Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 11] Roman Treachery (21 page)

This time it was not the headstrong Belenus who led the pursuit it was Iucher and he had no intention of following the Romans to his death.  At the top of the rise he looked at the handful of dead troopers.  “Strip the bodies of weapons.” He looked at his war chiefs gathered around him. “You two take your bands after the Romans but watch for their traps. You others follow me.” He led the men to the east, towards Cilurnum. This was where the horse warriors had come from and they would return there.  He would ambush them.

Chapter 14

Metellus knew he had to keep the barbarians close on their tail and he slowed down the two turmae to enable him to keep the wary warriors in sight. Marcus rode next to him at the rear, “it looks like your little tricks the last time have made them a little more cautious.”

“They still follow.”

“But it is not I think the whole band.  The rest must be further back.”

At the front of the line Felix and Wolf had broken cover.   The scout was not bound by the orders given to the turmae and he could go where he would.  He saw the ala arrayed before the wall and as Livius waved at him he saw the line move forwards to take up positioning the dry valley. He pointed east and the dog scampered away. 

The turmae emerged from the forest and the troopers were relieved to see the sanctuary that was the wall, ahead.  None of them knew of the trap set by the prefect but they knew that they could easily make the wall before the barbarians could escape the forest. Behind them the warband closed closer to the horses and those with bows and slings began to pelt the troopers who lagged at the rear.  There was a cacophony of sound as the stones and arrows pinged off the mail, helmets and the slung shields of the troopers.

When a horse fell with two arrows from its rear and a trooper clutched  a bleeding leg Metellus gave the order, “Retreat!” and the two turmae rode as hard away from the barbarians as possible.

Suddenly Wolf appeared from their left followed by Felix.  “The Votadini…” Those were the only words Felix uttered before he was felled by a stone.  Wolf retaliated immediately and turned, teeth snarling to leap at the throat of the boy with the sling who had drawn his dagger to finish off the stunned scout.

Marcus did not hesitate.  He put his heels to the flanks of his horse and, holding his spear like a lance galloped back to where Iucher and the rest of the Votadini poured over the moors. Cassius saw his decurion and followed. Marcus had no time to look to see if the ala had seen them for there were four more warriors approaching the unconscious scout.  Wolf had torn the throat from the boy and, with bloody jowls, was advancing slowly on the four warriors. One of them raised his spear and Marcus thrust his own spear onto the throat of the warrior. Wolf was tearing at the sword hand of a second. Withdrawing the spear and pulling back on the reins Marcus’ mount crashed his hooves down on a third barbarian as the decurion thrust his spear into the unprotected side of the last warrior. He glanced behind him where Cassius had picked up the scout and was urging Marcus to follow.  “Come on sir.  The boy is safe and they are very close!”

Marcus could see that they were, indeed, very close as a spear flew over his head.  He wheeled his horse around and raced for the defensive lines of the two turmae. The war bands from the forest had taken heart and were hurtling down the slope to attack the turmae’s flanks.  He heard Metellus shout the order to retreat and he and Cassius followed their comrades and headed for the safety of the wall.  As they crested the dry valley they saw the long reassuring lines of the rest of the ala galloping towards the exposed barbarians.  The troopers left gaps through which they passed and then they reined in their exhausted mounts to watch the barbarians caught in Livius’ trap.

The two opposing forces found themselves racing towards each other and they clashed with a crash of metal on metal; followed by the screams as blades and spears found flesh. The barbarians had the advantage that they were charging downhill but the weight of the horses soon forced the Votadini backwards. Stabbing with their javelins the troopers outranged the Votadini who were soon forced to begin to strike at the unprotected horses. Although the horses had no armour they reacted violently to the stabbing, scything blades and their hooves soon made the warriors at the fore fall back in fear.

Livius turned to the signifier, “Recall!”

The troopers on the flanks who had begun to charge towards the Votadini reined in and turned to form, a solid line again. Both sides hefted shields and weapons in preparation for the next assault.

Metellus had had time to reorganise his two turmae and he led them along the dry valley, out of sight of the barbarians.  When he felt they had travelled far enough east he ordered them into one line. “Marcus, take the left and now might be a good time for you to use the sword eh?”

Both men knew the effect the sword could have and, allied to their sudden appearance on the barbarian flank they hoped it would make the Votadini flee. Drawing the sword, which glinted in the late afternoon sun, he held it aloft and shouted, “The Sword of Cartimandua.”The cry was taken up by the rest of the turmae.

It was though a dam had been released as the fifty warriors urged their mounts up the valley’s slopes.  The Votadini were so preoccupied with Livius and the ala that the sudden appearance of fifty screaming troopers took them by surprise and the two turmae crashed into the flank of the horse.  The Sword of Cartimandua was a powerful sword and the first barbarian who tried to parry it found his own sword shattered in two and the decurion’s sword continued its arc to rip into his shoulder, severing it like a butcher with a carcass. The young Brigante recruits were desperate to copy their decurion and they fought with a fury which belied their lack of experience.  Vibius kept as close as he could to his decurion, wanting to protect the back of the man who had saved the hostage. The four of them formed an improvised wedge which began to carve through the barbarians.  Iucher was fighting like a man possessed. He was fighting to revenge a son he felt was already dead and his war axe severed limbs both of troopers and horses but the cavalry were driving inexorably forward and Briac, who had hovered close to the war chief, now raced forwards to grab his arm.  “Come Iucher, let us withdraw to the forest and fight another day.  We have killed many Romans this day.”

His face contorted with rage the Votadini war chief snarled at Briac.  “But not enough!”

His bodyguards and oathsworn also added their voices.  “He is right, great chief.  We will join with the Selgovae and attack again.”

With a roar of rage Iucher chopped his axe down to split the nearest trooper in two and then turned.  “Come, my people, back to the forest.”

With his bodyguard forming a shield wall the Votadini began to melt back up the hill towards the forest. Livius considered chasing them but they had but four hundred paces to go and his horses were already winded.  “Sound recall!”

Troopers reined in and looked around to see which of their comrades had gone to meet the Allfather.  Marcus rode back to Felix who lay in the arms of the capsarius. The orderly looked up and smiled, “He is tough this one and that,” he pointed to Wolf, “is a fierce protector! He is bruised that is all.”

Felix opened his eyes.  “Sorry sir.  They surprised me.  They were upwind of me.”

“You warned us and that saved us Felix.  Next time we bring your mount eh?” Felix gave a wan smile and nodded.

“See to the wounded and despatch the wounded barbarians. Gnaeus keep watch on the barbarians.”

The spy had managed to avoid killing any of his barbarian comrades.  He had seen Briac and knew that he was here.  He could still operate his plan.  He went around the bodies taking weapons from them and secreting them in his satchel. The Romans had been clever and almost tricked the barbarians into a trap.  He would not underestimate them again.  It was time to prove that there were still Brigante with heart who were willing to die for freedom.

Julius Demetrius had spent the day at the new fort, Vercovicium, on the wall.  The Governor’s orders had been quite clear, more forts like Cilurnum were needed and he and the engineers had been surveying a site close to the lake and the cliff.  It would make a prefect fort for infantry and his engineers assured him that it would be almost impregnable.  Julius was not certain; the barbarians had shown themselves to be remarkably resourceful hitherto. He and his legionary escort caught up with the ala as they travelled along the Stanegate back to their fort.  Julius felt a pang of guilt as he saw the empty saddles and the depleted numbers.  He still remembered when he had been the prefect of the ala and he felt every casualty as much as Livius.

He joined Rufius who had formed the rearguard. “How did it go Rufius?”

“They tried to ambush us but they lost many more men than we.”

“And did anyone try to run?”

“Not as far as we can tell.  We will have a roll call when we return to the fort.”

“It might be that we hold a parade tomorrow and ask young Vibia to identify her abductor.”

“Why not tonight legate?”

“I need to speak with her first and, besides, it is unfair on those brave men who have fought today and lost comrades.”

“You are right.  There is hardly a turma which has not lost numbers of brave men.  What about the Sixth and the Gauls.  Have they had an easier time?”

“Yes, the Selgovae, it seems have retreated to lick their wounds but the days of the overwhelming victories are long gone. The tribes are learning how to fight us.”

There was a downcast air over the fort as the men groomed their horses and prepared their evening meals. It seemed, to many, that they only had the full complement of troopers for a short time. Livius could detect their depression as he wandered the fort; praising a man here, joking with another there. “Let the quartermaster know if there are any deficiencies in your equipment.”

“That will cheer old Publius up, sir.  He’ll be even more miserable.”

The Quartermaster was renowned for being a morose character.  In fact he had a wicked sense of humour but he only shared that with his fellow officers.  He kept a façade for the troopers but Livius knew he would be as distraught about the losses as any.

When Livius met his officers he first checked up on their state of mind.  There were many young decurion amongst his officers and the first time you lost men was always hard. “You all did well today.  Let me know of any who deserve phalera.” He smiled as they all began at once.  He held a hand up.  “In writing please and give it to Julius.” He poured a beaker of wine, “To Marcus’ Horse!” They all joined in withy the toast and swallowed off the wine which the legate himself had provided.

“I saw Briac today sir.”

“Did you Marcus? I wondered if he had returned to Eboracum to cause more mischief.” He suddenly seemed to remember something. “Tomorrow I want to hold a parade and praise the men directly.  The only turma on patrol will be Sextus so they do not need to come in armour and helmets.”

Rufius, Metellus and Marcus exchanged glances.  They hated being in the know when their fellows were not but they understood the need for secrecy.  On the following day they would finally know the identity of the spy and all the need for subterfuge would be gone.

The spy had finished his work quickly; his equipment was cleaned and placed on his bed, his horse was groomed- he was still the perfect trooper.  He was still avoiding Vibia.  With the Votadini daggers secreted about his person he made his way to the cells.  He took with him a skin of wine.  The cells were towards the river end of the fort and close to the bridge. They were in shadows and well away from everything but the stables. The corpse of the hanged man still swayed in the slight breeze and the sudden, jerky movements told the spy that the rats were feasting well. He knew that there were two Tungrian guards on the gate of the cells and one on the inside. He was a confident warrior and had devised a plan to eliminate both of the exterior guards. He poured a handful of wine onto his hands and spread it over his face. He took a mouthful and rolled it around his mouth before spitting it out.  Satisfied with his appearance he staggered towards the cells singing a dirty ditty the soldiers sang as they rode.

The two Tungrians nodded to each other, with a grin on each of their faces, as the trooper made his unsteady way towards them.  “Are you lost trooper? No horses to shag here.”

The spy laughed.  “No I just wanted to stick this,” he held out a Votadini dagger, “into one of those bastards.  My mate caught it today from another of the Votadini and I want payback!”

“Much as we might want to we can’t let you in there.”

“I know, here, have a drink?” He held out the wine skin. 

The Tungrians eyed it greedily.  They glanced around to see if there were any officers about and then they put their spears in the door jamb. “Just a quick drink eh Gaius?”

“It would be rude to refuse Julius.”

As one Tungrian took the skin the spy slashed his blade across the throat of the other and then before the one with the skin could react he stabbed him in the neck. He was a strong man and he grabbed them both to lower them to the ground.

The guard inside said, “What’s going on out there?”

The spy disguised his voice, “It’s Gaius, and he’s taken a funny turn.”

“If he’s been drinking again he is on a charge.  I can smell it from in here.”

The door opened and before the Tungrian could react the spy had pushed him backwards and stabbed him under his arm into his heart.  He laid the bleeding corpse down. The keys to the cells were on a hook next to the sentry’s chair and he grabbed them. There was a small opening so that the guards could check on the prisoners. The spy peered in and said, “Stand back from the doors; I am here to rescue you.”

He opened one door and two of the Votadini looked at him suspiciously.  “Why should a Roman help us?”

In answer the spy pointed at the corpse, “Because I am Brigante. Here,” he gave them the daggers he had collected from the battlefield. When they were all armed he addressed them. “The best way out will be over the walls. Watch out for traps in the bottom and the sentries on the bridge. You can swim the river. Stay away from the bridge it is heavily garrisoned. When you get to your camp tell my chief, Briac, that his man still fights for him but I need instructions.”