Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 12] Roman Wall

by Griff Hosker

  “What is your name, Selgovae?”

  “Ernan. And yours, Roman?”

  “Rufius.”

  “You have more balls than these others but it will avail you naught. Today you die and go to the Otherworld.”

  Rufius nodded, “If that is to be then I am ready but when you die your men will leave.”

  It was an imperative rather than a question and Rufius noted that the Selgovae warriors looked at each other nervously. They had not encountered anyone who challenged Ernan, yet.

  Ernan nodded. “They will.”

  Rufius’ words must have made the warrior nervous, for he thrust his spear forwards trying to catch Rufius unawares. Rufius spun around and brought his sword hard against the Selgovae shield. The chips of wood which flew from it were testament to its poor quality. Ernan could see that he was facing a warrior and he regretted making the challenge. They should have killed them. As he raised his spear, ready for a second thrust, he knew that he would have lost men but this way he could lose his life.

  Ernan edged forward. He had the advantage of length with his spear and he decided to use it. He jabbed at the warrior’s head whilst stepping forward to punch with his shield. He expected Rufius to step backwards and he hoped that his opponent would trip up. Instead Rufius grabbed the spear just behind the head and then swung his sword at Ernan’s head. It was unexpected and Ernan barely had time to raise his shield. The blade dug into the unprotected edge of the wooden shield and a huge split appeared. Rufius twisted his sword to retrieve it whilst pulling the spear from the grasp of the Selgovae.

  There was a cheer from behind Rufius and a groan of dismay from the Selgovae. Ernan stepped back and hurriedly drew his sword. Rufius grinned and Ernan saw not a warrior but a wolf. “Lay down your sword and return to your home with your warriors.”

  Ernan could not do that. He would have no respect if he did so. He roared and swung his sword overhead as he attempted to split Rufius’ skull in two. Rufius had fast feet and he side stepped the blow and swung away from Ernan’s wild charge. He continued his swing and his sword sliced through the backbone of the Selgovae. He died with a surprised expression on his face.

  The merchants and the guards all cheered. Rufius looked at the Selgovae. “Take your leader and go home.”

  They looked at each other and nodded. Manius Postumus said, “No! We should take them prisoner and deliver them to the Votadini!”

  Rufius spun around and had the tip of his sword at the merchant’s throat. “Had you fought the Selgovae then you could have made that decision. They may take the body of this brave but foolish warrior home.”

  He nodded to the Selgovae who picked up the body of their leader and his weapons. One of them said, “You have honour. I would follow you.”

  “Thank you but that is not my path. Become a warrior my friend. There is no honour in banditry.”

  He nodded and the Selgovae left. Rufius returned to his horse and mounted. “Come. We are burning daylight.”

  Chapter 8

  When Julius Longinus and the Quartermaster returned from Eboracum they brought not only new weapons and supplies but ill news. Tribes in the heartland of Britannia were restless. It seemed that more of the formerly docile people now resented the Roman taxes. Pax Britannica was coming at too high a price. There were stories of Roman settlers being murdered. Rich merchants were discovered with knives in their backs. Bodyguards now demanded a high price. Although the perpetrators had been caught and dealt with this was something new. This was the behaviour of the frontier tribes not those who lived far better than their ancestors had.

  The Legate listened to Julius Longinus and nodded. “When you have rested you had better send a message to the Tribunes of the VIth Victrix. Put them and the auxiliaries on alert. They must move to Eboracum before winter to prevent insurrection.”

  Julius shook his head, “I thought, like you, Legate, that the wall would bring peace. It seems the Emperor’s plan for peace has gone awry.”

  The Legate frowned. It did not do to criticise the Emperor, even this far from Rome. “We just need time for the wall to become established. We have yet to control the movements of the tribes. When that is done we shall have peace.”

  As the clerk bumbled off to write the order Julius Demetrius reflected that Rufius’ mission was even more vital now. The Iceni were not far south of Eboracum. If they rose then the north would be cut off.

  The merchants begged Rufius to lead the caravan of mules. They had all been shaken to the core by the attack. Violence was not part of their world. The making of money was.

  Am Beal was built on an estuary. It had a wooden wall and was also protected by the sea. It was the largest place they had seen since leaving the wall. The gates were not barred but a couple of warriors lounged by the gate. Rufius noted that their weapons were neglected and they did not look as though they could stop even the hired men that they had brought with them.

  Manius stepped forward. “I am Manius Postumus and I am here to trade, as requested by your king.”

  Rufius’ ears pricked up. The man whose relatives he sought, Ban, had been related to the Royal family. He dismounted and edged his way closer to the merchant.

  A villager wandered up. He was flanked by two other prosperous looking men. He smiled, “I am Angus and you are welcome, Manius Postumus. King Ardal warned me of your coming and we have gathered some fine trade goods.”

  Manius looked relieved. “Have you somewhere for us to keep the goods safe until the trade.”

  Angus pointed to a long building close to the gate. “If you use the warrior hall then your goods will be safe. There are no warriors using it at the moment.”

  Rufius took in that intelligence without a blink. This might be a warning that the King of the Votadini was also preparing for war despite this apparent peaceful meeting.

  “Leave your mules outside the walls please.”

  “Of course.” Manius had had enough of the smell of Mules and their droppings to last a lifetime.

  Rufius spoke. “Have you a stable for my horse?”

  The headman took in this powerful looking warrior whose sword looked well used. “Are you a merchant?”

  Manius spoke up. “He is but he is also a warrior and he defeated some Selgovae bandits who tried to rob us.”

  The headman smiled at that. “Then there is stabling for those Selgovae robbers have plagued us. Did you kill them all?”

  Rufius just shook his head, “Just the leader and the rest I sent back to their own lands.”

  “Then you are welcome indeed and I look forward to hearing your story this evening. It will enliven the meal.”

  After the goods had been taken from the mules and the gates shut Rufius felt relieved. The first part of his task had been completed; he was inside a Votadini settlement. Now he had to do the more difficult part; he had to discover where the relatives of Ban lived and that would be a much more difficult task.

  It was too late for trading and the merchants were still agitated following the attack by the Selgovae. The headman, Angus, had arranged for food. Rufius had no doubt that the cost would be added to the price of the trade goods. As the merchants had doubled their prices anyway everyone was cheating everyone else.

  The hired hands were left to guard the trade goods. Manius was less than happy with them. Rufius happened to be there when they were berated by the diminutive figure. He jabbed a podgy finger at the leader of the men, “You, Senlan, son of Fenlan have to do much to regain my favour. You were willing to abandon us. The man who fled was your choice and he will not be paid. All of you have half of your money yet to come. Unless I see more from you that amount will be halved.” Senlan’s face darkened and his hand went to his sword. Perhaps Manius was emboldened by Rufius’ presence for he stood up to him. “Do not think for one moment that you can frighten me. I have seen how you face up to a real warrior. You have a decision to make. Do you obey orders or leave now and I will appoint this Brigante, Pedair, to co
mmand. He, at least, did not look afeared by the Selgovae.”

  Senlan nodded, “We will obey you but you will pay us the agreed amount when we return to the wall.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Rufius left. Senlan was a fool. He would only be given half the agreed amount. Manius would have the protection of the garrison once he reached the wall. He could almost see Manius calculating his increased profit.

  The feast was not the best which Rufius had attended. It appeared to consist of herrings in various forms: smoked, soaked in vinegar and cooked over an open fire. The porridge they served was familiar although it was richly flavoured with autumn raspberries and brambles. The beer was drinkable but Rufius drank sparingly. Although seated opposite Angus, he had little opportunity to ask his questions before the entertainment.

  The entertainment consisted of a one armed warrior who had a fine voice. He told the tales of the Votadini. His own tribe had similar stories. He heard the story of Lugubelenus and the revolt which almost killed Marcus and decimated the Ninth. He heard the stories almost dispassionately for he knew the other side of the events. The fiction in the warrior’s words was understandable.

  When he finished his tale there was much banging of beakers on the table. Angus gestured to Rufius. “And now would you tell us the tale of the encounter with the killers of babies, the Selgovae.”

  Rufius was not known for his public speaking. He was normally a taciturn and thoughtful man but he was an Explorate and he played the part well. He stood and told the story. He did not use the hyperbole normally associated with a single combat but he did make it graphic for he knew they would expect that. Manius nodded his approval. The audience appreciated it and he received a standing ovation. Angus took the opportunity of coming to him and putting an arm around his shoulders, as men took the lull as a chance to relieve themselves outside and merchants began to haggle with prospective customers.

  “You are an interesting merchant, Rufius. That is a Roman name, is it not, and yet you are not Roman.”

  “I am Atrebate but I served with the Thracians. They gave me that name.” He shrugged, “South of the wall is a Roman world.”

  “And I can see that you handle yourself well. I am intrigued. What brings you here? What do you have to trade?”

  Rufius had prepared well. He reached into his leather purse and pulled out a fine piece of jet. “I came into a quantity of this. South of the wall it has little value but I heard that the Votadini use it.”

  Angus rolled the black stone around in his rough red hands. “You are right and you will make a tidy profit.” He chuckled, “If you like fish or sheepskins.”

  Rufius smiled back, “I will see what kind of profit I can make. As you realise I am new to this. I have only recently left the Thracians.”

  “You could earn a living working for King Ardal. He is a young king and he seeks good warriors. He and our army are teaching the Venicone a lesson.”

  Rufius rubbed his unshaven cheeks as though contemplating the idea. “I have not heard of your king. The last king I heard of was King Lugubelenus.”

  “Ah he was a good king but led astray by his wife. She fled to the west somewhere. King Ardal is descended from the sister of Prince Ban who lived long ago.”

  “Ban? I had heard he was king.” Rufius knew how to fish and he dangled the false information before the headman.

  “No, he was the king’s younger brother. I can understand why you might think that for we heard that he spent some time in the south of the land close to the land of the Iceni. When his brother died fighting the Selgovae another family became kings and they ruled until Lugubelenus.”

  “Ah so King Ardal is the direct descendant of Ban and that is how he came to be king.”

  “Not quite. He married the young daughter of King Lugubelenus.”

  “I may visit with this king then and offer him my sword.”

  That seemed to please Angus. “Good. King Ardal will be a good king. His family lived on the island of Mercaut just along the coast from here. His uncle and his cousin still live at the family home there. It is easily defended and they enjoy the bounty of the seals.”

  “Seals?”

  “Aye they live in the waters there and give both good food and oil. It is why the family is so rich although there were rumours that they found treasure on the island. Of course that is nonsense.”

  “I would like to see these creatures.”

  “If you visit our king then you will do so for it is on the road to Traprain Law. It is a good day’s ride north of here.”

  “Thank you, headman, you have been most kind.” Rufius took a smaller piece of jet than the one he had previously shown and he handed it to the headman. “This is for your kindness.”

  “Thank you.”

  The next day Rufius had to go through the tedious process of haggling when all he really wanted to do was ride north and spy out the land. Perhaps his disinterest helped him for he found he was given high value goods for his jet rather than the fish and sheepskins Manius and the others were receiving. He was traded some fine bone arrow heads as well as horn combs, drinking vessels and a hood made from sealskin.

  Angus joined him when all the jet had gone. “The hood is a fine item. It will keep you dry. They have cloaks made of such things at Mercaut and they are wonderfully warm and dry in the wet. Here, this is for you. It is a token which might prevent my fellows from dealing harshly with you, although I think that your sword is all the protection you need.” He handed Rufius a piece of carved bone on a leather thong. There was a thistle carved upon it. The carving was accurate and detailed.

  “Thank you, headman, I may see you upon my return.” Of course Rufius had no intention of returning to the village. Once he left he would disappear.

  As he headed north one pair of eyes watched him; Pedair the Brigante was not what he seemed. He was one of Briac’s nephews and he had been sent to find out the mood of the tribes north of the wall. He could now return and suggest an alliance with the Selgovae but the warrior with the sword had intrigued him. He was a warrior and not a merchant and now he was going north. Pedair wondered why. Like Rufius he was keen to return to his own land and report his good news.

  Briac was enjoying a very pleasant life. He was treated like a prince, quite literally and he could not believe his change in fortune. Despite its outward appearance the island of Manavia was a comfortable, almost luxurious place. They had weekly visits from ships bringing fine foods and the houses were well furnished and decorated. It was like being in a fine Roman villa.

  Severus and the Lady Flavia’s guards provided Briac with the opportunity to train and he and his oathsworn soon impressed the Roman with their skills. “I am more hopeful now. If you can control your warrior’s tendency to charge at anything Roman we might just succeed.”

  “That is the way of my warriors I am afraid.”

  “Then they will suffer the same fate. I am a Roman and we know how to win. Your warriors are brave but they fight for themselves. The Romans fight for each other. Yet I spy a kind of hope. Your weapons are now the equal of the Romans and we can use the extra length of your swords and height of your warriors to our advantage.”

  “How?”

  “The legions like to close and fight toe to toe. They form a solid line of warriors. Your men can use the full swing of their swords and not come close to the gladii. We will show you. They move slower than your men do. We can use your skills to your advantage. Your people have been fighting the Romans the Roman way. All of the tribes can benefit from my ideas.”

  “And why do you do this? Why do you betray your people?”

  “For the money!”

  And so Briac learned how to fight the Romans. He would have to impose his will on his warriors but, like Severus, he saw hope where there was despair.

  By riding hard Rufius made the island shortly before dark. Close by was an oppidum but it looked to be uninhabited. It had such a strong location that Rufius wondered why it h
ad no garrison. He would investigate that after he had visited the island.

  He tied his horse in a stand of trees and made his way to the sand dunes. It was still light enough to see the island. He saw a knoll with a wooden stockade at the top of it. A path ran circuitously around the slope. It would be a hard place to attack. He could not see any of the local tribes managing it. Having seen the buildings he concentrated on identifying the people. He did not see any armed sentries but he was below the level of the walls. He counted four women and seven men. By then it became too dark to see.

  He returned to his horse and faced a dilemma. Where would he spend the night? He looked down the coast and saw that the oppidum was still in darkness. He mounted and rode south. He would investigate the fort and, perhaps, spend the night there. There was no moon but the trail he had followed was obstacle free. He dismounted some two hundred paces from the fort. He could see that it was like the one at Mercaut; it was sited on a natural feature. There was a wooden stockade but he could see that the sea protected three sides and the fourth had a twisting path leading to it. Drawing his sword he made his way across the damp sand. He could not smell wood smoke nor could he detect the smell of man. All that filled his nostrils was the smell of the sea and seaweed.

  He moved through the dark like a fox. When he reached the causeway he paused to listen for any sounds. The only thing he heard was the sound of the sea sloshing on the rocks. He darted through the open gate; that, in itself, told him that it was empty. A cursory examination confirmed it and he returned to bring his horse.