Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 03] Invasion- Caledonia (27 page)

“There are many things we must do but first we must head north east away from them so that we can plan in safety for they will follow us and we have our families with us.”

“And as long as their fleet is there we cannot go near to the coast.”

“I will seek out the witch and ask her advice.”

“But King Calgathus she is a witch!”

“I will use anybody to rid my land of these Romans.”

At least one Roman was leaving.  Gnaeus Julius Agricola stood on the beach saying his goodbyes. “Well Prefects, and First Spear, we have travelled a long journey since first we fought at Stanwyck.  We have travelled to the westernmost extremities and now the northern most and we have done it together. I cannot think of any other men who could have done better than you and your soldiers. There are now among you greybeards where first I saw the lean and callow youths. We have fought and defeated every enemy Rome who has dared to challenge us.  It is sad that we have not, as I had hoped, completed the task but that will be your duty and honour to complete. I truly believe that we have broken the back of these barbarians.  It is forty one years since the first Roman stepped ashore and in a mere eight years we have conquered more than all of our predecessors in thirty three years.  That is something to tell your grandchildren as I will tell mine.” He clasped each man’s arm in a soldier’s salute; he spoke not a word for there tears in his throat. When he came to Marcus he clasped his arm and then embraced him. In a quiet voice he said, “Marcus Aurelius Maximunius your embody Britannia. Keep it safe and finish my work.”

Barely able to speak he said, “I will my general.”

The impatient captain pulled up the gangplank and ordered the rowers to back water as soon as Agricola stepped on board. The prefects watched the sail become an indistinct blur and disappear south around the headland.

They walked silently back to the camp until Decius said, to no-one in particular, “Isn’t it typical?  You get one general trained up so you know what the hell he is thinking and they take him away and give you a new one.”

The tension broken the senior officers all laughed. Furius said, “Anyone know who the new Governor is then?”

“
Sallustius Lucullus
.”

They all looked at each other blankly.  “Well we will have to wait and see then. I suppose until then we carry on with the general’s orders. I daresay the new governor will make himself known to us before too long.”

The new Governor was indeed landing, even as they spoke at Rutupiae.  He had looked forward to this posting his whole life.  For he was returning to his homeland. He was Lucullus son of Prince Arminius who had fled to Rome with his father King Cunobelinus, the only true King of Britannia and now his grandson was returning to rule a land even greater than that of his grandfather.  Admittedly he was not a king but he wielded more power than a king. The petty princes and kings who had driven his family from their land would pay for their past treacheries and insults. The first thing he would do was to finally destroy the Caledonii and complete the work of Agricola.

The Caledonii themselves were not idle. Long into the night the king sat with Fainch as they discussed strategies which would evict the Romans from their newly won land. “Now is the time to strike King Calgathus.  The general who led these men has departed.  They are leaderless.  Believe me I have fought the Romans since I was a young girl I know how they fight.  They had order and discipline but it all comes from one man. The Romans will patrol and build but they will not attack.  We have a free hand until a new general comes.”

“What could we do against these Romans?”

“They are building roads and forts are they not? That is a perfect opportunity to attack.  They cannot build and fight. Yes after the first few attacks they will increase their guards and we will have to try a different strategy.  As Lulach said we could attack their forts at night. We lost fewer men in that attack than the battle.”

“But I do no not have the numbers I did have.”

“You know how you build a dam? You divert the water and then you put stones in the bed.  You build up the big stones and then you fill in with smaller stones and finally very small stone. Then you allow the water to flow again.”

Impatiently he said, “This I know! I do not need a lesson from a woman.”

Ignoring the insult she said, “It takes much work to build a dam as it has taken many years to build their Empire but to destroy it you take out the small stones, one at a time, little by little eventually the whole thing becomes unstable and it collapses. Our attacks will be as the removal of the small stones, in themselves not powerful but, taken together, they will work.”

“I will order my warbands to target the road builders.  There are many roads and forts being built it may have success.  The attacks on the forts I will consider if the first attacks are successful.”

The vexillation from the Second Tungrian cohort hated road building.  The two centuries were warriors first and foremost, it was their life.  They enjoyed the benefits which roads brought but they believed there were many inferior cohorts to their own who could do such labour.  At least building this road to Alavna meant that they were many miles south of the land where the Caledonii were hiding. The other advantage was that they did not need to wear the
Lorica
segmentata
  which was vital in war but heavy and uncomfortable in peace. Like every other soldier they too wished that they had finally seen off the threat of Calgathus.  As long as he and his not insubstantial army remained it was like a toothache which won’t go away.  It might calm down for a while but you know that eventually it will flare up.

Lulach had brought his warband south over the Vorlich mountain. It had been a hard trek but it had the beauty that it avoided all Roman patrols.  They had only to cross one valley and Lulach had chosen the middle of the night at a spot two miles from each of the camps sited along the valley. His four hundred warriors were eager.  They had had to draw lots to decide on the warband for so many had wanted revenge for the defeat at Mons Graupius. Even as Lulach and his men got into position other bands were doing the same further north on the road being built to Inchtuthil.

He peered over the mound behind which he squatted; twenty of the men were on sentry duty while the other one hundred and forty toiled on the road. He signalled his smallest warriors and they ran south and north to encircle the Romans. The other three hundred warriors began to filter down. The sentries had already been targeted and two warriors were approaching each one. It mattered not if they raised the alarm for Lulach was convinced his men could cover the distance before the Tungrians could arm themselves and, more importantly put on their armour.

Eight of the sentries had been killed before one made a sound.  With a roar the warriors leapt over the ridge and raced down the slope. Although taken by surprise the Tungrians training took over and they quickly picked up swords and shields. By the time the Caledonii had reached them they had formed a shield wall. The Tungrians were angry and fought back ferociously but, without their armour and helmets they were more vulnerable to the blows of their opponents and for the first time almost fought them on an equal basis. The smaller warriors who had encircled them began to hurl slingshots at them and soon there were casualties. It would have turned into a disaster had not the signifier remembered his buccina and sounded a blast.  A blast which caused him a crippling wound to his leg as a warrior threw a spear at him but it had the desired effect. Lulach roared his command the Caledonii disengaged and fled back into the forest taking with them any swords and shields they could from the dead Tungrians. When the relief column made their way down from their section of road building most of the wounded had been made comfortable and those too severely wounded had been despatched.  It was the Tungrian way.

The prefects met at Inchtuthil to plan their strategy. “Any word from the new governor?”

“He sent a message with the fleet. He is in the south, then he will visit Deva, across to Eboracum and finally to us.”

“No hurry then?”

“I think it is up to us. “

“You are right Cominius.  We lost over a hundred Tungrian dead.”

“We lost the same,” added Strabo.

Bassus nodded, “Two hundred. No signal was given and two centuries perished. The bastards.”

“The first thing we do is an obvious one; we double the number of guards on the roads.”

“That slows down the building.”

“So does dead auxiliaries.”

Marcus looked at the map. “If the Gallic cavalry patrols from Alavna to Inchtuthil and my horse patrol the road from Inchtuthil to Marcus and nothing else then any attack can be thwarted because there should be a relief force of forty cavalry nearby.”

Metellus the prefect of the Gallic cavalry nodded, “It is a good plan but it means we cannot hunt the Caledonii.”

Cominius looked up, “It seems to me that we know where the Caledonii are, attacking my men. In the absence of any better plan we will try this.”

“To make it more efficient I would suggest that one turma camps with each cohort. That will mean less travelling. We can rotate the turma.”

Decius of course, was overjoyed. “Looking after the bleeding infantry again.”

Gaius smiled, “Yes Decius but think of the lovely road you will have to show for it.”

“We don’t need to patrol on the road. In fact it may be better if we patrol along the forest edge for that is where we are likely to find them.  Use your scouts and keep your ears open. One of the Gallic cohorts was almost killed to a man because they didn’t get the chance to sound the alarm. I think we all know what the sound of battle is like. Gaius you take the road closest to Inchtuthil and Decius the one closest to Marcus.”

“That means I sleep in my own cot each night.”

“True but remember we are the frontier. North of us there are no friendlies, not even ships since the general left.”

Decurion Agrippa was feeling his age as he led his young troopers along the banks of the Isla. He was coming up to over forty summers, he was not exactly certain of his age but his body told him that he had had enough of riding for up to twelve hours a day.  His mind still wanted war but his body didn’t.  He would have to discuss it with the prefect on of these days.  He smiled. The prefect was a man you could approach.  He knew of other ala and cohorts where the prefect was aloof and distant, not Marcus. “Sir?”

“Yes what is it Cassius?”

“Tracks sir, crossing the river.”

“You have good eyes, for I had missed them. Right lads be ready we may have found a warband. Cassius take the lead, I may miss something; you won’t.”

“Yes sir.”

The raiders were already crawling through the tree line, slithering along the ground and hidden by the alder and elder bushes lining it. They could see the increased sentries but it did not worry them for they had been the warband to almost massacre the Gauls. They believed they were invincible. Even as the sentries were dying the warband leapt to their feet roaring their war cries. The Batavians had been prepared and were wearing their armour. Even so the speed with which they were attacked stopped them for forming a shield wall effectively. The Centurion yelled, “Sound the alarm!” just a moment before the war hammer smashed sickeningly into his skull.

The Caledonii were not worried by the alarm.  They would kill these foreigners and be gone before anyone could save them. Suddenly the warband at the rear started to scream as javelins and arrows poured down on them from the charging ala which sprang unexpectedly from the forest. Saoirse, their leader turned and yelled, “Run!” His men needed no further bidding and they disengaged quickly from their combat. Some of them rolled under the horses while others dodged under the bushes to avoid the cavalry and their steeds.

Agrippa saw the leader, recognisable by his armour and urged his horse on. A warrior tried to save his leader by thrusting a sword at Agrippa who swerved his horse and with a backhand slash ripped open the man’s face. The swerve took him too close to Saoirse who, in desperation swung his hammer at the horse’s head. The swerve of the horse and its instinctive reaction of self preservation meant that the hammer did not connect with the horse but smashed instead into Agrippa’s knee. The whole kneecap disintegrated and he screamed in pain. Dropping his sword he had the instincts to hold on to this horse which leapt over the warrior crouching before him and came to an exhausted rest in the middle of the partly built road. Agrippa slid from the horse in more pain than he had ever felt in his life.  Blood and bone were pouring from the crippling wound and, mercifully, he passed out.

When the decurion came to he found himself in the camp at Marcus. His knee was still giving him pain but it seemed to come in waves and was a dull pain. He looked around and saw the surgeon. “Awake at last.  Your wound will hurt.  We can give you more relief for the pain but I am afraid that the wound is serious. I will fetch the prefect.  He wanted to know when you awoke.  He has been most concerned.” Even in the throes of pain Agrippa smiled.  He would have been surprised had the prefect not attended his wounded decurion. It was his way.

“You had us worried. You were asleep for a day and a night but, as the surgeon said, sleep is the best medicine.”

“My men sir are they…?”

“Your men are fine. They all survived and they brought you in. I have never seen men so upset about an officer.  They are good lads.”

“I know sir. They are only lads but they are so keen. How about the Batavians?”

“You got there just in time. Sixteen dead including the centurion but it could have been worse and your lads accounted for thirty of their warriors.”

“They did well then.”

“That boy Cassius remembered where they had crossed the Isla and followed them.  That is where they killed most of them.  Including the chief who gave you that.”

Agrippa looked down at the linen tent which obscured his view of the injured knee. I didn’t want to ask but…”