Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 07] Trajan's Hunters

by Griff Hosker

  “Elevated company then?”

  “I think they must have made a mistake in inviting me.”

  “Do not disparage yourself sir. Prefect Karus holds you in high esteem. He knows that you helped to save the army at the last battle and I know that he will have told the new Governor of your deeds.”

  “You are loyal Rufius but I fear you have exaggerated my role in the battle. It was the arrival of the first cohort which saved the day.”

  “Yes sir but if you had not led the charge to delay their flanking attack then the Prefect, the auxiliaries and the rest of the Ninth would now be lying on the fields, their bones bleached white.”

  “Who do you take to Eboracum then?”

  “Just Rufius here. The rest of the Explorates are to travel to Morbium and thence to Luguvalium to join the main body of the Ninth Hispana.” He looked directly at Gaius, “I think it means that we are heading north and that means the barbarians again.”

  Gaius put his hand over Livius’. “Thank you Livius for your concern but Ailis and I are now resigned to two of our boys being warriors. Fortunately our eldest, Decius, has shown himself to be a home boy. He likes to farm and, as he has cast his eye towards a young woman in the next village I think that Ailis may be preoccupied with grandchildren soon.”

  Gaelwyn snorted, “In which case I may apply to become an Explorate myself. I am too old to be woken by screaming bairns and moaning women!”

  Gaius shook his head, Gaelwyn for all his bluster loved the young people to be around. He just likes to moan every now and again. As Livius turned to leave Gaius walked with him to his horse. “You take care of yourself Livius. With Marcus gone and Julius back in Rome, well it just leaves a few of the old hands to remember the old days.”

  “Don’t worry Gaius after all I know north of here like the back of my hand. I’ll be back, never fear, probably sooner than you think.”

  Chapter 2

  Julius Galba was a sober and serious young man. Although not yet thirty he had assiduously worked his way up the ranks to this incredibly powerful position as Governor of a potentially rich province. He was dedicated to his job and thought that working for the Emperor was the greatest accolade a man could have. He had no time for either relationships or interests outside of his work. His entourage was tiny and consisted of two slaves, one to care for his domestic needs and one to sort out his papers. In addition to which he had taken on two aides who were both already looking for less demanding sponsors. He began work with the break of day and it ended for him long after other lamps had been extinguished. He was ruthlessly efficient and had a keen eye for both fraud and incompetence. As soon as he had arrived in Eboracum he had seen the high levels of corruption and deceit which prevailed. Soon boatloads of officials were heading back to less scrutinised parts of the Empire. His first week saw him establishing new officials who could do the job as he saw fit.

  The Ninth legion was more problematic. The campaigns and battle of the past couple of years had thinned out the solid, experienced backbone of officers. The last First Spear was still recovering from his wounds. He had acceded to Prefect Karus’ request for more officers and men but as he had pointed out to the Prefect, the Ninth would have to carry out their duties without the replacements for a while. That meant they would have to police the frontier and establish the control that the Emperor demanded. He had spent the long sea voyage to this last western outpost of Rome planning how the Ninth would control the border. His experience in Dacia had shown him that the power of the legion was the hammer which would pummel the rebels into submission. The faster moving auxiliaries would ensure that they were free to roam at will. In the morning he would issue his orders and soon the Emperor’s commands would be fulfilled. He had contemplated promoting Karus to the post of Legate, which the legion merited but when he had been appointed it had been made clear that they needed someone with a new eye and perspective. Someone who might do things differently to the way they had been done before. As Hadrian had said, “If we do the same things the same way then we will get the same results. Let us leave the Prefect where he is but give them a new direction.”

  Livius and Rufius knew the fortress well enough to know that any bed they could find for the night in the barracks would not be very comfortable, in addition to which, there appeared to be many temporary visitors to the fortress, aides, escorts and bodyguards of the new senior officers. Livius had funds enough to enable them to stay in the vicus at one of the better taverns. Their decision proved to be even more fortuitous when they bumped into Metellus. “I thought you would have been at the muster in Morbium?”

  “The Camp Prefect sent me back with some despatches for the Prefect and the new Governor and, like you, I realised that comfort was worth a few coins.”

  They sat at a table which enabled them to sit with a blank wall at their backs. Explorates learned to be on their guard at all times; travelling behind enemy lines where no man was a friend made you careful. Livius had drilled into them the need for caution and discretion. Outside of the legionary camp everyone was a potential enemy, even just outside a fortress’ walls. Livius remembered only too well the deserters who had been recruited from such taverns and who had so nearly brought to an end Roman rule in Britannia. All three of them scanned the room for potential enemies as the tavern keeper brought their beakers of beer and plates of food.

  “Why are you here sir? I would have thought that, after the funeral, you would have taken Gaius’ boys to Morbium.”

  “We are here to receive personal orders from the new Governor.”

  Metellus, whom Livius rated as the most intelligent of his men, looked up from his bread and cheese. “Are you to be a senior officer then?”

  Livius shrugged. “I have no idea. It is a mystery to me. Perhaps the Prefect wants us to work away from the legions for a while, as we did last year.”

  “Yes but surely he could have told you that at Morbium? No sir I think there is something else planned.”

  Livius looked wryly at his friend. “The last time I was given a special mission I ended up languishing in an Imperial cell condemned to death so I hope you don’t mind if I fail to get too excited about a special mission.”

  “Yes sir but then you were a young trooper.”

  “Yes Rufius, and I was with a Prefect of the auxiliary.” He dropped his voice. “When the Emperor makes a decision, reputation means nothing.”

  Metellus shook his head and leaned back. “Ah the joys of being back in Eboracum. Give me the wild uplands of Britannia where the only danger is a horde of barbarians trying to make a necklace out of your wedding tackle. Much safer than this! What a delight to be back in the land of politics and intrigue where a pat on the back can mean a knife in the ribs!”

  “Metellus you are a cynic.” He shook his head at his incorrigible but indispensable friend. “You might as well hang around here then until I have had my quick meeting with the Governor and we can travel north together.”

  The meeting was scheduled for early the next day and, leaving Rufius and Metellus to pay their bill and collect their mounts; Livius strode, in his best uniform, through the Porta Praetorium. The sentries both recognised the Decurion and smartly saluted as he strode through the gates. Already work was well under way to repair the damage which had resulted from the fighting and the rebellion and to further improve the defences. Livius nodded his approval as he saw huge blocks of stone placed as buttresses in the key parts of the fortress. Obviously this Governor had a military background which might mean more stability than hitherto.

  As he approached the Praetorium he noticed officers he recognised, the Decurion Princeps of the Thracians, Gauls and Spaniards and the Prefects of the Tungrians and the Vangiones. There were others but he did not recognise them. Before they could greet each other the door opened and they were summoned into the office which had been cleared of all furniture apart from a desk and a chair allowing them all access. On the wall was a calfskin map of the province before wh
ich stood the surprisingly young looking Governor. Livius would have looked elsewhere for the Governor were it not for the fact that he was wearing the appropriate dress and carrying the emblems of his office. He noticed that Prefect Karus was looking somewhat put out just to the side of the Governor. He nodded a greeting to Livius and rolled his eyes heavenward. Livius was immediately on his guard. In the corner of the room stood a tanned figure with a hawk like nose and a look as though there was something unpleasant smelling in the room.

  Others must have picked up on the tension and there was silence without the need for an order. “Welcome gentleman. Allow me to get the formalities out of the Way. I am Julius Metellus Galba commanded by the Emperor Caesar Nerva Trajan Augustus, son of the deified Nerva, conqueror of Germany and Dacia, Potifex Maximus, in the seventh year of his holding Tribunician Power, four times saluted Imperator, Father of his Country, five times Consul to take Governorship of the Province of Britannia.” The slight pause and intake of breath following the speech told Livius that the man was nervous and had not performed this particular ceremony before. “The province is, as you know in a parlous state and it is our role,” he stared intently around the room and emphasised the word ‘our’, “to pacify the province and make it secure for the citizens of the province for the greater good of the Empire.” He took a piece of slender wood and pointed at the map. “For the moment we will confine our focus to the Stanegate.” The red marked line of forts looked very frail and thin when the rest of the province was seen to spread like a huge empty stain to the north of the island. “The Ninth legion under Prefect Karus will undertake a campaign to finally subjugate the tribes north of the Stanegate which will allow us to prepare for a larger invasion in the future.” Livius noticed that everyone apart from Prefect Karus, himself included seemed to nod and approve of this. Prefect Karus looked at Livius and gave the slightest shake of the head.

  “The cavalry and infantry of the auxilia will be stationed along the Stanegate to provide support in the unlikely circumstance that the Ninth requires it.” He gestured at the figure in the corner. “This is Legate Aulus Salonius who will be commanding the forces in the north. He has just returned with the Emperor and me from our conquest of Dacia. I am sure that with his leadership, the subjugation of the tribes will not take long.” The Legate returned to his bored perusal of the fortress.

  Livius was glad that the Prefect had given him warning to hold his tongue for the Decurion Princeps of the Thracians blurted out, “But that goes against the way we have fought before. The cavalry should be the eyes and ears of the legion.”

  There was a heavy veiled threat in the Governor’s words which silenced any further comment. “Perhaps if those ways had been successful before then the province might not have suffered so many rebellions and revolts in the past ten years.” The chastened red faced Thracian subsided and tried to move out of the Governor’s line of sight. “The legion will have eyes and ears for they have the Explorates.” To Livius’ embarrassment he gestured at the Decurion. “We have here an Explorate who has shown what can be done with a few men. Do you doubt that they can do it again?”

  The next hour were a tedious blur for Livius as the pedantic Governor itemised the forts and camps the units would use, the way the Classis Britannica would be used, even the times that supply trains would be using the main routes. “Well gentlemen if there are no further questions? Good then you may return to your units. Er, Decurion Sallustius if you and Prefect Karus would remain behind I have a few more orders for you.” The senior officers were less than enamoured with the new Governor and even less so with the cold hawk faced Legate who had made no attempt to talk, converse or engage with any of his subordinates.

  The Legate strode casually from the room. As he reached the door he turned to face Karus. “I will be with my bodyguard, the men that I can trust.” The barb hit home and Livius noticed the Prefect clench his fists in silent rage. “My orders stand Prefect; I will go directly to Coriosopitum. Bring the legion from Luguvalium as soon as you can. I would like to get back to a warmer clime and the sooner I defeat these barbarians the sooner that will occur.”

  Livius noticed the colour flooding into the Prefect’s face. The new campaign would not be a harmonious affair and he was already dreading it.

  When the room had emptied legionaries and slaves brought in a table and four chairs. A slave brought in a pile of papyrus and other documents which he carefully place on the table along with a bag of what looked to be money. The Governor nodded at Livius. “Welcome Decurion I am sorry that I had to refer to you before. As you come to know me you will see that such departures from protocol are unusual. But perhaps it may also help you to understand that I will brook no questions of orders.” The pointed look he gave Livius left him in no doubt that there were special orders for him. I will state from the outset that the Prefect is opposed to the orders I am about to give to you but they come from the Emperor himself.”Livius looked at the Prefect who shrugged apologetically.

  “You and a small group of your Explorates are to be detached from the Ninth to operate outside of Britannia.” Livius must have shown his surprise too clearly for the Governor added. “Do close your mouth Decurion you look like a trout. I can see that the Provinces must imbue the officers with a lack of ambition and creativity. Your Prefect pays you a great compliment for he says that you are the reason the Explorates are so successful and if you are detached then he will have no one to lead them. Is that true?”

  Livius found himself between a rock and a hard place. He did not wish to be disloyal to the Prefect and yet he knew that if he did so it would go against him. “Thank you Prefect that is the greatest compliment I could receive but I do have officers who could be promoted. My chosen man, Cassius could be promoted to Decurion and the officers do not need a Decurion Princeps. They have been trained sufficiently to operate independently.” When Livius saw the smug smile creep on the Governor’s face he could not restrain himself. “However, sir, I would add, with respect, that operating north of the Stanegate, which is now hostile territory, does need close cavalry support. The land there is…”

  The Governor held up his hand. “Neither the Emperor nor myself need lessons in strategy from a Decurion who is a native of Britannia. Leave strategy to us. We have fought outside this little outpost of the Empire and we know how to wage war effectively. The Legate has brought over a turma of his Dacian cavalry as a bodyguard I am sure they can fill the role of cavalry successfully.”

  He separated three documents from the pile which had been deposited upon his table. “I wish the Prefect to know of your mission so that he can understand why you have been chosen and to make the necessary adjustments to the Explorates who remain under his command.” He looked pointedly at Karus. “This is neither a whim nor some vindictive plot against the Ninth Prefect. It is Imperial business.” He held up a folded piece of calfskin.”Your brother is a traitor and a thief. He rebelled against Rome and stole a great deal of gold intended for the Imperial Treasury.”

  Livius was taken aback. Was he about to be punished for his brother’s behaviour? What was coming? For the first time in a long time Livius had no idea what the Parcae had in store for him. If his past experiences were anything to go by it would not be good.

  “The Emperor wishes you to follow and find your brother; recover the gold and, either bring your brother back for punishment, or his head.”

  There was a stunned silence from both Karus and Livius. The Governor appeared to have anticipated such an effect from his words for he clicked his fingers and a slave brought in a tray with wine and beakers. After the wine had been poured and the slave had left the Governor grimaced a sinister smile and said, “Before I continue do you have any questions?” Although he had thousands racing around in his head Livius could not bring a single one to mind and he shook his head. “Good. Obviously you cannot travel alone but equally a large number would invite curiosity and we wish this to be conducted in a discreet manner. We antic
ipate you will need no more than two or three men. This,” he held up the first calfskin packet, “is a temporary appointment for you as a frumentari. It may well aid you in the unique situations you may find yourself in.” After handing it over he held up a second packet. “This is an Imperial letter signed by the Emperor himself which commands any Imperial official or officer to assist you in your mission. And finally,“ he handed over the bag of jangling coins, “these are funds to assist you, although your new role and your letter should ensure that this is only used for expenses outside the Empire.”

  “Outside of the Empire?” Livius was even more in shock. It was bad enough to leave Britannia but to leave the Empire. This was far beyond what he had expected.

  “Yes it may well be that your brother has left the vast reaches of the Empire and you will pursue him wherever you find him. To the very edge of the world if necessary.”

  As he looked at the array of documents before him he glanced across to the Prefect who gave him a sympathetic look and an ironic toast from his beaker. Livius swallowed a draught of the excellent wine and decided that, whatever the consequences, he would have to ask a question. “But where do I start? I saw him sail away from Eboracum but that is it. He went to the Oceanus Germanicus and he could be anywhere.”

  It was with some relief that he saw the Governor smile and stand, walking towards the map. “An excellent question.” He pointed at an estuary in Gallia Aquitania. “This is the port of Namnetum. Last year the bodies of some sailors were washed up along the estuary bank. There was some evidence that they had come from Eboracum from artefacts found about them and they dressed as the natives of Britannia. At about the same time an unknown ship was seen heading south.”

  Livius stood and went to peer closely at the map. “My brother is no sailor. If he got rid of the crew he would have needed to hire another one, presumably from Namnetum.”