Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 12] Roman Wall

by Griff Hosker

  It was annoying but the Roman was right. “Very well. We will leave our wounded warriors with you as extra garrison.”

  Severus doubted that they would be of any use but, if the VIth came and he and his men had to flee then they would slow the pursuit up long enough for them to escape. “Thank you Briac.”

  Chapter 18

  With Marcus at one end of the line of troopers, Rufius in the middle of the line and Decurion Ulpius Marcus Albius at the other the sixty warriors prepared to charge the Selgovae and the Novontae. Out of sight and hidden by a fold in the land were the rest of the Cohors Equitata. This was not the best country for a cavalry charge. It had bumps, rises and hollows all over but it also provided good cover to disguise numbers. Rufius gambled on the fact that the tribes would not be able to differentiate between one group of Romans and another. He hoped they would think it was just his turmae and the Selgovae had already tasted their blood; poor Marius and his dead turmae were testament to that.

  The first warriors who had leapt the wall had halted to allow some of their fellows to join them. After having scaled the partly finished Vallum they had moved south for more glory. They had expected more Romans to be waiting for them to kill. Now that there were a hundred of them they felt emboldened enough to head south. As they crested the rise they saw the long line of horseman galloping at them. Some of the warriors were from Tiernan’s band and they had already massacred one such troop. The rest were the Novontae who had chased Rufius from the fort. They had the option of standing and receiving the charge or charging themselves. They made a bad choice. They charged the horsemen swinging their newly acquired long swords above their heads and screaming their war cry.

  “Javelins at the ready.” Rufius did not need to issue orders to his own men. Their spears would be ready to repel any attack.

  The barbarians were expecting the horsemen to charge into them and they were already selecting their targets. At thirty paces Rufius yelled, “Wheel! Release!”

  The thirty javelins flew into the air. Half of them found targets and, before the barbarians could even blink, the Romans had turned and fled. Angus son of Torin took this as a sign that they feared the barbarians. He looked and saw that the sixty or so horsemen had only caused eighteen or so casualties. It had been he who had captured the Roman officer with the fine red horsehair plume. He had that now tucked in his belt. “They are afraid! After them!”

  Rufius led the turmae back and he and his troopers took their place with the second turma while Decurion Ulpius Marcus Albius led his troop to the back of the line. Rufius had worked out that his horses could manage another two attacks before they needed a rest. They began to trot towards the enemy. They were more spread out now as the fitter, braver and keener warriors left their fellows behind.

  Rufius had chosen the position of danger in the middle so that he could make instant decisions. “Halt! Aim and release!”

  This time it was not a shower of javelins. The troopers chose their targets. Individual javelins were aimed at specific warriors. They were much more accurate. Angus deflected the javelin with his shield and then raced towards the line of warriors. Rufius saw him coming. He had his sword drawn already and he trotted forward swinging his sword. The Selgovae swung his weapon at the horse’s head. It was how he had captured the other officer. When he killed this one he would have two red plumes.

  Rufius wheeled his horse to the right and the sword smashed into his shield. Behind him he heard Marcus yell, “Release!” and a second flight of javelins fell amongst the barbarians.

  Rufius suddenly jerked his reins to the right and the horse snapped at the Selgovae. He jerked his head out of the way of the teeth and Rufius slashed down at the exposed neck. The killer of officers died quickly.

  “Withdraw!”

  Marcus had been well trained and he knew when to issue such an order. Rufius soon caught up with the line of exultant troopers. Thirty five barbarians now lay dead and the Romans had suffered not a casualty. Rufius glanced over his shoulder. The barbarians had halted. The death of their hero had unnerved them. The auxiliaries had some respite.

  Banquo had had words with his brother. They had been in private but Banquo fumed that the Votadini had retreated north after an ignominious defeat.

  “We can beat them, brother. We almost did so!”

  “It is over. We have lost too many good men. The Venicones will see that we are weak and attack our heartland. The wall is too far to the south to be of concern to us. I can see that your hatred of Ban’s daughter Mavourna has made you rash. It will take many days to reach Traprain Law. You will come to see that I am right.”

  The thought of a shameful return was too much for the young Votadini. “I will stay with my oathsworn and any others who will follow my banner.”

  The exasperated King now made a fateful decision. He had kept his promise to his mother. To continue to support Banquo might result not only in the loss of many fine warriors but in the crown itself. It was time to cut the young man adrift. “Then do not come back at all. Little brother, you are exiled.”

  Banquo’s anger was quickly tempered by the realisation that he could create his own kingdom. This was freedom for Banquo. He would no longer be hampered by the decisions of others. His brother was correct, Traprain Law was far to the north but he could fortify Mercaut and rule the southern half of the land of the Votadini and then in the future… who knew?

  “Then the next time I see you it will be war!”

  “I hope not little brother for I would hate to kill you.”

  It did not take long for the Votadini to realise there was a rift between the brothers. Ardal was disappointed that many of the younger warriors sided with his younger brother. He knew that they still resented leaving the field with their tails between their legs. Banquo, for his part was delighted. He had six hundred keen and loyal young warriors. They were well armed thanks to the priestess and the Votadini prince was ready to return to the wall. He had breached it once. He would do so again.

  The Thracian turma reached Eboracum. Decurion Culpidius reined in outside the Praetorium. They had had to dodge bands of marauding Brigante and the journey had taken much longer than it ought. First Spear called him in directly. “We have seen the fires burning in the distance but we have heard nothing from the north for many days. Tell me the worst.”

  “The Brigante have revolted. Morbium has fallen and the whole of the Dunum valley is in their hands. When we left Coriosopitum Legate Demetrius told us that the tribes from the north of the wall had begun to attack.”

  “I thought when we had the treachery in the fort that it was something like this.”

  The decurion shuddered. They had seen the crucified bodies of the slaves outside the western gate. “Does the Governor know?”

  “I sent half of my cavalry south with the message but…” he could see the exhaustion on the decurion’s face. “Get some rest, decurion. I am afraid you and your men will be heading north tomorrow with the First Cohort. We will see if a little legionary steel can humble these rebels.”

  Caronwyn and Lady Flavia were less than happy when they arrived at Morbium and found just Severus and his handful of men. “Where is Briac?”

  “He and his men have gone to devastate the land hereabouts. I waited here to protect the crossing.”

  Lady Flavia smiled, “There is no criticism of you, Severus. And the farm, it is destroyed too?”

  He shook his head. He had been dreading this moment. “Briac could not take it.” He was swift to shift any blame. “He was wounded in the attack and we lost many men. The auxiliary cavalry came to their aid.”

  Caronwyn put her arm around Flavia. “That is a minor consideration. The men who killed your brother and my mother are north of here close to the wall. Briac has done the right thing. He is taking the rebellion closer to those we wish to harm. With the Northern tribes attacking the wall we have our enemies between our claws.” She turned to Severus. “Destroy the bridge. It will make th
e fort more secure and we do not need it now.”

  Severus nodded. “He was glad now that he had sent two of his men to bring their boat from the estuary. If things went awry he wanted an escape. He had more than enough money for a nice little place in Sicily. It was warm and filled with olive and lemon groves. He had had enough of cold Britannia.

  The following morning a message came from Briac. He looked nervously at the witch and her priestesses. He did not know that she had arrived. “The message is for Severus, my lady.”

  “Well he is here and so tell him. You do not mind if a woman listens do you?”

  He was no fool and he shook his head. “No, my lady. He said to tell Severus that he has captured Vinovia and he is heading north in the morning for Coriosopitum.”

  Caronwyn flashed a questioning look at Severus. “It is the next fort along the road. There is nothing between it and the wall. He has done well,” he added, grudgingly.

  “You and your men stay here. That way I know that our rear will be secure.”

  Lady Flavia gave a petulant look to Caronwyn, “As I pay him surely that decision should be mine?”

  Lady Flavia did not recognise the maliciously cold look in Caronwyn’s eyes, she saw the smile only, “Of course, my dear. Do you want him to come with us?”

  “We have no guards.”

  Caronwyn waved her hand at the twelve priestesses who followed them everywhere. “These priestesses are all trained warriors. The Mother Cult does not differentiate between male and female warriors. If you wish to see them armed then it can be arranged. Severus, find some auxiliary armour for my women.”

  Severus nodded and left. He had seen the women training and the old witch was not lying.

  “Well if you think we will be safe…”

  “I promise you that we will be as safe as in Severus’ hands.” When they left the next morning any watching scout would have been confused as the column of auxiliaries headed north up the Via Trajanus. The auxiliaries were all kitted and armed as normal but the long flowing hair hanging down their neck and the lack of facial hair looked unusual.

  Caronwyn was pleased. Her plans, thought out over the years since her mother’s death were finally coming to fruition. Radha’s sacrifice had worked. Roman Britannia was divided in two and they would soon be able to spread the word to the southern half of the province. The Romans were defeated.

  “Well Legate, that was damn close.” They had watched the Votadini trudge northwards. They were a defeated tribe.

  “Don’t forget Livius that the Votadini only came into this rebellion because we angered them. They were not a committed tribe. The Selgovae and the Carvetii are.”

  Just then they heard the sound of the sentry at the southern gate shouting a challenge. By the time they reached the gate there were two exhausted despatch riders. Both were Thracian auxiliaries.

  “Sir, we were sent by the Prefect. He said to tell you that Morbium has fallen to the Brigante.”

  There was a hesitation as he looked at his comrade.

  “Well spit it out man! You won’t get into trouble for reporting the truth.”

  “As we left Vinovia sir, well, we barely got out alive. There was a huge warband of Brigante and Carvetii. Two thousand or more sir. I am not sure if Vinovia would have been able to resist the attacks.”

  Julius’ face fell. To lose Morbium was bad enough but to lose Vinovia meant that the thin line of men at the wall were all that stood between the province and disaster. “Livius, send a turma down to Vinovia. Tell them to be careful and report what they see. I want a sound decurion; take nothing for granted.”

  Decurion Lucius Marcellus Garbo had been with the ala for five years. He had fought in all of the major battles and he was an obvious choice for Livius. He was experienced and dependable. This was just as well for he had the most inexperienced troopers in the ala. That was another reason they had been sent. They had had the least action and had the freshest mounts.

  Garbo rode swiftly down the road. He aimed to reach the fort in four hours. His Chosen Man, Julius, was also experienced. He had him riding at the rear. The signifer, Cassius, rode next to the decurion. These three were the ones that the decurion would depend on. Rufius had tried to tell Decurion Garbo that he ought to trust his men more and delegate. They would be better troopers in the end. Decurion Garbo liked and respected Rufius but, as he had told him there were many ways to run a turma and he had chosen his. He had been successful but, as he rode down the well travelled Roman Road he wondered if he had taken too much upon himself.

  He constantly scanned the horizon as he headed south. He could see the tell tale smoke from burning buildings. He had been told that the fort might have fallen. Certainly the signs were not good. He suddenly raised his hand. Cassius reined in straight away but the two young troopers were a little slow and their horses ran into the rear of the decurion’s. “That is a week of shit shovelling for you pair!” He pumped his arm and his Chosen Man appeared. “Take charge here. I am going with Cassius to investigate those birds ahead.” He had seen a flock of carrion birds swooping, climbing and fighting. It might be an animal but, equally it might be something else.

  They left the road and entered the tumble of trees to the east. It allowed them to see the road but not be seen. The presence of the birds suggested that man was not present but he would take no chances. Garbo saw the birds through the trees as they squabbled over the corpses of the Thracian turma who had been killed there. He could see no sign of barbarians and he led Julius through the undergrowth to the road. He saw the head of the Prefect on the top of a spear. He had seen him once before and his broken nose was distinctive. It appeared to be the only part of his head that was not bloody.

  “Well signifer, we know what happened to the Thracians now. What we need to find out is what has happened to Vinovia. Bring up the turma. I’ll get rid of this. It’ll upset the lads.”

  As Cassius rode off he took the spear and walked to the Prefect’s body. He pulled the gory trophy from the spear and laid it next to the dismembered corpse. “Go to the Allfather, Prefect. You died a warrior’s death.”

  When the troopers rode up he heard the retching as one young trooper took in the scene. He would need to be on the frontier a little longer then he would become used to such sights.

  “Follow me and keep your eyes open.”

  A small voice from somewhere behind asked, “Aren’t we going to bury them sir?”

  He turned in his saddle trying to discover the owner of the voice. “Son, when you die we will remember you but you will have to be a lucky trooper if we actually bury you. So don’t die!”

  The decurion knew what he would find. He led them from the road so that they could approach the fort from the east. He did not want to be highlighted in the setting sun. It was still an hour or so before dark but he was cautious. He also reasoned that if the fort had fallen then they would be looking to the road for the Romans. He knew that the river ran along one side of the fort and the bridge there controlled the passage of the Vedra Fluvia. He took the troop to the woods some five hundred paces from the northern wall. He could see the fort and the road.

  When he stopped his heart sank. The fort had fallen. The line of heads atop spears told him that in an instant. He turned to Chosen Man. “Ride back to the Legate and tell him that the Thracian Prefect is dead and Vinovia has fallen.”

  The Chosen Man hesitated, “We could all go back sir. We can’t do much here.”

  “I know, but we can watch and we can follow. Unless I miss my guess we are in a world of trouble. We have lost forts north of the wall before now but never south.”

  The rider from the south reached the fort at the same time as the wounded from the west. To Legate Julius Demetrius it was though all their disasters had arrived at once. To have lost so many troopers was a worry. To have his best leaders trapped and trying to fight an army was even worse.

  He now had a dilemma. There were two enemy armies. The one to the south he
knew was capable of capturing Roman forts but the one to the north potentially had more warriors. For the first time he did not know what to do. He sent for Livius. He liked talking problems through.

  After he heard the problem Livius said, “The way I see it sir is that it is too late to do anything tonight. By the time our cavalry reach either Vinovia or Luguvalium it will be the middle of the night and the men will be tired. I think that we can leave just before dawn. We will be there in the morning.”

  The Legate smiled, “That doesn’t help me Livius. Where do we send your ala?”

  “I thought that was obvious sir, to the west. Decurion Garbo is the steadiest of leaders. He will shadow the warband and keep us informed of their movements. We should send his trooper back and tell the decurion he has to watch the barbarians.”

  “You are right, that makes sense but this Brigante army can gather more men at will. All those who are unhappy with our rule will join them. This is not the Dunum where the Brigante support us. This is the land of the Vedra Fluvia and the Tinea; here we are hated.” He stood, “But you are right. Have the ala ready to ride before dawn.”

  Far to the north the sun was also setting. Rufius and the Cohors Equitata had watched the warriors as they had held a meeting of some kind. Rufius had deduced that they were debating what to do next. So long as the horse warriors guarded the Stanegate they were helpless.

  “I think, Decurion, that they will try something at night. Let’s get the men out to create some trips and traps. It won’t stop them but it will prevent us having our throats slit.”

  The Batavian was happy for it gave his men something to do.

  Rufius sought out Marcus. “I want you and Gnaeus to play at being Explorate tonight. Position yourselves out there in between us and the barbarians. Watch out when you return for we are laying some trips.” Marcus nodded. It was what he would have done. “Be back before dawn.”