by Griff Hosker
The cavalryman was blissfully unaware of his fate as he slipped from between the Queen’s sheets. She half murmured a kitten like noise which almost drew him back into the bed and more lovemaking. Her sleep controlled hand wandered over to the warm space his body had occupied. Much as the tough old warrior wanted that he knew his duty came first and he had to drill his men. As he dressed his thoughts wandered from the bedroom to the battlefield and he wondered how Marcus had fared. The task had seemed simple enough but he had been in these islands long enough to know that simple did not always work out.
Even as Ulpius was thinking about him Marcus was in action. They had found some items of clothing for the Queen and a few items such as brushes and brooches forgotten in the aftermath of the massacre. The problem would be how to get them and the ladies safely back. There were no horses to be had. He ruefully took the decision to harness four of his horses to the wagons and use them to transport the women back to Eboracum. It would not only slow them down but also make them more vulnerable to attack. They were safe from Venutius as long as they were mounted; now they would be yoked. His one advantage was that he knew where he could be ambushed and he would avoid those places. He wondered, not for the first time, why they had not sent the whole of the ala quinquigeria. It would have made more sense and would have allowed them to find out just where Venutius was. As it was they were blind and Macha’s comments about the woods being filled with the enemy filled him with disquiet. He could only do one job at a time and his job now was to get the women and the box back safely.
As his men trotted away from the refuge Marcus gave the signal and his men began firing the fort. It was little enough but it would, at least, prevent Venutius from re-occupying once he had left. He was certain that the tribune would return and there would be a proper Roman fortress soon, one which would not be so easily taken.
Marcus allowed the third turma the honour of leading the small column back. The more experienced second turma provide the rear guard and flank guards. They remembered well enough the places to look out for. Marcus himself rode next to Macha and Lenta. He was more than a little curious about the box they guarded but he could not bring himself to ask. Instead he asked about them and their relationship to Cartimandua.
“It is an honour that we serve her majesty. She is not only the Queen she is also the high priestess and the mother of our people. This is why Venutius cannot kill her for she would be reborn or else the land would die and he could not risk that.”
“What does Venutius know of our people? “Interjected Lenta her face still filled with anger and hatred. “He is of the wild Carvetii. They live amongst rocks and know nothing of growing and rearing just hunting and killing.”
“They are a wild people, “agreed Macha. “I sometimes think this is the reason our Queen married the wild man to protect the lands to the west as the sea guards our lands to the east.”
“And what of the south and the north?”
“We never feared the south, until you Romans came and our Queen was wise enough to live with you. As for the north no-one can tame the Pictii but they only hunt cattle and slaves. Stanwyck always withstood their pathetic attempts to capture it. It has been many years since they tried. But they make life difficult for our people who live near the big rivers to the north. Even Venutius feared them and he has made Stanwyck the fortress you saw. Perhaps you Romans can, at last, tame them.”
Marcus had not had such pleasant conversation in a long time and he was disappointed when Gaius came racing up with news that a patrol from the ala was coming to meet them. They were home far too quickly for Marcus for soon he would not be able to speak so freely with the Brigante beauty who had ensnared him. He smiled ruefully when he saw that the patrol was being led by Ulpius. The big warrior obviously wanted to get all the information before they arrived at Eboracum. Marcus shook his head, he had much to learn about being a leader but at least he had a good teacher.
The quartermaster looked nervously about him as he left the safety of the temporary fort. He was treading in a dangerous area. The civilian encampment was made up of some legitimate merchants and providers of services but there were a far greater number of villains, thieves and chancers. As soon as the Romans arrived in numbers then there would be many people some honest, some dishonest who would want a share of the money they brought. From bread makers to whores, from beer sellers to bodyguards they were all drawn to the honey pot that was a Roman fort. He had some contacts but he also know that this throat could be slit for the price of a pair of sandals. He had taken no-one with him. He was vulnerable, as he made his secretive way past crude dwellings and groups of locals who, to the quartermaster, looked like murderers and thieves. This assignation had to be secret otherwise he would have made the journey in daylight. . The message he had received was a verbal one from a local who sometimes acquired women for the corpulent Cresens. He would have ignored the request were it not for the silver piece which had been passed over and the frightened look on the man’s face. Whoever wanted to speak with him was powerful enough to scare a whoremaster. He was not making as much from his new position as quartermaster and he was a greedy man. Even though it was a risk Gaius Cresens had found that sometimes great risk brought great reward.
The path he took left the main inhabited area and dropped through a small copse to a stream. By the stream were two wicker huts. He approached them gingerly, cautiously for he was known to be a man who had riches. He would see no apparent sign of life, suppose this was a trap? Just when he was about to turn and leave he felt a sharp blade prick him behind the ear and the rancid smell of grease and unwashed body; it was a warrior.
“Where are you going fat one? I thought you had a meeting.”
Without warning he was propelled unceremoniously into the darkened interior of the hut. The entrance was so low that he found himself on the dirt floor. A dying fire gave the outline of shapes but he could not make out the faces of any of the men who squatted around its embers. He did see, however, the mail they wore and the blades that lay at their feet. There were warriors and he was alone, a Roman amongst rebellious tribesmen. The wrong word could end his lucrative career here and now.
He tried to raise his head but was sharply forced to the ground a blade in the back of his neck. The figure in front of him, hooded and dark raised his sword in the direction of the Roman. “I hear you are a man with the love of gold?” Gaius nodded, unable to speak. A small leather bag was thrown from behind him and landed at his feet. “Here is gold. Examine it.” His greedy, podgy fingers opened the pouch and poured the contents into his hand. “Is that the sort of thing you had in mind?”
“Yes… lord. It is just the sort of thing. How would I er, earn this?”
“Call this a down payment for loyalty. It is yours to keep. What it buys is your services for me and, “he added threateningly, “your silence. I will request information. I will do dos frequently. When you provide it I will supply more. Is that acceptable?”
Aware that the wrong response would see his throat cut the ex-cavalryman was cautious in his reply. The blade was not pushed so hard into his neck and glancing up at the hooded figure he became aware that the man was enormous. His shoulders seemed to fill the hut and, worse still, he could see many amulets on his arms; a sign amongst these Britons that he had killed many. He swallowed hard; he was getting into dangerous territory. It could result in great fortune or crucifixion but if he betrayed these animals it would be much worse. “What sort of information?”
“Nothing difficult. Nothing that you cannot handle. Numbers.”
“Numbers?” There was surprise in his voice.
“Numbers of troops here, Lindum. Military information.”
“That is dangerous. I could.”
“You could die here and now fat man. You could die when we drive the Romans into the sea. You could die if we informed the Romans of your treachery. You could die if we told your comrades how you mixed lead with their flour. You could die if we t
old of your pleasure in young children. There are many ways for such as you to die. The question is when and where? This way you live, no matter what happens and you make gold. For when we win we will spare you. It is a clear choice Roman, obey us now or die! Which is it to be?”
Put that way there was little choice. “I will live and become rich.”
“Good. I thought you would see sense. When you leave here go into the next hut you will meet my contact there. She is the only one who you will ever see and she is the one who will pay you. You will come here once a week and she will ask you a question.”
“Will it not look suspicious if I come here regularly?”
“She is known to be a witch and a soldier’s woman. I am sure your comrades will believe that you still have desires.” Gaius nodded. Knowing his luck she would be a toothless old harridan. “Now go.”
Gaius was ejected from the hut and thrust into the next one. From the noises he heard as he left he knew that the men were leaving. His desire was to see who they were, the jewels on the man’s arms and his bracelets suggested an important man but his desire for life outweighed it. He did not want to die and he was under no illusions for even though he was close to the fort his throat could be cut and his body disposed of in the time it took to sigh.
The new hut had a brighter fire and he was able to see the face of the woman. He was surprised. She was younger than he had thought probably in her twenties; his loins began to react immediately as his mind began to relish a weekly meeting with such a woman. He unconsciously licked his lips with a spittle covered tongue.
The woman had noticed his arousal and ended his thoughts in an instant. Drawing a lethally sharp dagger she put its point at his genitals. “You are here for information. The story about me as your lover will be just that, a story. If you try to touch me I will geld you.” The look in her eyes and her tone of voice left him under no illusions she would do as she said. He sat back all thoughts of lust dissipated by the appearance of the knife. “Come when the other soldiers find women, which will look natural. The first information we require is the full strength of the ala and the legion here. Is that clear?” He nodded. “Now go.”
He was about to leave and then a thought struck him. “Are you a witch?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“If you are a witch then you have potions do you not? You can make spells. Tell the future.”
She laughed. “If you want a potion to keep your cock hard then you will be wasting your money.”
“No I want,” he paused and leaned closer, “a poison. To kill a man.”
“Ah, then I can help you but it will cost and, “she looked pointedly at his pouch, “I know you have money, much money.”
“I do and for this?” He tossed a heavy silver coin at her.
“For this I can give you a poison. I will give it to you when I have the information.”
As he walked carefully back to camp he realised that this could work out well for him. This had turned out better than he had hoped for he now had a regular income, protection if the legions left and someone who could provide him with poison. It had been a good day.
Fainch watched his back with some disgust as he left. She and her sisters worshipped Mother Earth. She had spent many years, as a child, in the lands of Mona where she studied with the Druids. She had been there when the Romans had first desecrated the holy places and slaughtered the Druids. As she had hidden she had seen the ruthless Romans slaughtering the priests, killing those that she thought of as family. She swore an oath then on the holy shrines that she would have revenge and drive these Romans from her land. It had taken all her will power not to slit the throat of the Roman she had just spoken with. Since she had arrived back from Mona she had become more patient. She had seen that these Romans built solidly whether a building, or an army or a country and she would need to bide her time and choose the most opportune moment. She would use Cresens and then he too would die. As she chanted a spell she began to grind up the mushrooms, herbs and roots she would need for her next potion. This potion was for herself; it was a potion which allowed her to leave her body and communicate with her sisters and Mother Earth. It allowed her to fly, without leaving her dwelling. She would create an alliance which would defeat these Romans who had disembowelled and crucified the only man she had ever loved; Vosius son of Lugotrix a king killed himself by the Romans. They had killed the only chance she would have of happiness; she would ensure that they had none. Her revenge was begun.
Ulpius walked to headquarters blissfully unaware that murder, his murder was being plotted. He was blissfully happy because his lovemaking with Cartimandua was getting better and better. He did not know if it was their ages, it certainly wasn’t his experience , or lack of it, whatever it was they had a sexual chemistry which left both of the satisfied, replete and totally at ease with each other. He worked hard with his men each day but he so looked forward to the long nights of lovemaking; rather than sapping his energy it seemed to give him energy.
Having met Marcus and the Queen’s handmaidens he was heading to make his report. He had gleaned all the necessary information on the last few miles of the journey. Marcus had filled him in completely. Both were curious about the contents of the box but Ulpius had hidden a secret smile for he knew the Queen would tell him all. Marcus could now have a bath and some food, he had deserved it. The guards outside headquarters snapped to attention as he strode passed them.
Flavius looked up from the reports he was reading and gestured for Ulpius to sit. “They made it then?”
“As I said he would.”
“And the er…box?”
“Safely delivered to the queen with two handmaidens.” He paused. “Gerantium, the centurion didn’t make it but the lad brought his widow back with them.”
“We’ll find something for her. You never met him did you?”
“Just the once when, we rescued the Queen.”
“He was an absolute hero. Fought in Germany, Batavia and here in Britannia. The divine Claudius took a real shine to him. Thought he was some sort of lucky omen. There was him and that elephant he brought with him. Good job he didn’t leave the elephant. It was him as arranged for him to look after the Queen. Sort of bodyguard. Obviously did his job well as most of the rulers in this land have short lives and violent ends. How did he die?”
“According to the lad, in battle, took a dozen or so with him. They gave him a decent burial.”
Flavius nodded. As a Roman soldier, especially an auxiliary, decent burial were something you hoped for but didn’t expect. “And Venutius?”
“Still hanging around. We ran into a few of them and Marcus said there were more in the woods and hills. They trailed him all the way back. Not enough for us to waste our time chasing them but just enough to let us know that he hasn’t gone. The handmaidens told Marcus that there were hundred spread all over the place. I think they are getting rid of the Queen’s supporters so we have a little time but not much.”
Flavius rubbed his chin and poured them both a goblet of wine. He gestured for his friend to drink. “What do you think he is up to?”
“The lads burned the wooden parts of the stronghold so he can’t refortify that, at least not without us noticing. Besides it was only built to hold back barbarians. Apart from the northern side where there is a double rampart and double ditch there is nothing to stop legionaries. Even that wouldn’t hold them up for long. It is mainly earth and wood. Greek fire, bolt throwers, even stones would easily crack that nut. There is nowhere south of the big river that is fortified which leaves over the hills in Carvetii, his stronghold of Brocavum which, the Brigante tell me, is smaller but much harder to attack than Stanwyck. He must know we’ll come after him but he will hope that it is in the spring when his men have had time to rearm themselves and gather more men.”
Flavius pulled a map over. “You are right about his stronghold Look. Here is his capital, Brocavum. Nasty little place. It’s on a steep hill with
a moat and ditch going around most of it. And the little bugger has made it of stone. I visited there a couple of years ago with Paulinus, a courtesy. It was when Venutius was only a lad and his dad was still king. It would take at least a legion to capture that. And the road to get there is no picnic. Right over the tops of the mountains. A cold, desolate and windswept place. He thinks he is safe until spring. If I had my way we would be after him now before he gets too comfortable before he can get his army together but we will have to wait for the Governor to come and light a fire up the tribune’s arse. I am worried that he will get other tribes to join him. Somehow they got wind of the trouble In Rome. I suppose no new legions gave him an idea about the situation.”
“It’s shame that Caesius Alasica isn’t here. He knew how to fight in this land. “
“Aye he was handy in a fight, it is a shame we only have a couple of legions over here. They should have finished the job the first time. Trouble was the Iceni. Everything was going well, they pulled the legions out and then some dozy prick decides to have his way with the Iceni women. Fucking stupid. Just shows you are safer with your dick inside your armour.” Having revisited the past the cavalryman got back to business. “Right you keep on at your men, keep them sharp, keep them ready to move at a moment’s notice and I’ll see if I can get you a long patrol to round up these Carvetii and rebel Brigante.” A broad smile filled his face, “That is if you aren’t totally shagged out you old goat!”
Saenius Augustinius did not use his clerk for this most important letter. He could trust no-one with this information. The intrigue in Rome which had seen a succession of Emperors meant that every province in the far flung Empire was at risk. Those on the extremes were in an even more parlous state. Added to that Britannia was an island and could only be supplied by sea and the sea they had to cross was capricious at best. The tribune needed to secure his position. He was gambling that it would be Vespasian who would still be Emperor and there would be a steady hand at the helm. He was also counting on the fact that Vespasian had served in Britannia during the invasion and knew what the problems were likely to be. He would inform the Emperor that it was he, Saenius Augustinius, who had ordered the Queen’s rescue. The promotion of Ulpius Felix should have ensured his cooperation. He added that the fortress of Eboracum would serve as a sound base from which to invade the far north. Once the Emperor realised that Saenius had done so much it would not take much for him to recall Bolanus and, perhaps, give the governorship to him. Perhaps Britannia might prove to be a route to even greater power he just had to make sure he held on to Cartimandua and stopped Venutius from rising in the spring.
