by Griff Hosker
“Do you see, my brothers, it has come about as I said. We have been victorious. The priestess was right; the land and the waters will help us to defeat the Romans.”
The scout he had sent east returned. “The Brigante are fighting at their fort!”
“Come! We end Rome’s rule this day!”
A damp and dismal dawn saw the area around the fort littered with the dead. No one had had the time or the energy to move any. The wounded barbarians had had no help and all had succumbed to their wounds in the night. It was a pitiful sight. Livius had come from the Legate. He was alive and he was awake but he would not be making decisions. Livius was the only senior officer left. There were his decurions and a handful of centurions and optios left. The others had gone to the Otherworld.
He found the walking wounded. “I want you men to get some hot food for the men on the walls.”
“But sir we can fight still!”
“I know you can, soldier, but the men on the walls need the food first as do you. When we are fed then you can fight.” With such an attitude Livius knew that the garrison would fight to the last man.
In the fort the auxiliaries were busily repairing the damaged bolt thrower. “Manhandle the ones from the northern gate here.”
Rufius wondered at the wisdom of that. “Suppose there are more Votadini to the north of us. We are leaving ourselves vulnerable to an attack from the north.”
“Marcus will warn us. We must trust our men.”
Rufius suddenly remembered Felix. “Felix and Wolf should have returned before now. I fear that we have more enemies in the south than we thought.”
Both men were thinking of their friends and family in the Dunum valley. That had been a safe haven but now it could be a devastated charnel house of the dead and the dying. Emperor Hadrian had thought to make a defence against the barbarians. Now it looked as though the wall was a weapon to be used against them!
Marcus was relieved when he found the gate and the fort at Cilurnum intact. The Camp Prefect was anxious for news. He frowned when Marcus told him. “I cannot understand where the barbarians came from. We were not attacked. Perhaps they came from the west.”
“Rufius said that they were Votadini. I thought we had sent them home. Perhaps we were wrong.”
Just then a messenger ran to the Prefect. “Sir, the centurion from the western mile castle sent me. They have found the bodies of four of our sentries.”
“There is your answer, Prefect. They have slipped over the wall. I will take my turma and see if we can pick up their trail.”
“And I will shut this stable door and increase the patrols along the wall.”
The tracks across the spongy turf were clear to see. They had found where the Votadini had crossed. Had they had Drugi or Felix then they might have been able to accurately ascertain numbers. As it was Marcus just followed the tracks. He knew there were a large number. He saw where they had entered the woods; the broken branches and littered leaves were clearly visible.
“Gnaeus, make sure the men have their weapons ready and Titus, keep the buccina handy. We may need some help.”
Metellus and his four turmae were spread in a thin line from the bridge towards the north west. Metellus dared not risk over extending his line but the gap between each trooper was still five paces. Their red rimmed eyes showed their lack of sleep but they still peered through the foliage to search for the enemy, they knew, lurked before them.
Banquo and his warriors were moving silently through the woods. They moved cautiously for they knew not where the fort and the Romans were. Ahead one of the horses in the waiting turmae neighed and Banquo held up his hand. The Romans were close. He had with him some twenty boys. They were armed with a sling and a short sword. They had been desperate to be used but, hitherto, there had been no opportunity. Now Banquo knew that he could use them. He waved them forward and they slipped through the woods like wraiths.
The first that Metellus knew of their presence was when ,us, one of his new decurions was struck in the head by a lead ball. He fell from his horse and Metellus instinctively raised his shield. It was none too soon for a crack told him how close he had come to being felled. He risked a glance over the edge of his shield and saw the Votadini slingers. He kicked hard and his horse lurched towards the nearest boy. Startled, he looked up as Metellus hurled his javelin to skewer the boy to the tree.
Banquo knew now where the Romans were and, shouting their war cry, the Votadini raced through the woods. This was their time. The horses could not manoeuvre well in the woods and their movements would be restricted. Even as Metellus stabbed at another slinger with his spear he saw his men dropping from their horses.
“Fall back!”
If they moved closer to the walls then the garrison could support them with their weapons.
Livius heard the sounds of battles from the woods and he raced to the western gate. There was just one bolt thrower in place there and it was an under strength century which defended its ramparts. Livius saw his Decurion Princeps and his men as they backed out of the woods fighting for their lives. The Votadini swarmed over them like ants over a corpse.
“Rufius bring your men to this wall!”
Rufius and the survivors of the night attack had been the reserve. Livius was forced to commit it.
Across the bridge the movement of the defenders and the sounds of the battle to the west encouraged Briac and Caronwyn to begin their own attack. They had been constructing since before dawn some shields which were draped with mail shirts from the dead. Twelve brave warriors now carried these across the bridge.
The crews of the bolt throwers did not need orders. They recognised the danger and they released their bolts. One of them pierced the metal, the wood and the man but two of the others spun off. A Brigante ran from cover to pick up the dead man’s shield. Once in place they continued across. It cost them three more warriors but once they reached the other side of the bridge they were able to drag dead bodies and built a barricade.
More Brigante joined them; this time they had bows and they began to pick off the crews of the bolt throwers. As their rate slowed down warriors raced to the shelter of the walls and the body filled ditch.
Livius heard the cries from the dying crews of his artillery. He had committed his reserve now. Metellus and his men were fighting for their lives below them and Rufius and the defenders were hurling their javelins as fast as they could. They were trying to stem a tide which would soon become a flood. They were losing the battle to hold the fort. The Legate had gambled and it looked as though he had lost.
Chapter 23
Marcus and his men heard the sounds of battle ahead. “Skirmish line!”
He had an under strength turma but Marcus could not let his friends down. They moved as quickly as they could through the trees. When he saw the backs of the Votadini ahead he shouted, “Titus, sound the charge!”
With his spear held overhand Marcus led his turma towards the Votadini.
There was dismay in the Votadini ranks. They were so close to slaughtering the horsemen before them and then they heard the sound of reinforcements coming from behind. Some of them turned to face the new threat. Metellus heard the buccina and took hope. “Sound the charge!”
It was a desperate gamble but Metellus reasoned that the weight of the horses might just make the difference. They were aided by the bolt thrower. The crew had just found the range and a bolt took out ten men. The stunned warriors around them looked in horror at their dead comrades and Metellus went for the gap.
Marcus thrust his spear into the face of the warrior who screamed his war cry and tried to decapitate Raven. He saw another warrior racing at him from his right and he stabbed at him. The spear went through the man and pinned him to a tree. Marcus released the spear and drew his sword. He could see the walls of the fort ahead through the thinning trees. There were still many Votadini between him and safety but, with the Sword of Cartimandua in his hand he felt no fear. He drew his arm back
and then swung it forward. It sliced across the chest of a mailed warrior. There was a crack as his breastbone broke. The sound of Metellus’ buccina spurred them on. Some of the Votadini on the end of the line raced towards the bridge to join the Brigante who were now flooding across. Their defection made a hole in their line and Metellus exploited that.
Banquo found himself fighting horse warriors on two sides. He had lost many of his men and he now saw his only salvation in joining those of his men who had made the bridge.
“Follow me!”
With his oathsworn around him he began to hack towards the bridge. The horses suffered the worst of the attacks. The Votadini swung their long swords at the horses’ legs. Riders were flung from dying horses as the desperate Votadini carved a path towards the bridge.
It cost Banquo fourteen of his oathsworn but he and forty warriors reached Briac and the bridge. Behind him his warband was being slowly but inexorably hunted down and slaughtered. They had, however, served their purpose. The Brigante now held the bridge. The bolt throwers had been silenced and there were just two centuries of defenders left on the walls.
Caronwyn, still defended by her remaining females, ordered forward the twenty men with axes. Once the gates were destroyed they would flood in and they would massacre the defenders. The sacrifice had worked and the Mother had aided them. The fort was about to fall.
“Rufius, take your men and get to the south wall. Metellus and Marcus can finish off those in the woods.” He nodded and took off his men. “Centurion. I want you and half of your men to come with me. We have to defend the gate.”
The weary centurion nodded. “One man in two, follow me. Optio, take charge!”
The sounds of the axes on the gate were like the cracks of doom. The whole gatehouse shuddered. Rufius and his defenders hurled rocks and javelins from the gate above as they attempted to stop the Brigante but they were well defended with shields held high above them.
Livius picked up a shield and a spear. The centurion took his place next to the Prefect of Horse. There were just thirty men ready to attempt to repel the Brigante who would soon be pouring through the shattered gates. The Brigante were determined. They had been given impetus by the arrival of the Votadini. Despite the failure of the attack it had diverted some of the ala from the defence of the fort. Caronwyn and Briac could almost taste victory.
Banquo made his way across the bridge and gave a slight bow.
“Well done, young Votadini! Where is your brother?”
“He returned north. I am my own man now, my lady, and I serve you!”
Lady Flavia took his hand. “And we shall make a king of you too.” The two women knew how to manipulate young men and Banquo was their slave from that moment.
Briac had a better view of the battle from the back of his horse. “There is daylight in the gate. They are almost through!” He turned to his reserve war band. “Demne, take your men and support those at the gate!”
The last warband trotted over the bridge. The bolt throwers had ceased to be effective some time earlier and the warriors were able to cross with impunity.
The remnants of the ala had fought themselves to a standstill. Their horses were exhausted. Metellus had suffered a wound to the leg but he was still in command.
“Ala, dismount. Wounded warriors hold the horses. The rest of you follow me.” The southern gate was hidden from view but the Decurion Princeps could hear the sound of axes and he knew what it meant. He saw that only Marcus remained unwounded from his decurion. “Column of fours, follow me.”
He and Marcus led the dismounted cavalrymen along the western wall of the fort. They reached the corner as two things happened. The gate was breached and Demne crossed the bridge with his warband. Metellus knew that they had to disrupt the Brigante attack. If they made the interior of the fort then all would be lost.
“Charge!”
Marcus lifted the Sword of Cartimandua high above him. The clouds broke briefly and a shaft of sunlight sparkled on the blade. It gave the troopers heart and they charged into the side of the advancing Brigante. Marcus brought down the mighty sword and he split open the helmet and skull of the unsuspecting warrior who was closest to him. He pulled back the blade and thrust it forward. It went through the eye of the next man and into his brain. Titus and Gnaeus were behind him and they formed a wedge which drove deep into the warband.
To their left they heard a mighty cheer as the gate was shattered and the Brigante poured into the fort. Livius desperately led his small force to counter the attack. Marcus and Metellus had split the warband in two making the battle a series of individual combats. The Brigante were fresh and they were unwounded; the tide began to turn. Marcus watched as weary troopers succumbed to blows from the Brigante and he saw them die. It felt as though all hope had gone when he heard the sound of a buccina, and it was from the south!
Hearing it Metellus shouted, “Help is to hand! Back to back boys!”
Marcus glanced over his shoulder. There was a Brigante there and he was about to strike Metellus. The decurion reversed his sword and stabbed backwards as he stepped back. The Brigante fell dead and the remaining Romans fought back to back. They were a thin line of red horse hair plumes but they were brothers in arms and they fought for each other. If it was their day to die then they would die together.
Rufius, standing on the gate, could see what they could not. It was Quintus Broccus with the V1th and the Thracians. They were sweeping towards the bridge. He shouted, at the top of his voice. “It is the VIth! Hold on!” Then he turned to the troopers who had followed him up to the tower. “We will go down and reinforce the Prefect. If we can hold on for a short time we will prevail!”
Caronwyn almost screamed when the Roman reinforcements arrived. She recognised them. They were not auxiliaries. They were the legion. Briac, too, knew that they had not enough men to stand against these well drilled and trained soldiers of Rome. She mounted her horse. “Come Briac and Banquo. We will depart south and begin again.”
Banquo looked at his warriors who were still fighting with the Brigante. Could he desert them? The eight of his oathsworn who had crossed the bridge looked pleadingly at their lord.
“Come Banquo and live or stay and die.”
The Roman cohort had turned and was now heading for the bridge with a screen of Thracians and Tungrians in front of them. Banquo knew that she was right. He turned to his men. “Come with us and we will begin again.”
Four of them shook their heads and began to run back to the fighting. “We came here for honour and we will have it in life or in death!”
With just the bodyguards of the two leaders and the female warriors Caronwyn and Flavia headed south. The Thracian decurion saw their departure but dismissed the group as too small to be of concern. They headed for the bridge.
Inside the fort the extra soldiers brought by Rufius had swung the balance in favour of the defenders. The centurion, although wounded, was a mighty rock. His spear darted out to skewer his enemies and he used his shield as a weapon too. Inexorably they began to push the Brigante back to the gate. There was a mighty press of Brigante and Romans entwined in individual combats in the space between the river and the fort. No quarter was given.
First Spear took it all in. He had witnessed scenes such as this before and he knew what to do.“Decurion, protect our flanks. First Century! Double time! Charge!” With interlocked shields and pila held high before them they ran towards the bridge. The Brigante and Votadini were brave and they were not stupid. They turned to face this new threat and they locked their shields.
The 1st Cohort had the best warriors in the legion and the 1st Century the best in the 1st Cohort. First Spear yelled when they were twenty paces from the waiting warriors, “First four ranks! Release!” The sixteen pila flew high and cracked into flesh and wood. The soft metal bent and the heavy spear pulled down the shields of those who had not been struck. The gladii of First Spear and his men punched through the men at the bridge as thoug
h they were not even there.
They went into their killing rhythm: punch with the shield, rip up with the gladius, step forward, punch with the shield, rip up with the gladius, step forward, punch with the shield, rip up with the gladius, step forward. They were across the bridge before the Brigante and Votadini could catch their breath.
“Halt! Two lines! Now!” Knowing that the auxiliaries could mop up any warriors left behind them Quintus calmly dressed his ranks. A brave warrior ran up to First Spear as he stood there. He swung his long sword at the centurion who flicked up his shield to deflect the blade and then eviscerated the man with his gladius. He shook his head. “Stupid bugger!” When he was satisfied that they had a straight line he shouted, “Forward!”
The warriors who moments earlier had outnumbered Metellus, Marcus and their men were now outnumbered themselves. It was as though a machine was scything down wheat. The Brigante and Votadini fought bravely but they were no match for these well trained soldiers. When First Spear reached Metellus he saluted with his sword. “Sorry we are a bit late Decurion Princeps. If you and your lads would step through our ranks we’ll finish these bastards off.” He stopped and shouted, “Halt. Open ranks!”
It was like a well oiled lock. Every legionary turned to the left, their scuta protecting them and the troopers walked between the two ranks.
“Close ranks!”
The solid wall of shields faced the Brigante once more and the troopers caught their breath as they watched the VIth Victrix slaughter the last rebels south of the wall.
They weren’t quite the last rebels. There was a small party heading south down the Roman Road. “We will head for Morbium and Severus. With his men to protect us we can cross over to the west coast and take a ship for Manavia.”
Briac was annoyed that he wasn’t being included in the conversation between Caronwyn and Lady Flavia. “There are still many Brigante to the south. We can raise another army!”
