Hibernia (Veteran of Rome Book 2)

by William Kelso

  Behind him on the horse that Efa was leading, the sick boy broke out into another coughing fit that had him nearly doubled up. Efa brought her horse to a halt and spoke a few soothing words until the fit passed. As he paused Corbulo caught Dylis's eye. She was sitting at the front of Efa's horse with her legs dangling down the beasts flank and directly behind her was Christiana still clinging to her satchel and straw doll. The two girls seemed to have become firm friends during their long journey. Dylis gave him a little smile and Corbulo grinned back at her and suddenly his daughter's smile seemed to fill him with renewed energy. He turned away to study the forest ahead. It was huge, stretching away towards the horizon. How far inland from the road would they have to go?

  He was just about to start walking again when he noticed the wooden cross around Petrus's neck. It was dangling freely and in full sight of everyone.

  "Petrus," Corbulo cried angrily, "What did I just tell everyone about those wooden crosses? If you have to wear it then do so out of sight, under your clothes. If people see that cross they will know who you are. You know that there are men looking for us. Put that thing away immediately."

  Petrus looked up and glanced around the empty field with an insolent look.

  "I don't see anyone here, so what is the problem?" the boy shrugged.

  Corbulo let go of the horses harness and strode towards the boy. Petrus backed away as Corbulo came up to him.

  "Put the cross away before I take it from you," Corbulo said in a quiet voice.

  "You are not my father, you can't tell me what to do. My father is an important man, I have money and I am educated," Petrus cried defiantly.

  "Your father is dead and so is your mother. All these children's parents are dead," Corbulo shouted, "You are not going to see them again, don't you understand? I am trying to help you, you little shit. Now for the final time, put that damned cross away!"

  "Petrus, put it away for now," Efa said sharply.

  The boy turned to look at her and in the corner of his eye a tear was starting to build. Then slowly he stuffed the cross back inside his tunic.

  "Corbulo, not another word, you are scaring them," Efa hissed furiously as she caught his eye and gestured at the children.

  Corbulo glanced at the children. They were all staring at him, pale faced and some seemed close to breaking into tears.

  "Sorry," he mumbled. Quickly he turned and strode back to his horse and grasped it by its harness.

  "Come, we will go in this direction," he said in a loud voice.

  ***

  It was dark when Corbulo halted beside a large oak. Behind him he heard Efa and the others come to a shuffling halt. Corbulo peered around him into the darkness but he could make out nothing apart from the dark shapes of the trees. He glanced up at the sky which was filled with twinkling stars. Thank the gods the rain clouds had been moving in the opposite direction.

  "What's the matter? Why have we stopped?" Efa called out.

  Corbulo took a deep breath.

  "We're lost," he muttered, "I thought we were heading south but now I don't know where we are. It's too dark. I don't know in which direction we should be heading. We will have to rest here and start out again in the morning."

  "Lost," Efa groaned as she ran her hand across her neck. "Viroconium cannot be far. It's been hours since we saw those traders. Can't we keep going?"

  Corbulo shook his head. "I can't see in the bloody dark," he said. "If we stumble on like this we may end up going in completely the wrong direction. No, we will have to rest here and start out again at dawn."

  Behind him the darkness was rent by another fierce coughing fit.

  Efa appeared out of the gloom and laid a hand on her husband's shoulder.

  "He's started to cough up blood," she said quietly.

  Corbulo nodded and gave her an encouraging look that was lost in the darkness.

  "I can help," a voice said suddenly.

  Corbulo and Efa turned.

  "What's that Petrus?" Corbulo said as he recognised the boy's voice. A moment later Petrus appeared at his side. His head was tilted and he was gazing up at the stars.

  "It's a clear night," the boy said, "I can guide us using the stars. Look there is Polaris, the northstar. As long as I can see the stars I can tell you in which direction we should go."

  Corbulo grunted in surprise. He looked up at the stars and then turned towards Petrus.

  "You can navigate using just the stars?" he said.

  "Yes," Petrus said confidently," my father taught me astronomy. I know all the constellations. When we left the road we headed south. I know this from the position of the sun. We carried on south until dusk; then I think we turned west. The road is to the north." The boy paused for a moment as he stared at the stars. "Which means that we must go in that direction," he said pointing off into the night.

  Corbulo raised his eyebrows as he peered in the direction in which Petrus was pointing.

  "What if you are wrong?" he said at last.

  "I am right, the road is that way," Petrus replied in a self-assured voice. "The stars never lie."

  Corbulo glanced at Efa but in the dark it was hard to see her face. The boy's confidence had impressed him.

  "Allright, let's keep going," he growled starting forwards again. Behind him he heard his horse snort and whinny as he grasped hold of the harness.

  ***

  Dawn was not far away and he could not sleep. In the east Corbulo could see the blackness of the night becoming dark blue. He lay against the bank of the V shaped ditch in the abandoned army marching camp. To his right in a single line the children lay on the ground, fast asleep, huddled in their clothes and the few blankets that Efa had brought with them from Londinium. A little way off the two horses stood tied to a tree. Brambles and plants had encroached into the ditch and the bottom was muddy and water logged but it was a safe enough place as any. The camp's wooden palisade had long ago been removed but the earthworks were still visible and so too were the gaps in the ditch where the camp's gates would have once stood. The night was quiet and peaceful and a cool breeze rustled in the young trees just beyond the ditch. The camp was old probably dating back twenty or thirty years when this part of the province had first come under Roman control.

  Petrus had found the road two hours after he had first pointed them in the right direction and the boy’s unswerving confidence and navigational skill had earned him Corbulo's silent respect. Maybe he had been wrong about the boy? Maybe he should not have been so hard on him. The boy had lost everything. All the children had lost their families and everything they had possessed. They were orphans now, orphans whom no one would want because they were followers of Christus. Corbulo sighed as he was reminded of what Efa had told him as they were settling down to sleep in the ditch. They have lost everything Corbulo, but some of them don't understand what this means, she had said. They are clinging on to what they have lost in the hope that it will come back. That's why Christiana will not be parted from her satchel and her doll or Petrus from his wooden cross. Those things were given to them by their parents; they are the last link that they have with their families. Don't force them to part with that.

  Corbulo turned onto his side and ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. Viroconium Wroxeter, could not be more than a few miles away now and all they had to do was follow the road. He twisted round as he heard one of the children sobbing in their sleep. There was nothing more he could do for them right now. Efa would be lying there beside the sick boy holding him close to her so that at least he had her body warmth to see him through the night. The boy's condition had deteriorated steadily until he could barely cling to the horse's back. Corbulo had resorted to tying him to the horse with a piece of rope but if they didn't get him to a doctor soon the boy was certain to die. Corbulo turned onto his back and stared up at the night sky. Forty-eight years he had lived. He had seen the Empire, he had known utter fear and glorious euphoria, served the Legion and Jupiter, greatest and best. H
e had ventured alone into the wilds of Caledonia to rescue his son Marcus but maybe when his time came to pass across into eternity this would be what he would be remembered for the rescue of nine Christian orphans. In the gloom he grinned as he pictured his tombstone.

  Here lies Corbulo, a soldier of the Twentieth Legion with twenty-five years service. This monument was erected by the nine he helped to save.

  Chapter Twelve - Viroconium Cornoviorum

  Corbulo smiled as he finally caught sight of Viroconium in the distance. He halted and gazed at the town. How long had it been since he had visited the old fortress, the Legionary camp where he had spent so many years of his service with the Twentieth? It was from here that he had taken part in the campaigns to subdue the Cornovii and the Ordovices, two tribes who had fiercely resisted the Roman advance. It was from Viroconium that Governor Paulinus had launched his campaign to destroy the druids in their strong hold of Mona Insulis, a campaign that had ended with the uprising led by the Boudicca, the Barbarian Queen. Corbulo took a deep breath as he remembered it all. The sight of the town had brought on a flood of memories and for a few moments he was lost in the past. Would the old camp still be there? Maybe he would recognise some friends on the street? Surely some of the veterans from the Twentieth would have returned to the town upon their retirement. On the horizon he could see the clear outline of the Wrekin. The hill soared a thousand feet above the plain, a lonely sentinel, and upon its crest were the ruined, burned remains of the Cornovii hill fort where Virico, last king of the Cornovii, together with a few hundred loyal followers had led a heroic last stand that had ended in a fight to the death. Corbulo had heard the story from soldiers in the Fourteenth who had told him how for three hours Virico and his men had fended off the assault by two Cohorts of the Fourteenth Legion before they were eventually overrun and slaughtered. The story had been told to every new recruit who had been posted to Viroconium; a reminder not to underestimate their Celtic enemies.

  Corbulo was still staring at the town as Efa came up beside him leading her horse by its harness but she said nothing.

  "Ten years," Corbulo muttered to himself, "That's how long I was here I think. Well I never expected to be back."

  Efa remained silent as she started on down the road with the eldest children following close behind her.

  After a moment's hesitation Corbulo followed. It was an hour after dawn and no one was in the mood to speak. The calm quiet morning was interrupted by the sick boy's coughing fits and the cheerful birds singing in the nearby trees. Alongside the road Corbulo suddenly noticed a solitary gravestone with an inscription.

  Here lies Valerius, son of Valentinian from Gallia Lugdunensis, a soldier in the Fourteenth Legion.

  Someone had left a coin at the base of the stone. Corbulo looked away in sudden embarrassment. He had known that man. Valerius had been a veteran who had settled in the civilian town after his discharge. He'd had a daughter with whom Corbulo had had an affair. What was her name again? All he could remember was the tattoo on her arse. He took a deep breath as he tried to remember. Lucilia, yes her name had been Lucilia. He had been thirty and she eighteen. Valerius had discovered the affair and had threatened to kill him if he ever came near his daughter again and that had been the end of it. He glanced again at the tombstone as he led his horse down the road. If Lucilia had left the coin it meant that she was still living in Viroconium.

  ***

  As they neared the earthen ramparts that marked the edge of the town Corbulo saw the Severn river and the island in its midst across whose southern tip a wooden bridge had been constructed. A detachment of armed men were lounging about at either end of the bridge and out on the water the occupants of a few Coracles were fishing and enjoying the fresh sunny morning. The crossing place across the river had been the reason why the fortress had been placed here, for to the west lay the wild rugged hills and valleys where the Ordovices had their homes. The men of the hills may have been defeated but their resentment against Rome still lived on, smouldering away in the hearts of each new generation. Those same wild hills had been found to contain rich deposits of lead and silver and the produce from the Roman mines was transported down the Severn all the way to the great estuary and the open sea where the cargo was transferred to ocean going ships that would transport it to destinations across the Empire. It was this trade and prosperity that had turned Viroconium into the fourth largest city in Britannia.

  Watling Street led straight into the heart of the town and as he passed through the gap in the defensive earthworks Corbulo could see that the town had grown enormously. The narrow wooden strip houses with their thatched roofs lined the road in neat ordered lines and the town had been laid out in the distinctive Roman street grid pattern. Idly he glanced in the direction where the Legionary fortress had once been. The Twentieth had departed some years before and now resided at their base at Inchtuthil in Caledonia but the outline of the old camp was still visible even though most of it had been dismantled and the space converted to civilian use. Corbulo grunted as he recognised the rectangular earth embankment along whose very side, Watling Street now ran. The street was thronged with people and no one seemed to give them a second glance. Up ahead he noticed a half finished bath-house complex. There were no workers to be seen on the construction site and the work looked like it had been abandoned. Opposite the baths was a newly constructed indoor market, which Corbulo had never seen before.

  "We need to find a doctor," Efa said quietly as he drew level with her.

  Corbulo nodded and looked around him.

  "The Twentieth had many skilled physicians," he muttered, "But they will have departed with the soldiers."

  "You were here for ten years," Efa said impatiently, "Surely you know someone whom can help us?"

  Corbulo grumbled and muttered something to himself.

  "There may be someone," he said at last, "but he was only a boy with dreams of becoming a doctor when I last saw him. He was an apprentice to one of the doctor's who served the army. He was only twelve years old. He could be anywhere by now."

  "Where can we find him?" Efa said hastily as the sick boy bent over and burst out into another coughing fit.

  "How the fuck should I know," Corbulo shrugged. Then as he caught the look on Efa's face he sighed.

  "Allright, allright, stay here, I will make some enquiries," he grunted.

  ***

  The doctor's house was on a street in the newly constructed northern section of the town. Corbulo thumped his fist against the door and turned to glance around at the children crowding behind him. They were watching him with anxious, nervous faces. He gave them a reassuring wink. The sick boy looked pale, weak and feverish as he leaned up against Efa for support and his eyes were closed. The door was opened by a young Briton in his twenties and Corbulo recognised him immediately.

  "Hello Sawbones," Corbulo said cheerfully as he stepped past the doctor and into the man's house. Without a word the children silently followed Corbulo into the building, filing past the surprised and startled looking doctor. The young man said nothing and did not move. Efa, leading the sick boy by the hand, was the last to enter the dwelling.

  "Are you the doctor?"she said peering up at the young man.

  "I am," the doctor replied with a frown as he turned to look at Corbulo.

  Efa stooped and picked up the sick boy and held him up before the doctor.

  "My son is very ill, he needs treatment, will you examine him? It's urgent," she said.

  "Well I was just about to go out," the doctor protested, "Can you not come back another time. I am rather busy."

  "We'll pay Sawbones, I have money," Corbulo said, "Now be a good lad and take a look at the boy will you. He needs your skill, if you still have it."

  The doctor was peering at Corbulo as if he was trying to figure out where he knew him from. Then suddenly he blushed in embarrassment.

  "Please Sir, he has difficulty breathing and he has a fever," Efa pleaded.

&
nbsp; The doctor turned to look at the boy. Then he sighed and nodded. "Allright, take him into the back room and lay him on the table," he said. "I will take a look at him but the rest of you must wait outside."

  ***

  An hour had passed before the young doctor and Efa finally emerged from the back room. Efa looked tense and Corbulo quickly rose to his feet. For a moment the surgeon paused in the doorway as he carefully examined the children who were sitting on the floor. Then he turned towards Corbulo, raised his finger and pointed at him with a baffled look.

  "I remember you now, you were a soldier with the Twentieth," the young man said smoothly, "No one has called me Sawbones in years, not since the soldiers departed for the north."

  Corbulo nodded.

  "The men had a bet that you would faint during your first amputation," he said quietly.

  The young doctor shook his head as a faint smile appeared on his lips.

  Corbulo gestured towards the back room. "So what about the boy, will he live? Did you manage to save him?"

  The surgeon took a deep breath. "Well I have done all I can for him," he said, "Whether he lives or dies is now a matter for the gods."

  "He needs rest, a warm bed and hot food," Efa interrupted, "If we keep moving him and sleeping outside he will certainly die. The boy needs a good rest or else he will never recover."

  Corbulo shot his wife a sharp warning look.

  "We cannot stay here Efa," he snapped.

  "No, your wife is right," the doctor said, "The boy needs a proper rest. If you keep on moving him he won't stand a chance."

  Corbulo was studying Efa. Then slowly he turned to look at the doctor. The room fell silent. He had a decision to make.

  "Allright," he said at last, "we started out with nine and we will finish this journey with nine. How long will it take before he is fit to travel?"

  The doctor shrugged. "Maybe a week, maybe two. He is very ill. It is hard to say."

  "Great," Corbulo muttered, "Well the last time I was here in this town there were five taverns who rented out rooms to travellers." He glanced around at the children who were sitting on the floor and as he did so he took a step towards the doctor and lowered his voice. "The tavern's, doctor, are they all still brothels?"