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

by Griff Hosker

  “Get some water and bandages.” While the others fussed around getting his requirements Centurion and Nuada carried Decius’ unyielding body to the firelight. “Do we need to worry about pursuit?”

  Nuada shook his head. “I don’t think so. It was Decius’ brother Livius. We captured him and then we were attacked by three of four of his men. Seius and Tiny got it at the villa. Tiny was about to finish off the General’s brother when he was killed. His brother might be dead. Septimus told me that Tiny had worked him over with his club pretty well.”

  Centurion looked angrily at Nuada. “If there were only four then why didn’t you stay and fight.”

  Nuada became angry himself and squared up to Centurion. “You may not have noticed but there are only two of us. Decius told us to ride and ride we did.”

  Centurion relented a little, “But Tiny!”

  Nuada’s tone also softened. “He was already dead before we left. An arrow in the head. He must have died instantly.”

  Centurion suddenly felt guilty. He had been the one determined to leave and flee the country. Had he not been so keen there would have been more men at the villa and Tiny his fighting companion for years might still be alive. He felt like part of his body had been severed. He and Tiny had been together for years. He was the nearest thing Centurion had to family. When they fought he knew that Tiny would watch his back just as he would have watched the giant’s. Perhaps the Parcae had deserted them and perhaps it did not bode well for their escape. You could fight men but not the gods and their minions.

  By the time Decius came to, Centurion had removed the broken arrow head and cauterised the wound. Although Decius was pale he would survive. Centurion poured some wine between his lips and he began to cough and splutter. When he opened his eyes he looked around in shock and then realised where he was. “We must move on! My brother…”

  “I know Nuada told me. But there are only three or four of them we need not fear them.”

  Decius shook his head and reached down into his tunic. “I have a pass. I took it from my brother. It means we can legally escape Namnetum and the promagistrate will help us.” He passed over the letter.

  “This is good but I still don’t see why we need to rush.”

  “Because my brother lives as do his men. He might get to Namnetum before us.”

  Centurion smiled as he folded and returned the letter. “The river is wide and it is we who have the boat on this side of the river. Even if he does get to the river how will he manage to cross?”

  “I nearly had him and then that arrow.” He looked up at Centurion, “Tiny is dead you know?”

  “Yes Nuada told me. I will have my revenge on the man who did this believe me. Now sleep. Get in the wagon and we will leave before dawn. We should be at the river after noon tomorrow.”

  “Keep a good watch. These men are cunning. They move like wraiths.”

  * * * * * *

  The wraiths were struggling to maintain their pace in the dark. The pain was coursing through Livius’ body but he would not take more wine. “I need all my senses with me. I will endure the pain.” He held out the map to Metellus. “Make sure we do not go top close to the coast for there are marshes and salt flats. “ Livius was thankful for the hours on the Hercules when he had studied the map and talked with Quintus of the land through which they had travelled.

  “We will get to the river by dawn and then we will have the problem.”

  “How to get across.”

  “Exactly but we will find a way.”

  They rode in silence for a while their passage through the trees driving away the creatures of the night and they moved as shadows through an empty land. To ease his pain Livius concentrated on finding a solution to the problem of the river. He wracked his brains. What would Prefect Marcus have done? The questions in his head prompted the solution from his memory. “Metellus I remember now. Marcus told me of the time that the ala and the auxiliaries invaded Mona and he did not wait for boats but they swam their horses across the sea,” he paused for effect, “with helmets and armour. They only lost a couple of men out of the whole ala. We can swim the river.”

  Rufius spoke up. “That is possible but we will need to make sure it is when the tide is coming in or we may end up swimming to Britannia.”

  Metellus shook his head doubtfully. “I am not sure about this. Perhaps we might find a boat.”

  “If we find a boat then we will take it Metellus, if not then we swim.”

  Rufius shuddered, the memory of the storm and the sea voyage still fresh in his mind. “I hate water. First we had the boat to cross the sea but at least that way we were dry and now you want me to become a fish and swim. What next? Take to the air and fly like a bird?”

  Laughing through his pain Livius said, “I am not ruling that one out just yet.” Metellus smiled, Livius was regaining some of the qualities he had shown when leading Marcus’ Horse. He had thought the meeting with his brother had sent him to a dark and dangerous place.

  By the time dawn broke they knew they were close to water; the gulls were wheeling and screaming overhead and there was a fresh wind in their faces. The track headed up a steep bank which looked to be man made and when they crested the rise there, less than half a mile away, was the mighty river. As they rode down the slope towards the brackish looking water Livius was praying for a boat of any description to be there but he saw none. They were in a sombre mood as they headed towards the edge of the river. “Tide coming or going Rufius?”

  “When we get closer I throw a stick in. If it races towards the sea then it is heading out and if it is slow then it may be possible to cross although….”

  “Although you agree with Metellus and prefer to wait for a boat.” Rufius grinned and nodded enthusiastically. “I will tell you what then. I will try first and if I fail then you can await a boat.”

  They both shook their heads angrily and Metellus said, “Livius sometimes you can be a stubborn mule. We all go. On your own you would drown and I am not going to have to explain to the rest of the lads that I let you try this foolhardy thing by yourself.”

  “Actually Metellus if you look upstream you can see a small island in the middle of the river. If we cross there it will be easier for the river is two small swims rather than a big one.”

  “Good eyes Rufius and I will take the decision for our Decurion. We will cross there.”

  “I agree Metellus. Let’s go before it becomes dark.”

  The river looked even narrower once they reached the island. Metellus strapped Livius’ sword to his back. “I wish you would let me carry it for you Livius. You are still weak. If you fall off you will go straight to the bottom with that on your back.”

  The pale faced Decurion grimaced his answer, showing the pain which was increasing with each step north. “If it is the Allfather’s will for me to be killed by the sword of Cartimandua then, so be it, but I believe it will not harm me.”

  “Rufius, you go down stream and I will go up stream.” Turning to Livius he said, “Let us enter the water first and then just hang on.” Livius nodded his reply and walked, his mount with the others to the water’s edge. The speed of the water was hard to judge but once he saw Metellus and Rufius struggle he knew that it was faster than it looked. As his mount walked in he suddenly remembered when he had done this before. As his horse fought against the icy chill Livius found his mind wandering back to the time he had chased Caledonii raiders back to the Dunum and been forced to ford that river. He afforded himself a smile as he recalled that the Dunum had been like ice; this was warm by comparison. The memory helped him to relax and he soothed his frightened mount with his words. He even managed a smile as the icy cold numbed the pain in his feet and knee. Perhaps they should travel the whole way in the water, it would certainly be less painful. Suddenly he felt Metellus and Rufius grab the horse’s reins and pull them both out of the water.

  “Livius were you smiling then? You looked almost happy.”

  “Ye
s Metellus, for the cold took away the pain. Let us quickly cross the island for it is becoming dark.”

  They crossed the hundred or so paces to the other side of the island. This branch of the river was quite narrow and, as Rufius stepped in he turned and shouted, “This is shallower! We will not have to swim as far.”

  The young Explorate was right and they soon found themselves on the river bank. The cold night made them shiver and Metellus looked at the pale quivering figure of Livius. “I think we will risk a fire and have some rest.” He held his hand up to silence the protests. “It is your capsarius who speaks. Your brother too, is wounded and I would doubt that they could make better time than we. Even if they do have a boat I cannot see them risking it at night. We will rest, become warmer, eat and catch a little sleep. But trust me Livius we will be in Namnetum when they open the gates of the vicus.”

  * * * * * * *

  Decius was struggling with the pain. The arrow which Metellus had used was barbed and the flesh had been badly torn despite the best efforts of a surprisingly gentle Centurion. The pain was coursing through his body in waves as he lay in the back of the wagon which was slowly meandering its way towards the river. The thought that they were close to escape was tempered by the fact that they were exhausted and had lost many of their men. Centurion was particularly morose and uncommunicative as he recalled Tiny and their life together. Each time Nuada tried to initiate a conversation he received a snarl in reply. It was not the resourceful Nuada’s fault but Centurion was wishing that it had been Nuada who had died and his friend still lived. Nuada had volunteered to be point, just to avoid the open hostility of the man who still frightened him.

  Narcissus was plotting and planning. He was not a man of action; he was a creature of cunning who preferred to use his brain. The night’s adventures and the wounds incurred by the others reminded him of his mortality. Tiny had seemed indestructible and yet he had died as easily as a baby. Neither did he relish this trip to climes unknown in Africa but he could not see a way out of his dilemma. The gold he had taken from Decius was about his person but he had not had time to steal more and he was tied to the venture until he could secure a larger bounty. He would have left the band before they reached the river were it not for Centurion. He had no doubt that the fierce soldier would follow him to the ends of the earth and his end would be unpleasant. He was also acutely aware that centurion did not trust him and watched his every move.

  The silence of the journey and their thoughts was broken by Nuada. “The river is ahead.”

  Centurion turned to Narcissus. “Where is this ship?”

  “We have followed the road I took and so it should be at the end of this path.”

  “Did you see the ship?”

  Nuada shook his head. “I just found the river and besides it was too dark to see. It is the middle of the night.”

  Centurion looked sharply at Nuada; he had detected a truculence he liked not. “Well get back and find the ship. It is not as though it can hide is it?”

  Nuada wheeled his horse in annoyance and headed back to the river. He, like Narcissus tired of this enterprise. The Allfather had deserted them and it had an ill fated feel. He would escape as soon as he could. The only thought which kept him close was the amount of gold they had acquired. If Decius would share it out then he would be a man richer than many in Rome but, as long as Centurion lived, that would not happen and they would all have to go together.

  The first lightening in the sky was to the east as Centurion saw Nuada waving. Cresting the levee he viewed, with relief, the ship which awaited them. It was larger than the Swan had been and, with the oars it carried, would be a swifter vessel than the tub they had used when they fled Eboracum. Once the gold was packed on board they would be away and, with the calfskin letter, they would be beyond the grip of the Emperor. He looked back down the path. He could almost see Tiny, his uninjured arm reaching out to his friend to save him. The regret was that he had not avenged his friend. Their pursuers had not approached during the long ride to the coast and Centurion had hoped for a last fight and a chance to kill those who had ended the life of his friend.

  * * * * * * *

  The two hours sleep they had snatched had not given them rest but it had enabled Livius’ wounds to stiffen up making mounting his horse an agony beyond belief. Knowing that Rufius and Metellus would be watching his every move he concentrated on showing no sign of the excruciating floods of needles coursing through his body. Even so, when he caught his broken toes on the bow staff of Rufius, who was helping him to mount, he could not help but wince. “Sorry Livius.”

  “Don’t worry Rufius. The pain reminds me how much I will repay my brother when next we meet.”

  As they rounded the bend they could see, just a mile or so ahead, the port of Namnetum. Metellus silently shook his head. They could have had a comfortable night in a bed had they pushed on during the night. Hindsight! He looked at the three of them and realised how dishevelled they looked. He hoped they would not have a problem gaining entrance to the fort for any delay might be disastrous. As they had ridden along the river he had been scanning for a sight of Decius, his wagons and his ship, if he had one. Suddenly Rufius shouted, “It’s the Hercules. It is Quintus’ ship!” They looked ahead and, sure enough, the bireme was moored towards the end of the long quayside. She was slightly listing and Rufius wondered if Quintus was cleaning her hull.

  Livius roused himself from his stupors. “He should be well on his way to Rome now.”

  “I care not Livius for it means we have someone to vouch for us.”

  “Vouch for us?”

  Metellus gestured at their appearance. “We have no letter of authorisation and we look like bandits. The sentries would probably just throw us into a cell, I would.”

  “You are right. Rufius, ride to the ship and warn Quintus that we come and ask him about Decius. He may have seen him.” The young Explorate needed no urging and he kicked hard to gallop the last mile to the ship.

  Chapter 18

  “Captain, our passengers are back!”

  Half asleep and exhausted from his previous day’s work Quintus had no idea what his First Mate was talking about. “Talk sense! We have no passengers!”

  “The ones we dropped off at Portus Santonum. It is them!”

  Quintus leapt to his feet and raced to the deck. He saw Rufius who cheerfully waved and then gestured down the path. There he saw the other two, his friend Livius and Metellus. “By Neptune, here is a tale to tell.” The bandages on Rufius’ head and Livius’ feet told a story. “Get the gangplank down.” He smiled to himself. When he had moored at the quayside on the bank across from the island it had been to enable him to get the wood he needed for his repairs now he could see that whoever watched over Livius had guided his hand on the tiller. He turned to his cook. “Get ashore and light a fire. These men will need hot food.” He gestured for the marine sentry to approach. “Go to the citadel and tell the duty officer that the Emperor’s men have returned from their quest.” He wondered how the fussy Coccius would react.

  He had seen Livius’ bandages but he was unprepared for the severity of his friend’s wounds. It seemed to take an age for him to dismount and he saw that Rufius and Metellus had to almost carry him aboard. “Bring a chair here. Now!” The sailor scurried away and returned with the captain’s chair before Livius had ascended half way up the gangplank. “Here Livius sit before you fall and then tell me how in Hades you came to this piteous state?”

  Livius just slumped into the seat, the exertions of the walk up the plank and the ride having exhausted him. Metellus took Quintus to one side and told him their story and of the circumstances which had led to Livius’ injuries.

  “His own brother did that?”

  “Sir you cannot believe what an evil and cruel bastard his brother is. I know Livius wants to be the one to kill him but the next time I see him he dies. I will scotch him like the snake he is!” The venom in Metellus’ voice made Quint
us look at him anew.

  “And his brother is close?”

  “We know they were heading north. He has the Decurion’s authorisation and we think he may be trying to flee. He has wagons but he must be looking for a ship. Have any passed in the last day?”

  “No, none have come down river although one did go up the river two day’s ago.”

  Quintus’ words suddenly sparked a question in Metellus’ fertile mind. “What brings you back here sir? Not that I am unhappy about that, far from it but the last time we saw you, your ship was heading for Rome.”

  “And Neptune decided that we had had all the good fortune that he was going to allow. As we neared Hispana a mighty storm arose and drove us north. It ripped the canvas from our vessel, washed some of my crew overboard and sprang more leaks than a sieve. We were lucky to make port. We have almost finished the repairs. Today we refloat her.”

  The cook had cooked some warm food and they all tucked in gratefully. Livius had regained some of his colour and Quintus put a paternal hand on his shoulder. “You have been lucky Livius.”

  Livius gestured at his bandaged feet. “This is luck? I will have luck when we have captured or killed my brother. Did Metellus tell you?”

  “Aye and the good news is that your brother has not passed by yet. A boat went upstream two days ago. The captain and crew are known to the fleet for they frequently operate on the wrong side of the law.”

  “Pirates?”

  “In all but name they are pirates. Once we have floated the Hercules I will anchor in the main channel. That way they will not be able to pass us, at least not without a fight.” He shrugged his shoulders apologetically. “It may take longer than usual, I have allowed most of the rowers to go into the hills and bring timber for replacement oars. We lost many in the storm. We have enough to warp us around but I am afraid any chase is out of the question I have sent a messenger to the promagistrate and knowing Coccius he will pass along a message to us.”

  Livius’ shoulders slumped, not out of desperation but relief that his quest had not ended in the failure he had anticipated. It might not end the way he had hoped with his brother dead at his hands but perhaps his brother was already dead. He travelled with treacherous and traitorous turncoats, perhaps they might turn against him. Livius hoped not. He needed to see his brother die and then he would be at peace. If he only found Decius’ companions then he would have to find his brother’s body. He looked down at his damaged limbs. His life as a soldier would be at an end. Although he would ride he would never be able to blend into the background as a good Explorate should. He would never be able to be a cavalryman again. What would he do? What would he become? He was not cut out to be a farmer like Gaius or a horse breeder like Cato. His brother had not killed him but he had, effectively, ended the life he had known.