  Marcus laughed, he liked this woman and she was so good for Metellus. “You need not fear for your business. You keep your stallions working and your mares in foal and we will use every horse you can breed. There are some recruits coming north soon and then more after the winter solstice. The numbers of the Gallic cohort and ourselves are below what they ought to be.”

  Smiling with relief she stood, “Good. Now you will both be staying the house I take it. We have food for your men and it makes me feel safer to have all these brave young warriors around.”

  “We will Nanna but we will have to leave before dawn for I must take ten of my men to patrol the Dunum and Decius here has a wagon train, a horse herd and fifty recruits to march north!”

  “Then we shall have a feast!” She might not be able to share her home with her husband, but his friends and comrades were the next best thing and it would give her a chance to practise her cooking skills on someone else.

  Chapter 3

  Marcus felt alive as he and his ten troopers rode east from Morbium along the trail north of the river. It felt like being an Explorate once more, just small patrol riding quickly through the valley. There were five or six small settlements dotted along the northern bank and they would be reassured by the presence of the turma. For the first time in a while the turma could ride at their own speed and were not dictated to by slow moving wagons or trudging infantry. Gnaeus, his new chosen man, rode just behind Marcus, keenly looking for any sign of danger. All of the turma were devoted to their decurion having taken the oath to defend the sword but Gnaeus had been the chosen man of Marcus’ brother Macro and felt he had something to make up to both of them having failed to protect Macro when he needed protection. Gnaeus had served with the ala since the time the two brothers had been made up to decurion and he could not help but notice the difference in the two men. Where Macro had been reckless Marcus was deliberate and thoughtful, where Macro had been mercurial Marcus was cautious and yet both were excellent officers who led their men well. Gnaeus had noticed the change in Marcus since his brother’s death. He seemed even calmer that he had been before and he loved life even more passionately. It seemed to the trooper, that the close brush with death and the loss of his brother had made him want to enjoy every precious moment he had been granted. Certainly Gnaeus was not worried that they would be surprised or ambushed, Marcus was too careful.

  “Sir, are we going to take the river path?”

  “No Gnaeus the rains will have made that treacherous.” The same rains which had devastated the building of the wall had also flooded the Dunum. It had widened from a river of sixty paces to a lake of half a mile in places. “No we will ride the bluffs; it will take out all the bends in the river. We will head for Seolh Muba.”

  “Seolh Muba?”

  “The mouth of the Dunum, the place where the seals bask on the mud flats.”

  “Do you think we will actually see any raiders?” Gnaeus was dubious about the value of the patrol. He felt they should have been on the frontier fighting the barbarians. He believed in what Rome was doing and hoped that the barbarians would, eventually, see it that way too. Pleasant though the ride was they were doing little good. “It seems to me it is the wrong season. The seas are wild at this time of year and it would take a brave or foolhardy captain to risk these waters.”

  “Perhaps you are right but we only have a month of this duty and then we will return to the Stanegate. It is not an arduous duty and I do not think it will be too many risks. If we a ship then we can report it and if we see any raiders we can follow. We are here as a deterrent only. ” Marcus peered to the south where he knew the river flowed. The trees and branches before him obscured the view somewhat. He could identify little but as there were no masts to be seen he knew that there were no ships. “We will head for the woods between Oegels-dun and Eabrycg. That way we can cut out the mighty loops of the river.”

  Gnaeus nodded, the two settlements were palisaded and defended; it was unlikely that any raider could trouble them but at least they would be able to get some hot food when they reached them for the Brigante were always pleased to see the ala. Gnaeus grinned to himself, perhaps they would arrive just in time for a freshly brewed ale, the Allfather and Parcae would be on their side if that happened.

  ******

  Trygg Tryggvasson turned to his lieutenant, Snorri. “I think this will be the last trip we take until the spring.” The tall chief gestured to the wide floodwaters which made the Dunum less a river and more a lake. “We cannot go too close ashore, we do not know where the trees and rocks are and Odin would not like us to be beached here in this land of the Romans.” He turned to look at the other five long ships rowing in his wake. They had already made a successful raid on the coast and relieved many of the jet miners, who lived at the coast, of their bounty. The iron mines further north had yielded some fine iron ore which could easily be traded and the only thing they now required was a healthy boatload of slaves. They needed them to work the fields and to sell to their neighbours. However Trygg had the novel idea of mating strong male slaves with healthy women to produce new warrior slaves for the future. Once they were weaned the young males could be trained in weapons and fighting. He had a vision of warriors who were totally devoted to the tribe without any family loyalty. Then he would be able to sail further afield, perhaps to the warmer waters further south and find new rich lands from which to take even more plunder. It was a long term plan but he was building an empire for his sons. He had heard that the mighty Roman Empire had begun with a small tribe living on seven hills. With Odin’s help, some day, his descendants would rule a land as vast.

  “Smoke ahead!” The lookout whose legs were curled precariously around the top of the mainmast pointed to the north bank of the river. They had passed one settlement but they had been seen and Trygg had no desire to lose men in a costly assault on a fortified town. He wanted easy pickings; he chose when he would fight a battle. He would pull ashore and approach this settlement across the land. With the fifty warriors behind him he would easily be able to defeat an unwary village.

  “Lower the sail! Ease her into the shore. Orm keep a good lookout forrard, I don’t want to run foul of any trees.” The ships behind tacked in turn and soon they were twenty paces from the shore. “Lars, see what the bottom is like.”

  Orm stood on the prow. He took off his sword and jumped into the water. It was with a shock that he only landed up to his waist. Although he turned round with a sheepish look on his face Trygg knew that they had misjudged their approach and could have been grounded.

&nbs
p; “Get the men ashore and then turn the ships around. Moor the ships in the middle of the river and keep watch for our return.”

  His men were well trained and had performed the same actions many times. They speedily spread through the woods. Without being told a party of ten became scouts and sentries to give early warning of danger. The one weakness of Trygg’s methods was that he never scouted out a target beforehand. His argument was that it gave them the element of surprise but it could also work the other way. Two years ago they had tried to take a settlement in Germania Inferior not realising that a century of auxiliaries had been recently billeted there. It had cost the Tencteri chief too many men and he had switched to Britannia which appeared to be defended less diligently.

  They found, to their relief, that the hill village was unprepared, being totally unaware of the proximity of the warband. The gates of the fort were open as people went about their daily work. The recent rains had damaged many of the crops and all the village were busy trying to save as much as they could before winter set in. Even ruined crops could feed desperately hungry animals. So when the raiders from the sea arrived, fully armed and forty paces from their walls it was a complete and devastating shock. The few men who stood up to the savage enemy were ruthlessly butchered, they were farmers not warriors. Trygg was interested in neither crops nor the paltry and worthless belongings of these poor people. He wanted their animals, their women and their children. They were all held in the same esteem by the Tencteri. When they had gathered them together they were tied in a long line and led off back down the river to the ships, a mile downstream. Trygg left the settlement as it was; he had learned that if you fired one then the neighbours would investigate. He preferred to slip and out efficiently.

  ******

  Marcus’ sharp eyes were the first to spot the tops of the masts as they approached the woods. He knew that they could not be the Classis Britannica for he would have been informed that they were in the river. They could be traders but the wise decurion knew that was unlikely. He knew they would, in all probability, be raiders. There were two hamlets nearby, one upstream and one downstream. They were both about the same distance away, a meagre two to three miles.