Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 10] Roman Hawk

by Griff Hosker

  Inevitably some of the more enthusiastic riders fell off as they attempted to emulate Marcus. Others totally missed the target but the ones who were successful were spotted by Marcus who made a mental note of them; they were the potential leaders. By the noon time break their horses were ready for a rest and after their bread and the remains of the previous day’s ham and cheese Marcus lined them up again.

  “Before we attempt this manoeuvre on horseback we will practise it on foot.” He walked up to two of the more successful troopers from turma one. “What are your names?”

  “Marius sir.”

  “Livius sir.”

  “You two will be the acting chosen men of this turma. Marius stand here and Livius behind him.” He turned to the rest of the turma. “Form two lines alongside your chosen men.” When they were ready the rest of the recruits watched in eager anticipation at this strange looking drill. “Right turma one you are going to trot forwards, when I have given the command to throw then you will turn to your left and form a line behind the other line which will advance.” They looked confused. Marcus laughed. “You will find it much easier with the commands. Just listen and obey.” Livius and Marius nodded. “Turma one, trot, Marius’ rank throw and turn, Livius throw and turn.”

  Surprisingly they all managed to turn the right way and many of the javelins actually fell close to the targets. “You have now completed a manoeuvre which always brings us victory. Now later, when the horses are rested we will do this on horseback. Not as easy on a horse but you will learn. In battle of course we just say front rank throw and we don’t say turn. You will all do that yourselves, instinctively. Now turma two; let’s see how well you do.”

  By the end of a tiring afternoon Marcus was pleased with their progress and they could all perform the charge and volley. The Legate would be pleased. He would be able to return to Rocky Point in eight days with four well trained turmae.

  ******

  The warband set off before dawn. Eight men had returned for the ships and the depleted raiders trotted down the path. By noon they had reached signs of life, there was a large village atop a small mound. The smoke which drifted from its huts identified its occupation by large numbers of villagers. The river looped around the settlement giving it a sense of security which was not justified. Trygg sent Snorri around one side whilst he and Gurt approached from the front gate. The peaceful villagers were all going about their daily business. Even in the incursions from the north by the Caledonii and the Hibernian raids they had escaped notice as they were tucked away in a quiet part of the valley, far enough from the roads and trails to be ignored. They felt immune to attack. Trygg was about to change that. He had ordered Snorri to take some prisoners. What he needed, this far from familiar territory, was intelligence. He had no intention of blundering into a Roman fort and he felt certain that one would be close by. Once again the assault proved remarkably easy and followed the same pattern as the others. The difference this time was they had four prisoners, one woman, one old man and two young men. Snorri brought them to Trygg bound and petrified.

  His time with Marcus and Frann had given Trygg enough of the language for him to question the prisoners. As Gurt heard him he resolved to learn to speak languages for he saw that it brought knowledge and power.

  Trygg took a stick and drew the river in the muddy soil. He made a mark. “We are here.”He made another mark, “Here is the sea.” He handed the stick to one of the young men. “Where are Romans?”

  In answer the young man spat in Trygg’s face. His warriors began to surge forwards but Trygg held up his hand. He took out his knife and cut the cord holding the young man’s breeks up. They fell to the floor revealing thin white legs and a trickle of urine running down them. In one motion Trygg took his knife and sliced off the man’s manhood. He screamed and fell to the floor, bleeding heavily, although not mortally, from the wound.

  Trygg gave the stick to the second man, the bloodied knife still in his hand. “Where are the Romans?”

  The young man looked from the old man to the woman, panic spreading over his face. Trygg gave a cruel smile and moved the blade towards the man. The terrified Brigante quickly put a cross quite close to the river. “That’s better.” He looked at the cross. If the man was telling the truth then they were on the same side of the river as the Roman fort. The problem was he didn’t know the scale of the man’s cross. “How far to Romans?”

  The man shook his head, the terror apparent and Trygg realised he would not have the same concept of distance. “How long to walk there?”

  The man looked to the west and then back. “You leave now and you will be there when the sun is high.”

  That was too close for comfort. They would need to cross the river. He turned to the old man and gave him the stick. “Where is the place of the Sword?” The old man shrugged. “Where is the Sword of Cartimandua?” The old man shrugged again and Trygg moved towards him threateningly with the knife.

  The old man laughed. “You are going to kill me anyway so why should I tell you anything?”

  Trygg nodded and walked to the girl. He ripped down and her tunic came off, ripped along the back. She stood there naked, shivering in the cold and trying to cover herself with her bound hands. “There is dying old man and there is dying painfully. Where is the Sword?” The old man stood defiantly but less sure. Trygg walked to the woman and held her breast in his hand he moved the blade towards the thin white skin and the old man shouted, “No! Just kill us and leave. The sword is across the river, south of the Roman fort.” Trygg looked at the girl and she nodded. The young man also nodded. “Thank you. Now kill them.”

  While his men ransacked the village Trygg called Snorri and Gurt to his side. “It is fortunate that we came here or we would have blundered into the Romans. We need to cross the river here.”

  Gurt looked at the dark waters which were flowing strongly to the sea. “How? Do we walk on water?”

  “No Gurt, we pull down the palisade and use it to make a temporary bridge.”

  “The river will wash it away.”

  “Eventually but not before we have crossed. We will put it there.” He pointed to a narrow part of the river close to the bend where the river slowed.

  Snorri quickly organised the men and they pulled down the palisade, keeping it as intact as possible. They knew that they would have to be quick and all the warriors gathered on the bank as they threw the four sides of the village walls into the black water. One of the walls actually breached the river and caught on some branches on the other side. Trygg roared for his men to cross and, one by one they ran across the four temporary bridges. Some of them fell in the river but they were close enough to the bank by then to wade across. The chief of the Tencteri was pleased. He was within a few hours of his destination and he would soon have the sword and be back aboard his ships heading home.

  Aed had watched in terror from his place of hiding as the raiders had ravaged the village. He had arrived shortly before the pirates and had been hiding in the trees when he saw them arrive. He was shaking in fear as they killed their prisoners and he waited for his own death when they continued along their path. He was relieved when he saw them cross the river, away from his concealed nest. He could continue along the path and find the next settlement. He was tired and he was hungry but he was alive and he would carry out his mother’s dying instructions; the rest of the valley would know of the raid.

  The sentry at Morbium thought he saw some movement from the trail which led east but it stopped the moment he looked at it. He was sure that it was a trick of the light but he knew that he would have to report to someone. “Sir?”

  The optio turned. “Yes soldier. What is it?”

  “I think I saw a movement in the tree line over there.”

  As the optio followed the line of the sentry’s arm they both saw the boy race from the cover and sprint towards the open gate. He almost fell into the sentry’s surprised arms and he burst into tears. “Barbarians are in the
valley. They have killed all my family and they are coming down the valley.”

  Taking the boy in his arms the optio shouted, “Sound the alarm and close the gates.”

  Later when the Prefect and First Spear had finished questioning the boy they decided what they ought to do. Both remembered the raids the previous year but, as infantry they were in no position to cover and search a large area. “I want a rider to go to Coriosopitum, another to go to Gaius’ farm and warn them and another to ride down to Eboracum and warn the settlements there. Then I want you to take half a cohort east. If the young lad is correct then they are south of the river and that gives them the chance to raid in almost any direction they choose.”

  First Spear nodded. “Think it is the same ones as came last year?”

  “It is either the same men or they have spread the word and their cousins are joining in.”

  ******

  The rider’s rapid entry into the yard told Decius and the family that there was imminent danger. “There are barbarian raiders from the sea. They are heading down the valley. First Spear is heading to find them. The Prefect has asked if you wish to come into the fort for protection?”

  Decius looked at his mother who defiantly shook her head. “Thank the Prefect and, if you warn any of our neighbours tell them they are welcome here.”

  Frann’s fearful face showed the terror she felt. Ailis comforted her.”They will not find this place such an easy nut to crack. We have hardy men who will defend it to the death and the Prefect has despatched men to help.” She looked over at Nanna. “You will stay here?”

  Nanna shook her head. “I will bring my people here. I could not let them be taken. “She gave a harsh smile, “Fear not Ailis, they will not have me a captive. I will return within an hour.”

  As Nanna galloped off, Decius sent one of his men with her as protection. “She is a tough lady but these barbarians are determined. I will go to find Drugi. It would not do to lose him again so quickly.”

  As his men began to prepare for the defence of the hamlet Decius rode off through the woods to the hut which lay some miles to the south. When he reached the hut he could see no sign of Drugi. He knew he could not be far for the ex-slave did not ride. “Drugi!”

  The huge man appeared silently at Decius’ side making the Brigante jump. “You are as silent as Uncle Gaelwyn was. Your friends from across the sea are back. We need to defend the farm.”

  “You go and I will follow.”

  When Decius looked at him questioningly the biog man grinned. “I can move through the woods where your horse cannot. I will be there soon.”

  ******

  The fifty warriors moved swiftly through the sparsely populated and almost empty lands on the southern bank of the Dunum. The dead villagers had given him an idea of where to find the family of the sword but he had ten scout south in a semi circle, like beaters flushing birds. As they moved deeper into the land to the west Trygg could not help but glance north to where he now knew there was a Roman fort. He knew it was north of him, across the river and he hoped that meant that he was safe. As a Tencteri he had not encountered bridges much for the rivers in his land were not mighty ones like the Dunum and the Tinea. For Trygg a bridge was a boat; that was how you crossed a river.

  Sigurd was the scout who had the first success. Buoyed by his first scouting ventures he had embraced the opportunity to impress the leader again. “I have found it Chief Trygg. There is a mighty stone dwelling and there are many horses.”

  “You have done well Sigurd. When we next raid you shall do so as a warrior. How far is it?”

  Sigurd had little concept of distance. He knew that it had not taken him long to trot back. “Not far. Just over the rise.”

  The other scouts returned, having been told to just scout a short way ahead. They all prepared for battle. Trygg knew from his conversations with Marcus that the farm had defenders and he was in no doubt that this time they would have to fight to get what they wanted. He relished the opportunity. Hitherto it had been too easy and the combat not worthy of a warrior. The band trotted behind Sigurd and Trygg in a loose wedge formation. It afforded both speed and defence. As they crested the rise, they saw on the hollow below them a fine stone villa but as soon as he spied it Trygg knew that this was not the place they sought for it had neither exterior wall nor ditches but it was somewhere which promised wealth.

  Sigurd pointed, his sharp eyes spotting movement. “Look!” As Trygg peered at the Roman dwelling he saw a cart and six riders galloping away westwards. They had been warned. All need for deception was now gone and the warband raced towards the villa. Nanna and her riders had finished packing when they saw the warband and Nanna did not need to urge her servants to make all haste. The Brigante horsewoman wondered what she would return to. All her hard work in making a beautiful home for her man would have come to naught. She shrugged as she urged her horse on; her incarceration with the Irish had taught her that freedom was worth any price. She could rebuild a house and buy new belongings but people were harder to replace.

  Gurt was disappointed when they entered the villa. He had hoped from the grand exterior that the inside would be filled with treasures. All that they found were paintings on the wall, a fine floor and statues. None of them were portable and none valuable to the Eudose. “I have found where they had their treasure.”

  Snorri’s voice brought Trygg and Gurt to the master bedroom where the empty hole in the floor showed where the valuables of the house had been kept. “The wagon, that is why they took one, to keep their valuables safe.”

  Gurt’s eyes became excited. “Then we follow the wagon and we find the treasure.”

  Trygg nodded, “Odin is with us for we find my treasure, the sword. They will be heading to a place of safety; the farm which is the home of the sword.”

  Even though the afternoon light was fading the warband set off quickly. They had seen their prize and knew that it was almost in their grasp. Every warrior felt that they were charmed for they had come further into Britannia and were, as yet, unharmed and undetected. With the sword and the treasure in their grasp they would soon be back aboard their ships and sailing home with more plunder than any other raiders. When they returned to Uiteland they would only become stronger and more powerful.

  ******

  Nanna felt relieved that she had saved her people and reached them before the raiders. She knew that it had been close when she had viewed them on the skyline above the farm. “They are coming. I saw them close to my farm.” Decius thanked the Allfather that they had begun their preparations so early.

  “Find somewhere safe for your people. Drugi, Tadgh, come and help me to unhitch the wagon.”

  Once the wagon was emptied and unhitched the three men moved it behind the gate. Shouting for the rest of the men they heaved it behind the gate to make it even more impenetrable. Drugi looked around the wooden walls and felt uncomfortable. “I would prefer to be in the open.”

  Decius smiled, Gaelwyn had said the same. “These walls are safer for such small numbers as we. How many will be in this warband?”

  “If it is the same as the ones who sailed from Hjarno-by then there would be five ships, each with thirty men. There could be a hundred warriors here.”

  Decius bit his lip. One hundred warriors could hurt them. He wished that he had sent a messenger to his brother but he had assumed that the Prefect would have done so. Unfortunately the training facility had been forgotten in the panic surrounding the raid. Marcus and his men were ten miles away, happily training and unaware of the danger to the family.

  By the time that Trygg and his men had reached the farm the sun had finally set in the west. While scouts watched the walls, Trygg, Gurt and Snorri held a council of war. “I say we attack now! They will not expect it.”

  Trygg looked at Gurt and shook his head. “They know we are coming. Those people who fled the farm are here. We have seen their tracks. They will be alert and expecting us. Even now they will be behind th
eir walls with weapons ready. Do you know where their traps are? Have you inspected their ditches?”

  Gurt shook his head. Snorri spoke up. “The scouts will be back soon. When the moon rises we may be able to attack then.”

  “No Snorri. The men have travelled far today. Let us rest and let those in the farm wait all night for the attack which doesn’t come. In the morning, before the sun rises they will be tired and we will be fresh. Then we will attack.” Gurt still looked sceptical. “When the Suebi attacked the citadel it was the Roman who led the defence. He and Drugi helped to defeat and drive off a warband that was bigger than this. Had the Suebi waited then their guard might have dropped. We will rest and when they are tired then we will attack.”

  Gurt was not convinced but he knew that the two warriors with him had made wise decisions up to now. He just wanted the treasure that had been in the wagon. The ship they had captured was a rich prize but, looking at the deserted farmhouse, there would be greater prizes beyond the walls. When the scouts returned Gurt decided that Trygg had been right. “There is a deep ditch running all the way around the walls. At the back of the farm is a stream. The trees are forty paces from the walls and there are men on the gates and walls. Anyone attacking would be seen.”

  Trygg gave a quick knowing look towards Gurt who now saw the wisdom in caution. “How high is the wall?”

  “Twice as high as a man and there is stone at the bottom below the wooden stakes.”