Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 05] Revolt of the Red Witch (8 page)

“I know.”

Livius looked questioningly at his leader who appeared to have aged in the past few days. “Then we can go around these and find Ailis.”

“No Livius.  I forgot my duty once before, I will not do so again.  These men raided Roman land and they will pay the price.” He held his hand up to prevent further argument. “Besides we may get valuable information about the direction that Ailis’ captors took. We are now heading west and if they are meeting up with a larger band then we may have to stop our pursuit and return to the new border at Morbium.”

Livius’ shoulders sank in resignation.  He knew that the Prefect was right and the chances that the one thousand men of the ala could effect a rescue was dubious but his heart felt like lead at the thought of the lovely Ailis and the three boys being slaves in a Caledonian camp for the rest of their lives.  He prayed to the Allfather that Marcus was having better fortune.

Chapter 5

Gaelwyn slipped back into their hidden camp.  They were north of the abandoned fort of Blatobulgium in the land of the Novontae.  Although it was some years since they had been in the area, when they followed Julius Agricola to glory, the land was still familiar. “They have scouts out. I think we take one and question him.”

“Is that wise?”

Gaelwyn shrugged, “We know not which direction they are taking and the further we are from home the harder it will be to get back.”

Marcus nodded his agreement.  “Let us leave the horses here then and proceed on foot.”

The three men were well used to moving silently through the woods and the scouts were busy looking behind them for pursuit.  Gaelwyn identified their target, a young boy of fifteen or so summers. To him it was exciting to be with the older warriors and the raid had made him believe that he to was a warrior and he made the cardinal error of moving out of the sight line of the next scout.  When he stopped to relieve himself they pounced for he had left his spear propped against the tree and, rather than keeping watch, he looked down. Marcus swung the thick branch at his head and Gaelwyn and Gaius caught the unconscious boy.

When he came to he was tied against a tree and there was a sword a hand span from his groin. “Right boy we need some information.” When he heard his own language he was confused for these were not Caledonii.  From their hair they were Romans, or at least two were but from their clothes they looked to be bandits. “Whose clan are you?” He shook his head bravely and Gaelwyn shook his own grey and grizzled mane sadly. “We will get the information boy but if I have to use pain I will. Who is your leader?” Gaelwyn slapped him across the face.

Spitting out blood the boy said, “It is Lulach and he will eat your hearts out Romans.”

“That’s better now we know your clan. And where are you heading?”

With tears in his eyes at his own betrayal he shook his head again. “First you will have to kill me Roman.”

When Gaelwyn smiled his cruel smile the boy shuddered, “Oh you will die but it is how.  Another question then. Is there a mother and three young boys amongst your captives?”

His eyes lit up with the remembrance of the pretty and cheerful captive, “Oh Ail…”

In horror he realised he had confirmed what they wished to know and he shut his mouth as tight as a beached clam. The knife sliced through the boy’s ear as though it were butter. Gaius’ hand over the boy’s mouth stopped the cry. Still he would not speak and it took three fingers before he relented and told Gaelwyn all that he needed to know.  As Gaius put the sword in the boy’s damaged hand Gaelwyn slit his throat saying, as the blade slipped in, “You were a brave boy, go to the Allfather with honour.”

After they had roughly hidden the body some way from the trail they considered their options. “We need to rescue them before they get to the land of the Selgovae for there we have no allies.”

“True but it will be difficult to get by the column in this narrow valley. We shall to trail them until we can find a way ahead.”

The Prefect was determined that the patrol would boast some success.  He knew they would have to return soon to Morbium, their horses were exhausted and they had run out of supplies. He was equally certain that he did not want to lose men unnecessarily.  The Decurion Princeps took half the ala to ambush the rebels when they ran from the attack of the remainder of the ala. “Decurion, if we can I would like prisoners if only to find out who they are and where they are going. This is the first of many raids and we need to be prepared.”

The ambush was prepared in the unique style of Marcus’ Horse.  Half the turmae were dismounted and spread out in a half circle whilst the mounted portion was a few paces behind. As soon as the barbarians began to flee in their direction they hurled their javelins and fired their bows.  It was a slaughter for most of the Caledonii were watching behind them for any pursuit and trying to avoid the obstacles in the woods.  When they suddenly tripped over the bodies of those first to flee they saw the line of armoured horsemen behind the wall of steel. Many chose to prostrate themselves on the ground and take whatever mercy was on offer. Manus was one of those. He had decided that he could always escape whilst on the road but there was no chance to escape the horse warriors who heavily outnumbered them.

“Tie them up and let us get back to Morbium.  We have done all that we can here.”

The troopers looked at their Decurions.  They all knew of the abduction and, despite the short rations and exhausted horses, were all prepared to keep going until they found Ailis and the boys. Decurion Pontius, the most outspoken of the officers voiced his concern.  “What about the bairns and Ailis?  Aren’t we going after them?”

“No we are not. This is a huge warband.  We have picked off the minnows but do you think that, if we managed to surprise them, they would not kill the captives?” Each trooper dropped his head for they knew he spoke the truth and yet they could not leave those children as captives. “And what of the rest of the province?  What of the land which has not been raided?  Who is there to protect it? You saw the garrison we passed as we rode north.  We are the only defence for the province and we are a thin defence at best.  As much as I want to rescue Ailis, and by all the gods I do! I cannot jeopardise everything we have won so dearly.” His shoulders sagged and his voice broke a little.  “If the Parcae allow then Gaius and his comrades will do what a thousand men cannot. When you pray to the Allfather ask him to watch over our comrades.”

Macro had slept in a small dell not far from Coriosopitum.  He had not seen any sign of either raiders or Romans.  As he left the dell and came to the fort he looked at the tracks; they had all gone west.  He decided he would have to risk the road.  He discarded his helmet and rolled his cloak up.  He had to look like a deserter, which of course he was, or a mercenary.  For the first time in his life he regretted being such a larger than life character that people remembered.  Every battle in which he had fought had been a backdrop for his heroics and he knew that friend and foe alike remembered him.  The beard he was growing could not disguise the shoulders and his size but they might make an enemy think he had deserted.

He found the field of battle where the ala had destroyed Manus’ band. As he gingerly inspected the bodies he could tell that it was the ala which had destroyed them.  He recognised the arrows and the design of the javelins.  He could see no evidence of small feet and he deduced that this band had had no captives with them.  From the tracks he could see that the ala had moved south; that decided him.  Now there were only four warriors who could rescue his family and he was one of them.  The sooner he found the other three the better. The trail of the main warband cut a huge swathe through the landscape.  Gaelwyn would have to be blind not to deduce the direction. He needed to find a way to observe the barbarians and find Ailis without the enemy finding him. He rode a parallel course to the band. When it was nightfall he would move closer to the camp and spy upon them. He was confident that he could dispose of any scout or guard whom he met.

He rode along the ridge way skirting in and out of the trees.  It was not an easy route but it afforded him a clear view of the narrow valley that he knew both his friends and his prey would be taking.  When he saw the spiral of smoke in the distance he almost shouted with joy.  Such a column of smoke meant a large camp; his friends would never advertise themselves so clearly.  With luck it would be the barbarians. He gently nudged his weary mount down the hillside his route clearly marked by the smoke.  Within the hour he would know if his son was there and within a couple of hours he might have saved his son.

Gaelwyn the hunter had finally seen Ailis.  Gaius had to be restrained for his immediate reaction was to run to her. “No Gaius, let us watch.  We know where she is kept and the children. We can spend a day or two watching how they guard her and then we can work out how to rescue them all.”

Over the next two days, as the ponderous column of raiders and captives crept ever northward they saw how difficult a rescue might be.  The captives were tethered together and four guards surrounded them during the night. “Just too many of them.  We could take three guards but with four one would see us and then the alarm would be sounded.”

“We will have to try and negotiate then Marcus.”

“It will have to be me who goes, Gaius, for the boy recognised you two as Romans, even in these clothes and with your beards and many of these warriors would have fought you in the Caledonii wars.”

“Very well we will try your way.”

The next day Gaelwyn rode into the camp from the north, trailing their spare horse. He had left his comrades south of the camp and he arrived just as the Caledonii were preparing their food. The guards were alert but did not appear to be worried. The leader of the warband was one of Lulach’s cousins, Ael. He was a powerful warrior who ruled the band with a fist of iron.  The scar which ran down his cheek was the result of a wound at Mons Graupius and, as a result, he hated all things Roman. His guards brought the mounted stranger to him.

“Welcome to my camp stranger.  You are not Caledonii.” It was a statement not a question and Gaelwyn knew that his answer would determine if he lived or died.  He sensed some of the younger warriors, bored with escorting plunder and captives, itching for a fight.

“I am of the Brigante oh chief.”

“What brings you to this land so far away from your homeland? Do you seek your family?”

Gaelwyn could see that this chief was perceptive and no fool; he shook his head. “I seek slaves for my master.” He waved his hand expansively in the direction of the captives who were some distance away.  “I see that you have a rich haul.  Would you consider selling some to me? I can pay a good price and save you having to take them further north.”

Shaking his head Ael spat out a fatty piece of meat. “No my lord, Lulach, has determined that we sell none until he has inspected them.”

“This is a difficult toad you take.  I could take some off your hands and make your journey easier.  I have much money.”

“Did I not make myself clear Brigante? I said that my lord has said that we sell none until he has seen the worth of them. I do not betray my lord.”

Gaelwyn knew he had offended the honour of the man and decided that he would get nowhere. “I am sorry chief and I will continue my journey.  If I am unsuccessful in my endeavours where will the sale of these captives be held?”

Slightly mollified Ael pointed vaguely north.  “If you come, at the time of the burning of the bones, north of the Clota then my lord will sell those whom he does not wish to keep.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you not share our camp?”

“Thank you for your hospitality but it is not yet dark and I can journey further south.”

As he rode by the captives he surreptitiously glanced towards them, hoping to catch Ailis’ eye.  He had almost given up hope when he saw her walking from the stream carrying a jug of water, guarded by a bored young warrior.  Neither Ailis nor Gaelwyn showed recognition but their eyes locked for an instant and, suddenly, Ailis had hope, if Gaelwyn were there then her husband could not be far away.

Gaelwyn was well aware of the six warriors trailing him.  When he had mentioned money he had noticed their shared smiles. He must have looked like an easy target, an old man, alone and far away from his homeland.  It would have seemed like easy pickings. Rather than heading straight for Marcus and Gaius he led his would be robbers further down the trail.  He made sure that he made plenty of noise for he wished to alert Marcus and Gaius. He knew them well enough to know that they would watch his back.  With luck their arrows could take two of the six and they could defeat four barbarians, especially four who thought they were robbing an old man. He slowly eased his sword from its scabbard as he felt them closing in on him. 

The six young warriors had not told Ael what they intended, indeed they hoped he would not find out for they would keep the old man’s gold for themselves.  Their clan was from the far north and they were not of Lulach and Ael’s people; they felt no dishonour in trying to watch out for their own.  Lulach might reward them when he sold the slaves but this way they could return to their village richer. They spread out in a half circle; they had come far enough from the camp to avoid detection. They drew their swords and prepared to attack the helpless old man from behind. As their horses were urged forward two of them were plucked from their backs by the arrows of Marcus and Gaius. Suddenly the hunted had become the hunter and they saw, with horror, their victim turn and charge towards them with a long sword in his hand. Two of them tried to turn but found themselves facing two other warriors equally armed. As Gaelwyn attacked the leader, the last member of the group decided that discretion was the better part of valour and headed off to the side. The three men fighting Gaelwyn and the others were no match for the experienced fighters and soon died.  “After him!” Gaelwyn yelled as the final survivor hurtled through the woods.