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

by Griff Hosker

  “Back tonight.”

  “Tonight? I want a proper job not some half arsed quick look and then race back.”

  “Don’t worry sir I guarantee that you will know everything there is to know about the land north of us.” Piso looked at them sceptically. Drusus continued, “Look sir there are nearly thirty of us. We don’t ride in one unit as the legion does, we spread out and believe me we can cover a wide area. Notice how we don’t have armour like the cavalry. We are fast and we have a spare horse for each maniple.”

  First Spear was still unconvinced. “Right then regard this is as a test. If the legion finds any danger up there I will have your balls… roasted!”

  In answer the three men saluted and rode off. Lentius said quietly to Cassius. “Out First Spear has a strange diet if he likes roasted balls.”

  “Oh I don’t know it might taste good with a little garum!”

  “You are sick Cassius do you know that? Sick!”

  Cassius and his smaller maniple were assigned the road and the land to either side of it. He assigned Decius to take Macro with him while he took Marcus to continue with his training. Although the lads were desperate to work as a team Cassius knew that they still needed the experience of older troopers. Decius had grown up from the callow youth who had nearly ridden over a cliff in his keenness to get at the enemy. His wounds had made him more cautious and thoughtful, a perfect partner for the more impetuous Macro who, like his father, believed that nothing was beyond him.

  It was a good day to be riding, the sky was overcast and yet there would be no rain. The slight breeze stopped them from becoming too hot and, for Cassius, this was the most exciting day in his life. He had stepped from behind the shadow of Livius and was leading his first patrol. He saw Marcus scanning the forest either side of the road assiduously as he had been taught to do. The Explorates understood the concept of ambush very well. The soldiers who had built the road had cleared the land to either side which made their task much easier.

  “Missing home Marcus?”

  The youth wondered what answer he should give; the answer that was the truth or the one that was expected? He remembered the advice his father had given him before he left the farm. “Always be honest with your comrades and never lie to them. There is a bond between warriors which is broken with a lie. If you are lied to it is a measure of the man who lies, a poor measure for a man who lies to his comrades is not a man to be trusted.”

  “No sir. I don’t miss it not really.” He glanced over his shoulder as though Ailis was still there tutting and fussing. “At home mother is always there worrying and fretting, even when we are with father or Gaelwyn!”

  Cassius laughed, “That is mothers the world over. They always want to protect the chick!”

  “I don’t need protection sir,” he held up his bow, “as long as I have this…”

  Cassius suddenly became serious. “Do you remember Agrippa?”

  Marcus became sombre. “Of course, he saved our lives.”

  “And he was a good warrior, a skilled archer and a fine swordsman.”

  “I know but…”

  “And yet he died as easily as a raw recruit. You know not what the Allfather or the Parcae intend, young Marcus, so for my sake and your mother’s please be careful.”

  Chastened he nodded, “Yes sir.”

  “Now as I recall there used to be a settlement some way off the road to the west just past this rise. We will leave the road and see if it remains or has become a victim to the Caledonii raids.”

  Tamburgh was situated on a small fortified hill position just above the north branch of the Tinea. It was far enough from the road so that most visitors overlooked it. Their animals could safely graze in the high sided valley and they managed to avoid most of the raids from both the north and south. The river was brimming with trout and salmon and the forests filled with game. It was a happy settled and peaceful place. The palisade was effective but not daunting, a measure of the peace it enjoyed. When the two riders crested the sides of the valley they were seen by the boy herding the goats. He ran down the hill towards the burgh. “Well they have seen us then.” Cassius did not hasten his mount or show any concern.

  Marcus looked nervously around. “Isn’t there danger sir? What if it is an ambush?”

  “Good thinking, I like your caution but I think that if the warning only comes when we see the village and the sentry is a boy then I don’t think we are in danger but,” he looked seriously at Marcus, “should there be a problem you ride back to the fort as fast as you can.”

  “You’re teasing me!”

  “No Marcus I am deadly serious. The rule of the Explorates is the message is more important than the messenger. We leave our wounded where they lay.”

  Marcus seemed to realise, for the first time, the danger he was in. “Like with Agrippa?”

  “Like with Agrippa and you may not know it son but that was one of the reasons you were accepted into the Explorates, despite your age because, even though no one had told you before, when the time came you did the right thing.” They had reached the gate and an old man and the boy greeted them.

  “Welcome stranger to Tamburgh. I am the gatekeeper what is your business?”

  “Thank you uncle. I am Cassius Nautius an officer from the Ninth legion. We are marching up the road and I was investigating the people here.” He looked around the village as the women, old men and children emerged from their huts and their work to stare at that rarity, strangers. Some of the older girls pointed at Marcus, whispered and giggled. He became acutely embarrassed and blushed which increased their giggles and their whispers. “Where are your men folk?”

  “Our King, Lugubelenus of the Votadini, has called them to his home for a meeting.”

  Cassius nodded. The old man had not given the reason and it would have been rude of Cassius to ask. He saw nothing sinister in the lack of men. Had there been a small number of men then he may have worried that they were raiding but a chief never raided without leaving guards behind and there were patently none. He would report the incident to the prefect because it could mean that the Votadini were preparing for war, possibly against Rome but it was more likely that it would be against their neighbours the Selgovae.

  “Will you break bread with us?

  “Thank you for your kind offer uncle but we have to return to camp.”

  “You will always be welcome here Cassius Nautius.”

  As they rode back down the road Marcus asked, ”Why did you call him uncle? Is he a relative?”

  “It is a courtesy, a mark of respect amongst these people if you do not know an elder’s name. The people north of the Stanegate use the word and it does not hurt to be respectful does it?”

  Marcus shook his head. He was learning already. Perhaps he would not miss Rufius and Livius so much if he continued to ride with Cassius.

  * * * * * * *

  Aulus Salonius looked at the countryside around Coriosopitum and thought, not for the first time, that this province was not worth fighting for. He could see little opportunity for either glory or monetary gain; in his view they were the only reasons for doing anything. He had been successful in both which was why he could afford to hire the thirty warriors who made up his bodyguard. Perhaps the rewards would come when he struck north and showed the Emperor how a real soldier fought and then he might get his just desserts, a command in the east!

  There was a knock at the door. Without turning he said, “Come.”

  Prefect Karus entered. “You sent for me sir?”

  “Yes. Have the rest of the legion arrived and have you the reports from those scouts of yours?”

  “The other cohorts will be here tomorrow and the Explorates returned last night.”

  He turned to face the Prefect, his face infused with fury. “Then why have I had to wait until now to receive the report!”

  “They arrived after you had retired and I did not think it prudent to disturb you especially as the majority of the cohorts h
ad yet to arrive.”

  “You will soon learn, Prefect, that I like all information as soon as it is available and you should have disturbed me.”

  “And when I give you the news, now instead of last night, Legate that will make a difference to your actions?”

  The Legate, who towered over Karus, put his face very close to the patrician. “Do not be impertinent with me Prefect or…”

  “Or what? You will have me dismissed and sent back to Rome? I think you over estimate both your power and your influence. The Governor can request that I be recalled and you can write to Rome and tell them that you are displeased with me but, let us be quite clear Legate, you can do nothing to me and I will thank you not to make empty threats to me.” Karus was uncertain if he had gone too far for the Legate seemed on the point of hitting the Prefect. ”If there is nothing more?”

  As he turned to leave the Legate roared apoplectically. “The report! What did those apologies for soldiers find?”

  “There is only one settlement within two day’s ride. A Votadini settlement, Tamburgh; it is north of here and west of the road close to the Tinea. There were no warriors there apparently they are meeting with their King in the north of their land.”

  “And that does not worry or concern you?”

  “Not really. The Votadini have been peaceful for years. Now the Selgovae further west are dangerous but the Votadini…”

  “I will be the judge of that. Tomorrow I will send my own men as the legion is not yet ready to take to the field.”

  The Prefect looked askance, “Your bodyguard? Can they speak the language?”

  “That is my concern. They will be able to discover what I wish to know. You may leave but Prefect you have made a dangerous enemy.”

  The Prefect turned and smiled disarmingly, “Legate I think I had an enemy the moment you arrived in Eboracum, the difference is now we both know that.”

  The Legate smashed his hand into the door. Outside he heard the sentry’s voice. “Is everything all right sir? Do you need anything?”

  “Send for the commander of my bodyguard!” If the King had called a muster it meant that he was planning something and the Legate knew he could pre-empt it. He needed a decisive move which would win the campaign before the enemy knew they were at war. In Dacia he had learned that taking risks and being ruthless were the way to win wars and now, with his first sole command, he would show the Emperor what he could do, and do quickly.

  Mongke was the last leader of his clan. He was part of the Hunni people, a huge tribe which existed in the cold and inhospitable steppes. Living far to the north east of Dacia his clan had been involved in a deadly internecine struggle against a neighbouring clan which resulted from a blood feud. Having just returned from slaughtering the families of their enemies they had returned to their own camp just in time to see their own women and children being raped and killed. In the blood bath which ensued all of their enemies were killed including the enemy leader who had his back broken by four of Mongke’s strongest men. Ostracised by the rest of their tribe they were forced to flee west and took on the role of mercenaries finally ending up in Dacia where the remaining fifty warriors decided that they would change sides as the Roman pay was better. Now down to the last thirty one warriors they found themselves in a strange land. Men without a family, a tribe, a country, they had only one aim in life, to survive. When they had met the legate they had found a kindred spirit and he always turned a blind eye to their cruelty in return for a share of the loot they had the knack of discovering.

  When he arrived at the legate’s office, the sentry thought about asking him to wait but then he saw the look in the man’s eyes and decided that it was not worth it. He and the other legionaries had never seen warriors quite like this strange eastern tribe. They had a topknot and braids. Their skin was a yellowy red and the slanted cast to their eyes was most disturbing. All of them sported long beards and moustaches making them totally unlike any soldier in the pay of Rome. As usual they were fully armoured and armed in camp, unlike the legionaries and the sentry couldn’t get the door open quick enough to be away from the baleful, cruel gaze of the commander of the Legate’s bodyguard.

  Mongke was a small man and many people would have laughed seeing the tall Roman with the diminutive easterner but neither man was one to bear insults. They rarely spent time on pleasantries. “Leave before dawn. There is a small settlement north of here and west of the road, close to a river. The people there told the scouts that their men had gone. Find out if this is true.”

  “How?” Mongke knew the answer but he liked things clear in his mind.

  The Legate shrugged, “Anyway you can. When you return take a sweep to make sure those scouts were telling the truth I do not trust them.”

  Mongke left without another word. His men would enjoy this little expedition and they would make sure the people talked. They were very good at loosening tongues, and taking tongues, in fact taking most body parts normally deemed necessary for life.

  The column of cavalry leaving the fort attracted the attention of everyone. They looked so unusual that everyone, centurions included, stopped work. They look identical to each other. All had deigned to wear a helmet and their top knots swayed with the movement of their horses. Their hair and beards were greased so that they glistened. They each wore a shiny breastplate, their backs covered with a green cloak. Their legs were covered in hide leggings which were, in turn, covered with calfskin boots. The swords which dangled from their baldrics were not straight as the legionary’s but curved. Their shields were small round affairs slung on their saddle horn. Finally, in a leather case, close to their right legs each had a composite bow, much smaller than the ones used by the auxiliaries; underneath was the quiver of arrows, this time much longer than the auxiliaries. Not a single warrior looked either right or left as they rode out of the Porta Praetorium.

  First Spear was the first to speak. “Come on you useless maggots! Never seen men on horses before?”

  One of the older wags from the first century turned to his friend and said sotto voce, “If they are normal cavalry then I am a vestal virgin.”

  His friend labouring beside him muttered, “The virgin I can believe ‘cos no one would shag you but with tits like yours you could pass for a woman!”

  Once they had left the fort behind, Gulak, Mongke’s lieutenant and brother rode next to him. “This is a desolate country, too green for me.”

  “True brother and as yet we have not found the treasure we seek.”

  Gulak looked over his shoulder. “The men need women Mongke. You know what they are like when they cannot satisfy their lust.”

  “Don’t worry little brother we will soon be able to spill our seed once more.” He gestured behind him. “That is Rome.” He waved his hand at the land around them. “This is not! We owe allegiance to Rome and not to these barbarians.”

  Mongke would never have thought of himself as a barbarian. He had served Rome long enough to share Rome’s view that barbarians were merely those people who lived outside Rome. Although Mongke and his men were violent, their cruelty was inbred. On the steppes where they lived it was a harsh life with tribes raiding constantly. War was made on men and women. Women who were fertilised by Mongke’s men would bear their heirs. The fact that their fathers had nought to do with them was irrelevant. Raising children was women’s work; men’s work was killing and making sons. The idea of the survival of the fittest was most apposite as these last thirty one men of Mongke’s clan showed. Soon there would be unknown heirs and the clan would be reborn as it had been in Dacia. Kill the men and rape the women was their creed as Tamburgh was about to discover.

  Tucca was again herding the animals on the scrubby grazing in the clearings of the forest. One of the kids had wandered off and he could hear it bleating somewhere up the hill. He climbed up calling to the animal. If it died then there would be less milk in the winter and some might starve. Tucca took his task seriously. When he reached the kid
he could see that it was caught beneath a gorse bush.

  As he freed it he spoke to the animal as though it could understand him. “You silly little beast. It is fortunate you have a loud voice or the wolves and foxes would have feasted on you tonight.”

  He headed the herd back to the village. As he emerged from the trees he saw a line of horses and men with tails hanging from their heads. He was so shocked and surprised that he stood there in amazement with mouth agape. His dog looked up at him waiting for instructions. He had never seen anything like them before and he quickly whistled his dog and drove the flock through the scrubland, taking the short cut to Tamburgh.

  The old man was seated, dozing, by the gate. He had wanted to go with the other men to the King’s hall for he had heard that it was wondrous to see but now he was glad that he and the other old warriors had remained by their hearths. It was pleasant to sit by the gate and remember old times. The next winter might be his last and he took every opportunity just to look at the world and see it with old eyes as though for the first time. His people were lucky to live in such a peaceful and isolated valley. The days of war and fighting had been in his youth and he now saw the futility of it. He liked the fact that Tamburgh was like a little kingdom all on its own, an island in the middle of the land. The Romans, the previous day, had been the first and only visitors that he could recall in an age. With the peace of the new King his clan would prosper and grow long after he was dead.

  He was stirred by the neigh of horses and when he first saw the eastern warriors he rubbed his eyes to make sure he was not still sleeping, for they looked like nothing he had ever seen before. They were of a strange colour and appeared to be like horses with a tail sprouting from their heads. Were they indeed a new breed of animal sprouted from a man and a horse? Two groups of visitors in two days, busy times indeed. He stood to greet them.

  “Welcome I am…”

  They contemptuously swept through the opened gate ignoring the old man who stood with open mouth at such rudeness. Once through the token gate Mongke gestured left and right. His men dismounted and ran into the roundhouses. The old man was stirred to action by the sudden strident screams. He called out as he hobbled towards them, “Hey…” He got no further as an arrow pinned him to the palisade. The other old men grabbed whatever weapons were to hand and went to defend their settlement. It was to no avail. None of them got within twenty paces of these strange and savage warriors. They were drilled by the long ugly arrows. The young boys tried to stop the men from defiling their mothers and sisters but they too were ruthlessly butchered where they stood. Soon the only sounds which could be heard were the screams from the women as they were raped and the laboured breathing as each warrior spilled his seed.