Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 05] Revolt of the Red Witch (23 page)

“The important part, the walls, have been repaired and the ditches cleared.  Another week and we will be back to normal.”

“Good then I will take the First, Second and Third cohorts north, along with those Tungrian auxiliaries.  You can continue the work with the garrisons who sought refuge here and the Fourth cohort.”

“That will mean the work will take longer.”

The Legate had begun to tire of the whingeing of the career garrison warrior. “Work them harder for when I return I expect to find the fortress in a better condition than when I arrived!” He turned to the sentry at the door, “Send for Tribune Blaesus.”

Scaeva looked at the Legate curiously, “Tribune Blaesus has but recently arrived from Rome.  Is it not a little soon to be blooding him?”

“I know young Titus.  His father and I served together as Tribunes.  The problem with Britannia is that the Governor used auxiliaries as Tribunes when he should have used Romans. Titus will need to learn quickly.  Had we more Tribunes in the north then this debacle might not have occurred.”

“I do not think you can blame Prefect Demetrius.”

“Indeed I do not.  His father, Senator Demetrius, is a fine man and a fine Roman.  No I do not blame the Prefect I blame those who neglected this land for so long.” He held out a tablet. “Look here.  The previous governor and his nephew were so busy siphoning off gold and building up private armies that they failed to stop the invasion from   and even worse, the nephew is still loose somewhere. Once this little uprising has been sorted out I intend to head to Deva and find out where the gold and the thief went.”

Just then there was a cough and a young officer stood there. “You sent for me Sir?”

“Yes I did come in Titus.  You know Vibius I take it?” The two officers one young and one far older nodded at each other. The Camp Prefect resented young Romans like Titus who came for a short season to make a reputation and then return, a war hero, to Rome where they would become fat, lazy senators.  Vibius had come up through the ranks and fought his way, quite literally, to his present position. He started to go but the Legate called him back.  “No Vibius, your knowledge would be invaluable.  Titus and I are new to the province. So Titus the rebels have escaped north of the Dunum.  In the west they have gone back to their ordinary lives.  Those we shall leave for the moment; their punishment will come later.  The more worrying group is this one. “He stabbed a bony finger at the map. “This Queen Morwenna, who, incidentally, you do not want to underestimate. Although she is a woman, she has the mind of a man and a general. She could be another Boudicca.”

Vibius shook his head, “Boudicca did not have the subtlety of this one.  Morwenna is far more dangerous.”

“Quite so.  They have moved into the lands of the Carvetii and they have always been a troublesome people. The cavalry is watching them at the moment.  What are your thoughts Titus?  You have eyes and mind fresh from Rome.  What do you see that the old eyes of two aged soldiers do not?”

The young man felt the two older men watching him. He suddenly felt hot, even though, in this miserable climate it was hard to feel hot even with a brazier burning. “What are our forces?”

“I have earmarked three cohorts of the Ninth and a cohort of the Tungrian auxiliary and there is a depleted ala of cavalry.  A small garrison at Morbium and that is the total forces at our disposal.”

“And the enemy?”

“Ah that is the problem Titus.  In Britannia they fight loosely in warbands.  Numbers are notoriously hard to assess.  There could be anything from two thousand to ten thousand, we just don’t know and if the Carvetii join the Brigante then there will be tens of thousands available.”

“And do not forget the Caledonii.”

Titus looked at the camp Prefect who was trying to keep the smug smile from showing on his face. “The Caledonii?”

“Yes this rebellion appears to have been sparked because the Caledonii raided the Brigante land and took many captives.  Even if we stop the rebellion we have to bolster the north to prevent future raids.”

Titus looked up helplessly.  “But we do not have enough men.  Why does Rome not send more?”

Smiling the Legate said, “Because the Emperor has not looked west yet, he is still looking towards Dacia where the Emperor Domitian sent so many legions, legions which had been based in Britannia.” Seeing the crestfallen look on the face of the young Tribune, Camillus patted him, paternally, on the shoulder, “That was unfair of me but I have my answer.  You see the same problems that I do.” He leaned over the map, in a far more business like manner.  “Here is the problem.  We need to get to Dun Holme as soon as possible and make the rebels fight us on a field of our choosing. They will outnumber us and we will need to use every tactic and strategy we can.  I am involving you because I want you to take charge of the artillery. It is the one thing the barbarians fear, apart from the legions of course but with only three cohorts we will be using the auxiliaries and legion as a barrier to prevent them getting to your artillery.”

The Camp Prefect suddenly realised the implication of the Legate’s plan.  “But that means you are stripping Eboracum of its artillery and those trained to use it.”

“Of course I am.  You can build and train others, we cannot.” Dismissing the camp Prefect with a wave of his hand the Legate turned to Titus. So Titus how does that seem to you?”

Titus was a little worried about such a responsibility but his father had warned him that in the provinces you took your opportunities when they came.  You grabbed them with both hands and then worried later on about how you would use them.  “Excellent Sir.  I look forward to meeting the Centurion in charge of the artillery to discuss strategy and logistics.” In his mind Titus meant how he would find out how to use the artillery.

“Good.  You will need to be speedy then for we leave tomorrow.  We have almost a hundred miles to cover. My only concern is that the rebels strike sooner rather than later.”

The Prefect was a happier man once he knew where the Brigante had gone. Dun Holme was a frightening stronghold on the ox bow of the river but at least it was close to the main road to Coriosopitum and Morbium which meant the reinforcements promised by the Legate would be able to get there swiftly. There had been a garrison north of Dun Holme and Julius wondered if any had survived the Caledonii raid. The fact that Morwenna had seemed happy to camp at Dun Holme meant that both men and horses of the ala could rest and recuperate; much to the delight of Sergeant Cato.  “Cassius.”

“Yes Prefect?”

“Take half your turma and head north.  See if any of the garrison at Longovicium survived the Caledonii. You should be able to get there and back in half a day.”

“And if I find any?”

“Tell the garrison commander of the situation. I think it is important that we give the Legate as much information as we can. Even if there is only a century left there at least it narrows Morwenna’s options.” Cassius looked curiously at Julius. “If she goes east, excellent for she will be against the sea and we can summon the fleet. She cannot go south for there lies Morbium and the Legate.  If the road north is barred, however weakly, it means she must go west and there the Decurion Princeps is watching. The danger with Morwenna is that we do not know where she will go next.  Your information will determine if she goes north, towards the Caledonii or west.”

Inside the stronghold Morwenna was finding the leaders and chiefs more difficult to persuade than the other chiefs had been.  Perhaps their failure to capture Eboracum had something to do with it. They had been left largely alone by the Romans and the Caledonii had decided that Dun Holme was just too difficult a place to assault when there were easier pickings further south.  As their leaders told her there was little advantage to be gained from a war with an enemy who, thus far, had defeated them at every turn.

“I cannot believe that the Carvetii who fought alongside my father and almost defeated the Romans so few years ago would not take the chance of one final chance to rid this land of their pestilence.”

Broc, one of the grey haired warrior chiefs, spoke. He was obviously a respected warrior as well as a brave one for he wore his amulets and his torc with pride.  His arms and face bore the scars of battle and, when he spoke, the other chiefs and leaders showed him total respect. “You speak of your father and he was a brave man, for I fought with him in the west when we came so close to destroying the enemy but we failed and our finest warriors also fell. We have not fought the Romans for many years. Where are the warriors who will fight with you? Where are all the Brigante who left the north to destroy Eboracum?  Is this the total force you have?”

Ownie exchanged a look with Aodh. This was always going to be the sticking point. How many men could Morwenna lead?  Her army of women was numerous but they were not fighters and, whilst they might cow their men, the Romans would sweep them away.

“There are more Brigante; they are waiting on the coast at Seton. I did not bring the whole army for I came here not to fight the Carvetii but to join with them.”

Broc was not convinced.  “Winter comes soon in this land.  Would you have us fight now in the winter? If we were to join you then the spring would be the better time when we have prepared and when we have trained.”

Ownie could see that the wily warrior was stalling for time. He had no intention of fighting for a young woman and no intention of hurling his men at a shield wall of Romans which he knew would end in disaster. “If we strike south now we can destroy Morbium and then rest for the winter.  With Morbium destroyed they would have to wait south of the Dunum.”

For the first time Aodh could see a glimmer of hope for the younger chiefs saw a chance to gains some quick glory and then spend the winter lavishing in the tales of their heroic deeds. “It may be that such a victory might halt the Romans but would you need all the might of the Carvetii to achieve such a victory? Could you not do so with your Brigante and those,” he glanced at the young bucks eager for blood, “who wished to join you?”

Morwenna could see that she had been outfoxed by the wily warrior.  She took the small victory as it opened the door for a larger rebellion in the spring. In her mind she was planning to send a message to Lulach to enable a joint invasion when the snows melted.  Until then she would have to make do with what she had achieved. “If it is the Carvetii will that they send their best warriors with me and prepare the rest for a war in the spring then I thank you.” The young warriors immediately fell under the sway of the persuasive young queen. In their mind it was them she was talking about, they were the best.

Broc smiled a wry smile.  They were young and keen but they were not the best. “We will have to discuss it at length but,” Broc looked at the other elders who nodded, “in principle the Carvetii will support you.”

Morwenna immediately turned around and gestured for Ownie and Aodh to follow her. “Damn the old man.  Still we have their agreement and we should be able to take Morbium from the north.  Ownie ride to Seton and bring the rest of our warriors.  Aodh take your men and scout Morbium.”

“Sir.  The scouts watching Dun Holme report two groups of horsemen have left the stronghold.”

“How many?”

“Thirty in each group.  One headed east and one south.”

“Is the Decurion back yet?”

“No Sir.”

The Prefect was in a dilemma.  The main force was still in Dun Holme and he could not leave his post. If only he had more men but, as it was, he needed to keep the bulk of the force in one piece. “Send for Metellus and Lentius.” The two chosen men were the obvious choice for the next Decurion post and they were highly experienced.  He would have to take a chance.  This was where Macro would have been the first choice but the mighty Decurion was in the north, would that he was at Dun Holme. When the two men arrived he noted that they were ready to ride, anticipating his command. “Each of you choose a trooper to ride with you. Metellus, a band is heading south follow them and find out where they go.  Lentius, there is another heading east, I suspect they are going to Seton, follow.  Do not be seen. I would rather you lose them than your lives, we cannot afford any losses.”

“Sir.”

By the time Cassius rode in Julius had worked out what the likely scenario was; the Queen was finding out where the ala was and, probably gathering all her me together.  He smiled to himself.  They would get a shock when they found the burned settlement and the dead Brigante. He just hoped that the Legate would move a little quicker.  Things looked like they were coming to a head.

“Decurion to see you Sir.”

“Ah Cassius well what did you find?”

“There is a garrison.  It seems they had prepared for such an attack when a couple of survivors from Coriosopitum arrived.  They took losses but beat off the attacks. They are short of rations but there are still four centuries left.  I informed the Centurion of the events down here and he said he would improve the defences.”

“Excellent so we now await the Legate.”

Chapter 15

Marcus was awoken by the sound of the gulls screaming overhead. As he came to and his eyes adjusted to the bright blue sky which had replaced the driving rain of the previous night he could see that they were drifting.  Gaelwyn also awoke and showed signs of the discomfort of sleeping in the bottom of a small boat. “I am not a man of the sea Tribune.”

“Me neither.”

Hearing their voices Gaius and Ailis came to whilst the three boys snuggled closer together deep in sleep. “How far then old man?” Marcus looked over at the old man who was drooped over the tiller. He noticed that the sail was not catching the wind but idly flapping.

Gaelwyn leaned over to touch him awake. “Come on old man or we will be in Ireland ere long.” As he touched him the old man fell forwards and Ailis gave a gasp of shock.

“Gaelwyn, he is dead!”

The old man’s sightless eyes stared up at the blue sky and the screaming gulls, a half smile on his dead face. Gaelwyn gently closed the old man’s eyes. “May you find the Allfather and peace old man and may your family be waiting for you.”