Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 09] Hero of Rome

by Griff Hosker

  Flashing a filthy look at the Romans he snarled, “It is and how does their presence help me?”

  Sighing at his apparent naivety and his lack of vision the Red Witch explained, as though to a child. “We will hold the sale of the captives soon and when that has taken place we will all be richer. You will then be able to hire more mercenaries and more weapons.” She paused. “When you fought the Romans did you see their war machines?”

  “We did when we burned their fort why?”

  “You did not see them used?”

  Faolan and Creagth laughed, “No for the soldiers who would have used them were dead.”

  “Angus, tell the Prince of these weapons and their effect.”

  The Fist smiled. He knew that she had not asked him because Faolan would have dismissed it as lies but the Hibernian appeared to respect the red haired warrior. “It works like a huge bow and the men operating it wind it back and fire a bolt. I have seen them used and they go through not just one man but a line of ten and every man dies. The Roman legions have one for every hundred men. If we had attacked a fort frontally then we would have been slaughtered.”

  Faolan looked thoughtful. “So?”

  “Has your cousin seen Roman soldiers and met Roman weapons?”

  “Of course not.”

  Sighing again for the obtuse man so hated Romans that he could not see where he was being led. “So if you had some Roman war machines, some Roman armour, weapons and tactics do you think it would help you and your warband to seize the throne?”

  Understanding lit up his face and his mouth opened slightly as he, finally, linked the ideas. “And this Roman could do that?”

  The Fist spoke for the first time. “This Roman could do that. I could find men like us,“ he looked darkly into Faolan’s eyes, “deserters and I could help you to buy the machines and weapons. You would not have to dishonour yourself by fighting alongside, deserters, but we would train the men you would use; your archers, your cavalry and your artillery.”

  Morwenna gave a subtle nod to the Roman to show that he had said the right thing in the right way. She could use this Roman. She liked a man who was only interested in money for they were more careful than glory hunters.

  “Given those terms then how can I refuse?”

  “However, Faolan, there is more to this bargain. When you have conquered your lands I would have this army fight for us to retake Britannia.”

  “You want my army? Ridiculous!”

  “You intend to pay for an army to sit on your land and milk you dry of gold or will you get more gold and riches from Hibernia?”

  Her comment was not lost on Faolan. He had had to go to Britannia to get the finance to take back his kingdom. He could not afford to pay for a huge army of warriors. Perhaps there was a way for him to benefit and keep his throne. “If you used my army then I would want a share of the profits.”

  Morwenna’s look of triumph became s smile which lit up the room. “We will all share in the profits, Manavia, Hibernia and our new Roman adviser.” They all raised their beakers to celebrate the union. The deserters with The Fist were not certain what the work would entail for them but their leader was happy and so were they.

  Morwenna held up her hand for silence. “We will not have gold for a while but, Roman, where would you get these weapons and men?”

  “Not near the frontier but further away perhaps Camulodunum. That is the largest city in the province and we are more likely to find disillusioned men there. It is also the place through which the weapons arrive from Rome and so we would have more chance of acquiring them.”

  “You would need a ship then?”

  “It would save us crossing a country fired up by revolt and rebellion where every soldier is on the lookout for trouble.”

  “We will meet again on the morrow at the port and find a suitable ship for your journey.”

  One of the druids spoke for the first time. “It had better be early then for the tide turns in the night and some of the ships we used to bring the men back from the raid will have sailed.”

  “Then we will meet before dawn breaks.”

  As the crew of The Swan and the troopers enjoyed the fresh air Hercules peered intently at the citadel. He had been watching lights flicker, brighten and then observed a line of them descending the trail he and Furax had taken the previous day. Someone was coming. He went to the seaward side and glanced out to the black murky waters. The tide was not perfect but it was getting better. Eastwards there was just the hint of a glimmer of dawn. Although no other ships were stirring Hercules could feel in his bones that they ought to move. He woke Julius and his first mate. “I think we should sail.”

  The First Mate looked at the blackness with a perplexed expression, not helped by being woken from a deep sleep. “Has the tide turned?”

  Hercules pointed to the line of torches making its way down to the jetty. “I think someone is up and about. Better we look keen than get caught with Roman soldiers on board. Senator, get your men below. Wake the crew!”

  The troopers had been only half asleep for sleep in an enemy stronghold was not easy and quickly descended to the hold. As the crew began to get the ship ready for sea, Hercules nodded to Furax. “Up the mainmast you can see who this is and then help to guide us out.”

  The agile boy leapt up the ropes and scampered to the top of the mainmast. “There are about ten of them and one is a woman.”

  Hercules worst fears were confirmed, it was Morwenna. “Cast off forrard. Get the foresail up.” Lying in the lee of the island Hercules knew that it would take some time to tack away from the jetty. The first dim rays of the sun lit up the eastern horizon and gave Hercules hope that they might just be seen as being keen to sail north. The torches were now only two hundred paces away and the captain could now see Morwenna, some Hibernian warriors and the unmistakeable hulk that was The Fist. The boy had been right and had he not told them then all of their plans might have ended in bloodshed on the Manavian beach. As it was they were not safe yet but Hercules could see a gap between them and the jetty. “Hoist the mainsail!”As the sail unfurled and they moved a little further out of the lee of the island The Swan leapt forward as though eager to be away from the land.

  “Rocks to port!” Furax’s shrill voice made the captain stick the rudder over. The last thing they needed was to be wrecked on the rocks.

  Morwenna frowned as she saw the small trader tacking away. “He is leaving a little early is he not?”

  One of the druids nodded, “He is a slaver. He came yesterday for repairs and he is going to return for the auction. I think he is sailing for the land of the Pictii to buy some from them.”

  “A pity his ship would have been perfect for the Roman to use.”

  The Fist shrugged, he knew nothing of boats or water. “It matters not to me. I just need a ship to get where I need to go and for a captain who will obey me.”

  The druid who had spoken to Hercules pointed at the departing Swan. “That one would not have suited. I got the impression that the old man was a careful businessman who looked after himself and his grandson.”

  “An old man and a boy?”

  “Aye why?”

  “I am not sure but it sparks a memory. It will come to me eventually. I will leave it to you to choose the ship. For you will be paying,” he wanted them to know that he would do as they wished but he would be paid for his services. He wondered why he had not thought of this before; it was better pay than the army that was for certain and safer. He thanked the Allfather for the day Gaius Brutus had walked into his life.

  Faolan was cold and he was tired. He didn’t know why he had to be on this cold jetty, on this unbelievably fresh morning. He glanced at the departing ship. “That one is certainly fast. We could do with one as quick ourselves.”

  The druid nodded. “If he could have got his spares at Itunocelum he would not have come here. Fortunately they had none there.”

  Morwenna’s interest was piqued. “He ca
me from Itunocelum? Did you see him there?”

  Angus shook his head. “When we left there were no ships and only the wounded we left.”

  “Aye well they were crucified.”

  They all looked at the druid. “How do you know?”

  “The captain said he saw the crosses on the beach.”

  “Did he see the Romans?”

  “No he said they had gone.”

  “Then he was lying!” They all looked at The Fist. “The commander of those troops would have made sure that you did not come back and that those on the crosses were not rescued. They would stay there for a few days, at least. What did they do when they landed?”

  “Bought a mast and rope. The old man and the boy went to the slave pens and then the boy had a look at the citadel.”

  “The boy was he cheerful, always smiling?”

  “Yes why…”

  “They are Roman spies. I saw them at Coriosopitum before I left the service of Rome. That is why they have fled.”

  Morwenna looked at the other ships on the jetty. “We need to get after them.”

  Faolan shook his head; he had been watching the departing ship as it sped into the darkness to the north. “You will never catch them and you do not know in which direction they went. They could have changed course as soon as they were out of sight. The question we ought to ask is why they were here?”

  They all looked at each other until The Fist pointed a finger at Morwenna. “They were looking for you.” He turned to Angus. “Did you say that the Sword of Cartimandua was wielded by these warriors?” Angus nodded. “And was there a warrior who was a fearsome fighter with red hair and eyes like,” he pointed at Morwenna, “those.”

  When Angus nodded, Morwenna said, “Macro.”

  “Macro indeed. Your son is hunting you, my queen.”

  Rather than being discomfited by the comment Morwenna seemed elated. “The Mother is all powerful for she brings the sword to the island for you my Prince and my son to me so that I may rid the earth of his stain for once and for all. We keep a watch for the return of the ship and we lay a trap. I do not want to scare them off. I think, Roman, that we will delay your departure for I can see that the Mother brought you to us for a purpose and you are too valuable for us to lose. When they return we will all win.”

  ******

  Hercules made the rendezvous with the two biremes well to the west of the island. If there had been a pursuit then Julius knew they would head north and the west would be the last place they would look. The captains from the ships and the decurions all met aboard The Swan. “We now know where the pens are and we know that we have got seven days to get them out.”

  One of the bireme captains said, “Plenty of time.”

  Julius shook his head, “Not so. Our departure was not the one we had planned and we may have been compromised.”

  “You mean they know what we intend?”

  “I don’t know Cassius but I think they will be looking for this ship so we cannot do as we planned and sail back into the harbour. Whilst we were sailing to this meeting I had the captain sail in closer to the island. There is a flat plain with a high area to the south. If we land the troops in the west then they can make their way the seven or so miles to the pens. We will sail around the island and await a signal. They have no warships in the harbour and the ballistae on board will help the evacuation.”

  “Signal?”

  “Yes Rufius. If you fire the fort then we should see that!”

  “Fire the fort?”

  “Yes. This is how we will have to do it. They will be watching the front of the fort and the pens more carefully than the rear. You kill the guards at the rear of the fort, work your way around the ramparts killing the other sentries. Once you have done that then the rest can free the prisoners and make their way to the jetty. You then fire the fort and come down to the jetty. They will have to put the fire out, which we can see, and should give you the time to escape.”

  Cassius was not convinced. “How quickly can you get inshore and protect our retreat?”

  Hercules spat over the side. “We can wait just a mile off shore. The biremes have oars and they can be at the jetty before the captives are down the slope. It will take me longer but it is the biremes you need.”

  “It will work Cassius. I am not sending you on a suicide mission. They will not be expecting trouble from the south. The hard part is scaling the walls and getting rid of the sentries.”

  “Sir.” Furax’s voice sounded very small.

  “Yes Furax?”

  “The walls are only as high as a man if two men stood together they could help one over.”

  “Or use their shields as a ladder.”

  “Even better Rufius.”

  “No time like the present then Legate. Land us tonight!"

  As the three ships edged in they used the four small skiffs to ferry the one hundred and twenty troopers who would be undertaking the mission. A turma was kept aboard the first bireme to act as relief should there be problems whilst trying to escape. Julius came ashore with Cassius. “We will stand off the shore tonight and await your signal.”

  Cassius said soberly, “If there is no signal sir then we have failed.”

  “You will not fail me.”

  They had checked that there were no dwellings on the beach they had chosen for their landing and the first skiff had contained Rufius, Macro and Marcus who had quickly spread out with eight of their men to act as scouts and to ensure that the rest of the landing was unopposed. As they watched Julius sail back to the ships the troopers felt very isolated and lonely. Only Rufius had operated outside of Britannia and he knew that everyone they met would be a potential enemy. “Right, no time like the present. Decurion Macro you take point and I will bring up the rear.”

  They moved swiftly up the gentle slope to the escarpment which stretched away westwards. There were stands of trees and hedgerows to provide some cover but the line of the hills edged in and out making Macro’s job even harder. He had to be the first to see an enemy and then warn the rest. He had deigned to bring a shield as he did not want to be encumbered and, like most of the other troopers, he had left his helmet aboard The Swan for he wanted to be as mobile as possible. If it came to a standard battle and combat then they would have lost. Their only hope lay in subterfuge and stealth. With less equipment the ala made good time travelling through the empty western lands. Macro halted the column three miles from the citadel. He could see it in the distance which meant that eagle eyed sentries could see them.

  “Well done Macro. Right men find some cover and get some rest.” Cassius detailed four men to act as sentries whilst the rest rolled themselves in their brown cloaks and found whatever shelter they could. They had all eaten well aboard the ships and would not need food again. Fortunately Macro had chosen a place to hide which had a spring and everyone filled his water skin. The night attack was something none had attempted before and everyone was nervous.

  Macro and Marcus lay in a dell beneath an elder bush. “You will be careful brother? No heroics and no reckless tactics. Our mother wants to see us both.” Despite the apparent change in Macro, Marcus sensed that all was not well with his brother. There was nothing that you could put a finger on and both Cassius and Rufius felt that they had the old Macro back but Marcus knew better.

  “Of course brother, besides you are the one with a sword that seems to attract attacks!” Marcus knew that Macro was correct; as soon as the sword was unsheathed every barbarian seemed to be willing to give their lives to try and take it.

  “Nonetheless I will be happier when we are both aboard The Swan.”

  “In that we are agreed. Now sleep!”

  Chapter 16

  The sentries on the walls had been warned that Roman soldiers might attack them and they had to ensure that the captives remained safe. It was impressed upon them to keep a vigilant watch for any strange ships entering their waters, especially Roman. All day they had scanned the horizon an
d been kept on high alert. As the guards changed in mid afternoon, the old watch passed on their fears to the new one. “Watch out for the dusk, that is when I would attack.”

  The new watch had nodded their agreement, worrying about this enemy who was threatening their base. Rumours abounded about who it was from Morwenna’s son to a band of gladiators. Manavia was a safe and sound stronghold, it had never been invaded; the druids stopped enemies from attacking but these godless Romans feared no-one. The guards stared intently out to sea each one desperate to be the one to see the ships and thwart the attack. They could see the Hibernian warband hidden in the huts and buildings close to the jetty. The sentries could see that their leaders had thought their strategy out well. When the ships returned, probably during the hours of darkness, the Romans would come up the trail to release the captives. Once away from their ships they would be slaughtered, caught between the citadel and the warband. The guards all knew that they would all gain much plunder from these Romans who were all so rich that even the ordinary ones could afford a sword, armour and a helmet; rich indeed. Until then they would huddle in their cloaks against the chill night air and watch for the flash of sail which would be their sign.

  Rufius, Macro and Marcus were with Marcus’ turma, crouching in the bushes forty paces from the wall. Macro could not believe how lax the Manavians were. The undergrowth should have been cleared for at least a hundred paces and there were no ditches! All that the thirty troopers were waiting for was the sign that the rest of the ala was in position, ready to fall upon the slave pens. Cassius and his men had further to go and they risked observation for they would have to be close to the front of the fortress.

  The messenger silently appeared at their side and nodded. The turma went into action, with no need for words. In groups of threes they bellied up to the wall, their faces and arms blackened and their brown cloaks wrapped around their bodies. To a watcher on the walls, had they been staring intently, all they would have seen was a shadow slowly moving across the ground. Once at the wall two men stood with a shield between them whilst the third awaited the signal. They had counted the guards and they knew that they had overkill, there were two jumpers to every guard, but they needed to be sure and to be silent. Rufius held up his hand and, as he dropped it, ten troopers ran up to the shield held by two of their comrades and jumped on it. In one motion the two men hurled it in the air so that the troopers appeared to fly over the ramparts. One sentry actually saw a trooper land next to him but he was so shocked and surprised at the sight of a man flying through the air that he did nothing, not daring to believe his eyes. He died with a sword thrust to the neck. All five sentries died as swiftly and their bodies dropped over the side. Once the other twenty troopers were helped up they split into two groups and made their way around the walls. There were ten more guards to be dealt with. The first on each side was taken quickly which left one on the other sides and the difficult ones, the final eight at the front. Rufius signalled for troopers to stand where the guards had and while the rest hid in the dark shadows near to the wooden walls, Macro and Marcus each walked casually along the rampart. They were both seen by the lone guard who assumed it was their comrade; the mistake cost him his life.