Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 12] Roman Wall (26 page)

He constantly scanned the horizon as he headed south.  He could see the tell tale smoke from burning buildings. He had been told that the fort might have fallen.  Certainly the signs were not good. He suddenly raised his hand.  Cassius reined in straight away but the two young troopers were a little slow and their horses ran into the rear of the decurion’s. “That is a week of shit shovelling for you pair!” He pumped his arm and his Chosen Man appeared. “Take charge here.  I am going with Cassius to investigate those birds ahead.” He had seen a flock of carrion birds swooping, climbing and fighting.  It might be an animal but, equally it might be something else.

They left the road and entered the tumble of trees to the east. It allowed them to see the road but not be seen. The presence of the birds suggested that man was not present but he would take no chances. Garbo saw the birds through the trees as they squabbled over the corpses of the Thracian turma who had been killed there.  He could see no sign of barbarians and he led Julius through the undergrowth to the road. He saw the head of the Prefect on the top of a spear.  He had seen him once before and his broken nose was distinctive.  It appeared to be the only part of his head that was not bloody.

“Well signifer, we know what happened to the Thracians now.  What we need to find out is what has happened to Vinovia.  Bring up the turma.  I’ll get rid of this.  It’ll upset the lads.”

As Cassius rode off he took the spear and walked to the Prefect’s body.  He pulled the gory trophy from the spear and laid it next to the dismembered corpse. “Go to the Allfather, Prefect.  You died a warrior’s death.”

When the troopers rode up he heard the retching as one young trooper took in the scene. He would need to be on the frontier a little longer then he would become used to such sights.

“Follow me and keep your eyes open.”

A small voice from somewhere behind asked, “Aren’t we going to bury them sir?”

He turned in his saddle trying to discover the owner of the voice. “Son, when you die we will remember you but you will have to be a lucky trooper if we actually bury you.  So don’t die!”

The decurion knew what he would find.  He led them from the road so that they could approach the fort from the east.  He did not want to be highlighted in the setting sun. It was still an hour or so before dark but he was cautious. He also reasoned that if the fort had fallen then they would be looking to the road for the Romans. He knew that the river ran along one side of the fort and the bridge there controlled the passage of the Vedra Fluvia.  He took the troop to the woods some five hundred paces from the northern wall.  He could see the fort and the road.

When he stopped his heart sank. The fort had fallen.  The line of heads atop spears told him that in an instant. He turned to Chosen Man. “Ride back to the Legate and tell him that the Thracian Prefect is dead and Vinovia has fallen.”

The Chosen Man hesitated, “We could all go back sir. We can’t do much here.”

“I know, but we can watch and we can follow.  Unless I miss my guess we are in a world of trouble.  We have lost forts north of the wall before now but never south.”

The rider from the south reached the fort at the same time as the wounded from the west. To Legate Julius Demetrius it was though all their disasters had arrived at once. To have lost so many troopers was a worry. To have his best leaders trapped and trying to fight an army was even worse.

He now had a dilemma.  There were two enemy armies.  The one to the south he knew was capable of capturing Roman forts but the one to the north potentially had more warriors. For the first time he did not know what to do. He sent for Livius. He liked talking problems through.

After he heard the problem Livius said, “The way I see it sir is that it is too late to do anything tonight.  By the time our cavalry reach either Vinovia or Luguvalium it will be the middle of the night and the men will be tired. I think that we can leave just before dawn.  We will be there in the morning.”

The Legate smiled, “That doesn’t help me Livius.  Where do we send your ala?”

“I thought that was obvious sir, to the west.  Decurion Garbo is the steadiest of leaders.  He will shadow the warband and keep us informed of their movements.  We should send his trooper back and tell the decurion he has to watch the barbarians.”

“You are right, that makes sense but this Brigante army can gather more men at will.  All those who are unhappy with our rule will join them.  This is not the Dunum where the Brigante support us.  This is the land of the Vedra Fluvia and the Tinea; here we are hated.” He stood, “But you are right.  Have the ala ready to ride before dawn.”

Far to the north the sun was also setting.  Rufius and the Cohors Equitata had watched the warriors as they had held a meeting of some kind.  Rufius had deduced that they were debating what to do next. So long as the horse warriors guarded the Stanegate they were helpless.

“I think, Decurion, that they will try something at night. Let’s get the men out to create some trips and traps.  It won’t stop them but it will prevent us having our throats slit.”

The Batavian was happy for it gave his men something to do.

Rufius sought out Marcus. “I want you and Gnaeus to play at being Explorate tonight.  Position yourselves out there in between us and the barbarians.  Watch out when you return for we are laying some trips.” Marcus nodded.  It was what he would have done. “Be back before dawn.”

“Sir.”

“And Marcus, be careful.  That sword does not grant you immortality.”

Marcus waved Gnaeus over. “We are scouts tonight. I saw a hollow over there.” Marcus pointed to the west.  “We can move closer to the Selgovae along the dead ground and remain hidden. If we approach from the east we will be in the dark.”

Gnaeus looked to the north, “Remember what happened to the Decurion Marius sir.  One of these barbarians might well fancy another horsehair plume.”

“Then you will have to be my mother for the night and make sure he does not get it.”

The banter was just to ease their nerves.  What they were about to do was risky but they were the best that Rufius had and Marcus took it as a compliment that they had been selected.

It helped that they were approaching from the dark that was the east. Even so they dismounted as they turned to head west and the hollow which would take them close to their enemy. They both had well trained horses that picked their way silently across the turf. They were like shadows as the edged closer to the barbarians.

Once they reached the hollow they tied the horses to a gorse bush and left the animals to graze.  Taking off their helmets they put them next to their spears and shields. They would only get in the way. Drawing their swords they slithered up the side of the grassy hollow. Their ears were attuned to the sounds of the evening.  They could hear voices to their front but they saw nothing.  The mound running along the partly built vallum gave them an indication of their location. They moved slowly and silently across the undulating ground. The soft turf deadened any sound they might have made. After a small dip it began to rise and the two Romans could now make out the voices. They moved so slowly as to be almost stationery. When they crested the rise they saw that they were just thirty paces from the barbarian camp.

There was a sentry at the edge of the camp and Marcus could make out the glow of a fire hidden behind the bodies of the warriors. The mood appeared to be quite bullish. At first he could only pick out one or two words; it was some time since he had heard their language but he heard, ‘
Victory
’ and ‘
Roman Slaughter
’.  The two of them settled down to watch and to listen.

Numbers were hard to estimate but as the barbarians moved around Marcus saw that the camps were spread all along the edge of the Vallum. He knew that Rufius had been right to attack them.  Had they not done so then this camp would now be many more miles inside Roman territory. Marcus suspected that they could return to their own camp without hearing more.  The warriors looked to have settled down and they would gain little more information but Marcus would stay.  He could suffer a night without sleep if it brought victory one day closer.

The talk went on for some time and Marcus wondered if they would ever sleep. A sudden shout in the camp yielded silence.  A single voice spoke. This time Marcus found that he could understand more words for the warrior was speaking slowly so that all of the tribes could understand him.

“Warriors, we have victory within our grasp. All that stands between us and the rich land to the south is the handful of horse warriors.  They are not to be feared. When we attack, on the morrow, follow your leaders.  I have told them how we can defeat these Romans and then we drive on to meet our Brigante and Carvetii brothers.  They, too, have defeated the Romans in the south! The priestess was right! The Mother is with us!”

The camp erupted in a huge cheer. Marcus knew that the sentries at his own camp would be worried when they heard the shout in case it preceded an attack. He wondered what plans the leader had put in place. He also wondered if the words about the Brigante were true.  He worried about his family but he could do nothing about it.

They waited in the dark listening to the sounds of the camp diminish. Within a short space of time all that they could hear was the snores of sleeping men and the stamp of the sentries’ feet as they struggled to keep warm.  Marcus was about to lead Gnaeus away when they heard steps approaching. Marcus pulled Gnaeus down the slope. A pair of shadows appeared above them.  A quick glance showed Marcus that the two sentries were going to relieve themselves. Although they were not looking down yet, when they did so they could not help but see the two Romans.

Marcus tapped Gnaeus on the arm. He rose and plunged the sword of Cartimandua into the chest of one warrior. Gnaeus slashed his sword across the other sentry’s throat. Even while the two warriors were dying, the Romans turned and ran towards their horses, hidden in the dark. They were unfortunate in that the spears the men were holding clattered against a rock as they fell and shouts of alarm erupted from the camp.  It would not take them long to find the bodies.

They donned their helmets, grabbed their spears and shields and mounted their horses. They could hear the barbarians behind them as they sought their sentries. The hollow hid them but as soon as they crested the rise a precocious moon peered out and illuminated their silhouettes.  The roar told them that they had been seen.

“Well that has torn it.  We had better go steady Gnaeus.  There are traps ahead.” Marcus dismounted. He glanced over his shoulder and the warriors were hurtling after them. 

Marcus was peering into the undergrowth to look for the telltale signs of a trap when he heard a low whistle. He whistled back. “Over here, sir, to your left.” Titus’ voice was like music to the decurion’s ears.

The barbarians had disappeared into the hollow but they could only be a few paces away. He saw Titus’ relieved face. The signifer had his javelin ready.  He said, “Down sir!” Marcus and Gnaeus both ducked as the javelin flew from Titus’ hand and thudded into the chest of the Selgovae warrior.

The three troopers quickly disappeared behind the bushes and waited. They did not have to wait long. The four young barbarians threw themselves into the undergrowth to get to grips with the Roman spies. The first one set off the spring trap and the wooden stake tore into his middle. A second one tripped over the piece of rope and he was propelled into the wooden spike sticking out from the tree.  The other two stopped.  Behind them were another handful of warriors. One of them shouted, “Tiernan says you are to return to camp and stop chasing shadows.”

Seagh and Darius are both dead!”

“If you do not return now then you will join them.”

The last of the pursuers turned and reluctantly followed the other warriors back to their camp.  As Marcus followed Titus through the maze of traps he thought about this Tiernan.  He was not the reckless barbarian they were used to.  He had some sort of control over his men. They would have to take them seriously when they attacked for there was a plan behind this attack.

Rufius had asked to be woken when Marcus returned. He was waiting for them at the fire. They told him what they had heard. “It sounds to me like they are going to try some sort of trick tomorrow.  You have done well.  Get some rest. Tomorrow may be even more testing.”

Chapter 19

Felix had also had problems reaching the fort at Cilurnum.  There were small bands of Votadini who had managed to scale the wall and they were looting the Roman settlements south of the wall. It was late in the afternoon when he reached the bridge. He had waited in the woods south of the river when he had heard the hooves leaving the fort and he had only emerged when he saw it was a trooper from the ala riding south.  He was cautious. The guards were, naturally, equally wary and the optio on duty sent for Livius.

“He is our scout, let him in.”

Livius feared the worst.  “Report, Felix.”

“Sir, the decurion sent me because the Novontae have crossed the wall.  He has taken command of eight turmae from the Cohors Equitata.”

“Good work Felix.  Does the Prefect at Vercovicium know of the danger?”

“Yes sir, I told him.”

“Then get some rest for tomorrow we will go to the aid of Rufius and Marcus.”

It was a damp and dismal dawn.  The clouds had been scudding across the skies since the moon had set and the spring rain drove from the north. It was as sharp as needles. The horse warriors had been standing to since before dawn. They were already all soaked to the skin. Rufius was taking no chances however, better to be damp than to be dead. He and Marcus sat with Decurion Albius.  “We need to be flexible today.  We have no idea what is happening on the rest of the wall and we just need to slow down the warband.  I am sure that the Legate will have plans in place. We must buy him time.” Rufius was not as confident as he sounded.  He knew how few men they had. At best the Legate would be able to send a couple of turmae.  The rest would be needed, now, to protect the fort at Cilurnum.