by Griff Hosker
Sextus Vatia wandered over, having heard them. “I heard that the tribes in the south already had much trade with Rome and they had their ideas. They didn’t take much conversion not the tribes to the west, I have heard they still have druids.”
Wolf shook his head, “Vexus told me about them. They are like our shaman but armed to the teeth and he said that they had them in Gaul. They used to sacrifice any prisoners they got to their gods. Sometimes they put their prisoners in wicker baskets and burned them alive.” He shivered. “Vexus was a brave warrior but he was scared shitless of the druids.”
“They are so tough that there are two legions the Twentieth and the Second trying to contain them. The Ninth have the rest of the country to control. I don’t think this will be as easy as the fight against the Frisii.”
“Yeah but at least we can ride here. I haven’t seen a hill yet.”
“Me neither and look to the east, the land is so flat it looks like you could walk back to Germania.”
It was, indeed, a monotonously flat horizon and featureless land which oozed east and the next day it became, if anything, even more monotonous. Wolf was slightly disappointed. This had all the signs of being a boring posting where they would be policemen rather than warriors. He brightened up when, four days later they reached Lindum, the fortress of the Ninth. It was a frontier camp with no sign of stone to be seen anywhere. The ditches were deep and the sentries keen eyed. “That looks a good spot for a camp Flavius. I will see if there are any familiar faces in the fort and find out our orders.”
The Camp Prefect was a new man for the old one had retired with Bulbus. He had every indication that he had been a centurion who was seeing out his time in a comfortable job although from the scars on his arms he had been a brave man.“Appius Graccus. I remember when you picked your men up in Pannonia. I take it they survived?”
“Yes we had some interesting times but I wouldn’t swap them.”
“Well you have come at the right time. We have a new Legate Quintus Petillius Cerialis. His brother Caesius Nasica was the one who defeated Venutius last year. He is out with the Tribune and the First Cohort doing a patrol of the region. Visiting Stanwyck to meet the Queen.”
“The Queen?”
“Cartimandua. She is the real power in this land. Her support means we didn’t have to fight the Brigante. They are a real threat but, so long as she rules then we won’t need to fight them but it is a huge land and your lads are going to have to cover a huge area. That is why you were summoned. You will be the only cavalry. The other auxiliary force is the First Tungrians. They came from the land you were just stationed in, close to the Rhenus.”
“Thank you for that update. It will help. I have my Decurion Princeps building a camp.”
“The Legate will tell you where you will be based; I suspect it won’t be here. We have few soldiers in the fort. Most are spread out in smaller forts. We just need to control them here. They are peaceful, generally. Anything else I can do for you?”
Marius smiled; the Camp Prefect was dismissing him, politely of course. “Well I wondered if you had a Brigante we could use as a scout and translator.”
“Not sure, but there is a Decurion in the infirmary who might be able to help. He worked with some of the scouts in the campaign. Decurion Spurius Ocella.”
Marius brightened. “Spurius? I know him.”
“Good that will make things easier.”
Spurius was lying in a bed with a bandaged leg. Marius heard him complaining before he reached the room; the orderly was being berated by the sharp tongued veteran. “I told you before dick head. I don’t want the gnat’s piss the locals drink I want a decent amphora of wine from home. If you can’t get it then some of the muck from Gaul will do.”
“Still making friends and influencing people I see.”
The orderly gratefully fled and Spurius smiled. “Still alive then sir? I take it the bastards didn’t knife you then?”
“No Decurion. They turned out to be good lads. They did well.”
“Must be the training sir.” His grim face softened. “I’m glad sir. The Tribune told me your story…there are some bastards out there.”
“How is the Tribune?”
“Happier here. We gave the Brigante a good kicking and this is lovely cavalry country. The grass is good for the horses not that stuff in Pannonia. He is with the new Legate.”
“What happened to you?”
“One of the Legate’s aides, a bit of a dickhead if you ask me, well this Gaius Cresens sees a Brigante and instead of waiting for the order to attack he leaps straight towards him. His horse crashed into mine and I broke my leg.” He raised his voice. 2And I thought I would have a nice rest here but the dick heads can’t even get some decent wine.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll send over Decurion Vatia with one later.”
The invalid’s face brightened. “They still in then?”
“Aye, all of them. They’ll see you later. Now I need a scout and the Prefect thought that you might be able to help.”
He nodded, “He’ll mean Osgar. A good lad. He can run all day and keep up with the horses but the new legate didn’t take to him. He said we didn’t need the locals; couldn’t trust ‘em.“ He leaned over, “You can trust this lad, believe me.”
“Your recommendation is enough for me. Where will I find him?”
“He has a hut by the stream about a mile north of the fort. He likes hunting. Tell him I sent you.”
“He can speak our language?”
“Aye, not well but he can understand most words. But the most important thing is he is like a bloodhound; can track over rocks, through water. How he does it I have no idea.”
The camp was taking shape when he returned. “Flavius take charge. When they have finished let Sextus and Quintus go to the fort with an amphora of that wine we brought. Spurius Ocella is in the infirmary and is pissed off.” He lowered his voice. “See if he can find out about this new general and the other officers. We are going to be working closely with them. It would be handy if they were as accommodating as the Fifth.”
“Yes sir.”
“Can you spare Wolf?”
“Yes sir why?”
“Thought he could come with me to meet our new scout. I’d like him to get a little more responsibility. When the older lads, Quintus, Publius and Aulus retire we will need another senior decurion. Can you think of anyone better?”
“No sir I reckon if you cut him he would bleed First Ala. But isn’t it a long time of retirement?”
“Publius keeps really good records. His enlistment is up next year, they are offering land down near Camulodunum. He would be a fool not to take it. This looks to be as civilised a place as I have seen outside of Rome. Aulus and Sextus have another three years.”
“They might want to re-enlist. I do.”
“I know Flavius and you will be the next Prefect so taking Wolf is just getting ready for the future and whoever is the senior Decurion will need to speak the local language for that is where our next recruits are coming from.”
“Right sir, and sir?”
“Yes Flavius?”
“Thanks for explaining!”
“Wolf. Get your horse we are going for a ride.”
“How’s the eye these days?”
“I don’t even notice now sir?”
“Don’t lie to me Decurion. I have seen you rubbing it, especially on bright days.”
“It won’t be a problem sir. The grass around here is so green it must ain the whole time.”
“You could be right but why don’t you wear the patch?”
“I don’t know sir. Its like the patch means I am ashamed of my wound and I’m not.”
“And how do you like this army.”
“I am glad I joined sir.”
“Well so am I and the Decurion Princeps thinks highly of you too.”
Ulpius Felix did not take praise well. Praise was for others. He stared at the land around him, the ro
ad north was new, he could see it was not word at all and it cut line a burn mark though the green fields. Even the roads at home had been worn. This was the real frontier and yet it looked so peaceful. “Where are we off to then sir?”
“Always impatient eh? We might just be enjoying the scenery.”
Wolf laughed, “Sir we never enjoy the scenery. The scenery is just stuff hiding the bastards who want to kill us.”
“You may have a point. We are seeking a scout. Just ahead there should be a hut.”
“I can see it sir.”
“You may only have one eye Decurion but it works. Come on let’s see if he is at home.”
The hut was little more than willow branches covered with a couple of deer hides. There was no sign of the occupant but there was a pile of smoking ash. They dismounted and walked around calling. “Ho, the camp.”
No-one answered. Marius wandered over to the ashes. He was about to kick them with his foot when Wolf stopped him. “Don’t do that sir?”
Curious the Prefect asked, “Why not Decurion?”
“Well first off it will piss off the warrior in the bushes who is aiming his bow at you and secondly it will spoil the food.”
“What man? What food?”
The warrior suddenly appeared, the bow by his side. “The young one is right. It would annoy me and it would spoil my food.” Wolf grinned at the expression on Proculus’ face. “You are new Romans. Are you from the fort?”
“Yes we have just arrived.” The man put down his bow and then began scraping the ashes away. “Decurion Spurius Ocella sent us.”
The man began to dig at the burnt earth with his dagger. “How is his leg? Is he still as bad tempered?”
Marius was so intrigued that he almost didn’t answer. “Er yes he is and he is getting better. We hoped that you might scout for us. What are you doing?”
Wolf answered for the man who shook his head at the stupidity of the Romans who could build fine roads and buildings but could not survive in the wild. “He is digging up the meat he put there to cook slowly. We do the same in Pannonia.”
“I knew you were not Brigante.” He held out his arm, “I am Osgar.”
“And I am Decurion Lupus Ulpius Felix.”
The Brigante put his head to one side and said, “That is a Roman name. You are a wolf.”
Both Wolf and the Prefect stepped back. “How did…”
“Tell me Osgar, he was called Wolf, but how did you know?”
“He has the lean and hungry look of an animal which takes what it wants and I saw the charm around his neck.”
Somewhat relieved they relaxed. “Well will you scout for us?”
“We will eat first and then I will decide.” As he unwrapped the rabbit from the bark he nodded at Wolf. “Him I like, you I am not sure yet. You smell too clean.”
Bemused the Prefect sat down and they shared the rabbit which literally fell from the bone. “At home we put dried plums in with it.”
“If I had had them I would have put them in too. It is still good though.”
“Oh yes still good.”Wolf gave him a sly grin, “It just could be better.”
“I will not bathe Roman and I sleep out of the fort.”
“That is not a problem. And pay?”
“If I need something I will ask.”
“Right well, I suppose I will get back to the fort. We will be riding tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there.” He looked at Wolf. “I will talk more with you then Wolf.”
As they rode back to the fort the Prefect shook his head. He was not certain who had offered who a job there. “One thing is obvious Decurion. He will be attached to your turma!”
They had a whole six days to make the camp comfortable and to begin to build wooden barracks. Their time in Germania Inferior had shown them the benefits of a roof which kept out rain. Osgar took Wolf and the other officers on a tour of the surrounding land. Even Aulus Murgus was impressed at the speed with which he could run. He took them to within twenty miles of the hills which rose in the west. The others found it amusing that, even when Flavius was with them Osgar would insist upon speaking to Wolf as though the others were unnecessary. “Those hills run the length of the country. To the north I have never seen their end and to the south,” he shrugged as though it was not important for it was not the land of the Brigante/
“Who lived around here? The Brigante?” They had all noticed that there were fewer farms.
“No it was the Corieltavi. They live no longer.”
“Who killed them? Did our people, the Romans do it?”
“Some yes but the Brigante killed them when they tried to attack our people. They thought that, because we had a Queen we were weak.” He grinned. “They found that we were not. Out Queen is a warrior queen. She can fight as men do. She can drive a four horse chariot. Were it not for her tits she would be a man.”
They all laughed and Osgar affected a hurt expression. “They mean no offence Osgar. I look forward to meeting the Queen.”
“That you will not do. She lives far to the north. If we had to go to her then it would mean that she was in great danger. No she is safe. The snake Venutius sits in the land of the Carvetii and licks his wounds but you and your men will have to kill him one day. Until he is dead there will be no peace in my land.”
The Legate arrived with the Tribune and his turma of cavalry. Marius was supervising the deepening of the ditches and he looked up. “That is strange Flavius. I had heard that he had taken a cohort of infantry with him. I wonder where they are?”
His question was answered when he was summoned to the fort for a meeting. The Tribune Gnaeus greeted him at the gate. “Good to see you Marius. Spurius has been telling me all that you have done.” The Prefect gave him a puzzled look, “His old comrades have been singing your praises and the other men you have promoted. You have an interesting collection of warriors there.”
“And you Gnaeus how is life treating you?”
“This is good cavalry country. I have long been asking the Legates for your ala and luckily our new man is a cavalryman and he sent for you immediately.”
“I thought he had a cohort with him.”
He lowered his voice conspiratorially, “He will tell you of course, but he left them in the north. Venutius is flexing his muscles again. His defeat by the Legate’s brother was some time ago and he has forgotten the lesson. We are going to campaign in the north while the weather is good and then we will winter in camps. They are harsh winters here.”
Legate Cerialis was a cavalryman at heart but his family connections meant that he was too high status to command an ala of auxiliaries and a turma of regular cavalry did not give him the numbers he wished to command. He longed for the time of Caesar when Caesar’s cavalry commanders had controlled thousands of warriors. At least he now had an ala to command. It was a start. His elder brother had begun the defeat of the rebels such as Venutius and he would finish it. He looked again at the map. Venutius had brought his army to the south of the Queen’s hill fort at Stanwyck. He knew that he had placed it on the high moors so that he could strike in any direction. To the south west lay Deva and the Silures tribe. There the Twentieth Valeria was hard pushed to control them. If Venutius joined the Silures then the Twentieth would cease to exist. Equally they could also attack Lindum. His Legion was the only force between the Brigante and the soft hinterland of the Province. The Catevellauni and the Iceni were pacified but they had not turned their swords into plough shares. They were becoming Roman, far quicker than the Emperor would have hoped but they were no yet converted. The only bright spot was the veterans who were retiring just north of Londinium. They would provide a stable core of hard working men who would resist change.
There was a knock on the door. “Come.”
The Tribune entered, “This is Prefect Marius Ulpius Proculus.”
The Legate beamed, “Delighted. You cannot believe how long I have waited for some cavalry. The Tribune here does his best but o
ne hundred and twenty men are hardly an army.” Marius felt his friend bristle next to him. “How many men do you have then Prefect?”
“We have thirty Turmae and most have thirty two men including Decurion and aquilifer. We have no ancillary staff such as blacksmith and cooks. But we normally do not need them as we share the facilities of whichever legion we are near. By the same token we have no clerical staff. My officers double up on most of the duties normally performed by civilians.”
“That won’t do. You will not be stationed close to the Ninth. When we have dealt with Venutius you will divide you ala into two halves and each one will have their own fort. I intend to control this province by the use of small forts. The Ninth has already done so. There will be just one cohort here at Lindum. However that is for the future. I will get my aide to deal with that whilst we are on campaign. Make sure you have all the equipment you need. We will not be able to be supplied on the road.“ He laughed, “For a start where we are going there is no road. And you and your men will have to range far and wide to find this elusive Venutius.”
Chapter 9
As they rode at the head of the column heading for the Tungrian Cohort and the three cohorts of the Ninth, the Prefect discussed how best to organise the ala into two halves. “My thoughts, Flavius, are to give one to you and I will take the other. Wed divide the other five troopers from the Ninth so that I have three and you have two and then divide the new officers and turmae up.”
“That would work sir but why divide us at all. We are the only cavalry; it would have made sense to use us as one large group. We could split up as and when we were needed. If we had met the Chauci in the woods with half the men we would have lost.”
“I know Flavius but the Legate’s aide gave me the written orders before we left.” Marius had not liked the pompous young man. Perhaps it was something to do with aides. Gaius Cresens was different from Decimus Bucco but he had the same effect on the Prefect. He had a pudgy soft face and looked as though he might be inclined to fat. As with all aides he seemed to exude an undeserved superiority. The Tribune had told him that Cresens fani8ly had been friends of the Legate’s and they had fallen on hard times. As much as Marius sympathised with his family’s plight it did not make his conversations with the young man any more palatable. He dismissed the odious man from his mind. As long as he did his job and found a smith, a clerk and a couple of cooks he would be happy.
