Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 11] Roman Treachery (16 page)

As they made their way down the slope Marcus was amazed at the lack of security from the Votadini.  Apart from the two guards they had seen by the hostage, there did not appear to be any sentries, or indeed anyone who looked alert.  It seemed they were relaxed.  Perhaps the lack of their leaders made them feel as though they were off the leash. Three warriors wandered back from the stream, having relieved themselves down stream from the point they collected their water.  They were a little the worse for wear, staggering a little, and they stared at Marcus and his party.  Wolf started to growl but Felix gave him a signal and he dropped to all fours, his eyes darting from the barbarians and back to Felix.

The tallest man, who had many arm rings and scars, spat some phlegm at a tree as he idly scratched his groin. “Who the fuck are you sorry bunch?”

He had spoken in Votadini and only Marcus had understood him.  “I am glad that we have found you.  We seek Briac for we are his warriors and we bring important news.”

The warriors visibly relaxed.  “Well you missed him and he won’t be back until tomorrow evening. Come, join our camp.  I am Belenus, war chief of the Votadini.” The way he puffed himself up made Marcus think that he was not as important as he obviously thought himself,   “Chief Iucher has left me in charge while he goes to the Roman fort to demand the return of his son.” He slapped his arm around Marcus’ shoulders.  “Your people did well to steal the hostage.  Perhaps you are not the women we thought you were!” He laughed and Marcus gave a weak smile.  It was fortunate the others had not understood his words. He looked at the po-faced companions of Marcus.  “What is up with them?  Didn’t they understand my little joke?”

“I am sorry, I am the only one who speaks their language.”

“Well none of us understand your language so we will have to use signs and gestures eh? Come we will sup.”

As they walked in they were seen as non-threatening because of the presence of the war chief. Marcus could not remember if Vibia had seen him.  He would have to hope not or pray that she was quick witted.

“And who are you Brigante?”

“I am Gaelwyn,” Marcus had learned, when he had spied and lied before, to keep the story simple and memorable and his uncle’s name came easily to the tongue..

“I have heard that name before.  I wonder where?” They had reached the fire with the post. “Here clear some space for some of the Briac’s Brigante brethren.” Some Votadini cleared a space on a log and they sat down.

The movement made Vibia look up and her eyes widened as she recognised Marcus.  He gave a slight shake of the head and she closed her eyes and gave an imperceptible nod.  Marcus thanked the Allfather that she was a good actress. A jug of beer stood on the table.  There were some empty beakers there and Belenus waved an imperious hand.  “Help yourselves.”

Marcus turned to his men.  “We are welcomed and the chief,” he nodded meaningfully at the war chief, “bids us drink.  He is sorry that they do not speak Brigante but has told me that Briac is returning tomorrow.  Take beer but pretend to drink and pretend to get drunk.  That way we can fall asleep here. The girl’s guards look to be alert; we must be careful.”

They all filled a beaker with the frothy beer and sat down. They were silent and Marcus could see the question on the chief’s lips.  “Talk, tell jokes, act as though you are happy to be here.  You all look like you are about to wet yourselves.”

Aneurin gave a weak smile.  “Sorry sir.  We aren’t used to this.”

“I know but just pretend and we will get out of this.” He turned to Belenus. “We have stopped the wagons of the Romans in the south.”

“Aye and we have bloodied them here too.  The Selgovae have destroyed a camp and part of the wall and with your spy in the Roman camp we will soon drive them from our land.”

Marcus froze.  A spy! It confirmed what the prisoners had said and that he was a Brigante. “Yes he gives us good information.”

Belenus took another swallow of the beer.  “Aye.  It is a pity he is not in one of the legions but still the horse warriors are a fierce force and it is good to know what they do.”

This was even worse.  The spy was one of their own.  He suddenly looked at the three men he had with him.  They were all Brigante; could one of them be the spy?  Then his dismissed the idea, they did not volunteer for this, they were chosen and a spy would have revealed himself to the Votadini straight away.  Still, it paid to be patient and he would wait until he had returned to the fort to tell someone. He knew whom he could trust but it shocked him to his core to think that there could be someone who was an enemy.

They talked and joked for a while; Marcus made sure it was inconsequential but he also learned that the tribes were planning a big offensive and it would be timed to coincide with a Brigante uprising led by Briac.  It was obvious to Marcus that Briac was the key and, having seen him, he would do all in his power to capture him. He also discovered that they had been stockpiling weapons for some time and were prepared for a bigger war than hitherto.

When he could, he caught the eye of each of his men and nodded.  They returned the nod and, one by one they fell asleep. Even Wolf feigned sleep; Marcus did not know how Felix told him to do so but he did. After Marcus, who had pretended to drink copious amounts of beer, fell over and feigned sleep, the Votadini left them by the fire and returned to their tents. Marcus had deliberately fallen so that he lay on his arms and could watch the two guards. The guards had been changed once and Marcus had to wait until everyone was asleep and the guards relaxed. He whispered to Felix, who was the nearest one to him.  “Go and take a pee and when you return sleep a little closer to the pole.”

Felix rose and Marcus watched, through half lidded eyes, as the guard gave him a cursory look.  Wolf followed obediently and when they returned, the two of them curled up in a ball about five paces from the pole.  The guards did not seem to mind.  Vibia, too, was watching, with interest what was happening.  When she had seen Marcus and recognised him her heart had soared but she still could not see a way out of her dilemma.  When the boy with dog came a little closer she began to gain hope.

Marcus stretched and sat up.  He held his hands to the dying embers of the fire.  A subtle glance told him that the sentries were ignoring him. He leaned forwards and murmured, “Cassius and Aneurin go and have a pee.  When you come back go behind the guards, one each and have your knife ready.” Marcus was proud of the way the two troopers slowly stood, unsteadily and, holding on to each other, as though still drunk, they staggered away.

“Scanlan, get ready; when I tell you, get to the guard on the right and put your hand across his mouth.” A slight nod, as though from a sleeping man, told the decurion that he knew what to do.  He saw Felix wink, his knife already in his hand. Marcus stood and warmed his backside against the fire and then began to walk slowly towards the guards, a smile on his face.  Behind them he saw his two men approach.  Marcus’ movements made the two guards suspicious and they pointed their swords towards him.  He feigned surprise and held his open hands out. He watched their eyes relax and he grinned as he said, quietly in Brigante, “Now!”

The two troopers behind moved so quickly it was though a snake had struck. Marcus walked quickly to the guard nearest to him and holding one hand with his right hand put his left hand over the man’s mouth.  The sticky hot blood from his throat spurted all over him.  Even as the man was dying Felix was slicing through Vibia’s bonds and the second guard was joining his fellow in the hereafter.

“Can you walk?”

“Of course and tha…”

“No time for that.  Felix, take Wolf and check the way to the horses.  You three watch the girl and I will bring up the rear.”

Vibia didn’t know what to make of it as the five men took her swiftly from the encampment.  She kept glancing over her shoulder at Marcus who was fifty paces behind, sword drawn watching for enemies. They climbed through the forest and they all became aware that it was not as dark as it had been.  Dawn was breaking.  At the rear Marcus knew that men’s bladders would begin to work and when they saw the girl gone, the pursuit would be on.  Even as he scanned the land below him he knew that they had been more than lucky to have achieved what they had done. Everything now depended upon Sextus and his traps and deadfalls.

By the time Marcus reached the horses, they were all mounted save Felix.  “Felix, get behind the girl we have no time for you to run.” The scout looked as though he was going to argue but two things happened, firstly Marcus snapped, “Get on the horse,” and, there was roar from the camp as the Votadini discovered that their prisoner had been spirited away.

Cassius summed it up well, “Well there it is lads! We are in the shit now! Felix, get on the fucking horse now!”

Felix clambered up and they fled. Marcus shouted, “Watch for the marked trees.  Ride between them!”

Behind them the camp was in uproar as Belenus roared around berating everyone in sight.  One of the warriors spotted the trail and the warband hurtled up the path after the Brigante. They grabbed whatever weapons they had.  They did not have many horses, they did not need them but Belenus grabbed one as did the other leaders. The war chief cursed his luck and the spies who had fooled him. He would be the laughing stock of the tribe unless he could recapture the precious hostage.  He kicked viciously into the flanks of the horse as it struggled up the hill with his weight. One of his scouts was waiting at the top.  “They had horses waiting.  They are heading for the wall!” He pointed south at the trail which led to the frontier.

“After them.  They must die!”

Sextus heard the hooves, muffled by the pine carpet, of Marcus and the others.  He was in no doubt who it was but he had to be certain.  “Stand to!” He hoped that the trail had been clearly marked or this would be a disaster. The deadfalls and traps would, he knew, slow them up but the trail had to be accurate.  To his relief he saw Wolf racing towards him followed by the girl and Felix.  He had never been so glad to see a dog before. “Sir! Here!”

The girl, it had to be admitted, was a good rider and she deftly steered her horse towards the waiting turma. The five horses reined in. Marcus voice barked. “Get your helmets on and shields we may need them.  Sextus, they are behind us.  Give them one volley of javelins and follow us.”

Sextus grinned like a child at Saturnalia.  “Good to see you sir.  Don’t you worry, they won’t get by us! Get your javelins and mark your targets!”

Belenus was fortunate, or perhaps just lucky, that he managed to follow the safe trail.  As he heard the screams and shouts of his men to the left and the right he realised that his enemies had laid traps.  “Follow me! Stay in the trail!” His men began to move towards the central line which appeared to be safer.  In the forest men lay with legs broken, arms and torsos pierced by stakes.

Sextus and the twenty odd men held their shields before them and their arms braced with their javelins.  They were beyond the traps and spreads out in a wide semicircular line. “Wait for my command!” Dawn was now breaking to the trooper’s right as they saw the warband hurtling towards them. Sextus waited until the enemy were less than forty paces away and then roared, “Loose!”

Belenus and his horse took three javelins and he was dead even before both his and his horse’s necks were broken by the bole of the tree into which they crashed.  The other riders were also plucked from their mounts. “Retreat!” Sextus had taken out the only riders; the rest were on foot and now, after the traps, cautious.

Marcus knew that they had a long ride ahead of them and the barbarians could move as swiftly through the forests as horses.  He kept up a steady, ground eating pace.  He never once turned around; he trusted Sextus and knew that he would follow.  He kept his eye on Felix and Vibia in front of him.  He needed no scout on point for Wolf ranged ahead and he would alert them to a barbarian quickly. Dawn broke slowly to his left but it made him feel better.  He could see the wall now, albeit in the distance and it shone like a beacon in the new day. He hoped that the Selgovae had not overrun the defences for if they had then the Votadini behind him would rip through the frontier like a knife through butter. He now had even more reason to get back as swiftly as he could.

Chapter 11

Iucher, Briac and the other warriors reined in at the bridge of Cilurnum. The Tinea rushed below, the recent rains in the hills having sent it surging towards the sea. Its white flecked waves perilously close to the bottom of the stone bridge.  The sentries at the gate were not worried for there were few riders before them. The barbarians just sat there impassively viewing the wall. One of the auxiliaries turned to the optio.  “What do we do then sir?”

The optio stroked his face. He felt the stubble; it meant that his relief would be here soon. He would let him have the problem of sending for the legate.  “Nothing son.  They aren’t going anywhere. We’ll let the next shift worry about what they want. I can’t be bothered trying to talk to some hairy arsed barbarian at this time of the morning.”

The sentry pointed to Iucher. “That one there has one of them torcs on that means he is a chief.  Shouldn’t we send for the legate?”

“If you think I am going to risk waking the legate just because a bunch of barbarians with fancy jewellery come calling then you are out of your mind.”

Iucher turned to Briac. “Why do they not speak with us?”

Briac shrugged, “Their chiefs are in the fort, across the river.  The men guarding it are not important.”

One of the Votadini fingered his bow.  “I could hit them easily from here.”

Iucher restrained the eager warrior.  “We will wait until we get our boys back.” He turned to the Brigante. “Briac ask to speak with their chief.”

Briac rode a few paces closer to the gate and looked up at the eight men on the gate. His Latin was imperfect but was understandable. “We would speak with the general.  We have a Roman hostage.”

“Shit!” The optio could not ignore the barbarians now.  The whole fort knew that an important relative of the Governor had been kidnapped. He turned to the grinning auxiliary next to him, “All right smart arse.  Go to the Principia and tell them that we have a delegation of barbarians with news of the hostage.” As the auxiliary descended the stairs and ran back across the bridge the optio shouted down.  “I have sent for him.”