by Griff Hosker
Back at the battlefield Aed was raging but as Fainch had advised him, he kept his anger inside. True he had the twenty five heads of the dead and soon to be dead auxilia but he had not had the victory he wanted. He had wanted to destroy a whole unit and give his men the exultation of a complete victory. However from the elated behaviour of his men he realised that Fainch had been right and they had achieved their objective; the men felt like gods. Even though they had lost forty of their number they had chased the Romans from the field and that was a first. His men bickered and fought over the heads they took from the butchered Romans. Weapons were shared, bodies stripped of valuables and the horses roped together as true trophies of war. He realised that Fainch was right. Now that he had thought about it the goblet was half full; they held what they had won.
The prefect had already returned and was briefing his son when the sentry shouted, “Patrols returning! With wounded.”
They both looked at each other. Rufius said, “Patrols?”
“Yes I sent one north and one south of the river but they should not have returned yet. I didn’t expect them back until tomorrow.”
Both of them were thinking the same thoughts; they both wondered about the wounded for so far they had not received even a scratch on the many patrols. A patrol normally stayed out overnight; if this were an early return then it meant there had been problems. The prefect hoped that it did not presage further problems. Now that it was heading into cold winter they expected the patrols to be less likely to run into the enemy. As the gates opened they saw that there were more than twenty men missing. The two decurions saluted and then dismounted; Metellus with some difficulty. His face was ashen. The prefect took one look at him and said, “Get to the surgeon. Decurion Demetrius can make the report in your stead.”
Even though they were family Fabius and Rufius did not make life easy for the young Julius. They sat and he stood whilst he made his report. “I followed the river as ordered until we came across the tracks of a large Brigante force of horse warriors. We followed their tracks as swiftly as possible. We discovered them just as they began to ambush Decurion Metellus. We were able to surprise them and kill many but they still outnumbered us and they had the advantage. We felt it prudent to return to the fort rather than risk annihilation. We both felt it was more important to report the presence of such a large force of raiders north of the river.”
Fabius looked scornfully at his brother. “And just how many warriors attacked you then brother? Fifty? Sixty?”
“There were more than one hundred. They were dressed in mail as we are and they had long spears which out reached our javelins. In addition we did not know if this was the advance force. The purpose of patrols is to gather intelligence. We thought this was sound intelligence.” His voice was calm but inside he was seething and his eyes bored into his brother’s. His honour was being impugned. He was under no illusions; had they stayed they may have inflicted a few more casualties but the end result would have been the same. They would have been slaughtered.
“Why were you south of the river decurion?” The prefect’s voice was both calm and measured.
“The Decurion Princeps ordered me to patrol south of the river.”
The prefect looked at his elder son. “Two patrols?”
“I though it advisable and we may have been able to catch more of the enemy. Perhaps if the decurion had been a little bolder…”
“Did you not hear me,” he paused to choose the right words but he put an edge to them, a challenge to his elder brother, “Decurion Princeps Demetrius. They outnumbered us and their arms were superior to ours. Had I been bolder then you might have had to send more patrols out to find our bodies.”
“Enough!” the prefect’s voice seemed to boom in the confines of the office. “What is done is done. There is no suggestion of cowardice. It is as we feared; the Brigante have begun to copy us and our arms. There were mailed warriors who fled Stanwyck. These must be part of the same force. You did well decurion. Go and see to your men.”
Julius saluted and looking scornfully at his brother turned and left. Fabius began to half rise in anger but his father restrained him. When Julius had left the prefect looked long and hard at his son. “Why did you send your brother out on patrol?”
“He implied that I should have taken a patrol out. It was my way of punishing him.”
“But it was your turma’s patrol was it not.”
Fabius began to redden and blustered, “With you away I felt I needed to stay at the fort for discipline.”
“I can see that I will need to visit Eboracum less frequently then in future. Anyway enough of that. Have we received the trained recruits from Derventio?”
“Yes they came in yesterday. Eighty men. I was going to form turmae thirteen and fourteen.”
“In light of the casualties you will just have to form one and use the others as replacements. Appoint a decurion. I assume you have one of your men in mind?”
“I had two but I will just have to appoint one, Modius Varro.”
“Good see to it.”
Modius Varro was a bully. He was almost as big as Macro but he was ugly and this had been made worse by a knife scar which ran all the way down one cheek. He had not received it honourably but in a back street when he and another thug had attacked what they took to be a helpless old man but who turned out to be an ex-legionary. He still died but he took Modius’ companion with him and left a reminder to Modius of the dangers of attacking people when you did not have all the advantage you could. Since that time he had made sure that when he bullied anyone they were weaker than he was and he had back up. In the turma he was know as the enforcer because he enforced his will on everyone. He had the turma both afraid and in awe of him. The fact that their decurion supported him influenced their view.
His new turma were all recruits and had enjoyed the training they had received. For all his bluster Decius had been a good trainer and Agrippa and Macro had worked the men hard but made them stronger, fitter and adept with a variety of weapons. Within a very short time they found out that Modius did not use the same methods as Decius and Agrippa and the thirteenth turma soon had the lowest morale in Morbium. The winter was an even harsher time for the new thirteenth turma than the rest of the demoralised ala.
Chapter 14
Derventio
“Sir I have an idea.”
Inwardly groaning but keeping an expressionless face Agrippa turned to the incredibly keen and energetic assistant weapons’ trainer. “Yes Macro what is this idea?”
“The practice swords help build up the men’s strength but if we introduced strength training for the whole body they would become fitter and be able to fight better.”
“That’s all we need a regiment built like you!”
The crestfallen young man said, “You mean you don’t like the idea?”
“I didn’t say that. It was a joke Macro. Take me through how it would work.”
“We get the men for four hours a day for weapon training well if we spent the first hour lifting rocks, squatting with weights you know all the exercises I do every day then spend three hours with weapons. “
“How will that help them?”
“I was talking to Cato and he said that one of the problems the men had is that they don’t like to let go of the reins. They are afraid they will lose control of their horses. If they used their legs they would be able to manoeuvre their horses that way,” he looked at Agrippa. “It’s what you do sir. It’s what every good rider does.”
He realised that the callow youth was right. If they could control their horses with their legs then they would be free to use their weapons more effectively. “Right we’ll try it for the next two weeks with the new batch of recruits then we can have a little tournament between them and the last batch. How’s that?”
“Great idea sir. Right I had better get some weights sorted out. I know where there are some rocks that would be perfect.”
Agrippa shook his
head as he ran off whistling; would that all young troopers had the same attitude.
Morbium
“Salvius Cilo you are the most pathetic trooper it has been my misfortune to meet.” Modius stood towering over the young man who had, once again failed to turn his horse quickly enough for the bullying decurion. His shoulders bore the scars from the repeated beatings he had received. Modius had decided that Salvius would be the object of his fury because he had not done as the others had done and relinquished part of his pay. Cilo was saving to send money back to his family in Durobrivae. The main reason he had joined the auxilia was because they were stationed in the province and he could send money to his impoverished family. The last thing he needed was a corrupt decurion.
“Is there a problem decurion?”
“It is this trooper Decurion Princeps. Most of them are only half trained but he seems to have had no training at all.
“I agree decurion it seems Decurion Decius Flavius is not doing a good job over at Derventio. Your replacement in my turma Numerius Galeo is as bad. I think we will send them both back to Derventio for more training.” He looked around and saw Decurion Metellus who was still injured and unable to take an active role in the daily life of the ala. “Decurion Metellus over here.”
“Yes sir, “said Metellus warily. I want you to return Troopers Galeo and Cilo back to Derventio. They need to go through basic training again.”
Metellus was almost going to say something when he saw that the two troopers looked relieved and he realised that it would be good to be away from Morbium and be with Marcus and Decius once more. “Yes sir right away! Er what should I say the problem was?”
“Tell Decurion Flavius that his training has not worked with these two and he needs to use his vine staff more.” Metellus looked at the incredibly young man. When he gave Decius that information he would expect to see a volcanic eruption of Pompeian proportions.
As the three of them set off across the cold and hard winter landscape they were all remarkably cheerful. It seemed that the moment they crossed the bridge and headed south east their spirits rose. The two recruits couldn’t wait to find out what it was like to be in combat. Many of their fellow recruits told them how much better it was in the turmae of the other decurions rather than their own and they had been told of the actions of the two bloodied turmae.
“What is it like sir fighting the Brigante?”
“When we first fought them they were wilder than they are now. They have learned from us. They have better weapons for one thing and they had begun to adopt our tactics. They have not the foot soldiers to defeat the legions but their cavalry; I hate to say are almost the equal of us. Still when we ride against them we will be behind Decurion Princeps Marcus Aurelius Maximunius and believe me he is a mighty warrior.”
“We met him at Derventio. He looks young and yet we were told by Decurion Decius that he was with the turma who rescued Queen Cartimandua.”
“That he was. I was not there but if you speak to Gaius or Lentius they will tell of that most glorious day. A single turma and a few bodyguards held off a Brigante warband led by their king. Before that day we had never achieved anything noteworthy after that day we became the stuff of legends. It is where Ulpius Felix was given the Sword of Cartimandua. Did you see the sword?”
“Yes sir we all wanted to touch it but were afraid to ask.”
“Well that sword is the Sword of Cartimandua and it is said to be magical. It has helped us more than once. I will ask the Decurion Princeps to show you the sword for it is the stuff of dreams and legends. Holding it must be like being in one of the tales of the old kings and warriors.”
They rode in silence across the wide vale that led to Eboracum and Derventio. “It isn’t fair sir.”
“What isn’t fair Trooper Cilo?”
“Us being sent back. I mean we don’t mind going back there. You work hard but the officers actually praise you when you do something well. We were just criticised and beaten all the time. We had to give up pay to the decurions. We are from Britannia and we joined because we believe in the peace Rome can bring but if the peace is to be bought by serving corrupt men like Modius then we would be better off fighting against the Romans. At least we would die with honour. We are treated dishonourably. Why is that?” He looked hard at the decurion who looked equally uncomfortable. “Your turma don’t get beaten and they had the same training we had.”
Metellus shifted uncomfortably. “We all have our different ways I am sure there are things I do which annoy my men and not all decurions are like Modius. He is newly promoted after all.”
“So is Decurion Julius Demetrius and he is fair.”
“Actually sir Trooper Cilo is right and your men all say they are glad that they were drafted into your turma and not eleven or thirteen.”
“Well after you have been retrained we will see. Now let’s get a move on I’d like to get past Tresche while there is still a little warmth in the air. The path up the cliff can be a little dangerous.”
“We didn’t come that way sir. We came up the coast and along the river.”
“I know and it takes almost two days. This is a little short cut and means we sleep in a heated barracks tonight and not on the ground.”
With that incentive the two recruits kicked their mounts on and they soon found themselves at the top of an escarpment which, on a clear day would have afforded them a view all the way across to Stanwyck however the day was overcast and all they saw was scudding clouds. “That’s the last climb so we can take it a little easier on our mounts. We will make the fort just after dark.”
Derventio
“What in Hades name are you doing here Decurion Metellus? “ Decius greeted his comrade warmly and then looked curiously at the two men with him. “And I thought we were well rid of you two pieces of dog’s tail!”
“Nice to see you as well Decius. Decurion Metellus reporting with two troopers who need more training,” he paused and added significantly, “that is according to Decurion Princeps Fabius Demetrius.”
“I can see that this tale needs some wine and a warm fire. You two find Macro and tell him I said to put you up in his barracks with my lads. Metellus leave your horse here and we can go and find Marcus and the others.” After a pleasantly rich rabbit and hedgehog stew and a beaker of wine with the other decurions Metellus felt more human. Marcus gestured at his still bandaged arm. “That looks like you have been in action.”
His face became very serious. “By all that is right I should be dead. We were on patrol and ambushed by over a hundred Brigante. They had good armour and they had long lances. They killed my scout and came over a blind ridge if young Julius hadn’t been on patrol as well we would be dead meat. As it was I lost half my turma.”
“What was Julius doing out? We only ever had one patrol out.”
“I know Gaius but he pissed his brother off and he punished him with an extra patrol. In hindsight I am glad for it saved my skin.”
“And what about the recruits. I know they weren’t the sharpest swords we ever produced but they could have improved with a bit of effort at Morbium. We just do basic here. Everyone knows the real training starts when you are on patrol with your own decurion.”
“You are right Decius but unfortunately they weren’t put with one of the turma Decurion Princeps Maximunius trained they were put with Fabius and that bastard Modius.”
“Modius is a decurion? Well that means any bugger can attain promotion. Decurion Princeps you can have my vine staff back.”
Metellus gave a half smile, “He said to tell you decurion that you hadn’t done a very good job and he hoped you would do better this time.”
“I’ll stuff my vine stick up that little shit’s arse!”
Marcus spoke for the first time. “I think you should keep it Decius. And what did the prefect say?”
“Well he’s been missing a lot but he seems to back his son up at every turn. All the rest of the turma are lick spittles, they are li
ke Fabius’ little gang. I think he is bent on promoting as many as possible.” He paused. “Sir it is serious. Turma thirteen is demoralised and if more decurions like Modius were promoted it would spread.”
“I tell you boss as much as I don’t want to go back to Morbium the sooner you are there the better.”
Marcus ignored Decius’ comment. “So Metellus how is the arm?”
“Healing.”
“Do you think it would benefit from a few days here? The weather looks to be closing in and we are a little short of decurions. Do you think you could help out?”
His face lit up. “Well sir if it is for the good of the ala I could be persuaded!”
The rest of the night was spent consuming a couple of amphorae of fine wine and frequent revisits to the game stew. The decurions all went to their barracks replete and content unlike their counterparts at Morbium. Before the wine kicked in too much Agrippa pulled Metellus over to one side. “So why was it shit for brains decided they weren’t well enough trained?”
“They had difficulty manoeuvring their horses in line while holding their weapons.”
“But that’s not the way we fight. We need space between each rider.”
“I know it. You know it. Everyone else in the ala knows it but the prefect and his son think that is the way we fight. But apparently the hero of Rome doesn’t.”
“Thanks for that Metellus. I will send him back two troopers who will make his jaw drop or rather Macro will.”
Metellus looked curiously at Agrippa. “He’s that good?”
“Trust me he’s that good. He actually enjoys working out and training them. Me? I’d rather be a decurion but that young lad has something about him. He thinks and plans the training to suit the trooper. You mark my words he is a future leader, he’s more like Marcus than even Gaius. Tell you what, come out tomorrow and watch him work. I guarantee you will be entertained and I am certain you will not have seen his methods used before.”
