Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 03] Invasion- Caledonia (18 page)

Chapter 12

It was drawing towards the short days of the year when the First Pannonians finally negotiated a peace with the whole of the Novontae. As they headed for their meeting with the fleet Metellus and Agrippa were discussing the pleasures which awaited them in Luguvalium. “Well I am looking forward to the baths and warm barracks. This is a bleeding cold country.”

“Me? I just want a woman.”

“A woman? What about the prisoners, you could have one of them.”

“I want a woman who smells nice and does look like her husband without a beard.”

“Too choosy you are that’s your trouble. Too choosy.”

They were both in for a disappointment. After he had boarded the bireme with the last of the hostages Marcus came back with a wry smile on his face. Summoning the decurions he held a short briefing.  “Well gentlemen we will not be returning to Luguvalium.”

“Not back to Novontae country. It’s too bleeding cold there.”

“No Decius we are going east to Coriosopitum.”

“Where is that?”

North of here, actually north west in the land of the Votadini. It seems the general has built or is building a fortress there and we are going to join him.  Seems he is impressed by our work here, a single ala to pacify a whole tribe. We are the victims of our own success.”

“Well there goes your bath Agrippa.”

“And the women there will make the Novontae looked like goddesses. There is a saying about the Votadini, that is where men are men and so are the women!”

The ala once again suffered the deprivations of northern winters with winds which whistled in from the east bringing biting, savage winds to discover every gap in clothes no matter how tightly wound; the rain which came not only vertically but horizontally. The fogs and mists which ate into a man’s bones until his very teeth ached with the cold. The only difference between this trek and the others they had endured was that they at least had won peace and did not need to worry about Brigante and Carvetii armies. The general had subdued the land between Dunum Fluvius and Tine Fluvius by a mixture of diplomacy, hostages and, where the locals were totally belligerent, ruthless warfare.

“The thing is sir he has done that with a legion and six or seven auxiliary units.”

“I know Gaius but he had more enemies to deal with. The furthest north we travelled was Morbium. Where we were we had been grinding down the opposition for years.  We had it easy.  Don’t look down in the mouth I am more than proud of what we achieved and I know the governor will feel the same.  We are one army each doing its own part.”

Gaius was, in fact, speaking for the ala for they felt he did not get the credit he deserved. Gaius knew how long Marcus Aurelius Maximunius had served and how many campaigns he had fought. There was not another leader who had given as much to Britannia.

When they reached Coriosopitum they cared not that it was half finished nor that it was occupied by the Ninth; they only cared that they had reached their destination. What worried Decius was that he could not see any other auxiliary units. “Why is that? It does not bode well for us. I bet the general has something special in mind.”

“Something special Decurion Princeps?”

“Aye and probably nasty too.  Mark my words.”

When they arrived the general asked them to build a marching camp next to the fort. “See that means we aren’t staying.  What did I tell you?”

Decius had nearly organised the camp when Marcus returned from his meeting with the general. He was smiling which did not put Decius at his ease.”

“Well sir?”

In answer to your question about the other units, they are spread across the frontier. Seems this is the narrowest part, so far as we know in the whole of Britannia.  We can control this neck of land with the legion and our auxilia. We will have a proper camp for the winter. We are the last to arrive. The other prefects will be coming tomorrow and then we leave for our camp the day after. Happy?”

“Behind every black cloud is a bloody bigger one to ready to piss all over you. That’s Britannia for you.”

After a night in another cold camp the ala was not in a happy mood. Having just spent the best part of half a year subjugating a land almost as big as Brigantia with less than fifty losses their rewards was to build another camp in the middle of winter and spend the rest of the winter freezing in the most desolate land the gods created. The prefect however seemed positively cheerful. When they saw the prefects beginning to arrive, Gaius drew the prefect’s attention to the fort. “Shouldn’t you be getting over there sir? You don’t want to be late.”

“Don’t worry Gaius I won’t be late and I have lots of time.”

Marcus was just checking the store situation with the Quartermaster and Attius his clerk when Decius came racing into the store tent. “Sir, the general and the prefects.  They’re here, they’re coming here now. From the fort sir.”

Marcus smiled for he had never seen the Decurion so flustered. “Better call out the guard then hadn’t you Decius?”

“Yes sir.  Will do. Right away.”

Turning to the other two Marcus said, “We’ll finish this after the general’s visit.”

The whole camp turned out to see the most senior panoply of officers they had ever seen. Marcus was amused to see decurions coming on parade with their best armour and polished swords. Agricola dismounted and clasped Marcus closely around the shoulders. “Good to see you prefect, good to see you.” Those close enough to the two men were perplexed to see the general wink at the prefect who seemed very relaxed for such a high profile visit. The general turned to address the whole camp. “First I would like to thank all of you in front of the other prefects and your able commanding officer for the incredible work you did in the land of the Novontae. To have taken so vast a land, with so few men and resources and to do it with such a small loss of life is miraculous and I salute you.” Theatrically he took off his helmet and gave a small bow.

Gaius immediately regretted all his churlish thoughts.  Here was the credit which the ala and the prefect deserved. However the general had not finished.  In recognition of this and bearing mind that there are very few Pannonians left in the ala due to their lengthy and valuable service in Britannia. We have decided to rename this ala, Marcus’ Horse.”

The unprompted and universal cheer took even Agricola by surprise and he turned to Marcus and said, “Popular decision eh?” Holding up his hand for silence he continued.  “I know you will all continue to go from strength to strength and continue to do such magnificent deeds. From now on all cavalry volunteers from the Brigante , Carvetii and other native tribes will be recruited into Marcus’ Horse.” He remounted his horse. “Well prefect if you would care to join the other prefects and myself in the Praetorium we can have our briefing and perhaps a small celebration.”

Sergeant Cato brought out Argentium looking resplendent and groomed. Decius flashed a look at Cato. As Marcus left he smiled at Decius and said, “Carry on Decurion.”

“Sir.” When the entourage had left Decius and the others turned on poor Sergeant Cato.” You were in on it weren’t you?”

“I only knew this morning.  The prefect said there would be a parade and he wanted Argentium to look his best. I was sworn to secrecy. I didn’t know about the name honestly Decius.”

“Yes well,” unable to contain his joy he then beamed a smile at all of them. “Well tonight Quartermaster the best wine I think and Macro go out and hunt us something special. Marcus’ Horse is going to begin as it means to carry on with a real feast!”

In the Praetorium Marcus back was beginning to become sore with all the backslapping. His two Batavian friends were particularly overjoyed. “Gentlemen let us get on with the briefing before poor Marcus’ back breaks. “First I would like to welcome Centurion Aurelius who is the training officer for our new unit the Usipi. Once they are trained the centurion will command them.  They are a new unit from Germania and the centurion can speak their language.  The rest of you know each other.” He pointed at the map on the wall. “We have done very well since we began our advance; in fact far better than I would have expected. However if the rest of the province thinks we are going to rest they are mistaken. During the winter I want all of you to continue to patrol and offer Pax Romana. If there is opposition either take hostages or defeat them. Speed is of the essence. The tribes seem to think winter is a time when we do not war they are wrong and they will find out soon how wrong they are.”

The following day both men and officers had thick heads which did not make their move west along the road that would soon be known as the Stanegate comfortable. This almost took the sour look from Decius’ face for it meant they did not have as much mud as usual. The land however did not suit him for it was an open windswept heat which just rolled north into the country of the Selgovae. “I told you a bloody cold billet and knife wielding bollock stealers within spitting distance.”

Marcus turned to his friend and said caustically, “Good to see the temporarily happy Decius was just an aberrance.”

The winter was indeed cold and the new force of Marcus’ horse was worked hard as they gradually increased and enlarged the territory controlled by Rome. As Decius said the country did have the advantage of being flatter than Wales.  Agricola wisely avoided using the horse in the vast forests which split the country in two. Instead they patrolled the eastern coastal plain dotted with fishing villages and small hill forts. Ill-prepared for any kind of winter fighting the inhabitants acquiesced to the Roman demands with almost ridiculous ease. The odd chief who appeared belligerent was made to offer up family hostages and the Agricolan war machine rolled ever northwards.

Agricola called a conference of all his prefects at the coast where the Classis Britannica was gathering for a final push around to the Bodotria Fluvium. “This is going far better than we would have hoped. The fleet commander has drawn a map of the river and he believes, and I agree with him, that the river would be a perfect site for a string of self supporting forts. To that end the infantry will continue to push northwards. I would like the Gaulish cavalry to maintain their patrols along the east coast. “He turned to Marcus, “Prefect I have something different mind for you. I would like you to return to the land of the Novontae, partly to show our presence there, partly to ensure that peace still remains but mainly to continue up the coast as far north as the Clota Fluvium for I believe that is where the strong of forts will end.” The other prefects shared a look which told Marcus that they thought his task one that none would envy. “It is a difficult assignment I realise but you have shown an affinity for that country and people. You will have the sole support of the Classis Britannica on the west coast and you should be well supplied.”

“What do I do if I encounter opposition greater than I can handle?”

Agricola smiled at the prefect, “That would indeed be a mighty army of Marcus’ Horse could not deal with it. However you are right and we should make contingency plans.” He turned to the centurion of the Usipi cohort. “Centurion your cohort can build a fort,” he pointed at the map, “here that should enable us to communicate across land should the prefect require support and it will also give you the opportunity to train your men.” The centurion had confided to Marcus that the Usipi were the most obnoxious and arrogant bunch of auxiliaries he had ever trained. The building of a fort would give him the opportunity to knock some of the edges off them. “I will send a cohort of the Ninth to assist you and, er help with the training.”

The centurion sighed and said gratefully, “Thank you sir.”

“Any further questions? No?  Well Prefect I hope to see Marcus’ Horse in the spring.”

The journey through the trackless lands of the north was a hard ride but one which Marcus knew they had to do.  He chose a route which approached his friendly villages from the north rather than the south. This was mainly because he had missed them out the previous year and he felt it important to get the feel of the land. The chiefs were more than pleased to see Marcus and, as he shared their food he discovered that life had improved since the eradication of the warlike chiefs. “Where did Caolan go?”

“We heard that he fled to the Dumnoni and he had joined a warband there. They live to the north west close to the wild islands.”

Thanking them it gave Marcus food for thought. He had hoped to use the same strategy as the previous year using negotiation rather than force, the fact that Caolan had found sympathetic tribesmen meant he was more like to have to fight.  At least when he fought the next time he would have naval support which meant increased artillery support.

The next few weeks saw them cross the trackless lands to the sea.  They were further west now than any Roman soldier had ever been and although the Novontae there did not offer any opposition Marcus had to spend longer than he wished negotiating peace. They were camped with the tiny settlement of Girvan when the local chief, an ancient warrior called Keir drew Marcus to one side. “The Irish often raid us here and take our young as slaves. This is why we have a high place in the hills for there we can wait out their raids and return to rebuild. Now that you are here be believe that the raids will stop.”

“They will chief.  We will patrol the seas with our fleet.”

“One of their kings has fallen out with his family and he is living with a small band of warriors in the hills to the north. He came to my village in peace and asked for shelter. We gave him shelter for a short time but his men liked my women too much and he wisely took them north.”

“Do you want them destroyed?” Marcus asked bluntly.

“No for he was courtesy itself and paid for the food that they took. I mention it only to prevent you stumbling upon him. There has been too much bloodshed in these lands.”

“I can see that your people are lucky to have such a wise leader and I thank you for the warning which I shall heed.”

As the column moved north Marcus summoned Gaelwyn and Decius to ride alongside him. “It seems there is a band of iris ahead.”