Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 09] Hero of Rome (34 page)

“Mainly Germania.  Mad buggers they are and fucking cruel.  Pardon my bluntness sir.”

“I told you before Vibius be yourself and speak your mind and we will get along.  As you will when you meet the Legate.”

Vibius looked across at the cavalryman who looked young to be a Prefect. “Do you know the Legate well then sir?”

Livius laughed, “He was my commanding officer for a while and then last year he and I did a mission for the Emperor and he was returned here as a legate.  He began life as a trooper in Marcus’ Horse.”

Vibius nodded and said, almost to himself, “So we have a Legate who has actually fought at the sharp end that makes a change.” Realising he had spoken out of turn he reddened, “Sorry about that sir.  Me and my big mouth…”

“You are probably right Vibius but he has fought and all across this frontier and in that I have hope also he brings my ala and they are the best horsemen you have ever seen.  But if they are tied to wagons then they cannot fight as they should.”

“Which is why you need us footsloggers.”

“Well put Vibius.  Now these barbarians will attack from ambush. The best place from which to do so is close to the cliffs and the lake for they will have the advantage of height on the northern side and woods on the southern side. How are your men at open order fighting?”

Vibius grinned. “When you fight the Germans that is the only way to fight. The legions would stand in their squares outside the forests and we would have to go in after the buggers. Man for man I will back them against anyone.”

“These Selgovae are also cunning and the masters of stealth and hiding. They will let your men walk by them and then leap up and slit their throats.  Their concept of honour is not necessarily the same as other tribes.”

“Good tip sir, I’ll bear it in mind.  So a double line in the forests might be the trick?”

“Triple if you can.  That is why I brought all seven hundred of you.  It might be overkill but we cannot afford to lose.  If we can best them then they might decide to go home for the winter and return in spring.  We need to buy the vexillations time.”

“Well my lads’ll do that. Once winter comes we can get down to controlling the frontier and I can start brewing my beer.”

Livius was reminded of other auxiliary Prefects he had served alongside, Batavians and they, too, had liked their food and drink. “You are a brewer then?”

“I will be honest prefect, I probably like my beer more than I should but it keeps the mind occupied and the lads seem to like it. The waters around here look perfect for making beer.  All I need is some wheat, for the hops we have.”

Smiling Livius said, “I look forward to tasting some.”

“Just wait a month or so sir.  By Yule we will have enough for a serious session.”

Livius had brought ten of his ala with him and he turned to them. “Two of you get down the Stanegate and tell the Legate we are coming but be careful there will be ambushes and I would hate to deprive the chef of his helpers.” The two men rode off grinning. Although fighting troopers they doubled as the assistant cooks in the camp working with the skilful Septimus. “The rest of you spread out north and south of the road, find the enemy and then report back to us.”

Vibius smiled to himself.  This Prefect knew what he was doing.  Perhaps it was no bad thing that the former Prefect or ‘
useless tosser’
as Vibius had called him had departed this life.

******

Decurion Lucius was on point when Moray launched his first attack. The Stanegate crested a rise and then dropped sharply; Moray was a cunning warrior and knew that the horsemen would be concentrating on their footing, no matter how alert they were.  As soon as the first riders crested the rise they were met by a barrage of sling shot, fortunately just stones and not the lead balls used by the Romans for they were far more accurate and deadly. Lucius immediately went into a defensive posture. “Shields!”

The first ten men came into a solid line with their shields defending their bodies.  The missiles were still striking their mounts but the leather headpieces protected their most vulnerable parts and they were trained well enough not to rear and buck.

“Next ten, winkle them out!”

The next ten troopers took off, lashing their mounts into the forest from whence the attack had come. Their speed took Moray’s men by surprise and they ran swiftly through the woods confident that they could out run the horses which had to twist and turn through the trees.  One warrior slipped to be speared like a salmon as he lay prostrate on the ground. Eagerly the troopers looked for new targets when they heard the disappointing notes of the recall.

Cassius rode to the head of the column as the scouts returned. “Casualties?”

“A couple of troopers and their mounts were hit by sling shots but nothing that will stop us.”

“I think this will be the pattern for a while.  They will make these quick attacks to keep us on the edge.  I will relieve you in an hour.”

“We are doing alright sir.” The young decurion sounded offended

“I know Lucius and I do not doubt your ability but we need you to be totally alert and we have other turmae.”

So, as dawn broke and the new day arrived, the pattern was set. Barbarians would attack, sometimes from the north and sometimes from the south, once from both sides of the road, using hit and run.  Each time they injured troopers although none seriously but each time the column was slowed up and, unknown to the ala, King Tole and his retinue drew closer and closer.

Chapter 20

The King himself came with the two hundred warriors he had available.  Others were making their way from further afield.  Once he knew that the famous ala was isolated he knew he had to risk an attack, despite the disparity in numbers.  The additional incentive was the large number of slaves they could capture. It was rumoured that they had been snatched from the Witch Queen herself and King Tole knew that he could gain much credit by taking them from the Romans.

Moray bowed when the king arrived.  “You have done well my chief and slowed them down.”

Moray scowled in the direction of the Stanegate. “But it has cost me four warriors and we have yet to kill one of theirs.”

“Patience Moray, for soon they will bleed their life blood on this stone trail which they have built.  He turned to his men, pointing at one of his lieutenants.  “Take one hundred men and ride ahead of the column; hide in the woods to the south of their road close by the deep lake, when you hear my horn, then attack.” The men jogged off quickly. “Moray, you and your men wait here.  When the last men are passing then attack them.”

“How long for?” Moray knew that his band was becoming smaller by the mile.

“Until they move and then keep harrying them.  Do not risk your men but you will be able to kill some for your slingshots will begin to tell.  I want them looking over their shoulders.” Moray nodded and led his men back through the woods. Tole turned to the rest of the warband, ten of whom were mounted.  “We will get to the lake and use the high ground.  Today we take Roman heads.”

Rufius was at the point when the major attack began. His men were pelted by stones and badly thrown spears from the rocks to his left and he wheeled his men to face the new enemy. Even as he moved forward Rufius noticed that this was a heavier attack and there were more missiles coming his way. His archers, all five of them, were already notching arrows and seeking targets.  They brought down three warriors who erroneously thought that they were well hidden.  Suddenly a horn sound in front of Rufius and he wondered what it prefaced; nothing good, of that he was certain.  “Fall back!”

Just as his men began to back their horses to the head of the column he heard a roar and the trooper next to him crashed to the ground with a throwing axe embedded in his back.  They were being attacked on two sides. His men were falling from their mounts as the two warbands closed in on the vanguard. He looked around, desperately, for support and saw that the wagons had closed up on him. On the left side Metellus was racing forwards with his turma whilst on the southern side he heard the roar of “The Sword!” and knew that Marcus and his double turma was on the way.

Rufius spied hope. “Defend yourselves, help is on the way!” Warriors had closed with the ala and were hacking their swords at the legs of their mounts. Troopers thrust their javelins at the men on foot in a desperate attempt to save their mounts.  Once on the floor other Selgovae raced in to finish off the dismounted and vulnerable troopers. Enraged Rufius rode his mount at the three warriors who were surrounding a wounded trooper, his sword slashed down, savagely splitting open the head of one, his mount trampled a second and his shield punched the third in the head rendering him unconscious.  The grateful trooper grabbed the pommel horn of Rufius’ saddle as his horse backed away from the enemy.

Marcus’ voice rang out, “Rufius fall back and we will cover you!”

Rufius yelled, “Fall back!” as Marcus’ men hurled their javelins to slow down the advancing barbarians.  Suddenly the tribesmen disappeared back into the woods and the rocks.

Cassius rode up, blood streaming from a wound on his arm.  “They have attacked the rear and a wagon is isolated. Metellus, you and Rufius hold them here.  Marcus, take your turma and retrieve the wagon.”

Marcus’ men rode down the column.  As he did so Marcus noticed that the Legate had ordered the men to dismount and defend the captives with their shields. From the dense woods and rocks a barrage of stones, arrows and missiles rained down on the wagons hence the need for protection. Approaching the solitary last isolated wagon Marcus could see that there were only ten or so troopers left to defend it. He saw Decurion Graccus lying in the open space between the lonely wagon and the rest, a spear in his dead chest. One of the troopers, lying under the penultimate wagon , tried to run to help the beleaguered troopers but was cut down before he got there.

Marcus’ mind was working overtime and he shouted to his men. “We can’t clear the north of the road; let’s relieve the pressure to the south. The Sword!”

With a collective roar of defiance from the whole turma of troopers, they wheeled from column into two open lines and crashed ferociously into the woods heedless of the missiles heading their way. The confident Selgovae were stunned when the troopers, fired up by a campaign of ambushes and shield walls, hacked and slashed at the unarmoured bodies of these barbarians who had strayed within the length of a sword. When twenty lay dead the rest decided that discretion was needed and they fled. Marcus knew they had no time to pursue; the wagon was still under threat from the northern side. “Back to the column!”

When they reached the trail they saw that it was hand to hand combat amongst the surviving wagon guards and there were but five troopers still on their feet.  One of the women, Marcus knew her as Nanna, was wielding an axe as she swept it before her to keep the tribesmen from mounting the wagon and making off with it.

“Charge!” The troopers galloped at the wagon and Marcus reared his horse to fell one warrior who had hold of Nanna’s legs and was trying to pull her over the side. He leapt from his horse and stabbed a half naked, heavily tattooed warrior in his back. As he punched another one in the face with his shield, he saw that the rest had fled.

Nanna leaned over, “Well done but next time could you get here a little quicker! I did not fancy a stay amongst the Hibernians and these barbarians are just as unpleasant.”

Laughing Marcus shouted, “Sorry my dear, I’ll do better next time. Back to the wagon, put the wounded inside. Ten of you, form the rearguard, ten get on this side and ten on the other.  The rest ride with me.”

One of Marcus’ men who had been unhorsed took the reins of the last wagon and it gradually closed the gap to the rest of the column.  A cheer rippled down the line as they saw the rescue unfold.

Marcus led his small group of troopers through the rearguard. “We are going to be an extra rearguard. We don’t wait for them to attack we look for them and attack them first so keep your eyes peeled!”

Tole was relieved when another fifty warriors jogged through the woods from the north. “Take these men to the rocks which are closest to the road.” Tole pointed to a knoll which rose close to the Stanegate.  Behind it, the cliff rose steeply; it was a perfect place from which to launch an attack on a column already weakened by the gnat like bites of the barbarians. They trotted off and Tole gathered around him a hundred warriors. “We will cross the road and attack from the woods to the south when the head of the column is halted and we will hit the soft middle.” He pointed at the turma of Marcus which was just passing their hiding place. “They have placed their best troops at the rear, that is good.  Let them watch for the attack which will not come.”

Cassius decided to lead at the front.  Although wounded it was not fair on his decurions to ask them to endure and blunt all the barbarian assaults. The easy road was proving anything but easy.  The wagons were moving faster than they would have done over the land but the horses were not draught horses and they were going slower than a man could walk.  Just when his spirits were at their lowest and he was considering making a fortress of the wagons, a trooper yelled, “Rider coming in!”

Every trooper’s hand went to his weapons as he anticipated another barbarian attack but was relieved when the young despatch rider from Rocky Point reined in his lathered horse. “Sir, message from the Prefect.  He received your message and he is coming to get you. He has a cohort of Gauls with him.”

“When did he leave?”

“He will be a couple of hours behind me sir, they were on foot.”

“Good.  Ride down the line until you see the Legate and report to him.” There was some hope then. He turned and shouted to those around him, “The Prefect is coming! Pass it on!” The news spread down the column and the resolve of the defenders, which had been weakened by the attacks now hardened. Cassius glanced ahead.  Once they had reached the knoll which was ahead they would have a difficult stretch of the road to negotiate for it was a mile or two where the road passed closest to good ambush sites.  The Decurion Princeps was torn between going slower so that the relief column would be able to aid them and going faster to reach the relief column quicker. The decision was taken from him as the arrow flew from the knoll and struck him in his thigh. He grimaced but held on to his reins.