Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 01] The Sword of Cartimandua (12 page)

“Will it not look suspicious if I come here regularly?”

“She is known to be a witch and a soldier’s woman.  I am sure your comrades will believe that you still have desires.” Gaius nodded. Knowing his luck she would be a toothless old harridan. “Now go.”

Gaius was ejected from the hut and thrust into the next one. From the noises he heard as he left he knew that the men were leaving.  His desire was to see who they were, the jewels on the man’s arms and his bracelets suggested an important man but his desire for life outweighed it.  He did not want to die and he was under no illusions for even though he was close to the fort his throat could be cut and his body disposed of in the time it took to sigh.

The new hut had a brighter fire and he was able to see the face of the woman.  He was surprised.  She was younger than he had thought probably in her twenties; his loins began to react immediately as his mind began to relish a weekly meeting with such a woman. He unconsciously licked his lips with a spittle covered tongue.

The woman had noticed his arousal and ended his thoughts in an instant. Drawing a lethally sharp dagger she put its point at his genitals. “You are here for information. The story about me as your lover will be just that, a story. If you try to touch me I will geld you.” The look in her eyes and her tone of voice left him under no illusions she would do as she said. He sat back all thoughts of lust dissipated by the appearance of the knife. “Come when the other soldiers find women, which will look natural. The first information we require is the full strength of the ala and the legion here. Is that clear?” He nodded. “Now go.”

He was about to leave and then a thought struck him. “Are you a witch?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“If you are a witch then you have potions do you not? You can make spells. Tell the future.”

She laughed. “If you want a potion to keep your cock hard then you will be wasting your money.”

“No I want,” he paused and leaned closer, “a poison.  To kill a man.”

“Ah, then I can help you but it will cost and, “she looked pointedly at his pouch, “I know you have money, much money.”

“I do and for this?” He tossed a heavy silver coin at her.

“For this I can give you a poison. I will give it to you when I have the information.”

As he walked carefully back to camp he realised that this could work out well for him.  This had turned out better than he had hoped for he now had a regular income, protection if the legions left and someone who could provide him with poison.  It had been a good day.

Fainch watched his back with some disgust as he left. She and her sisters worshipped Mother Earth. She had spent many years, as a child, in the lands of Mona where she studied with the Druids. She had been there when the Romans had first desecrated the holy places and slaughtered the Druids. As she had hidden she had seen the ruthless Romans slaughtering the priests, killing those that she thought of as family. She swore an oath then on the holy shrines that she would have revenge and drive these Romans from her land.  It had taken all her will power not to slit the throat of the Roman she had just spoken with. Since she had arrived back from Mona she had become more patient. She had seen that these Romans built solidly whether a building, or an army or a country and she would need to bide her time and choose the most opportune moment. She would use Cresens and then he too would die. As she chanted a spell she began to grind up the mushrooms, herbs and roots she would need for her next potion. This potion was for herself; it was a potion which allowed her to leave her body and communicate with her sisters and Mother Earth. It allowed her to fly, without leaving her dwelling. She would create an alliance which would defeat these Romans who had disembowelled and crucified the only man she had ever loved; Vosius son of Lugotrix a king killed himself by the Romans. They had killed the only chance she would have of happiness; she would ensure that they had none.  Her revenge was begun.

Ulpius walked to headquarters blissfully unaware that murder, his murder was being plotted. He was blissfully happy because his lovemaking with Cartimandua was getting better and better. He did not know if it was their ages, it certainly wasn’t his experience , or lack of it, whatever it was they had a sexual chemistry which left both of the satisfied, replete and totally at ease with each other. He worked hard with his men each day but he so looked forward to the long nights of lovemaking; rather than sapping his energy it seemed to give him energy.

Having met Marcus and the Queen’s handmaidens he was heading to make his report. He had gleaned all the necessary information on the last few miles of the journey. Marcus had filled him in completely.  Both were curious about the contents of the box but Ulpius had hidden a secret smile for he knew the Queen would tell him all.  Marcus could now have a bath and some food, he had deserved it. The guards outside headquarters snapped to attention as he strode passed them.

Flavius looked up from the reports he was reading and gestured for Ulpius to sit. “They made it then?”

“As I said he would.”

“And the er…box?”

“Safely delivered to the queen with two handmaidens.” He paused. “Gerantium, the centurion didn’t make it but the lad brought his widow back with them.”

“We’ll find something for her. You never met him did you?”

“Just the once when, we rescued the Queen.”

“He was an absolute hero. Fought in Germany, Batavia and here in Britannia. The divine Claudius took a real shine to him.  Thought he was some sort of lucky omen.  There was him and that elephant he brought with him. Good job he didn’t leave the elephant.  It was him as arranged for him to look after the Queen.  Sort of bodyguard. Obviously did his job well as most of the rulers in this land have short lives and violent ends. How did he die?”

“According to the lad, in battle, took a dozen or so with him. They gave him a decent burial.”

Flavius nodded.  As a Roman soldier, especially an auxiliary, decent burial were something you hoped for but didn’t expect. “And Venutius?”

“Still hanging around.  We ran into a few of them and Marcus said there were more in the woods and hills. They trailed him all the way back. Not enough for us to waste our time chasing them but just enough to let us know that he hasn’t gone. The handmaidens told Marcus that there were hundred spread all over the place. I think they are getting rid of the Queen’s supporters so we have a little time but not much.”

Flavius rubbed his chin and poured them both a goblet of wine. He gestured for his friend to drink. “What do you think he is up to?”

“The lads burned the wooden parts of the stronghold so he can’t refortify that, at least not without us noticing. Besides it was only built to hold back barbarians.  Apart from the northern side where there is a double rampart and double ditch there is nothing to stop legionaries.  Even that wouldn’t hold them up for long. It is mainly earth and wood.  Greek fire, bolt throwers, even stones would easily crack that nut. There is nowhere south of the big river that is fortified which leaves over the hills in Carvetii, his stronghold of Brocavum which, the Brigante tell me, is smaller but much harder to attack than Stanwyck. He must know we’ll come after him but he will hope that it is in the spring when his men have had time to rearm themselves and gather more men.”

Flavius pulled a map over. “You are right about his stronghold Look. Here is his capital, Brocavum. Nasty little place. It’s on a steep hill with a moat and ditch going around most of it. And the little bugger has made it of stone.  I visited there a couple of years ago with Paulinus, a courtesy. It was when Venutius was only a lad and his dad was still king.  It would take at least a legion to capture that. And the road to get there is no picnic.  Right over the tops of the mountains. A cold, desolate and windswept place.  He thinks he is safe until spring. If I had my way we would be after him now before he gets too comfortable before he can get his army together but we will have to wait for the Governor to come and light a fire up the tribune’s arse. I am worried that he will get other tribes to join him. Somehow they got wind of the trouble In Rome. I suppose no new legions gave him an idea about the situation.”

“It’s shame that Caesius Alasica isn’t here.  He knew how to fight in this land. “

“Aye he was handy in a fight, it is a shame we only have a couple of legions over here. They should have finished the job the first time. Trouble was the Iceni. Everything was going well, they pulled the legions out and then some dozy prick decides to have his way with the Iceni women. Fucking stupid. Just shows you are safer with your dick inside your armour.” Having revisited the past the cavalryman got back to business. “Right you keep on at your men, keep them sharp, keep them ready to move at a moment’s notice  and I’ll see if I can get you a long patrol to round up these Carvetii and rebel Brigante.” A broad smile filled his face, “That is if you aren’t totally shagged out you old goat!”

Saenius Augustinius did not use his clerk for this most important letter. He could trust no-one with this information. The intrigue in Rome which had seen a succession of Emperors meant that every province in the far flung Empire was at risk. Those on the extremes were in an even more parlous state.  Added to that Britannia was an island and could only be supplied by sea and the sea they had to cross was capricious at best. The tribune needed to secure his position. He was gambling that it would be Vespasian who would still be Emperor and there would be a steady hand at the helm. He was also counting on the fact that Vespasian had served in Britannia during the invasion and knew what the problems were likely to be. He would inform the Emperor that it was he, Saenius Augustinius, who had ordered the Queen’s rescue. The promotion of Ulpius Felix should have ensured his cooperation. He added that the fortress of Eboracum would serve as a sound base from which to invade the far north. Once the Emperor realised that Saenius had done so much it would not take much for him to recall Bolanus and, perhaps, give the governorship to him. Perhaps Britannia might prove to be a route to even greater power he just had to make sure he held on to Cartimandua and stopped Venutius from rising in the spring.

Chapter 7

Eboracum

The pleasure at the return of his acolyte was diminished for Ulpius by the fact that the Queen now had an entourage and he could not be as close to her as hitherto. He would have to forego the pleasure of waking up in her arms and making love before the dawn broke. He smiled to himself; there was no doubt that the queen would be missing it too. The few times they were in contact there was an audience.  He had enjoyed the nights spent in her arms and the joy of awakening to her each morning. That was now ended and he had to get his pleasure where he could in small ways. He took a young boy’s pleasure in accidentally brushing her fingers and she reciprocated every action.  He was sure that people must see their looks and almost smell the animal attraction they had for each other but everyone appeared to be oblivious or, perhaps, too tactful to comment.

It was on one such occasion that the love struck cavalryman had a body blow to his nightly visits. He was summoned to headquarters. Not only was Flavius there but also Queen Cartimandua and, most unusually, the tribune, Saenius Augustinius. The tribune was a small unimportant looking individual.  He had the frightened look of a child found with his fingers in the sweetmeats. He had been given the post by his uncle in Rome, an uncle who wanted an incompetent out of the way in the wilds of Britannia.  If the truth were to be known he had hoped that he would have been killed before now and from that he would have made much political capital. Tribunes had paper power but most were only in post for a year or two and then they would return to Rome and feast out on stories of the frontier.  Although he was cowardly he had cunning and a guile which matched his uncle.  He knew that he could gain much credit for the rescue of Cartimandua.  He had visions of returning to Rome with her on his arm, not as a bride but evidence of his courage. He would emulate Claudius who returned with Caractacus in chains.

He shifted uncomfortably upon his couch when Ulpius entered with the leader of the other ala quinquigeria, Aurelius Suetonius; he found these auxiliary cavalrymen too uncouth and wild.  They were not Romans and he could smell them before he saw them. He thought they all had the air of barbarians and they were, after all, only one generation removed from barbarians. They might wear Roman armour but their hair was still long in the style of their peoples, they wore amulets and still insisted on carrying the decapitated heads of their enemies; barbarians still. He was quite happy to waste their useless lives; it was the legionaries who would protect him behind their solid phalanx of shields. It was the legions who would defeat these tribes not barbarians from some eastern backwater.

He looked at the tall decurion princeps and found much to dislike about him even excusing the disgusting mess that had been one of his eyes which he, apparently, had lost it in the service of Rome; could the man not wear a patch? He also disliked the insolent look he normally gave to the tribune on the rare occasions when he actually had to speak to him and now he noticed looks exchanged between the Queen and this cavalryman.  He had heard rumours, not only about Cartimandua’s sexual appetite, but also her liaison with a Roman. Heaven forefend that it should be this barbarian.  All in all he decided that he needed to be rid of this ugly barbarian who might have too much influence over the Brigante queen. Even though the days were shortening and the harvests were being gathered he would have him away from the fortress.  He was a constant reminder that the Queen had not been rescued by him, the tribune, but a wild barbarian. Once he was rid of him the story could change and move him into a more prominent light.

“You have done well decurion princeps and you have been rewarded.  I have another task for you.  Take your men and sweep away the last of these rebels.”