Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 12] Roman Wall

by Griff Hosker

  The very perfume, which had so captivated the dead legionary, woke the centurion. He was awake in an instant. He saw the dagger and swept his left arm to knock it away. The edge scored a deep cut along his arm. He whipped out the gladius which was in his right and drove it so hard that it entered her stomach and came out of her back.

  He dropped the corpse to the floor. Although he had written many orders that day he would write one more. No slaves within the walls of the fortress!

  When Julius Demetrius received the reports he summoned his prefects. “We are under siege. The attacks have begun. We have the road to Eboracum which is open and that is all. The VIth cannot help us yet and I am convinced that we will be assailed from the north.” He pointed to the map. “Prefect, I want your Thracians to keep the road open. I know that you are at half strength but if the road closes then we are doomed. Eventually the VIth will come to our aid but until then we are on our own.”

  The Thracian Prefect nodded. His ala had been badly handled the previous year and he only had ten turmae. None of them was at full strength. He just hoped that his men would cope.

  “I intend to use the other auxiliaries to hold the wall. The Cohors Equitata from the 1st Batavorum will keep the Stanegate open. I want every mile castle double manned. They will attack the wall.”

  There was silence as the prefects realised that they were besieged in the largest fort in the world.

  “And us sir?”

  Julius looked sadly at Livius, “And you, Prefect, will be the force which takes the war to the enemy. You will not wait behind the wall you will attack the barbarians. I want your ala to keep the barbarians guessing.”

  The Batavian prefect was a horseman himself, “Sir, it is not cavalry country north of the wall. It is forest and thick forest at that. They will be slaughtered.”

  “No, Prefect, they will not. Besides we need the ala to cover all ninety miles of the frontier. Only cavalry can do that.”

  “What about the Classis Britannica sir? They could secure the two ends of the wall and supply us.”

  “I have sent a message to the Navarchus and I am sure that the Arbeia end will be secure. I am less certain about the other end of the wall. It will take ships some time to get there.”

  Livius had been studying the maps. “Sir, I think that when this is over we should do something about Manavia. All of our troubles emanate from there.”

  Julius laughed. “There you are, gentlemen, the prefect of the ala who is given the suicide mission is already planning what to do once we have defeated the enemy. Take that back to your men. This is a setback only! We will hold this wall for the Emperor Hadrian but remember these rebels are armed as well as we are. I dare say they are already using the weapons they captured from our slaughtered garrisons. The difference will be that your men are disciplined and theirs are not. Make sure you have plenty of water and supplies laid in. I am not sure when we can be resupplied.” He looked at the Thracian Prefect. “That all depends upon our Thracian friends.”

  “We will not let you down.”

  Livius did not relish the job he was giving his officers. They were like family to him and he knew that they would struggle to complete the mission. His comment to the Legate had not implied confidence in his own success and survival. He assumed that he and his men would die but he wanted the evil that was the Mother Cult wiping out. Their one avowed intent was to destroy the world of Rome. You could not argue with such an attitude. It had to be eradicated.

  He and Metellus had already had a meeting and come up with a plan, of sorts.

  “First I intend to take two men from each turma. They will form a reserve here, at Cilurnum, under my command. You will all have to function with just thirty men. We are luckier than the Thracians for we have a full muster. They have not. We will use the same method as we did when scouring the Dunum. Each turma will operate separately. We have two functions; one is to scout the enemy and the second is to disrupt and attack whenever possible. The auxiliary cohorts on the wall will be dug in. We will operate further from the wall. You will need to forage for yourselves. I know that we will become tired and so I intend for each turma to be out for just six days and then return. To ensure that we have constant patrols putting their spears into the enemy backs we will stagger the start of each patrol.”

  He glanced at Metellus who stood. “Rufius, Marcus and Marius will leave in the morning. They will head for the west and Luguvalium. They will only have four days on patrol for theirs is the furthest area. I will leave the day after with Lentius and Cassius. Julius Longinus here has the rest of your assignments. The other turmae will be on standby in case the enemy breaks through.”

  Cassius asked, “Sir, all the trouble has been in the south. What makes you think that they will attack from the north?”

  “The reason is because they are attacking in the south. They want us to draw our forces south to counter these new attacks and allow the northern tribes to attack a weakened wall. The VIth are in the south. They can handle the Brigante revolt.”

  What they could not know was that the VIth had lost too many men and officers to be able to function immediately. Caronwyn had been crafty; they had negated the VIth to have a free rein in the east. The wall was almost cut off already.

  Marcus looked over at Metellus. “Sir, our families are in the valley. What of them?”

  Livius did not enjoy this. “The Thracians are guarding the Via Trajanus although I prefer the legionary name for it, Via Hades. I will ask their Prefect if he can watch over them.” He shrugged, “It is the best I can do.”

  Marcus was not happy but he was an officer of Marcus’ Horse and he would do his duty. They had warned Frann and his mother of the danger. Now it would be up to Drugi and the men of the farm. They would have to protect them as best they could. Sometimes Marcus cursed his sense of duty.

  Rufius had less of a problem with his new wife. She and her men were close enough to the fort to seek shelter should events turn out badly. Even so, before he left he sought out Scealis, “The frontier is on fire. I go to fight the Selgovae. Watch over my wife for me.” Scealis nodded although he had needed no urging from this Roman warrior to do so. He owed Lord Ban duty even though the old man was dead. “If you are attacked you can seek shelter in the fort.” He saw the look on Scealis’ face. “I know that you would fight these men but Mavourna…”

  “We will protect her. You can trust us Roman. And, Roman, take care, you are a fine man and I would see your children when they are born.”

  Chapter 13

  The three turmae left through the northern gate. Rufius wanted to get as far north as possible before they turned west. He guessed that the barbarians would be massing close by the wall. Felix and Wolf came with them. The scout and his dog had trotted silently into the forests before dawn. As Rufius led the three turmae up the road he saw Wolf and his master waiting patiently for them.

  He reported quickly. “There is a band of warriors to the south of us. They are in a camp.”

  “How many are there?”

  “They number an ala.”

  Rufius turned to Marcus, “That is over a thousand then. Are there any ponies?”

  “A handful.”

  “Mount up, Felix.” A trooper handed the reins of the pony they had brought for him. Rufius detailed a trooper to take the news of the band to the Prefect.

  Rufius was the senior decurion and he took the decision. “We might as well begin our war here. We will attack them and then head west. They will expect us to return to the wall and we will confuse them.” He looked at the two decurion. “We hit and run. We cannot afford to lose men but we must keep them off balance and looking over their shoulder.”

  Marcus nodded, “When we strike in the west they will think we have more men than we do have.”

  “That is what I am counting on. Lead on, Felix.”

  The ninety horse warriors plunged into the forest. It was not closely grown and they could manoeuvre their horses easily. T
here was new growth on all of the trees but it was not the dense canopy it would become in summer. Then this journey would be like a passage through the underworld.

  Wolf’s pricked ears told them when they were close to their prey. Felix slid from his pony. Rufius silently signalled the five archers to go with Felix. They knew their job without being told. They would silence any sentries.

  Felix was completely silent as he stepped carefully through the trees. There were no broken branches on the trail to give him away. He spied the first of the sentries. He was leaning against the bole of a tree and staring up into the branches. Perhaps a bird had attracted his attention. Felix drew back his bow and his arrow pinned the neck of the dead Votadini to the tree. There were just three sentries on this northern edge of the camp and they all died just as quickly.

  They quickly remounted. When the other troopers arrived they edged forward towards the camp. It was still early and the Votadini were preparing for the day. They were all keen to attack the vaunted Romans. Banquo had promised them Roman heads and a chance of glory. The young brother of the king would have attacked already but King Ardal was cautious. He wanted Caronwyn’s plan to have a chance to succeed. He had spies in the eaves of the forests watching the wall for the sign that they were sending troops south. Banquo had left the camp early that morning to watch for himself. He had a plan to send a report to his brother saying that the Romans had left. He would have his glory! The camp that Rufius and his men approached was leaderless.

  The Votadini had cleared a large area for their camp. The warriors had used the branches they had cut to form crude shelters. Someone had wanted a sense of order and there were clear avenues between the shelters. Rufius halted the turmae and said quietly to Marcus and Marius, “We will attack in a column of twos. We sweep south and then I will head west and finally north. I will sound the buccina when we enter the camp. Marcus, your turma will take the rear. Felix, go and wait for the trooper we sent to the Prefect. Find us.”

  With their new spears in their hands the three turmae swept into the camp. Rufius waited until he saw the first face before he sounded the buccina. Plunging his spear into the surprised warrior the troopers galloped south. The Votadini who were already outside their shelters tried to go back for their weapons. Some were speared as they attempted to do so. Even those who managed to grab a weapon had little chance. The long spears meant that they could not close with the Romans. The cavalry achieved complete and utter surprise. Their spears gave them a decided advantage and the speed of their horses meant that they flashed by the warriors who were still waking up.

  Swinging west Rufius led the turmae through the part of the camp which had had more warning and they were being organised as the troopers smashed into hastily arranged shield walls. The horses broke them as they were a spider’s web.

  Marcus, at the rear of the attack was encountering more dead warriors than living. He knew that he would soon have to face more dangerous foes. The lack of Votadini leaders meant that the barbarians had no sense of order. Some ran to where Rufius and his men were charging whilst others ran to the end of the camp where the troopers had first attacked. The barbarian warband was in a state of confused chaos. The Romans, in contrast, rode in neat lines. The spears devastated both sides as they galloped through.

  Suddenly five Votadini warriors burst out of a side trail. Their leader had a long sword which he swung doubled handed. The men with him had their spears ready to thrust into the horses when their leader killed Marcus. Marcus kept his eye on the warrior’s head. He pulled back his spear and punched forward with it. He timed it so that the wicked looking sword was pulled back over the warrior’s head as he prepared to strike. The spear head ripped into the warrior’s head. As the metal entered the brain the sword fell from the warrior’s lifeless hands. His surprised followers fell to the spears of the troopers behind Marcus. It had been a warning however. There was now some resistance. The enemy were awake.

  As Marcus and his troopers swung west he saw the first dead trooper. It was one of Marius’ men. He speared the warrior who was wastefully hacking at the dead trooper’s head. As they thundered through the carnage of the camp Marcus heard the recall. He saw an avenue to his right. “Follow me!” He led his turma up an avenue which had seen no fighting. As they galloped towards the safety of the forest to the north they surprised warriors running from one side of the camp to the other. Many were still half asleep and none was prepared for battle. The Romans were and all they came across died. As Marcus and his men entered the woods he reined in Raven and began counting. All of his men had survived. He saw bloodied legs and arms showing where the Votadini had scored hits but all rode and grinned at him.

  “Right. Let’s find the others.” Marcus led them west and they soon found Rufius and Marius. A sudden sound from the east made them grab their weapons but it was just Felix and the trooper who had delivered the message.

  Rufius seemed satisfied. “A good start. We only lost two men.”

  Although he meant nothing by the comment Marcus saw the hurt in Marius’ eyes. They had been his men and the newly promoted decurion was not sure that it had been a good start. He was learning the problems of command. He determined to make a better fist of it in the future. By late afternoon they had crossed through the forests and were just fifteen miles north of Luguvalium.

  “Here is where we split up. You know your patrol routes. In five days time we can head back through the fort at Luguvalium. Marcus, you take Felix. I know he likes to be close to the sword.”

  “Sir.”

  The three turmae disappeared into the land of the Selgovae as though they had never been there. Their war had begun.

  Banquo was furious when he returned to his devastated camp. The dead and dying littered the ground like fallen autumn leaves. The two Romans’ horses and dismembered troopers were the only sign that they had had any success. He had already sent the message to his brother, further north, that the Romans had begun to send troops south but now he had to send another to tell him that they had been attacked themselves.

  “Burn our dead and then prepare the warriors. Tonight we pay back the Romans.”

  “But the king said…”

  “The king is not here and besides the Romans will be back in their fort now feeling pleased with themselves. They will not expect an attack tonight. They will think that we have been weakened by this attack.”

  His men’s confidence had been shattered. Even his oathsworn were beginning to question this young prince. The Roman horse warriors had met them twice and had had the better of them both times. The omens were not good. They wondered if it should have been a warrior who was sacrificed and not a withered old woman. Perhaps the gods were unhappy and were punishing them.

  Briac and his men began their raid through the Dunum valley. Their training at the Roaring Waters had stood them in good stead. Elidr and his men joined their cousin. They had four warbands of five hundred men each. Their plan was simple; they would attack the small farms and settlements which had Roman sympathisers. They hoped to drive the refugees towards Morbium where the small fort would not be able to accommodate them. With two thousand warriors they would easily destroy all resistance and with Morbium in their hands then the wall would be isolated. It would slowly be strangled to death. The VIth was helpless inside Eboracum, still reeling from the many acts of sabotage and by the time they had recovered from the attacks within the fort the bridge over the Dunum would be destroyed. Caronwyn and the Roman Severus had come up with a good plan.

  At the farm Drugi and Marcus’ brother Decius knew the danger they were in. Riders had warned them of the rising. Frann wanted to take her family into Morbium but Decius advised against it. “There are barely two hundred men in the fort. We will have almost half that number here when the Brigante begin their attacks.”

  Ailis agreed with her son. She knew the Frann was afraid but she also knew that their farm was well built and the equal of the fort at Morbium. Decius had taken h
is brother’s advice and prepared great stocks of food. He knew the Brigante warrior; they would try to assault the farm but once they were repulsed they would find easier targets.

  “Drugi, hunt as much food as you can. It will feed the people and you will have the first warning of an enemy.”

  As he left Drugi smiled at Frann. “Fear not, little one, Drugi will not let anything happen to you and the Roman warrior’s children.”

  He took his bow and loped off through the woods. He headed west. There was a watering place the deer came to. He knew that the rut was over and he hoped to get a stag. He was too good a hunter to kill the does and the calves. They would be the food of the future. He made a kill before noon. He gutted the beast where it had fallen and left the entrails for the woods. The heart and liver he would save for himself. He hefted the carcass across his huge shoulders and made his way east towards his home and the farm.

  He had gone but half a mile when he smelled something different in the air. He hung the stag’s body from a branch and notched an arrow. He retraced his steps. The smell grew stronger and he identified it quickly. It was the smell of warriors who had limed their hair. He could never understand that. Their hair would fall out before they were thirty.

  He moved stealthily and began to hear them as they moved and spoke. They were the scouts of the Brigante warband. He found a tree with foliage and he climbed. Once he reached the upper branches he was able to see the Brigante descending from the higher ground of the hills. He estimated their numbers at more than three hundred. Descending carefully he looked for the first scout. It was a young warrior who was peering through the undergrowth. He was little more than eighty paces from him. Drugi felt almost sorry for the youth. The eager young warrior had out run his companions. It was an easy kill for Drugi who moved his aim to the right. Another scout hove into view and Drugi’s arrow struck him in the back. So far neither warrior had made a sound as they died.