Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 02] The Horsewarriors

by Griff Hosker

  “If they want their goods to get to market.”

  “And of course you don’t pay Roman taxes?”

  “Couldn’t afford to,” the farmer replied bluntly, “and besides if you Romans could collect taxes it would mean you had tax collectors and soldiers and the bandits wouldn’t be able to have such a free hand.”

  “Well farmer I can promise you one thing you won’t need to pay for guards. As soon as I have bought a stallion and a couple of brood mares I will get patrols out and the first place I shall visit will be …what was the name of the place?”

  “Streonshal.”

  “Right and what is the name of this man who runs it?”

  “Don’t know. They call him the Master but I think he is Roman.”

  “Roman eh? Well leave it with me. Thank you for an excellent meal we’ll be away in the morning.”

  “Well I might be able to save you a journey. I have a couple of stallions. We were going to eat one this winter and I have got more brood mares than I need. If you want to have a look in the morning you can take your pick.”

  The farmer was as good as his word and Cato picked out two excellent brood mares to go with a magnificent young stallion. The farmer was pleased they took that particular stallion for he had four white socks and they believed it to be unlucky as a result they paid a low price.

  As they rode away Cato said to Marcus, “In my tribe it was one white sock that was unlucky.”

  Marcus laughed. “Thank the Allfather for their superstitions. What do you make of this Master?”

  “Seems to me he has just taken advantage of the folk hereabouts.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Let’s get back to the fort and see what wonders the decurion has performed.”

  It was almost two days later that Marcus was satisfied enough with the state of the fort to send out a patrol. He decided in the end to send out two for he wanted the complete picture for the area. Lentius was to travel north east with a specific task, to visit, ‘the master’ at Streonshal. Gaius had the shorter and somewhat easier patrol due east. Marcus was aware that Gaius had little experience of independent command and he would need to get to know his turma. With Agrippa and Macro assigned other duties he would have no-one to whom to refer. Lentius was given a thorough briefing by Marcus. “You had better take rations for a two day patrol. Streonshal is someway up the coast. There is a route over the moors but if you go one way and back the other it will give us a better picture of the area and show more of the locals that we are back. Keep a map of your journey.” He looked earnestly at his friend. “I want this informal tax stopped. Sometime in the next year or so a Civitas will be established and I want any taxes to go to us not to some local bandit. I am also concerned that he is Roman. That suggests a military man and all the Roman military men who are here legitimately are settled on farms or in service. Any problems just bring him back for questioning. Any doubts bring him back for questioning. Clear?”

  Lentius grinned, “Yes sir. I’ll bring him back.”

  Marcus shook his head as he smiled wryly. “Sorry Lentius didn’t mean it to come out like that. Use you discretion.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Oh and take Gaelwyn with you he might be useful.”

  Lentius groaned, “He’ll be moaning all the way there and back and telling me how much better the Brigante are at tracking, fighting, loving, everything.”

  “No problem Lentius, just ask him who always wins in a battle. That should shut him up.”

  Lentius and Gaelwyn found themselves in agreement over their route, which surprised both of them. They decided to go east, travelling part of the way with Gaius and then up the coast. Gaius for his part enjoyed the early part of the journey because it delayed the time he would take his first patrol. He was excited about the responsibility but he had over twenty men in the turma he did not know. When they reached the last ford on the river Lentius waved his goodbyes and his men waded across to the northern bank.

  They had only travelled a few miles when they reached the sea. They found a huge bay with a small settlement of fishermen. It was a good place to talk. The headman knew no Latin for they were an isolated community but Gaelwyn translated. He too had heard about the master but as they didn’t trade with anyone they did not pay the taxes. He agreed that the destruction of the pirates had been a good thing. Having been briefed by Marcus Lentius made sure he let the headman know who was responsible; they did not want this master claiming the credit. As they trekked north Lentius pointed out the high cliff to Gaelwyn. “That would be a perfect place for a tower. You could signal all the way down the coast.”

  “What is it with you Romans? Why signalling? Why all the roads? You follow the land. You do not control it.”

  “That’s the difference between us old man. We Romans like order and control it makes for peace.”

  “Yes but living the Brigante way makes for life.”

  They found that they could follow the cliff tops which rose and fell gently. A few miles further on they found another bay but this time uninhabited. Lentius made a note on the map he was compiling that this would be another good place for a tower. It was soon after leaving this second bay that Gaelwyn returned. “I have found the settlement.” While the men fed their horses and took the opportunity to eat themselves, Lentius and the scout went to one side to discuss their options. “They have a palisade around some buildings. One of them is a large building. It looks Roman to me. “

  “How many people did you see?”

  “There must have been five turmae.”

  “Warriors?”

  “There were some armed men. A handful.”

  “What do you suggest for an approach?” Lentius did not mind asking the old scout for advice. He knew ambush and assault as well as any of them. It was enough for Lentius that Marcus trusted him with his life.

  “It is nestled against the top of the cliff but it is on this side of the river. The gate faces the river so it would seem to be the place which is most heavily guarded.”

  “Here is what we will do. You lead half the turma to their north wall and hide the men. I will ride to the west and follow the river to the gate. From what you say I have more than enough troopers to defeat their handful of warriors.” Gaelwyn nodded. “Your task is to stop and capture anyone who flees. If this master is a Roman he may be known to us. If I need you to attack I will sound the buccina.”

  Gaelwyn nodded and Lentius smiled as he saw the grudging respect in the Brigante scout’s eyes.

  Streonshal

  Cresens had invited Atticus to his villa to discuss plans for the winter. That was the lure to draw in the now expendable sailor. He carefully mixed the poison he had retained from his murder of the Queen. He only needed enough to kill one man and he could save the powerful killer for another such opportunity. He mixed it in a jug of the beer he knew the young man liked to drink. Outside his thugs had been briefed to stop anyone approaching. After this murder there would be a new regime in Streonshal.

  Atticus walked into the villa as a mouse stumbles into a trap. He believed he had persuaded the master to be less harsh with the villagers. Today could be the start of a better life in this newly prosperous village.

  “Ah Atticus come in. Have a drink. There is cheese and ale on the table.”

  “I have just eaten master but thank you.”

  Outwardly smiling but inwardly cursing Cresens continued. “You have some good ideas for the settlement Atticus. I think we can make this a much better place.”

  Atticus looked at what he perceived to be a kind man. “Master there is one thing. Those guards. Do we need them? They frighten the villagers and now that the Romans have returned we no longer require their services.”

  “It is still a rumour about the Romans.”

  “No master I saw them.”

  “You saw one small turma. Have you seen any since? No.” Atticus shook his head. “I thought not. Do have a drink.”

  Just then there was an alm
ighty noise outside and Cresens became angry. He was just about to rid himself of a moral encumbrance he did not need this distraction. “What is it?”

  One of his thugs entered red faced and flustered. “Romans. Roman cavalry!”

  Cresens had to think quickly. Roman cavalry meant Pannonians. It was likely that, despite their losses, there might be someone who recognised him as a murderer and deserter. He would use Atticus to stall them while he made good his escape. He had had a small door built into the palisade on the north wall for just such an eventuality. “Romans. You were right after all Atticus. Well if you will go and greet them I will make myself and this hovel presentable.” As the two men left Cresens grabbed his money bag from its hiding place and his cloak and went out of the rear door.

  Lentius rode his men through the gate noting the disparity between the villagers and the armed guards. The guards looked liked the bandits they had killed in the past and yet the villagers looked like hard working fisher folk. The tall well built man who emerged from the villa was different again. He had a noble look about him. He further surprised Lentius by speaking Latin. “Welcome to Streonshal decurion. I am really happy that the Romans have returned. My name is Atticus. “

  “Roman?”

  “I was a Roman sailor and I was wrecked upon this shore.”

  “Your friends there do not look happy to see us.” Lentius pointed to the sullen crowd of guards who had gathered.

  Atticus turned to the motley crew of thugs and bandits, “They are not my friends but my master finds them useful. Would you like to see him? He is the headman of this settlement.”

  “Yes I would,” Lentius was perplexed for this young man seemed honest and trustworthy and did not marry with the image of someone who was taxing the people illegally.

  “Follow me then for he is preparing his villa for visitors.”

  When they entered Atticus looked around in surprise. The room was empty and there were items scattered all over the floor as if someone had left in a hurry. “It seems your master has left and somewhat hastily judging by the upturned furniture.” Lentius turned to the trooper next to him, “Cassius find the back door and see where he has gone.”

  “I cannot understand why he has left. He said he was preparing the room for you.” Atticus looks more perplexed and confused than Lentius.

  “Sit down and explain to me how you came to be here.” Atticus sat down and began to tell the story of the storm and the shipwreck culminating with their arrival and the destruction of the pirates by the Romans.”

  Lentius nodded. It all sounded true and backed up what the other locals had said and what he knew of Marcus’ attack. “Now what of this protection tax?”

  For the first time Atticus looked uncomfortable. “I have to say that I did not agree with the protection the Master sold. At first I could see a reason for it but once your soldiers returned I felt we did not need it.”

  They were suddenly interrupted by a noise and disturbance outside. Lentius heard the words, “How dare you. Take your hands off me. Do you know with whom you are dealing?”

  “That’s the master. He has returned.”

  They both went out into the road. There was the Master with his hands tied and Gaelwyn holding a sword to his back. The prisoner began to threaten and rant. “This is an outrage” and then he looked up. His face went ashen and his hands dropped to the ground.

  “Gaius Cresens! This is an unpleasant surprise.”

  “Do you know him? Asked Atticus surprised on all levels by the turn of events.

  “Know him? All the troopers of the first Pannonian cavalry who served with Queen Cartimandua know him.”

  “You are mistaken I am not the man you think I am. I am…”

  Lentius savagely slashed him across the face with his vine staff and said in a voice which was so cold and chilling that the men in his turma looked at him in shock never having seen him so angry. “You are Gaius Cresens once quartermaster of the Pannonian cavalry. You are a deserter, the man who poisoned Queen Cartimandua and tried to murder three other people. You are a base, vile creature who does not deserve to live.”

  Even the villagers who were somewhat bemused by the events looked shocked for they had all heard of the murder of their Queen. “No that is wrong I…”

  “I will tell you what; you bloated excuse for a man. I will take you back to Derventio where others will testify to your identity and where you will be tried and found guilty of your crimes.” Lentius noticed the thugs and guards beginning to move away from the scene; they had realised that the man with the money would be no more and they were making good their escape. “Stop those men! Disarm them!”

  Some of his troopers immediately tried to grab the man nearest them. Two of Cresens hired men drew swords and tried to hack their way out. They stood no chance against the well trained troopers. Others tried to fight back with bare hands. When peace was restored there were but six bandits still remaining. “I do not know of your involvement in this but you six will return with me to Derventio and the inquisitors will get the truth.” The six survivors began to shake for all had heard of the inquisitors and the torture they employed.

  “And me?”

  Lentius looked at Atticus. “I do not believe you had any knowledge of wrongdoing and besides the people will need a new leader and I believe if they could choose they would choose you.” He noticed some of the villagers nodding. “I will return to my commander and explain what I have done. It may well be that he comes to question you or request your presence at the fort but for the moment I ask if you will stay here and look after these people. Do I have your word?”

  Standing just that little bit taller he replied, “I would be proud to and decurion I will gladly come to Derventio at any time to give my testimony.”

  Realising he had made the right decision Lentius grasped the young helmsman’s arm and then shouted, “Put ropes on this scum they have a long walk to Derventio.”

  From the happy noises emanating from the palisaded settlement Lentius knew that Atticus was popular and would do a good job. He turned to the figure tied by a rope to Lentius’ horse,” How on earth did you dupe such a fine young man to do your wishes you evil spider?”

  Cresens response was to spit in the direction of the decurion. Lentius just pulled so hard on the rope that the ex-quartermaster crashed to the ground. “If you want to play then I can accommodate you all the way back to the fort. But remember this you will arrive in one piece; you may be bloodied and you may be in pain but I will return you for justice and then you will be tried and when you are tried you will be found guilty. Guilty Cresens. And you know what that means, the death penalty. The bastinado!”

  The turma were surprised with the speed with which they travelled for Lentius was normally a considerate commander. They did not understand what had happened in Streonshal but whatever it was it had angered the normally mild mannered decurion. They had heard his words and seen the look on the prisoner’s faces but they were all recruits and knew only part of the story of the murder.

  They reached Derventio just before dusk and it was Decius who was on duty. When Lentius identified himself Decius stepped forward to peer into the twilight gloom. “You are back early. Ground too hard to sleep on? Fancy a drink?”

  Smiling Lentius pulled the rope so that the prison was forced to walk forward. “No I couldn’t wait until the morning for I have a prisoner and I am sure the Decurion Princeps will want to see him.”

  As the light fell on the prisoner’s face Decius suddenly exclaimed, “Gaius bleeding Cresens. At last we have you, you fat evil bastard.” Deigning his vine staff Decius hit him so hard with his fist that he was knocked out. Grinning he looked up at Lentius, “I have waited two years for that, drag the scum to the headquarters.”

  There was a marked difference in the reaction of the recruits and the older troopers; almost to a man the older troopers had a mixture of hate and delight all over their faces while the recruits looked confused at the viol
ent treatment meted out to this prisoner, this Roman prisoner.

  Chapter 13

  The Decurion Princeps decided to hold the trial of ex-quartermaster Gaius Cresens in public. The gyrus was used so that all of the troopers could attend. Lots were drawn amongst the recruits to see who would pull guard duty on the empty fort but the trial would be a short affair and they would not be left alone for long. The prisoner was manacled and sat in the middle of a hollow square.

  Decius read out the charges, “Gaius Cresens you are charged with desertion. Gaius Cresens you are charged with operating as a spy for King Venutius of the Brigante. Gaius Cresens you are charged with the murder of Queen Cartimandua. Gaius Cresens you are charged with the attempted murder of Ulpius Flex, Princess Macha and Princess Lenta. Gaius Cresens you are charged with fraudulently taking monies from the troopers of this ala. How do you plead?”

  He remained stubbornly silent for he could not deny the charge of desertion. “Why doesn’t he say anything?” Macro asked Gaius.

  “No-one can prove he killed the Queen. We could have used inquisitors to find that out but the decurion wanted a quick trial. The most serious offence which can be proved is the desertion which he can’t deny and the punishment for that is the fustuarium.”

  “What is that?”

  “The soldiers whose lives he put in danger beat him to death. You might have heard some of them mention it by its other name, the bastinado. For us that means the troopers who are still alive and were serving when the Queen was killed will be the ones to exact punishment.”

  “That’s why it was the recruits who had to pull the duty.”

  Marcus had given the prisoner plenty of time to answer. “If you have no answer to these charges then have you anything else to say?”

  “I do not recognise this court. I am a civilian and any charges should be brought by a civilian court.”

  Marcus spoke for the first time. “You are a civilian eh? Where are your discharge papers? Show them and I will personally escort you to a Civitas Capital for trial.” The silence echoed around the gyrus. “Quite. If you have nothing further of value to say then I will pass sentence. The sentence for your crime is the fustuarium.”