Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 12] Roman Wall

by Griff Hosker

  He quickly ran to his left. There he saw two scouts. At the same time the body of the first scout he had killed was discovered. He loosed one arrow and, even as it was in the air, loosed a second. Both men screamed as they died and Drugi ran back to his deer. He could hear the pandemonium in the woods. The Brigante would be looking for multiple enemies and he would have the chance to escape. With the stag on his back he ran to the farm which was three miles away.

  As he dropped the body of the stag he said simply, “They come!”

  Decius nodded. All morning refugees had been arriving. Most had barely escaped with their lives. It was those who lived to the west and were absent who upset Decius. It meant they had not escaped and his friends lay dead. The walls were soon manned. Decius and Drugi looked down at the ditch and the stream which surrounded the walls of the farm. Both had been sown with lillia and caltrops. Any Brigante foolish enough to try to cross them would get a shock. Some of Decius’ men had replaced the bridges over the stream and the ditch with the two traps. They looked whole but any weight would result in them breaking. The real bridges were put in place behind the gate so that it made the entrance three layers thick.

  Drugi heard them first. He pointed away to the west. “They are coming.”

  Decius had never served as a soldier but his father had been one of the finest and his brother had helped to train him. He had the mind of a soldier, defensively at least. “Everyone crouch down so that they see no one. I will tell you when to rise.”

  Half of the men worked on the farm and the others knew Decius well enough to obey his orders as though he was a soldier. Even Drugi crouched down. Decius hid his smile as the huge man tried to make himself as small as possible.

  Briac and his men had moved cautiously once they had discovered the bodies of the four scouts. They had hoped to find this Roman farm with its gates opened so that they could race in and slaughter the well known Roman sympathisers. When he saw the closed gates he knew they were prepared.

  He and Elidr stood behind a tree some hundred paces from the walls. They were within bow range and they knew that this farm would be defended. Caronwyn had been firm; they had to destroy the farm and kill those within before they moved on. She seemed to hate the family more than any other. They would do as the priestess commanded. So far her decisions had been good ones.

  A handful of the younger warriors seeing their leader sheltering behind a tree and observing no one on the ramparts took it upon themselves to charge the walls. They would gain the glory. Each had one of the spears Severus had brought, a small shield and, at their waist, a fine sword. They screamed their war cry and raced forward before Briac could restrain them. Boru and Anlan were the fastest and the most reckless. They struck the weakened bridge together. They fell into the stream. Boru looked down at the sharpened stake which came up through his leg. Anlan lay in the water; his fall had broken his ankle and he had fallen onto another of the deadly lillia. Anlan watched his life blood redden the stream as he began to die.

  The others saw the trap and tried to leap the stream. Two of them made it. The others fell screaming on to the spikes which were hidden beneath the streams waters.

  “Come and fight you Roman cowards. I, Tadge, son of Lugos challenge you to fight me.” There was silence behind the wall and Tadge and his companion began to wonder if there was anyone within. They both ran over the second weakened bridge. Both were heavy warriors and it too collapsed beneath their weight. The fall was greater as the ditch was deeper than the top of the water. The cracks as their legs broke were followed by their screams as the lillia speared them.

  Briac turned to his men and snarled, “That was a waste! We do not throw our lives away.” The ones still alive in the stream and the ditch moaned as they found themselves unable to move.

  “Shield wall.” Briac was under no illusions; there were defenders within the walls despite the apparently empty walls. They would move forwards cautiously. “Elidr, make a fire. We will burn them out.”

  Briac put himself in the second rank of the shield wall. The road to the farm was thirty paces wide and they filled it. Ignoring the shouts from the stream and the ditch they moved forward. Briac expected a shower of arrows at any time but the silence was unnerving. He felt his men move more slowly. This was the unknown.

  They reached the edge of the stream. The walls were just thirty paces away but it might as well have been thirty miles. They had to get over the two obstacles first. Briac turned and shouted, “Cut down some trees to make a bridge.” Even as he spoke Drugi stood and loosed an arrow. It plunged into Briac’s shoulder. The shields went up but Drugi had dropped back behind the wall.

  Elidr raced up to his cousin. Briac stood still. He grimaced, “The mail saved me. Pull it out cousin.”

  Drugi had chosen this arrow well and it was barbed. Briac was lucky that it was not close to an artery for as Elidr pulled it out it ripped a piece of flesh the size of a thumb from his left shoulder. He screamed in pain.

  Elidr shouted to Briac’s oathsworn. “Take him to the healers.” As they carried the white faced Briac from the shield wall Elidr said, “I will take charge until you return.”

  He looked for the men who were supposed to be cutting down trees. They were nowhere to be seen. “Where are the men with the axes?”

  “There were no trees big enough close by. They have gone back into the woods.”

  Decius had ensured that no attacker would have a ready supply of wood. He grinned at Drugi. “Did you hit anyone?”

  “Aye but he had a mail shirt on else he would be dead.”

  “How many are there?”

  “They have a shield wall of, perhaps, two hundred men and there are more in the woods. They have fire.”

  Decius nodded. It was what they expected. The walls had been soaked with water that morning and they had pails with more. It would cost them lives to burn them out. He would not waste his arrows trying to hit men in a shield wall. He would wait until they were bridging the ditch and the stream. They could not bridge and hold a shield at the same time.

  Elidr cursed the tardiness of his men. It was unreasonable of him. They needed trees which were, at least, six paces long. They needed trees which were straight. By the time they had cut them and carried them back to Elidr, Briac had been attended to. Despite his men’s objections he had followed the tree trunks. His shoulder was heavily bandaged and Elidr could see the blood seeping from it.

  “Did you not trust me, cousin?”

  “I want to be here when we breach the walls and I will eat the heart of the archer who struck me.”

  Elidr nodded and shouted to the men with the tree trunks, “Carry them to the ditch and the stream.”

  The trunks were heavy and the defenders had plenty of time, having heard the orders to rise and aim at the men who carried the trees. They were cut down to a man. Briac cursed again. “This time I want a warrior with a shield to protect the man with the tree.”

  Pairs of men, eager to impress their leader, ran forward. As they knelt to lift the trees from the grasp of the dead men the archers were loosing arrows. Some of the shields afforded protection but others found their mark. It took some time for the trees to be carried and deposited over the stream. Those fallen within were silent. They had either died of their injuries or taken their own lives. What use was a warrior with broken legs?

  It cost the Brigante another ten warriors to breach the ditch next to the wall. By this time the defenders were lining the walls. Slings used by the boys of the farm hurled stones to catch the unwary while the men threw large cobbles collected from the river at Morbium. Briac had been forced to rest by the tree he had sheltered against. He could still see the farm and yet he was not in danger for he was far away from the walls.

  Drugi saw the wounded leader lying by the tree. The warriors below were all using their shields and there were no decent targets. They were putting kindling next to the gate as they attempted to burn it. He selected his best arrow and took aim
at the leader. The warrior had taken off his helmet and his head made a good target. He pulled the bow back until his hand was next to his ear and took aim. Elidr’s son, Cam, was watching the wall and he saw the huge archer aiming at Briac. He shouted a warning even as the arrow flew through the air. He dived and his body went between the arrow and its target. Drugi shook his head, sadly. The gods did not want him to kill this Brigante.

  Elidr took his son’s body in his arms. He had died without having the opportunity to kill his enemies. Elidr swore that he would more than make up for his son’s death.

  Briac pointed at Drugi, “I want that archer brought to me.”

  “It will not be long cousin, the fire is already lit. It will not take long.”

  Decius had anticipated the fire. The women had been heating up pig fat. His men brought up the steaming cauldron of molten fat. They carefully ascended to the wall and, at a nod from Decius, poured it upon the flames. It erupted and covered all the warriors in fire. Their shields burned, their hair burned and they could not get rid of the fire which insinuated itself beneath their clothes and burned them from within. They threw themselves on the ground. Some even threw themselves in the stream. All was in vain for the ones who took refuge in the stream were speared by the lillia and the ones who threw themselves on the ground could not douse the flames. The wooden bridges so carefully constructed began to burn too. As soon as it was obvious that the attackers were all dead Decius ordered his men to pour water on the burning gate. It was a thick and well made gate. When the flames were doused the Brigante could see that the gate was merely blackened.

  A few miles away Decurion Cassius Nubius of the Thracian Auxiliary Cavalry saw the smoke rising from the west. His Prefect had told him that there was a farm there which needed his protection. He led his turma to investigate. The road had had the undergrowth cleared from both sides and when Cassius saw the Brigante in the distance he ordered the buccina to be sounded.

  Briac knew when to cut his losses. They would not take the farmhouse this day and he did not want a defeat to Roman cavalry. “Order the men to withdraw into the woods. We have been thwarted.”

  Elidr looked at the bodies which lay all around them. “What a waste!”

  “It is a setback only.”

  By the time the Thracians reached the farm the Brigante had melted into the woods. All that remained were the dead and the dying and the whole place reeked of burning flesh. The farm had held.

  Decius and Drugi opened the gate. “Your arrival was timely my friend. We owe you much.”

  Decurion Lucius Spartacus Culpidius shook his head, “We fooled them into thinking that we had more men than we had. They may come back.”

  “And we will repulse them again.” Decius pointed to the ditch and the stream. It is easy enough to put more spikes in the water.”

  Drugi chuckled, “And I can use the bodies to frighten them. It is a trick we use in my country.” He would hang the bodies from the trees. If they returned they would, indeed, be terrified. It was like putting dead crows on a fence and it worked.

  “I will have to report to Eboracum. There is too much here for one under strength ala. This needs the legion.”

  Decius nodded. “Fear not decurion we will be here when you return. We have weathered worse than this before now.”

  Chapter 14

  Inside Cilurnum the Legate and Livius prepared their defences. Livius knew that his men outside the walls would attempt to disrupt the Votadini but with a mere ninety men they could not do much. The reserve turma was sent to the walls along with the two centuries of Batavians and the rest of the ala which had not yet set out. It was not a huge number of men. Julius could have summoned more soldiers from the mile castles and turrets on either side but he did not want to risk a breach there. The fort was the strong point. They had both seen it built over the years; if it fell then they had built it badly.

  “Make sure the men have eaten. I think this will be a long day and an even longer night.”

  Julius Longinus came in with some food. “Take your own advice gentlemen and eat too.”

  “I am surprised you returned with the Quartermaster from Eboracum when you had the chance to stay there.”

  The old clerk shook his head irritably. “It has taken me long enough to train the troopers and cooks here to my likes and dislikes. This will do for me.”

  Outside the walls, under the eaves of the trees Banquo had divided his remaining men into smaller parties. He would attack the wall at a number of places. The defenders would be forced to move men and he had a reserve of a hundred warriors who would exploit the weaknesses. He gave the task of attacking the fort to Demne. He had fought the Romans before and had been one of King Lugubelenus’ most successful warriors. Although he knew that Banquo was not obeying his brother’s orders he supported the young warrior. He wanted revenge for many of his family had died when they had fought the IXth.

  “Demne do not take chances but I want the Romans to believe that our main attack is on their fort. I will take my warriors and attack the smaller mile castle to the west. Guthrie will take others and attack the mile castle to the east. We will sound the carnyx when we are through. Your men can withdraw and join us.”

  Banquo joined his men. There were turrets every few hundred paces. He intended to attack one of the mile castle forts and the two turrets on either side. There had to be far fewer men in those than in the main fort by the bridge. He was convinced that his luck must change soon.

  The two hundred men he had with him made their way silently towards the ditch. Banquo and his men had been scouting the ditch and the walls for a few days and knew that there were traps in the bottom of the ditches. They had counted the men on the walls and they knew that there would be ninety six men at most to face them in the mile castle and two turrets. They would outnumber the defenders by two to one. Banquo hoped that some of the Romans would be asleep and perhaps the odds would be even more in their favour.

  Two of his warriors slid down the bank while others watched for the sentries. The cloudy night meant that it was hard for them to see the patrolling Romans but they knew that it would be just as hard for them to be seen. There was a small groan of pain from one of the men in the ditch and everyone froze. There was no sound of alarm and Banquo peered down to see what the problem was. He saw one of his warriors clutching a bleeding leg. Banquo tapped another two men who slithered down into the bottom of the ditch. Their task was to eliminate the traps and clear a path for the rest to pass through.

  It seemed to take forever although in reality it only took them a short time to clear a narrow path through which the barbarians could move. The waved signal came as a relief to the young leader. He and his men slid down the narrow cleared stretch of the ditch. Perhaps one of the warriors was too eager for he caught his foot on one of the cleared lillia. His sword clattered as it struck the spear of the man in front. The sentry hurled a javelin, probably at the sound but luck was with him and it struck the warrior.

  They heard the shout, “Alarm!”

  There was nothing else for it. They clambered up the bank. Banquo had both a helmet and a shield. It was fortunate for him as the javelin hurled by the second sentry clanged off it. Two of his men had reached the wall of the mile castle and they turned their backs to it and held their hands before them. Banquo sprang from the outstretched hand as though he was a hawk soaring into the sky. He managed to grab hold of the top of the wall and he hauled himself over the top. He landed on the wall at the side of the mile castle. The Batavian auxiliary who raced to meet him thrust his spear at Banquo’s side and the Votadini just reacted. He grabbed the spear head with his left arm. The sharpened blade bit into his palm but it pulled the auxiliary off balance and Banquo’s sword hacked into his neck and he fell dead. Banquo felt elated. He had killed his first Roman. He turned and hefted his shield up to cover his body. He ignored the blood dripping from his hand. He was a warrior. He ran towards the door to the fort. The auxiliaries were pou
ring out. They were forced to use their spears as they had no room to swing their long swords. It gave Banquo an advantage. He blocked the spear as it came and then swung his sword at head height. The Batavian had nowhere to move for another was just behind him. As with the first Roman, Banquo’s blade found the auxiliary’s neck and bright blood sprayed from the ripped artery.

  By now his men were pouring over the walls. The Batavian centurion had already lost a quarter of his men. He made a fateful decision. “Back inside the tower.” He was counting on being able to pour javelins from the top of the tower while the door held. Although they managed to get inside the tower the Votadini had brought axes. They began to chip chunks from the thick, metal studded door. Banquo did not care if he blunted a few axes. He would have his first victory.

  The centurion left ten men inside the tower and took the rest up the ladders to the top. They hurled javelins and spears down on the Votadini. Each weapon found its mark but more and more Votadini were pouring over the walls. The small turret close to the fort had also been taken and those warriors raced along the wall to reinforce Banquo. A huge warrior called Rogan took the place of the axe man who had just been slain by a javelin from above. Rogan wielded a war hammer. It was not a finely made weapon. It was a large piece of rough iron with a long ash handle. It was, however, heavy and Rogan was an immensely strong man. He swung it with all of his might at the hinges. His first blow shattered the top one and the second took out the bottom one. He pulled back and then smote a mighty blow at the middle of the door. With a crack which signalled the doom of the Batavians it crashed open and Rogan leapt in. He seemed impervious to the spears which darted ay him like the tongues of snakes. He swung his hammer around his head. It takes either a brave or a foolish warrior to face such a weapon. Rogan cleared the room by himself.