Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 10] Roman Hawk (15 page)

Marcus heard Drugi’s voice shout, “The hawk has not screamed; you will live.”

The other archers and sentries looked at each other. Loki was ruling the world and madness prevailed when slaves commanded and talked of hawks that spoke. The Suebi were confident.  Their scouts had reported that the warriors in Hjarno-by were drunk once the sun set and there were barely fifty warriors in the citadel. By dawn they would have reclaimed the mainland and captured many slaves; their chief knew that the Tencteri would never retake the citadel once they had captured it and they would not lose their lands again.

“Ready! Loose!” The arrows fell like rain on the Suebi. Few had helmets and even fewer had armour.  Still they came, a sea of bloodthirsty barbarians hurdling the bodies of the dead, eager to capture the ripe captives of the Tencteri. There were not enough arrows to thin their ranks too much and they were warriors. A few Tencteri would not be the same as fighting the Roman legions. Marcus could see that they would reach the ditch and his arm ached as, once again he pulled back the bow and let fly another messenger of death. His one consolation was that his men had suffered no casualties as yet. They were almost firing at point blank range as the Suebi hit the ditch and the lillia.  The shock and surprise were audible as they fell into the deadly traps. Soon the ditch was filled with bodies and the Suebi reached the ridiculously small ramparts. He screamed above the noise. “To the ramparts, pour the kettles of boiling water on them.”

He drew the sword he had taken from the headman; it did not feel comfortable in his hand but it was a weapon, even though it was not the Sword of Cartimandua. He hacked down on the first, bare head which appeared before him and suddenly he felt calm; he was once more in Britannia and he was fighting his enemies. The screams of scalded men filled his ears as he hacked and slashed at any face which dared to appear before him.  He knew that Drugi and his archers were still fighting when the man who tried to hack at his unprotected back fell with a flurry of arrows embedded like the tail feathers of a pheasant in his back. Suddenly, there were no more Germans before him and he could see the surviving Suebi fleeing south. They had won.  He knew not how, but, against the odds, they had succeeded. He glanced around and saw the mounds of bodies who had fallen either in the ditch or around his feet. In the distance he could see the boats drawing up at the jetty and disgorging Trygg and his warriors.  The Suebi had decided that they could not fight the Tencteri whilst the citadel remained free.

He slumped to his knees, exhausted.  He did not feel anything other than relief that the mother of his child was safe. Drugi came to him and looked at the bodies all bearing the marks of a blade, they were the ones killed by Marcus alone. “That, Roman, was impressive. If Trygg was an honourable man he would grant you your freedom and send you and your lady home for you have saved his land this day.”

By the time Trygg arrived at the gates, Marcus and Drugi were there to greet him. The chief grasped him in his arms. “Thank Odin that you did what you did. But for you we would have lost all that we had won.  If it had been left to this wretch all would have died.” Marcus glanced down to the bound figure of the former headman. “Tomorrow he dies and we listen to you, Roman, and make our town safer.”

******

The Swan
struggled around the northern shore of Uiteland.  The winds were not favourable and the sailors had to endure storms with sleet and snow as sharp as needles. The fact that the channels were narrow and they had to spend long hours on the deck taking in and reefing the sails , only to unfurl them a short time later, did nothing to help their situation. No-one was warm despite the furs they buried themselves in when not on deck. All of them were relieved when they finally edged into the calmer waters of the dark sea. Here there were small lumps of ice floating on the icy, almost black, water; not being enough to damage a ship but a warning that they were in strange waters. Hercules rubbed his salt rimed chin.  “I tell you Furax, I will never complain about the Mare Nostrum again.  This is indeed, the edge of the world.”

Part of his worry was that they would soon be amongst ships which preyed on others for a living.  Their only hope was that they make a successful visit to a port and actually trade. The whole crew, Rufius and Gnaeus included, were nervous as the trader edged its way around the headland to the smoke which came from their first port. Hercules was tacking carefully but every sailor was on deck ready to unfurl the sails and flee as quickly as possible should danger threaten. It was with some relief that they saw the six long ships drawn up on the beach.  Their crews were not in a hunting mood. The jetty, although that was a rather grand name for some planks of wood thirty paces long, had no posts for them to tie up and so Hercules dropped anchor in the small bay. He anchored so that their bow was facing the shore.  If they had any trouble then the bolt thrower would be positioned to fire.

The small boat was lowered and they could see the welcoming party on the jetty. Unlike their first landfall there was little sign of arms or weapons.  As Rufius descended into the boat with Hercules and Gnaeus he wondered if that was a good thing.  The men he could see were obviously warriors unlike the fishermen of Cnut’s stead. He looked up at the pouting face of Furax.  Hercules had insisted that he stay aboard and for once Rufius did not disagree.  They both knew the danger they were in; they were going into the lairs and dens of the sea wolves and they did not know how they would be received.

Rufius had managed to pick up some words of the language these people spoke and, as they greeted the welcoming party he was able to introduce them.

The chief was a round warrior who had a pair of beady eyes which gave him the appearance of a pig but Rufius noticed the bracelets which marked him as a warrior.  It would not do to underestimate him. “I am Gurt, the headman of this place. Why are you here?”

Rufius recognised the suspicion.  They had arrived in the depths of winter,uninvited, in a foreign looking ship. Rufius smiled, spread his hands and began to explain. “I am Gaelwyn of the Brigante. We are traders from Britannia.  The markets in Gaul are less welcoming than they were and we are seeking new markets for our wares and new sources for those things we cannot source ourselves.”

Gurt seemed a little more relaxed at that news. “What can we possibly have that you do not have in Britannia for are the Romans not the richest people?” The sharp eyed chief was curious about these visitors for none of them was as rotund and soft as the ones he normally dealt with.  Two of them looked to have the lean look of the wolf while the Captain had the gnarled look of an old pirate. They were not what they seemed.

“True, they are rich and they build in stone.  Their homes are heated and they even have baths.” Rufius smiled as the warriors shook their heads at such amazing and outlandish ideas.  “But they require many slaves and they are not only scarce in Britannia but expensive.”

Gurt grinned and his men laughed as he said, “Perhaps that is because many people from Britannia are now slaves here.”

Rufius nodded as though that was understandable. “Then do you have slaves to trade? We have some fine goods to offer in return.”

Gurt’s face fell.  “No we have none but there are other places, further south which have them.” The wolfish smile which appeared on the warrior’s face told Rufius that if they went further south then Gurt and his ships would be waiting when they returned north.

“We have jet, pottery and spices to trade.  Is there anything you might have to trade in return?”

“Spices? It may be that we could use some spices for we have heard of a demand for them further south. And we have skins and fish to trade.”

Rufius caught Hercules eye and the old man shook his head. “I am sorry but we have sufficient of those.  However as a mark of our good intentions please accept this gift.” Rufius handed over a dolphin carved from jet. 

The headman was impressed. “Thank you. Forgive me, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Gaelwyn, Gaelwyn the Brigante.”

Gurt and those close to him followed the Romans and watched as they went back to their ship.  They took in every detail of the vessel and Rufius noticed one of them counting the crew.

As they rowed out to the ship, under the watchful eye of Gurt and his greedy companions Rufius asked Gnaeus. “Were those the ships and the men who took Marcus?”

“No, nothing like them. What did you make of that comment about the spices?”

“You noticed that too.  I think that means that somewhere south of us are people who like spices and they may well be Roman. It may not be Marcus but at least it is a lead and gives us some hope.”

As they climbed aboard Hercules said, “And I think that the sooner we get away from here the better.  It strikes me that we are just a little too attractive for our new friends.”

“And I agree but I wonder if we might try a little test.” Hercules and Gnaeus looked at the decurion who had a strange smile on his lips. “If the people south of us, those with the slaves, are dangerous, then these villagers, or pirates, will probably attack us tonight for they would not wish to lose the chance to raid and take us when we return. If, on the other hand, they are not dangerous then they will let us leave to attack us on our return journey.”

“That sounds very risky.”

“I don’t think so. If we anchor in the middle of the bay and we keep half of us on watch then we should be able to see them if they come out to us.  Don’t forget they will have to pull their boats off the beach and we would hear that.”

Hercules looked up at the pennant flying from the mast. “The wind is in our favour. We will try it.”

Furax tried to keep awake but as he fell asleep he was covered in the wolf skin. The cold clear night meant that they had a clear view of the boats but it was unbelievably cold. As the moon rose they could see that the whole of the village was silent and no-one was stirring.

“Do you think he lives still Rufius?”

Rufius looked up at the moon. “I do Gnaeus and yet, if you ask me how I know I could not answer you.  It is, perhaps a feeling.” He shifted a little and rubbed his feet which were becoming blocks of ice. “I would be happier if we had heard of a sword for I am sure that whoever took Marcus and his weapon would have recognised it for what it was.”

“I still feel guilty.”

“What for?”

“I didn’t protect him.”

Rufius burst out laughing and the sound seemed to carry across the bay. “You protect Marcus? There was only one other trooper who could best Marcus and that was his brother. “He ruffled Gnaeus’ head. “All that you did was to obey your decurion’s orders. That is all any of us can do.”

“It is just that this land seems, well it seems nothing like our land.  It is more primitive and, well more dangerous.”

“True Gnaeus and this is a measure of the success of Rome for I daresay that before Claudius came to Britannia our land was like this and yet in eighty years it has changed beyond recognition.”

“Well I do not think they are coming.  Let us leave.”

“You are right Hercules and with the clear skies we should be safer.”

The crew hoisted the sail and the light breeze which was coming from the land edged them south and east, away from Gurt and his long ships. The coast line was unlike Britannia and there were no cliffs just low dunes and rolling low hills.  The ports were, largely, on the beach with no docking facilities at all. The next port they visited lacked long ships but it looked far more business like and more like the ports they had expected.  It had long halls with a long wooden jetty and three ships the same size as
The Swan
tied up to solid looking bollards. They pulled in at sunset having seen no sign of Gurt or his ships.  They all knew that it was not good news for he would be waiting for them on their return but that was in the future.

As they stepped ashore they managed to find a friendly headman who spoke their language well and was effusively friendly. 

“My name is Gudrun Gudrunsson and I am headman of this port.  Welcome.”

Hercules was immediately suspicious but after they were invited into the long house for some honeyed mead Hercules began to mellow. The villagers were pleased to have outsiders visit them and the headman told them of the dangers of the long ships. “Many years ago, in my grandfather’s time they would raid us and take all that we had.  We were grateful when they decided that there were richer pickings in Gaul, Germania and Britannia. It was in my father’s time that we decided to become, like you traders.” He pointed vaguely to the east.  “We trade with the lands at the end of the dark sea. They have some good timber which make fine ships and the animal skins we trade there are softer and warmer than any we can have. We do well.” He leaned over to Hercules.  “But had I been the captain of your ship, I would have travelled here with other ships.  We find there is safety in numbers.  There are many pirates out there and we arm our sailors. Those who took from us in the past will not do so again. Now what is it that you wish to trade?”

They went through the same routine as before and showed the pots to the headman.  He was impressed. “We have some fine timber? Skins? “

Hercules shook his head. “They may be fine but we need a more valuable prize.  There is a shortage of slaves in Britannia.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The Romans cannot get enough of them; they probably have one to wipe their arse.”

The headman laughed. “We have some. There is a tribe further south, the Tencteri, who go to foreign lands and return richer but they do not bother us.  They have slaves.  We do not need many but the ones we buy from them are good quality.  Many of them are from Britannia.”

Gnaeus and Rufius masked their emotions as Hercules asked, “Have you any spare?  We would take as many off your hands as you can let us have. The pots are fine and…” he nodded to Rufius who took out a carved piece of jet in the form of a bear, “and as a token of good intentions accept this from us, trader to trader.”