Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 10] Roman Hawk (29 page)

The jetty had, perhaps twenty people busily loading lumps of raw iron ore on to the fat bellied trader ready to sail down to Eboracum and the enormous profits which awaited them there. Even the sentries who were helping to load the ship were unarmed as they had laid down their weapons to help load before the morning tide.  The captain saw the horde plunging down the small road to the jetty and shouted, “Cast off!”

It was a futile gesture for they had neither the time nor the opportunity to carry out the action.  Snorri’s men fell upon them like wolves in a sheep pen. Backhanding one unfortunate docker into the water with his shield Snorri leapt aboard and took off the captain’s head in one blow of his war axe.  The rest of the crew either fell to the deck to beg mercy or threw themselves overboard. Whilst despatching those who cowered on the deck Snorri shouted to the archer next to him, “Kill those in the water! No-one lives.” The men in the water either drowned or were easily hit from almost point blank range by the Tencteri bowmen.

Gurt and his men had completed their mission and men stood guard on the three other gates.  They then went from house to house, killing all who were cowering within. The men were lucky for they were slaughtered immediately but the women and the girls had to suffer the gang rape by men hungry for women after more than a week at sea and the dubious pleasures of a male only voyage.

When their appetites had been satiated Gurt and his lieutenants joined Snorri on the trader.”This is a welcome bonus.”

“Aye Chief Gurt.  Trygg will be pleased for there will be much profit here.” Gurt’s fertile imagination was working out how best to use this windfall and he greedily licked his lips in anticipation. “If you detail some of your men to crew we can sail her downstream to wait with the boats.”

Gurt tried to find some weakness in Snorri’s idea, some advantage to be had by his chief but he could see none. It was obvious that the trader would have to be escorted for there were too many pirates to allow it to sail alone. “Aye I will do.  What next?”

“Have a short rest and some food and then down the river to the next settlement.  Chief Trygg may have taken it already but that is where we meet.” Gurt had obviously not been listening when Trygg had detailed their plan. “These are the largest tow settlements on the river before Morbium.  We can sail closer to Morbium which is where we think we will find the sword and there are many smaller villages just off the river.”

******

Chief Trygg’s band had tied their ships up as Snorri had done and they had also left six guards with the four ships.  He led his men through the woods until they came to the open ground before the settlement.  He had not been certain that it would have been settled again since his last visit but he had to find out. Ormsson and Sigurd were two young boys, not yet warriors but, if they claimed their first blood kill on this raid they would be.  Trygg called them over and the hero worship and nervous energy was evident in both of them as they hopped from foot to foot whilst receiving their instructions. “This is your first raid as my scouts and all the warband  brothers are watching you.  I want the two of you to skirt along the woods and scout out the village.  Do not let them see you.  I need to know how many guards there are and how many people you see.  The gates should be open but if they are not then do not worry, just count the people you see.  Go all the way around making sure that you count them all. I am more concerned with how accurate you are rather than how swift you return.” He put an arm on each of the boys.  “If you do not count well then some of these men will die and that will be on your heads. The last time you did this you were watching others, you are now the eyes and ears of the band. Now go.”

Orm watched his son race off and prayed to Odin that he would do well.  Orm still had the disgrace of the escaped captives to face once they returned to Hjarno-by; if his son did well then the Chief might consider that as mitigation when handing out his punishment.  The other way would be for a brave or heroic deed from Orm but he did not think that this village would give him the chance.

Snorri and his men had made food time from Eabrycg although Gurt and his men were out of breath with the unexpected exertion and struggled to keep up with the Tencteri. Snorri reported to Chief Trygg while their allies gathered their breath.  “We had good fortune.”

“About time!”

Snorri shrugged, the Norns were the Norns, and you could not fight against them. “We found a ship laden with iron; we sent it to the other ships. All the other goods we took.  There was little silver and no gold but we did find the black stone and much timber.  We put it all on the ship.”

“You have done well Snorri. The ship was indeed a gift from the gods.”

Gurt had got his breath back.  “The ship is mine you agreed, you just wanted the sword.”

Trygg turned to the red faced pirate and his mouth opened in the grin of a wolf about to devour its dinner. “We will see, Gurt.  In this land you have to earn what you get and fight to keep what you have.  When we return to Uiteland we will discuss who owns what.”

Gurt knew he was outnumbered but there were more of his crew with the boats. It would be likely that Trygg would suffer more casualties.  He would bide his time.  The chief was right, it did not matter and was not a problem until they came to Uiteland. Now their fortunes and their fate were bound together. He nodded his acquiescence.

The two boys came racing back. “The gates have just opened and there are but five sentries. We counted thirty people but there may be more inside.”

“You have done well Sigurd and Ormsson.  You may well become warriors this voyage. Now go around the village and wait a thousand paces up the river. Watch for any who come down and try to escape.”  The two boys scurried off delighted to be given another chance to prove themselves.”Gurt you take your men, follow the boys and you approach the village from the far side.  Snorri take the north side. I will take this side.  Attack when you hear me attack.” He turned to Gurt, “You must make sure that no-one escape along the river.  Even if you are too late to attack the village you will stop and kill all the refugees.” Gurt nodded.  He did not mind if Snorri and Trygg’s men suffered all the casualties.

The warriors who trotted up to the walled village were not worried.  The last time they had come there they had easily taken it and this time would be no different. In contrast the people who had rebuilt and re-settled the hill top refuge had never imagined that it would be assaulted again.  Refugees from other places had migrated to this place for its river, its hill and its walls.  They were determined that they would not suffer again.  The new headman had told them all that, once the land had dried out, they would deepen the ditches and raise the heights of the walls. It would become a second Morbium. As the silent barbarians crept up to the walls the ditches were still shallow and the walls not repaired.  The headman’s promises were as empty as the wind and the people were going to pay the price.

The one lesson they had learned was to keep the gates closed and a sentry upon the walls.  The young man who had the dubious honour of watching the river could barely get his words out as he saw the mailed and armoured demons flooding up from the river. “We are under attack!”

Those few men who had weapons raced to get them. The women hid their children where they could and then picked up anything which could be used as a weapon.  They had heard what had happened on the last raid and were determined that they would not end their days as slaves. There was one woman and her child who would not become slaves because she was going to leave.  Deadra had hidden with her son Aed, the last time the raiders had come. All of her family had either been taken or killed.  There were just the two of them left and she would survive.  She saw that the western gate was ajar and she grabbed her young son and ran as fast as his eight year old legs could manage towards the west.  They slipped out and she rolled them down the bank, beneath the elder trees and bramble bushes to land under a willow tree next to the river. Back in the village an eagle eyed villager closed the gate and they prepared for the attack. Deadra and Aed ran along the bank until they heard the noises in the bushes above- it was more of the enemy. They lay there shivering in fear as Gurt’s band tramped towards the fight.

Trygg’s band had the hardest task for the hill curved gently upwards, sapping legs unused to walking.  Had the villagers had arrows then the attackers would have fallen like wheat to a scythe but as it was they were able to make the top easily.  The gate was always the weakest point and, leading a wedge of warriors, Trygg hurled himself at the already weakened wooden gate.  The weight of fifteen burly barbarians, with armour and shields was too much for the gate and it disintegrated before the force.  Once inside it was a repetition of Eabrycg once more; this time with Trygg’s men satiating their carnal desires. By the time Snorri and Gurt broke in there was no-one left alive and they searched for the few meagre possessions left by a village twice destroyed.

The path by the river curved in a long loop and the mother and son made good time for at least a mile and then they struck disaster.  The heavy rains had flooded the flood plain and the path they were following was under water.  They would have to cut across the open fields to the upper path half a mile away and there was no cover.  All the while they did so they would be clearly visible.  Deadra had no choice and they began to run as quickly as they could across the muddy, slippery fields. As they ran, her son constantly stopping to wait for his mother, she kept glancing over her shoulder for any sign that there were warriors in pursuit. She had to pause at the bank which led to the path as she could not catch her breath.

“Are you ill mother?”

“No son.  Just tired.” She grabbed her son by the shoulders, “If anything happens to me then you must leave me and tell the people lower down the valley that there are raiders.”

The boy shook his head, “I could not leave you.”

Deadra gave a sad half smile.  “It I tell you so then you will have to leave me but fear not for if you live then I shall live in your heart.  Now promise me.” Unable to speak the boy nodded his unspoken promise. “Good.  Now help your mother up this bank.”

Trygg was impatient for his men to finish their examination of the village.  He had known they would not be enrichened by the raid; that was not the point.  He wanted their presence on the river to be hidden from the Romans and those higher up the valley.  He felt a thrill of excitement run down his spine.  He was about to venture further up the Dunum than he had before.  It was all new territory to him but it was also dangerous territory.  He knew that there was a Roman fort somewhere up the valley but he knew not where it was.  He was a cautious chief and he signalled for Snorri.  He took him to one side.  “Have Harald take eight men and the goods we have acquired. Tell him to return to the ships and then bring one back to here.”

Snorri threw him a curious look.  “Just one?”

“We cannot afford more of our men away from the attack and I do not trust these women Gurt has brought.  No, one boat will be enough should we reach here and find we need a speedy departure.  Tell him to face the boat down river and moor in the middle.”

When Snorri returned and nodded that his instructions had been given the chief roared.  “We leave now! From this place onwards we are in danger from many enemies.  Do not let your guard drop for an instant and remember- no prisoners. Snorri, scouts out.”

Snorri ran up to Sigurd and Ormsson.  “You two come with me.  We are the scouts. “The two boys puffed up with pride, they were to be scouts and not just that but scouts with the chief’s right hand man.  Like two hunting dogs they sped off along the path.  Unlike Deadra they did not plunge down the bank but kept to the escarpment.  The sharp eyed Sigurd saw that the path disappeared into a new lake and pointed to the right where there was another, lesser path. When Snorri reached them he nodded.  “Good lad.  You will make a good scout. Now on.”

The two boys were younger than Snorri who was heavily armed and they made good time.  They could see, from their high vantage point, that the river took a large loop away from them but came back to them a mile along. They trotted on, both pleased that they had saved their warband a mile of worthless walking.  Ormsson shielded his eyes against the thin, cold, winter sun.  They would have just as couple of hours of daylight left.  They knew that they would have to seek a camp soon for the nights were still cold.

It was Sigurd who saw the woman and the boy some way ahead. While Sigurd kept his eye on her Ormsson ran back the hundred paces to Snorri. “There is a woman and a child.  They are heading west.”

Not wishing to waste breath Snorri ran up to Sigurd who pointed them out. He was not sure if the two boys could take the woman and the child and so he led them.  “We have to catch those two.  Follow all my instructions.  When I tell you go left and right of them and we will surround them.”

Deadra had hoped that the Mother was with her and that she and her son would find sanctuary.  She knew that the nearest farm was over a mile away but she began to believe that they would escape and then, glancing over her shoulder, she saw three men pursuing her. One was clearly a warrior from his axe and helmet.  They would soon catch them and she took a momentous decision.  She pretended to stumble.  When Aed came back she said, “I have hurt my leg you must leave me.”

“No!”

She pointed behind her.  “See, they come!” Kissing him she pushed him down the trail and, as he tearfully ran away, she stood and plunged down the bank to the river.  She would at least draw off some of the pursuers.

Snorri saw the women run down the levee.  Two of them would follow her. The boy was small and Sigurd could follow him. “Sigurd, follow the boy, Ormsson with me.”

The woman had her son’s survival in her heart and she ran across the muddy fields as fast as she could.  She stumbled once and, as she rose, picked up the small branch brought there by the floodwaters.  She ran straight for the river.  Behind her she could hear her pursuer’s feet sloshing ion the mud.  She could not know it but Snorri was slowing, weighed down by his weapons and it was the boy Sigurd who was closing. The bank of the river rose, three paces before her and she turned and swung the branch like a club. Sigurd had almost been on the woman and was not expecting the blow which cracked into the side of the head. He fell like a stone.  Deadra ran up to the bank and along the muddy riverbank.  It was there that her good fortune deserted her.  Just when freedom beckoned, she slipped on the bank and fell into the swiftly flowing waters. Her exhaustion, her heavy clothes and her inability to swim all conspired to quickly end her life and the brave Brigante mother slid beneath the black and icy waters praying that her son survive.