Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 04] Roman Retreat (27 page)

When the Decurions returned from their patrols the Prefect held a celebratory dinner. He wanted the informality of his men having a drink but he wanted the intelligence from their patrols. He had ensured that the food was as they would have wished.  A fine doe and magnificent wild boar both hunted within five miles of the fort. He had secured some good Gaulish wine, which he knew his officers preferred and he had sent for some delicacies from Rome which would titillate their taste buds.  His father would have done anything for his only surviving son of whom he was immensely proud.

“The west is becoming dangerous prefect.  The tribes there, the Novontae and their allies want to be Roman but the Selgovae, Caledonii and the Irish are raiding all the time. Calgathus makes the chiefs offers which they have so far refused but it will not continue.”

“I will ask permission to build up the forts over that side of the coast and, perhaps, ask the Classis Britannica to patrol there.”

“If you do that Prefect, then Tribune Sura will find it hard to hold off the assaults of Calgathus. He is sorely pressed.”

“I know Gaius.”

“And the tribes on the east coast are very belligerent.  Our raid last year merely delayed the inevitable. They will rise and they will rise this year.”

Sergeant Cato normally kept quiet when strategy was being discussed but he felt obliged to speak. “It seems to me that Julius Agricola had the right idea.”

They all looked at the normally quiet horse master. “Speak on.”

“Well Prefect he made sure that the Selgovae, Votadini and the Novontae did not attack us by taking hostages from their families.  It is not honourable but it may save lives.” There was a silence which echoed around the room. “Just a thought.”

“And a very good one Sergeant.  In fact quite brilliant. It worked before, it will work again.”

Macro coughed and shuffled in his seat. “Yes but it does not solve the problem.  It just makes them hate us even more. Sorry Sergeant.” Cato shrugged.

“The longer we can keep the peace the more Roman the tribes will become.  I think it is a good idea.” The Prefect raised his beaker.  ”Well done Sergeant Cato.”

Quite drunk, after a few hours drinking, the officers all stood, cheering Sergeant Cato’s suggestion. Suddenly the door swung open and every man fell silent as Marcus Aurelius Maximunius and Livius Lucullus stood in the doorway.

“Gentlemen.  Thank you for your warm welcome.”

Marco was the first to react; he had lost his mentor, he had lost his wife and now to have the man he revered the most in the whole Empire returned to him was too much and the huge warrior picked Marcus up bodily and began to cry, uncontrollable sobs and the tears coursed down his cheeks.  The other officers followed suit and the two men were greeted as men having been to Hades and back, which of course, they had.

By the time the furore had died down and Marcus and Livius given a drink, Macro was in the corner with Gaius comforting him. “There is a tale here Tribune.” Prefect Julius understated as ever smiled at his old commander.

“There is. We landed at Veluniate and met with Tribune Sura.  He was glad to see us.”

The laughter was out of proportion to the comment and reflected the relief all of the officers felt. “I know of Decius’ death and, “he looked over at Macro, sympathy etched in every line of his face, “of Decurion Macro’s betrayal. I feel guiltier than any man here.” Everyone bore a shocked look on their face and Macro began to protest. “No Macro I mean it.  Decius saw what no-one else had and remember, I had been closer to Fainch than anyone.  Do you think that, if I had met her, I would not have recognised her?  No believe me I feel guilty.  I was too busy trying to save Britannia when I should have been trying to save my friends.” He looked up at the roof.  “Decius old friend, I am sorry.”

Each man silently raised their beakers and gave a silent toast to their dead Decurion Princeps.  “Well Tribune what is your tale?  How did you escape?”

“Well Prefect we have three men to thank.  Firstly you for your letter and secondly your father for it was his letter to the Emperor which saved the day. “

“And the third?”

“The Emperor himself for he could have had us executed to save face but he did as his father would have done and thought of the soldier.”

They all toasted the three men and Gaius looked at Julius with new respect.  He had carried the message to Eboracum.  Had he known the import of the missive he would have ridden even faster but he was impressed that his quiet Prefect had done so quietly and without fuss.

“And now sir what will you do? Will the Tribune be fighting the tribes again?”

“No Julius.  I will be securing Livius a post in an ala.” They all grinned for they felt as though he was one of them anyway.  “And then I shall retire and this time I will watch over Ailis and Decius, and Marcus and,” he looked pointedly at Macro and nodded, “young Decius.”

Livius came over to Marcus and embraced him. Macro came over and said simply, “Thank you sir. I will sleep much easier.”

“As I suspect we will be degenerating into a Bacchanalian frenzy ere long, can I say that as of this moment Livius Lucullus is appointed Decurion in Marcus’ Horse and Macro is to be promoted, once again, to training officer.”

Calgathus had planned his invasion over the long cold winter months. His spies had counted the Roman soldiers and identified the weak spots.  He knew that the fleet posed a threat which could not be negated and he aimed his strike at the forts in the middle of the chain. His son, Lulach had told him of the one fort which neither tribune seemed to control and that was the weak spot. His warriors spent the nights before the attack filling the ditch with brush and undergrowth.  To the soldiers in the fort there appeared to be no change but the dead and dying material meant that the spikes were covered with a cushion of harmless branches. Calgathus began his attack with a feint at the fort closest to the Clota.  Tribune Strabo immediately moved his reserve cohort to the west to counter the thrust. In the east Lulach himself launched an attack against Veluniate. The ships of the Classis Britannica moved in closer and a message was sent to Coriosopitum to bring up the ala of Marcus’ Horse to counter the threat.

The forts closest to the incursions transferred their attention to the flanks and the warband in the centre crept closer during the hours of darkness as the auxiliaries in the fort of Inchutil breathed a sigh of relief that their fort was not the focus of attention.  As the dawn broke on the late spring morning fifty thousand warriors rose as one and hurled themselves at the walls.  The bolt throwers and onagers had no time to fire for the warriors formed pyramids and leapt over the walls, their first targets, and the dreaded artillery.  With the artillery negated and the walls breached the cohort manning the fort soon succumbed and died as they fought, to the last man. Deigning to burn the fort the hordes flooded through the breach into the hinterland. Calgathus had a simple aim, to breach not only the first line of forts but the second.  For the second line of forts was but half finished and would be unprepared for an onslaught. There was nothing between the fifty thousand warriors and the Stane gate forts. The attacks on the extreme ends of the defences ceased and the warriors raced to the breach. The auxiliaries were too busy feeling superior to notice that the undefeated warriors moved towards the centre of their defences. Following the fifty thousand assault troops another twenty thousand barbarians emptied into the lands of the Novontae, Selgovae and Votadini and wavering tribes joined the inevitable attack on Rome.

Prefect Julius and the ala reach Veluniate to find an embarrassed Tribune Sura.  “I am sorry Julius the attack seemed so intense that I felt sure this was the spring offensive.”

“No matter Tribune better a wasted ride than a breach in the defences.  Did you lose many men?”

“No.  A handful and from the other forts too.”

Just then a bleeding and wounded despatch rider crashed into the gate. Julius and Cominius looked down in alarm. The sentry who came up was ashen. “Sir the enemy have broken through in huge numbers in the centre. Inchtutil is no more.  The enemy have destroyed it.  They are heading for the south.”

Tribune Sura looked at Julius.  “It is up to you friend.  We can rebuild Inchtutil and stop them returning but the warband will move too quickly for our infantry. Marcus’ Horse must stop them although I know not how.” He looked sadly at his friend for he knew the task was almost impossible.” The Allfather be with you.”

As Julius led his men from the fort he, too, wondered, how he would stop this unstoppable wave of barbarians. This was not the time for indecision.  “Decurion Cilo, your turma has the best mounts.  Ride south and warn the forts between here and Coriosopitum about the invasion. Then head west and warn the Stanegate forts.  Send four riders to Morbium and Eboracum.”

Gaius looked at his Prefect.  “But there is only a cohort at Coriosopitum.”

“I know and all we can do is to warn them. Go Decurion! Go!”

Macro glanced at his leader and asked calmly.  “And us Prefect, what do we do?”

Taking a deep breath Julius knew that his decision could affect the next thirty years of campaigning in Britannia. “We are on the east side of the high hills.  We could waste time trying to fight across the trackless barren lands to the west but we can make quicker time on the road in the east.  If we encounter any enemies we will be approaching from their rear.  If we find no-one before Coriosopitum then we head west and hope that we can meet them on favourable ground.”

Gaius looked at Julius.  “Sounds risky.”

Macro laughed, “Risky? Sounds suicidal. A thousand  men against sixty thousand.  Nice odds.  Let’s go Prefect!”

The roar from the ala told Julius that his men were with him and Marcus’ Horse would have a glorious end.  They might not succeed but people would remember their ride. On a whim Gaius drew out his sword and held it, gleaming in the afternoon spring sunshine.  “The Sword of Cartimandua goes to war!” The roar which greeted the gesture was even louder and Julius nodded his approval.

”We ride!”

Chapter 19

Calgathus was exultant.  His plan had worked far better than he had hoped. “Lulach. Take your men to Coriosopitum while I will take mine to the land of the lakes and Luguvalium. Destroy the enemy and take as much plunder as you can. Stop for nothing. Speed is of the essence.  We will meet at Morbium when we have destroyed the Romans before us.”

“I will my father and my lance will be adorned with so many Roman heads I will need help to lift it.”

Lulach and his eager war band hurried down the Roman road south heading for Trimontium. Cilo had made good time and reached the outpost in plenty of time. The Centurion grimly nodded as the Decurion headed south. “Right lads I want a line of brush building fifty paces from the ditch.” If any thought to question his orders one look at his face dissuaded them from voicing that thought. “I want the onagers to target the brush line and the bolt throwers to aim between the ditch and the brush line. Second century take water and pour it into the ditch.” His Optio questioned with his eyes. “I want a muddy morass out of which they cannot climb. Cooks! I want the men fed now.” The Centurion looked at the sky. Three hours to sunset. The barbarians would be here in less than an hour.  It would be tight but if he could delay them then the forces south might be able to muster a defence to defeat them.  His fort would be destroyed, along with him and all his men but they would die a glorious death.

In the event they had almost one and a half hours which meant the men were fed , the ditch was muddy and they had had a couple of practice shots to ensure they had the range. The Caledonii and their allies did not expect that their invasion would have been noticed for they had moved quickly. They raced over the brush not noticing that it was unnatural.  When the onagers began to hurl their missiles of fire they were taken totally by surprise.  When the brush erupted into flame they were engulfed. Lulach urged them on. “It is but one fort and we can take it.”

Once his men were in the killing ground the bolt throwers sliced lines through the attackers and Lulach watched with horror as his best men fell.  He was even more worried when he saw them entrapped in the muddy morass of the ditches. His father had chosen him for this role because of his quick mind.  This was one fort with less than a thousand troops, all infantry.  They could not follow him. “Pull back and head south west”

Even though they were reluctant to retreat from a fight Lulach’s charismatic power was such that they all followed him, retreating back through the killing ground and heading down the valley sides away from the bolt throwers and onagers all facing north.

The Centurion in the fort was just happy that he and his men had escaped unscathed but, as the warband headed south, he began to worry about the unsuspecting forts to the south.  “First Cohort.  Clear the lines and dispose of the bodies.”

The prefect reached Trimontium just as the defenders had cleared the bodies from the ditch.  “Well done Centurion. Which way?”

“It is thanks to your warning sir.  They headed south west about two hours ago.”

“Macro and Livius take your turma and find them.  Watch them and we will follow.” Macro and Livius headed south west following the clear trail left by the huge warband.  “Ala! Rest your horses and eat.  We have an hour.”

Livius was exhilarated to be riding with his turma. He felt no resentment that Julius had sent Macro with him.  Although the turma had accepted him he was under no illusions.  Macro was still their leader whether Livius gave the orders or not. Macro had incredible balance and Livius was certain that the huge man would fall off his horse as he leaned over his horse’s neck to look for signs of the warband. “Slow up lads.  They are not far off. “A hundred paces later Macro held up his hand and they halted. At first it appeared to be silent but then Livius heard the unmistakable noise of human activity.  They had found the warband. “Servius ride back to the prefect and tell them we have found them.  Right lads dismount.  We move quietly until we can see them and then wait.  Have your javelins ready in case they spot us.” The big man’s confidence and enthusiasm was infectious and Livius felt himself growing in confidence.  Macro leaned over to Livius and whispered, “That’s the secret.  Make them believe you know what you are doing even though you are shitting yourself.” He gave Livius a huge wink and a grin.