Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 10] Roman Hawk

by Griff Hosker

  Marcus had been expecting this. “But I can have a rope.”

  The two brothers looked each other, suspecting a trap. Stig spat out scornfully, “To hang yourself or to hold up your breeks when you fill them?”

  Marcus ignored the jibe. “A rope?”

  Stig shrugged, a rope would not withstand their blades. “You may have the rope and when you are dead we will use it to hang your bodies for the crows.”

  As they were led, by the council out to the area designated as the arena, Drugi said quietly to Marcus, “I hope you know what you are doing Marcus, a rope?”

  Marcus shrugged, “I could not have a blade and a staff or a club would merely slow them down. I need something to help me win.” They both looked up into the empty sky but there was no sign which would help them.

  Snorri handed a length of rope to Marcus. He gave him a sympathetic look but a look which also said that the gesture was futile. Marcus made a large knot at one end and coiled part of it around his left arm, while he held the knotted end in his right. He whirled it gently as he waited for Stig and Carl. Trygg could see how the rope could be used defensively but he could not see how it would be an effective weapon. Still the Roman had proved resourceful before, perhaps he would surprise them again.

  Stig and Carl had both chosen axes and Marcus breathed a sigh of relief. Had one chosen a spear then he would have only lasted a few moments. The warriors of the tribes surrounded them with their shields making a large circle and Marcus felt like a gladiator in an ampitheatre. Marcus stepped forwards and the two men began to circle him. They intended to eliminate any chance he had to defend himself and attack from two sides at once. They would feint and prod and make him become defensive. Marcus had no intention of staying on the defensive and he whirled his rope around his head and advanced on Stig, who was the closest. He flicked the knotted end and it smacked into Stig’s eye which erupted in blood and white viscous liquid as it was torn out. “Just like your brother!”

  Marcus knew that the disabled Stig would soon attack him again and he had to attack Carl quickly; he turned to face the advancing Tencteri warrior who had seen the fate of hiss brother and he held his axe up to protect himself from the knotted rope. Marcus had anticipated such a move and he reacted accordingly. This time he whiled the rope to strike and wrap itself around the haft of the axe. As Marcus pulled back it was torn from Carl’s grip to land safely out of reach behind Marcus. Carl grabbed his dagger and lunged at Marcus. The decurion could not avoid the charge but he fended off the wickedly sharp blade with the rope coiled around his left arm. As Carl slid by Marcus wrapped the rope around Carl’s neck. He began to pull on the rope and saw Carl’s eyes bulge.

  Suddenly Marcus heard the screech of the hawk and turned just in time to see a bloody and enraged Stig swinging his axe at Marcus. Using Carl as a shield to protect himself from Stig’s attack Marcus waited. Stig had begun his swing and had no chance to slow down the blade, the axe sliced into his brother’s stomach and his lifeless body slid to the ground. His death took with it Marcus’ only defence as the rope was still around Carl’s neck. He dropped it and, before Stig could swing again he jumped feet first at Stig’s knee. He heard a reassuring crack as something broke and Stig fell to the floor in agony. Before Stig could react Marcus went behind the warrior and, holding his neck in his right arm pushed his knee into Stig’s back. He pushed with his knee and his arms exerted as much pressure as he could. Stig’s remaining eye bulged. The crack of his neck breaking seemed to echo around the stunned arena. Drugi, Trygg and Frann had surprised but happy expressions while the others were just stunned that a man with merely a rope had killed two of the deadliest warriors ever to wield an axe. The fact that one brother had been responsible for another’s death seemed to confirm that Marcus was the innocent party and that the gods had decided in his favour.

  Marcus looked up at the circling hawk, “Thank you brother.”

  Chapter 10

  The snow had begun to melt on the ground around Rocky Point and the days were lengthening. Rather than making life easier it made it harder for, as the legionaries began to build the wall higher and start the construction of mile castles and fortlets so the Votadini and Selgovae began to make their presence felt even more. Ten legionaries of the Sixth had been slaughtered in a surprise attack before they could reach their weapons and Centurion Brocchus was not a happy man. He and the Legate rode into the fort one cold and damp morning. Additionally, the melting snow had churned the paths into a muddy morass giving the whole fort a depressing feel.

  “Livius we need a strategy to keep the barbarians at bay.”

  Quintus looked angrily at the map on the wall. “The Gauls are doing their best Livius but they are losing men at an alarming rate. If we have to keep half of our men armed as sentries then the wall will never be completed.”

  Livius looked at the map and then shouted, “Julius bring in the rotas.” He turned to the two visitors. “If we pull the turmae from the west then we can strike at their homes in the north. It will make them pull back but we will be leaving the west over exposed.”

  Julius nodded, “The strategy might work and it will keep thyem looking to their homes. They do not need to worry about attack at the moment as wer are too busy building to be aggressive. The Emperor is there and he has extra men. I will take the responsibility.” He paused, “No news from Rufius?”

  “No, I had expected him back after the winter solstice but you yourself know how unpredictable a sea voyage can be.” The clerk returned with the lists. “If I leave the Gallic turmae to defend the road I can take the ten turmae of my ala and we should be able to leave in the next three days.” He looked at the Centurion of the Sixth. “Will that do?”

  “Aye, we will keep a better watch until then.”

  ******

  The captives had given Hercules a good idea of what the settlement at Hjarno-by looked like. Hercules looked at the crude drawing and shook his head. “If these girls are right then we cannot enter the bay for we would be trapped which means we would be on the seaward side. If a storm blew up…”

  “We will cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  The girls had described the walls around the settlement and the large slave hall. “That is where Marcus should be, if he is still alive.”

  One of the girls shook her head fearfully. “There were no men there sir. We only saw women, girls and boys. The men were always killed. If your friend was taken, he will have been put to death.”

  Gnaeus looked crestfallen. Rufius put his arm around his shoulders. “You saw him taken alive. Neither of us knows why this Trygg chose to capture him but there will be a reason and I can see no reason why Marcus should have been killed once they reached here. The Parcae are fickle creatures Gnaeus, besides, we have a duty to try to bring back some of the captives if we can.”

  Gnaeus and Rufius had been drilling the ex-soldiers they had recruited in Eboracum. It was not that they had to give them new skills but help them to remember old ones. The few who had never used a bow were taught how to fire them and they practised repelling boarders with two teams, once commanded by Rufius and one by Gnaeus. They were learning to be marines. Furax had been delighted when he was put in charge of furring the bolt thrower. He happily drilled with the men, never actually firing a bolt but setting it up to fire. His enthusiasm made up for his age and Rufius was pleased; when they did have to fire they would be able to keep up a healthy rate of fire.

  ******

  Cassius and Metellus were both delighted to be reunited with the rest of the ala. Although they both enjoyed their independent commands, the cold lonely winter had been devoid of the banter of the ala. Both of them, too, had their thoughts with their comrades Rufius and Marcus. As they rode north, skirting the main Votadini settlements, they talked of what their friends would be experiencing. “It will be hard for them Cassius. I remember when we were in Gallia Aquitania. Every man is a potential enemy and you do not know the language well. You
have to live in your wits.”

  “And do not forget that Marcus is a captive. All of the efforts of Rufius and Hercules may come to nought. They may discover the corpse of a Roman, if they find him at all.”

  Cassius looked eastwards, even though there was a forest there to hinder his view. “I for one would not enjoy the sea voyage of Rufius and Gnaeus. Those pirates who took Marcus are more skilled than the peaceful Hercules.”

  “I think that Hercules is something of a pirate himself and he can handle himself.” Livius turned in his saddle to look down the column of cavalry. “The men seem in better mood.”

  “Yes Prefect. The fact that we did something to try to rescue Marcus helped their mood and this chance to hit back will also do them good. Where are we heading?”

  “I want to take us close to Bremenium,” Bremenium was the deserted fort on Dere Street.”They may have fortified it, in which case we would avoid it, if not then we would use it as a base and attack their settlement at Horseshoe Rock.” Horseshoe Rock was half way to the coast and a prosperous community. By attacking it Livius hoped to draw off the warbands from the wall.

  “Risky. We will be thirty miles from our own lines with every barbarian in the land looking for us.”

  “That is why I am hoping that Bremenium is still deserted for it would enable us to hold them off and then return swiftly down our road.” He looked at his two subordinates. “This is not a suicide mission. We just need to buy the wall builders time to finish some of the wall. Once it is complete from the Tinea to Rocky Point then we will have breathing space. The sooner we have barrier, the sooner the tribes can be controlled. It may not be solid yet but the noose is tightening.”

  Metellus took his five scouts forward on foot. They had left their mounts with a guard at the edge of the forest. They could see the ruined wooden walls of the Roman fort but they could not tell if it was occupied. Metellus signalled the four men who would circle the walls while he led the remaining trooper towards the main gate, now hanging forlornly on its one remaining hinge.

  The trooper said nervously, “Looks deserted sir.”

  “Precisely but don’t forget son these barbarians are lazy bastards. They could be living there and just not be bothered to fix the gates. That is why we will win in the end, we are better builders.”

  The ground around the gate was muddied and Metellus could not tell if it was recent or not. He drew his sword and stepped gingerly into the fort. The debris on the ground showed that someone had been in to steal as much as they could but there was an empty air about the place. Suddenly the trooper next to him gasped. In front of the burnt out building which would have been the Principia were ten spears each topped by a rotting skull. The last defenders of the auxiliary fort were still at their post.

  The four other troopers arrived. “Nothing to see sir. There were muddied prints but they could have been from before the snow.”

  “Right one of you, fetch the horses and send the Marius back to the Prefect. The rest of you let us remove these skulls before our comrades see them. We will lay them honourably in the ground.” By the time the ala arrived the skulls had been buried beneath crossed spears just outside the fort.

  Livius nodded at the grave as he dismounted. “The last of the defenders?”

  “So it would seem. Everything which could be taken has been but it is defensible sir. They haven’t filled in any of the ditches.”

  “Right, Cassius get your turma to reseed the ditches with lillia. Metellus, you take your turma east for ten miles, see if there are any Votadini nearby and we will put this fort into some sort of shape.”

  A day later and with half a turma guarding the fort the ala set off for the hill fort at Horseshoe Rock. Built in ages past it had been a place of refuge for the people of the Votadini but since the invaders had been sent packing south of the Stanegate it had become a settlement of markets and iron workers. Livius did not enjoy the task he had been given but he knew it would hurt the Votadini. By destroying their metal workings he would damage their ability to arm their warriors and, in addition, they would need to use warriors to defend every settlement.

  The ala rode through the night to arrive at the edge of the forest just two hundred paces from the entrance to the hill fort. Metellus had reported that they had but ten guards on the walls and the gates were opened at dawn. The ala would be approaching from the dark of the west into the sliver of light that was the winter dawn. He hoped that they would not be seen until the last minute. Cassius led the column as they trotted forwards; the gates were opened by two sleepy guards who were eager for their beds. To their horror they saw the column of cavalry galloping towards them. They were caught between two stools; close the gates or sound the alarm? Their procrastination cost them their lives and the settlement its prosperity. The two luckless guards fell to javelins as the turmae thundered in. One turma dealt with the guards on the ramparts as the other decurions led their men to the barracks and the iron workings. Livius had counted on a blacksmith’s hut with a forge and he found it. “Use the coals to start fires. I want every building set alight and every warrior killed. Try to spare the women.”

  An hour later as dawn fully broke, the sky was filled with thick black smoke as Horseshoe Rock began to burn. They had no time to rest on their laurels and they rode swiftly back into the forest. Livius hoped that the Votadini would think they had fled south and ignore the possibility that they had headed west. It was a gamble but if they succeeded then he would have achieved his objectives; disrupt the Votadini and save his ala.

  ******

  As The Swan edged its way towards the islands Gnaeus peered anxiously from the prow. Rufius was behind him. “Well?”

  Gnaeus took one more look to be sure and then turned with a grin of relief on his face, “I am not certain, they could be, they look to be the ones.” He pointed at the six ships drawn up on the beach, the men, like ants busy cleaning the weed and growth from their hulls.

  “And it looks as though we have made it just in time for they are preparing for sea.”

  Having gone ashore a number of times before, they had the routine well practised. The First Mate would remain on board and take charge of the crew. Furax, to keep him under control would be given charge of the bolt thrower. As Rufius had said, if he has to fire it then it means that we are in trouble ashore and any help will be welcome. Hercules, Gnaeus and two of the bigger ex-soldiers would row ashore and haggle. This time they varied their routine by anchoring after dark and keeping a good watch on the islands. No-one visited them which gave them some comfort for they had feared that the islanders would be belligerent.

  As they waited on watch, Furax reluctantly asleep Hercules put into words the thoughts that they had all had but dared not voice. “This is the last throw of the dice, you know that don’t you? If we find no news of Marcus here then we will have to return home. The Senator wanted you back after the winter solstice, we are already overdue and they will be worrying.”

  “I know Hercules and the Prefect will need me back at Rocky Point sooner rather than later. Tomorrow is an important day for us and I hope that the Allfather and Macro are here and watching over us.”

  ******

  King Lugubelenus was incandescent with rage when he heard of the destruction of his iron workings. His weapon production would drop dramatically just when he needed to increase his numbers. “Send a mounted warband south and find these Roman horsemen. They will head for Coriosopitum. “

  As his lieutenant raced off to fulfil his king’s orders Queen Radha took her husband to one side. “Do not forget husband that these Romans are cunning. It may be that have chosen to use their road in the west. They could make swifter progress and it is unguarded.”

  “You have the mind of a man my love. Angus, take another warband to the Roman road and seek them there.”

  The ala left Bremenium with a sense of relief; they had reached it in safety and had not been attacked. There was something of an anticlimax to the jour
ney south for they had expected the barbarians to follow their trail and try to take them. The day was a stormy blustery day which made riding both uncomfortable and slow. The troopers wrapped up as best they could in their cloaks but the relentless rain and hail hurled at their backs insinuating itself into every nook and cranny of their bodies. The icy droplets fell between armour and tunic making them sodden and cold. The road had not been used for some years but was, at least, firm under foot. The encounter when it did come was a surprise to both the Votadini and the troopers. The troopers suddenly saw figures filtering from the trees just as the barbarians saw and heard the horses. Both groups reacted instantly; the barbarians fired their sling shots and the troopers threw their javelins. Soon the two groups were locked in individual combats. Livius sought out Cassius. “Take your turma and ride half a mile down the road. Make a defence there. Metellus, take Calgus and Drusus, ride back up the road and take them in their flank. Antoninus gather the wound and follow Cassius. The rest of you follow me!” As the decurions all split up, causing the barbarians confusion as they wondered which enemy to follow, Livius led this remaining turmae into the woods where the slings of the Votadini were less effective. The javelins of the troopers and their extra height gave them the advantage over the nimbler but less well armed enemy. Increasing numbers of Votadini swelled the ranks of those fighting and Livius suddenly found that they were making less progress. This was not a band of a few warriors, this was a sizeable warband. He turned to the signifier, “Sound fall back!”

  As the strident notes sounded the well trained troopers began to withdraw. The exultant Votadini sensed victory and began to surge forwards, a huge wedge of men aimed at the Prefect and the standard. They had nearly captured the eagle of the Ninth years before; they would not lose this prize. Livius and those around the standard found themselves in a desperate battle as warriors raced forwards to claim the honour of capturing a Roman standard. Just when they thought they had it in their grasp, at the moment when the signifier clutched at his leg, pierced by a spear, Metellus and his three turmae hacked into the unsuspecting flank of the exultant warriors who sensed victory was within their grasp. Their apparent success turned into a slaughter as the ninety men of Metellus’ vexillation found unprotected backs before them. Soon the only Votadini in the woods and trees were the dead and the soon to be dead as Livius’ troopers finished off those who had not fled.