by Griff Hosker
As the ala reached Cassius and his defences Livius knew that they had succeeded; they had bought the Sixth time for the bodies which littered the forest were those of a large warband. King Lugubelenus had suffered a severe blow in his campaign to stop the wall being built; his men would have to watch their homes and the king would need to rebuild an army.
*****
Chief Trygg wondered what to do about the Roman. He had never seen anyone killed by a rope before and many of his warriors, whilst respecting Marcus’ skill, felt that he had somehow tricked Stig and Carl. There would be much bad feeling. He now wondered about his decision to bring the Roman to his home. He had benefited from the horseman’s presence, there was no denying that, but at what cost? Three of his best warriors lay dead, all killed by one man. He would visit Britannia with more caution next time. If one horseman could do that he would be well advised to avoid their forces until his men were better armed and better trained. The horse side of the Roman’s influence was less problematic. He had seen how to train the horses and he was sure that Drugi could continue the Roman’s work. The horses and horsemen were important against the Suebi but they would never be taken on raids so, for the moment, they were not a priority. The problem still remained what to do about the Roman?
Marcus was having the same discussion with Drugi and Frann. He knew that he had outstayed his welcome. Whilst Lars and his brothers had never been popular they had some allies amongst the brethren and many others had felt their honour betrayed that a man with a rope could kill two warriors wielding axes. Marcus had a number of problems; how to escape quietly and with Frann; that required a boat and a sail to aid them. Secondly he needed the Sword of Cartimandua which resided either about Trygg’s waist or on the dais on the great hall. Once he had taken the sword then there would be a hue and cry and he would be pursued for Trygg would know who had taken it as clearly as if Marcus left a written confession.
“Drugi, when we escape, will you come with us?”
Drugi did not answer at first. He was comfortable where he was and no-one bothered him but he liked the Roman and Frann the slave. He knew he would miss them. More importantly, however was the hawk, for it had spoken to Drugi and Drugi was entrapped in its spell. He would have to aid Marcus and once he did that the Norns had decreed that Drugi would be hunted down and punished for his disloyalty. It was not his decision; the fates had made it for him. “I will help you two to escape and that means I will come with you.” He looked up from the deer he was skinning. “Where would we go?”
“Why, back to Britannia of course.”
“Would I be welcome there?” Drugi was not afraid, he could live alone if he had to but he knew nothing of Britannia save that it was a Roman province.
“Of course and you could still hunt. The difference would be that you would be a free man.”
That thought had not occurred to Drugi. He had been a slave for most of his life and he was used to it. The state did not upset him unduly but the way Marcus had been treated worried him. He had no woman and, as yet, no thought of one but if he did that slave would be subject to the same repression as Frann; she could be taken and used by another. Drugi knew that he would react in the same way as Marcus but he was not sure he would have been as resourceful in the arena.
Snorri arrived at their hut just before sunset. Although there was still snow, the days had become longer and a little warmer. “Chief Trygg will send a boat for you in the morning. “ He looked pointedly at Frann. “All of you. He and the council will decide your future.”
Frann looked worried but Marcus knew that his Fate was being decided elsewhere; all he could do was survive and keep his wits about him. Somewhere above was a hawk which seemed to know more than he did what was going on. Drugi, however, had become less compliant since his meeting with Marcus and Fran. He had lived amongst these people for a long time and knew their ways. “But the Roman did no wrong. He did not use a blade and he defeated the brothers. Odin was with him.”
Snorri looked a little embarrassed. “He did well and I admire his courage, Drugi, but Chief Trygg has the welfare of the tribe at heart and he sometimes has to make decisions which go against his feelings.”
With that enigmatic statement Snorri left and the three of then continued to plan. “This helps us a little anyway.”
Drugi looked at him in amazement. “How?”
“We will be close to the water and the ships. We could steal a boat and sail away.”
Frann shook her head and cuddled into his arm. “Drugi is right for they would soon catch us. Unless the Roman fleet sailed into the harbour we will have to await our fate at the council meeting.”
Marcus kissed her on the head but said, defiantly, “I will not go quietly anywhere. We make plans. When they come for us we must take all that will aid us. Weapons, clothes and food.”
Drugi had preserved venison in great quantities and Marcus knew that, if they escaped, they would, at least, have the luxury of food.
“I will pack some dried deer meat and some water skins.” He began to place wrapped little parcels into a leather bag. “Will they not think it strange that we take them?”
“I do not think it will be Snorri who comes for us, it will just be some of the warriors. We take them on the boat as though Trygg has sanctioned them. We will need to keep them where we can get at them.”
The next morning Marcus went to the enclosure where he fed and groomed the horses. He held out an apple for Cato. “This may be the last time I see you old friend. If I do not return then take your herd and grasp freedom.” The black stallion gave a whinny and nuzzled the decurion. He believed that the horse had understood him but he would do all in his power to free the horse if he could not return to Drugi’s domain.
The boat was a small skiff and the two warriors made no comment as the three of them placed their precious items in the bottom. The harbour was remarkably empty and Marcus felt his hear sink. He had hoped that there would be a foreign ship and, somehow, against the odds, they would escape. The two warriors made no attempt to help them unload. One of them turned to Marcus, “We have been told to look after your horses until you return.”
Marcus felt a wave of relief wash over him. He might yet return to Drugi’s hut. “I have fed them this morning but they will need water this evening and, if it is cold then put their blankets on them.” The snort from the warrior told Marcus that the horses would not be given a blanket but at least someone would be there for them.
There was no one waiting for them at the jetty and for the briefest of moments Marcus thought about flight but one look at the empty bay, without even a fishing boat, convinced him that they would have to await a better opportunity. The only boat he could see was a small longboat, obviously intended for warriors; although small it was still too big for the three of them to manage. The trio headed up towards the settlement and the slave hall. They attracted little attention at such an early hour and they trudged towards the hall where the guards stood impassively. Marcus’ notoriety evoked an appraisal by both warriors and Marcus afforded himself the ghost of a smile. The two warriors were thinking how they would have defeated the Roman with the rope, each convinced that they would not have fallen for his tricks. The fire in the hall had gone out but the room still felt warm from the heat of the bodies. As their eyes became accustomed to the gloom Frann spotted an empty place and they arranged their belongings. Drugi had not been in the hall since he was a child and it was a salutatory reminder of what slavery really meant. The slavery he had experienced was not the same as that of these wretches. As the slaves rose, Drugi could see that they were pale and emaciated whereas he, Marcus and Frann looked healthy by comparison. It hardened his resolve to join Marcus and Frann if they should manage to escape. He still could not see it but then many things had happened, around Marcus, which were inexplicable.
Without instructions and without a task to perform the three companions bound by an invisible bond lay down on their bearskins. For Marcu
s this was just the same as being on patrol. When you could, you rested for you knew not when you would have to go without sleep. He glanced over at Frann who gave him a weak smile. Once again he worried about her ability to survive an escape attempt and then he remembered another two Brigante captives, his mother Ailis, and Metellus’ wife, Nanna. Both had emerged stronger from their ordeal. Frann would as well.
It was almost mid morning when Snorri came for them. He looked at them sympathetically, Marcus could se that the bodyguard’s initial view of him had changed but it would not affect his duty. There were more people about and they looked at the three slaves who had been the talk of Hjarno-by. The normally dull winter had been enlivened by their adventures and everyone had a view on Marcus’ disposal of the three brothers. Some held the view that it was somehow dishonourable, that was the general view of the warriors, but the others, the fishermen, the old and the women applauded the ingenuity of the Roman. As they passed the crowds there was a buzz of conversation and speculation for everyone knew that the council and Chief Trygg had decreed that they would pass a judgement on them.
The council meeting was in full flow when they arrived and Trygg gestured for Snorri to keep them to one side. The other business of the day was being concluded and there were visitors from beyond the Tencteri addressing the council.
“We see great opportunities for trade with these peoples. They bring things we cannot get elsewhere.” The grey haired man displayed the clay pot. “Look at the quality of this and, “he proffered a piece of carved jet, “the quality of their gifts. We, as you know Chief Trygg, are a peaceful people, unlike Chief Gurt. We would hope that the Tencteri would welcome these traders as we can only benefit from trade with those from inside the Roman Empire.” Marcus’ ears suddenly picked up that vital piece of information- traders from the Roman Empire!
The council nodded as they passed the pot from hand to hand, admiring the quality of the fired and glazed vessel. Chief Trygg turned the intricately carved jet over in his hand.”This is a precious gift. We have acquired much of this precious black stone but I have never seen such workmanship. Who are these people?”
“As I said, it is but one ship and they are heading here but the trader is called Gaelwyn of the Brigante.”
Marcus felt a shiver race down his spine as though someone had poured icy water down his back. Gaelwyn of the Brigante! That could not be a coincidence. There was a ship from his home and it was coming for him. He struggled to keep his face impassive but he was desperate to tell Frann and Drugi his news.
“They also wish to buy slaves. It appears the Roman appetite for them in Britannia has outstripped the supply.”
Chief Trygg and his warriors laughed. “Perhaps that is our fault, for Britannia provides us with a fine source of slaves.” When the laughter had subsided the council spoke for a few moments and then Chief Trygg addressed the visitors. “Like you we do not wish to wage war in these waters. There are much better pickings abroad. If Gurt and his pirates do disrupt our trade then perhaps we may have to teach them a lesson.” At this there was much banging of hands on tables as the warriors saw another opportunity, as with the Suebi, to show their neighbours their newly acquired power and confidence. Trygg held up his hands for silence. “As for the trader, this Gaelwyn will be welcome here and you should know that we will have a sale of slaves in seven days’ time.” The quick, unconscious glance he sent at the three slaves was a warning to Marcus of the council’s decision. “And you and your people will be welcome to attend.”
“Thank you, Chief Trygg of the Tencteri. And now we will return home.”
When the visitors had left the doors were shut and Snorri brought the three slaves forward for the council’s decision. The serious look on Trygg’s face told Marcus that none of them would like the decision.
Chapter 11
“The council has deliberated long and hard about Marcus the Roman and his actions. While none of us doubt his courage and his bravery nor the service he has done us his continued presence brings with it discord and disunity amongst the people. This cannot be good. He and the woman Frann will be sold at the slave sale in seven days.” Some of the people in the hall shook their heads; Marcus had appeared as a sign of good fortune. Many said that the loss of the three brothers was a good thing for they were always fighting and causing trouble. The warriors approved of the decision and generally nodded, for they wanted this warrior of Rome away from their land. They preferred their slaves subservient and they had seen that this Roman never bowed his head.
“As for Drugi the slave, some of the council wished him to be sold as well for he has been closely associated with the Roman.” It was obvious which of the council had voiced that view for they reddened. “However Drugi is invaluable to us and it would be a waste to lose such a useful slave. With the departure of this Roman we will need someone else to train the horses and that will be Drugi’s task. Take the slaves to the slave hall and return Drugi to his hut on the mainland.”
As they left Drugi’s head was bowed in distress. Marcus said to him, as quietly as he could, “Fear not Drugi for a ship comes for me.” Drugi looked up in surprise and delight. “ Can you get a rowing boat?”
Drugi nodded, “For what purpose?”
“When you see the trader arrive here then we will be making our escape. Return to the jetty after dark when that happens and we three will escape together.”
“How?”
Marcus shrugged but he was grinning. “I don’t know yet.”
Drugi’s face showed that he was not convinced but suddenly there was a shriek as their hawk plunged down from the sky to take an unsuspecting gull. Drugi’s expression changed instantly and he grinned. “I will be here.”
“And Drugi, release the horses before you leave. I would not want them mistreated and Cato and his family can have their freedom.”
“It will be done as you wish.”
******
When Hercules awoke the next morning there was a film of fog lying across the bay. He could make out the shape of the land but it was indistinct and grey. The pinpricks of light they had seen the night before had shown them that the islands had inhabitants but, in the dark they could not make it out clearly. They were largely going on what the two Brigante girls and the headman had told them. Full daylight would reveal all. Rufius and Gnaeus joined the captain as they watched the thin sun begin to burn off the grey cloak of fog. “Well Rufius today is the last day of the search. If he is not here then we return to the Senatore and Britannia.”
Gnaeus face fell but Rufius nodded. “The captain is right Gnaeus, The Legate and the Prefect will be expecting us home and Marcus, if he is still alive, would not wish us to risk our lives on a futile quest. If he lives and he is not here then I do not doubt for moment that our resourceful friend will find a way to return home, eventually.”
It was obvious to Gnaeus that the two of them had given up hope. Gnaeus too had had his doubts but he had thought each time they had landed that this would be the placed where the decurion would be discovered and each time they had had their hopes shattered. If only he could be certain that these six ships were the ones he had seen on the Dunum. He thought that they were but that could be wishful thinking and he was no longer certain.
Furax stepped up to the rail. Gnaeus felt himself smile; the boy was always cheerful and always happy. He knew that Furax still believed they would find Marcus even though wiser heads knew differently. Rufius ruffled his hair, “Still like your bed eh Furax?”
In answer Furax laughed and stood on the thwarts, precariously clinging to one of the stays for the mast. “Have we seen the town yet?”
“No it is hidden by the fog.”
“Well the mist is clearing, look!”
It was almost as though someone had drawn a curtain back. The light from behind the boat suddenly pierced the gloom and dispersed the last of the grey revealing Hjarno-by. The long ships which Gnaeus had seen the night before were still drawn up on the
beach but they could now see boats leaving the harbour for the fishing grounds and tendrils of smoke rising from the halls. Hercules shouted down to the crew. “Prepare the boat.”
Just at that moment Furax pointed to the sky above the town. “Look! The hawk! I can see the hawk!” Circling high above the town, like a beacon, was the hawk and suddenly they all knew that they had reached their destination.
In the settlement Marcus was paying that the Roman trader would appear soon. This day would determine if Marcus was rescued or not. Marcus was now hobbled, just as he had hobbled his mounts. It was a mark in the change in status. The warriors had thought it highly amusing to see him shuffling through the village. He and Frann escorted Drugi to the jetty. “Remember Drugi keep watching for the trader, on that day you return here.”
Drugi shook his head. “I admire your confidence but I do not know how you can know.”
Marcus pointed above their heads, “The hawk is one clue but the name Gaelwyn of the Brigante that was the name of my uncle. It would be a huge coincidence if another Gaelwyn had that name and was seeking me.”
Drugi was dubious. He embraced Marcus and as he did so whispered. “I have slipped a blade into your belt. It is small but sharp.” Then, as Chief Trygg was approaching said, “Farewell Roman it has been an experience meeting you…” suddenly his voice faltered as the mist cleared and he saw over Marcus’ shoulder, The Swan. Quietly he added, “Do not turn around. Either my eyes deceive me or your friends are here. I see the trader. I will return on the morrow before dawn breaks.” He bowed to Trygg and, lowering himself into the small boat began to row to the mainland.
