Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 11] Roman Treachery (8 page)

Suddenly the horsemen turned south and head directly for Briac and his band.  Had they been spotted? His men quickly found cover where they could and Briac peered from the rocks to the east of the turma. The Allfather and the gods of his people were with him for the turma would pass beneath them. “When they are close enough we will attack them!” He outnumbered them by over two one and he had the advantage that they could not attack him, the Brigante had the high rocky ground.

The prefect’s horse’s ears suddenly pricked and the experienced officer knew that there was something amiss. The wind was from the east and his horse had detected an unusual smell. “Stand to!”

The fact that the attack came from the left, added to Livius’ warning command meant that the turma had more protection than they might have had.  Their shields came around to protect them and the arrows and spears found few vulnerable targets. One horse went down in a tumble of legs and the trooper rolled down the hillside.  He was in danger only for a heartbeat as two of his of his comrades shielded him with their mounts whilst a third picked him up. Livius could see that they had no chance of defeating the Brigante while they were on their rocky perch and he cursed the lack of scouts.  Scouts would have seen the enemy trail. There was but one thing to do; ride to the other turmae where they would have a chance of defeating them. “Let’s ride!” Kicking hard into his horse’s flanks the turma sped away from the missiles still being hurled in their direction.

Briac cursed.  Their very safety meant that they could not easily get to the horsemen who galloped off and it was then that the Brigante leader realised that their course would take them to the wagons.  He hoped that the thirty men had had left guarding them would be sufficient.

Gnaeus and Lucius arrived at the wagons at the same time. Although the Brigante sentries had spotted them, their hastily improvised defences were not enough to stop the javelins and swords of the sixty troopers who fell upon them from two directions. They fought bravely enough but when Aed, their leader fell the others fled. They had enough wit left to climb the crags and the horsemen had to halt. “Secure the wagons! Appius, Publius, take four troopers and form a screen four hundred paces from the wagons.” Gnaeus dismounted and inspected the wagons. They still contained their cargo, the white dust rising in the air as he lifted the covers.  “Lucius see if they have left the horses somewhere.”

Gnaeus was not optimistic but at least they had achieved half of their aims. He scanned the skyline for the prefect. As he turned away he sensed a movement and looked back as the Fifth Turma, with their prefect at their head, tumbled over the ridge line.  Gnaeus was experienced enough to know that his commander was in trouble.  “Stand to! Javelins!”

A quickly formed line protected the wagons as the prefect brought his turma through the gaps left by their comrades.  The Brigante appeared on the skyline and halted. Briac looked down at the ninety Romans.  He could not defeat them.  This round had gone to the Romans but there would be others.  His men melted away like morning mist.

“Should we follow sir?”

Livius looked ruefully at the four wagons. “I am afraid not Gnaeus. They will have gone in many directions and the rocks up there prevent us following.  No, we have achieved what we set out to do, we have recaptured the wagons.  Well half of them at least.  We will take them back to Eboracum.”

“How sir? They have taken the horses.”

Livius gave the newly promoted officer along hard look. “It may have escaped your attention but we are riding horses.”

Gnaeus was horrified.  “You mean use our horses to pull the wagons?”

“Got it in one.  Two horses to a wagon, pick the biggest ones.” He looked at Gnaeus mount.  “Yours will do Gnaeus!”

Gnaeus bit back his retort and took his saddle off.  “What are you grinning at Decimus?  Yours is a big bugger too.  Take off your saddle and join me eh?”

Marcus halted his turma close to the road. He looked to the east and saw that they were close to the place where the prefect’s brother had escaped Britannia.  “We will halt here lads.”

Scanlan asked, “What are we waiting for sir?”

Sextus growled and Marcus smiled as he held up his hand.  “We are waiting for the next wagons and we will escort them into the fort but, as you are so interested in what we are doing then take Vibius a mile down the road to wait for them. The rest of us will water our horses at the river; it is only eight hundred paces east of us.”

Sextus laughed, “That’ll teach you not to be a nosey bugger! Shall we feed the horses as well sir?”

“Might as well Sextus.  I have no idea how long we will have to wait. Let the lads eat too.”

“They ate at the farm sir.  You are spoiling them.”

“When I was with the Ninth legion they taught me to eat as often as you can, when you can.  You never know when you might not have the opportunity.” The brief time he and his step brother had spent with the Ninth had been during his formative years and the lessons and traits he had learned, ran deep.

Vibius didn’t mind the excursion.  He wanted to see as much of the country as he could but he found it amusing that Scanlan took it to be a punishment.  He was sure that Aneurin, the other Brigante would not have done so.

“All I wanted to know was how long we would be there?”

“Why?” Scanlan’s broad face looked puzzled.  “I mean what difference does it make?”

“I dunno.  I thought we would be fighting more than we have been.” The young Brigante seemed to notice Vibius for the first time. “I meant to ask you, why did you wait so long to join up?  No disrespect Vibius but you are as old as some of the troopers who have been in for five years.”

Vibius’ face clouded over.  “Let’s just say things didn’t work out the way I intended when I was younger and leave it at that. “ He glanced back up the road and then to the river, not far east of them. “This must be a couple of miles from the turma, let’s wait here.” There was a small hill fifty paces west of the road and Vibius led Scanlan towards it.  “We will see further from up there and yet be close enough to the road.” Scanlan suddenly realised that he would not have thought of that but it was a good idea. He would stick close to Vibius; he was bright and the decurion liked him. Thinking wasn’t what Scanlan did best; he was a fighter.  After they had fed their horses, they took it in turns to sit atop their mounts to watch for the grain wagons which would trundle slowly from the south.

The warband sent by Briac to capture the latest convoy was smaller than the ones on the first raid. Briac had needed his men for the ambush of the prefect but Tadgh, their leader was happy enough.  He had forty men and the Romans would not expect them to strike so far south of the city.  Their leader was both wise and wily and he would outwit the Romans.  They saw the wagons approach and noted that they were unguarded.  This would be even easier than the first raid. His men had covered themselves with brown and green blankets and were invisible to the bored wagon drivers. They knew that north of Eboracum there were raids but here they were safe. Tadgh raised his arm to signal the attack. 

Scanlan was watching to the south and he suddenly saw a strange movement; the white arm, rising from the ground looked out of place. “Vibius.  I can see the wagons but…”

Vibius sprang on to the back of his horse.  He took in the situation in an instant. “Quick, ride back to the decurion.  The wagons are under attack.  I will try to….”

Scanlan never heard what Vibius would do for he was riding as quickly as he could for the turma. Vibius checked his shield and hefted his javelin. As he kicked his horse on he wondered just what he would do.  He could see that they were at least thirty or forty warriors that he could see. As he rode to meet them, a vague plan began to formulate in his mind.  They would not know that the turma was a mile or two behind. He began to look behind him and to shout as he neared them.  “On! Turma Two! Charge!”

Tadgh looked in horror as the lone Roman horseman hurtled towards him.  The first wagon drivers were dead and his men were busily despatching the others. Had he had horses he would have charged the maniac coming towards them but they were afoot. “Get those wagons off the road and up the hills. You eight, form a shield wall.”

His eight warriors locked their round shields and stood steadfastly in the middle of the Roman Road. Vibius had gone beyond the point of no return.  He hurled his javelin and had the satisfaction of seeing it plunge into the surprised head of a Brigante bandit who had failed to use the full cover of his shield. Emboldened by his success he threw a second which merely struck wood.  He tugged fiercely back on the reins and his horse stopped but ten paces from the Brigante. The warriors could see that he was alone and they roared towards him intent upon killing this bold and foolish warrior. As he wheeled quickly back along the road he saw, to his great relief, the wolf standard and the turma galloping towards him. He could see the Sword of Cartimandua held aloft by the decurion and he felt real pride in the men with whom he served. He slowed up his mount and, as the turma galloped by him he heard Sextus say grudgingly, “Lucky little bastard!”

Marcus led his line of troopers directly at the would-be robbers.  Unarmoured as they were they stood little chance against the accurately thrown javelins. By the time Vibius had turned his horse around to rejoin his comrades it was all over and the last few Brigante had been captured. Sextus grinned at Marcus and pointed at the prisoners.  “A little profit for us then eh sir?”

Prisoners meant slaves and the money would be shared out amongst the turma. Marcus nodded and then gestured towards Vibius.  “That was bravely done Sextus.”

“He was lucky sir.” Then he added grudgingly, “I was impressed with his accuracy though. If the others are as good then we might have a good turma again.”

The dead carters were placed in the cement wagon while the dead Brigante were stripped of weapons and left as a reminder to others of the perils of stealing from Rome. The century awaiting the wagons a few miles from Eboracum were delighted that it was escorted by the ala.  Marcus disappointed the centurion by telling him that they would have to escort the wagons in without the aid of the ala. Sextus asked, “Are we not going into Eboracum then sir?”

“No Sextus, the prefect is still out there bandit hunting and I do not want to waste a turma of cavalry doing what the caligae can do equally well. But you can take the prisoners in to the slave market.  Take Scanlan with you and then meet me at my brother’s farm.”

Sextus went off happily.  He would manage to get a beaker of ale at least at The Saddle.  “Come on gormless.  Let’s see how fast these bandits can run.” Giving one rope to Scanlan and taking the other, the gruff chosen man began to trot towards the distant fortress.

Marcus rode over to Vibius who was still flushed with both his success and the excitement of the skirmish. “You did well Vibius but remember there are thirty other troopers to aid you.  It was a little reckless.  We were coming to your aid.”

“I know sir, sorry but it just seemed the right thing to do.”

“Do not get me wrong Vibius it is what I would have done when I was your age but when you get a little older you realise the dangers in being isolated amongst enemies.”

“The men say that you were an Explorate when you were younger.  You hid amongst the enemy.” It was a statement which required both an explanation and an answer.

“True Vibius but that was different.  We were hidden in plain sight.  We dressed as the people dressed.” He gestured at their uniform.  “We did not look as different as you do. Tell me Vibius, you are a well trained youth, why did you wait so long to join.”

“What you really mean sir is where did I learn to throw so well?”

Marcus could see that talking to Vibius was different from talking to the other recruits.  He had a maturity about him which was lacking in the other youths. “Not just the weapon work but the riding as well. You look to have had some military training and I can hear from your voice that you have been well educated.”

“My family had money and I was given every opportunity to better myself but my parents and the rest of my family were taken by the plague which visited us and I found that my father’s business dealings were not as sound as they might have been.  I was left with a small amount of money.” He shrugged.  “Had I been a citizen then I might have contemplated joining the legionary cavalry but as I was not I chose Marcus’ Horse.”

“You had heard of us, in the south?”

“Your fame is known throughout the land and besides my family was of the same tribe as the prefect and it seemed fitting somehow that I should be a warrior with the nearest thing to a chief that I could.”

Before Marcus could reply, his horse’s ears pricked. He held up his hand, “Stand to!”

A trooper from the Fourth Turma appeared from the nearby copse. “Sir.”

“I take it your turma is close by Septimus?”

“Sir! The prefect has managed to recover the wagons and we are taking them to Eboracum.” He pointed behind him where the line of wagons could be seen.

“Good.  Carry on with your scouting duties. Turma, ho!”

The column of riders quickly closed up with the rest of the ala. When Marcus had reported their success he said to Livius.  “With your permission sir I will head for my brother’s farm.  Drugi promised me a couple of trackers.”

“Good.  I will keep your turma with me and we will meet you in Eboracum when you have secured your men.”  He smiled at his young decurion.”It will give you the opportunity to spend a night with your wife. I am aware that you have not had leave for quite a while.”

“She understands sir. And my mother knows how it works.”

Chapter 6

Marcus could see that his brother had heeded his warning about the Brigante and his workers were deepening the ditch which surrounded the huts. The men waved at Marcus as he rode through the thick oaken gate. Ailis watched her youngest son as he dismounted; he was the image of his father.  Decius was more like his mother in the face but his body was far bigger than his little brother.  It was stranger that the brothers could be so different and yet, inside, they were still the same.  They had never fallen out and there were no sibling jealousies. She and Gaius had been lucky, she knew that. “Frann, your husband is here.”