Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 01] The Sword of Cartimandua (26 page)

His men were now fully alert. They had overheard enough to realise there were three times as many enemies awaiting them as they had; who knew how many others were in their path. They all knew that musters of war bands could number in the thousands and this small patrol was already far from friends. Marcus looked up at the steep mountains which stood like giants to the west and the north. Luckily for the troop the path taken by Gaius was neither steep nor difficult. Gaius stopped suddenly and rode next to Marcus. “Just over this rise is a stand of trees and bushes.  You can see their camp and still be hidden.”

Marcus turned to Julius. Keep the men mounted.  I will go and talk to Decius.” Dismounting he handed the reins to one of his men. The two auxiliaries dropped to all fours, an undignified manner of moving but one which meant it was unlikely they would be seen. Decius heard them and could not resist a grin as he saw them scurry like drunken men trying to get home.

The spot chosen by his scouts was a good one. The lake and valley stretched northwards and then took a slight North West curve. It was very wide at its southern end.  He could have brought his men up mounted as the tree and bush line was quite thick. The barbarian force was moving eastwards.  It was an untidy straggle of warriors but Marcus was not fooled they could be on him in moments if he was seen. “Sir!” Decius saluted. “They broke camp just after I sent Gaius to you. I counted a hundred and ten warriors and forty old men and boys. You can see the leaders by the horses and the armour.  All the warriors have swords or spears.  The old men and boys have bows and slings.”

“Good report. Now are they looking for us or are they heading for the muster?” Decius coughed. “Well spit it out man.  If you have an idea then tell me.”

“Well there were no scouts out and they looked to be heading east.”  He pointed down the hillside.  “You can see the trail they would have taken if they were heading for the fort and they have passed it.”

“Good.  You two stay here while I bring the men forward.” As he ran back to his men he wondered what Ulpius would do and, not for the first time, he began to realise the weight of responsibility on his young shoulders. If the enemy knew about the fort they could easily assault it, the trick would be to follow them without the Carvetii discovering their presence. Not as easy task. If he followed them closely he risked being spotted, if he trailed them at a distance he risked losing them or worse risked them ambushing him. He peered around the skyline.  Soon they would lose the trees and with them their cover; if the enemy continued east they would soon come to a hill too steep for their mounts.  He made his decision they would wait until they had passed and then follow.  He could only hope that there were no places for an ambush. He turned to his troopers. “Dismount and finish your meal.  We will wait until they have passed.”

To the younger men of the turma it seemed an age that they waited but Marcus wanted to make sure there was not a rearguard watching for just such a move.  If he had been with the chieftain and his bodyguard he would have realised that the enemy was blissfully unaware of their presence and believed that the Romans were still east of the mountain range.

Maeve had a small settlement at the northern end of the lake.  Although there were only ten warriors in his village Maeve was as proud of them as any king.  As he pulled up his breeks he spat.  He would have been with the rest of the tribe if it were not for Earl Woolgar his half brother.  Although Maeve owed allegiance to him they had fallen out over some cattle and Maeve had determined that, whilst he would fight for Venutius and drive the Romans from his homeland he would so as the leader of his own band however small it was. He was annoyed with himself almost as much as he was annoyed with the king for the early muster meant his people would go hungry and he wished he had sown his small fields first.

He turned to look at his men. He was pleased that they had brought not only their spears but also their bows.  He mounted his pony and drew his sword, Ban. Pointing the sword at the path skirting the lake to the south they set off, a determined band of warriors who would be the first to strike a blow at the Romans.

Although they were on foot these hardy warriors were able to move at the pace of a pony. The hills were steep around the lake and the men had the stamina of mountain goats. Maeve had no need for scouts; this was his land and he knew every piece of grass on it and his keen eyes scanned the land for anything which was out of place.  It was he who noticed the hoof prints. He instantly knew that they were not his people for they were in a line and the size was bigger than their ponies.  He held up his hand.  “Romans! And they are ahead of us.” He gestured to Garve a powerfully built warrior who could run for days. “Head up towards Tor hill you will be able to see into the next valley.” The man set off at a loping pace and the rest of the tribe trotted purposefully forward. Even Maeve was surprised some time later when Garve appeared, almost from nowhere, like a spirit from the ground.

“You are right.  There are Romans on horses.  They are following Earl Woolgar and the rest of the tribe.”

“How many?”

“There are three for each one of us.”

Maeve nodded.  An attack was out of the question.  He would have to be cunning and use the tactics he had used against the Novontae when stealing their cattle.  He would use the dark and see how many of the enemy he could kill.

The first that Marcus or any of the auxiliaries knew about the attack was when the third guard gurgled a scream as the arrow caught him in the neck.  The other two had died instantly one to an arrow the other to a sharp knife. It was to their credit that the Romans reacted automatically, hands going to weapons.  The Carvetii had the advantage for their eyes were accustomed to the dark and so it was that two more of Marcus’ men died before they could respond. 

Marcus raced towards the sound of blade on blade and he was gratified to see Decius guarding his left side and behind them both young Gaius, spatha in hand. The first warrior he saw had his back to him and he thrust his spear at the unguarded leg of Aquinius.  Marcus’ sword severed one arm and then slashed across the neck of the warrior.  As the three of them went forwards Marcus began to wonder how many men they faced.  It was an ambush but he could see little.  It was fortunate that he had ordered his men to sleep in their corselets. Gaius suddenly darted to the side and caught one of the enemy a glancing blow to his spear.  Before he could join him Marcus found himself facing a huge warrior with a might sword.  Even as he advanced he sensed a movement to his left and, from the corner of his eye he saw Decius deflect the axe which would have sliced through his leg. As it was the minor distraction had allowed Maeve, for it was the Carvetii chieftain who faced him, to hack down at Marcus’ arm.  His training took over and he turned the thicker blade easily.  He took an easy wide stance, this would not be easy; his opponent had flecks of grey in his beard and his torc told the story, he was a chief. Behind him the Romans began to gain the upper hand as their numbers told.

Maeve and Marcus were oblivious to it all; thrust was met by counter thrust but gradually Marcus’ youth and his training took over. The long reach of the spatha and his superior height meant that the end was inevitable. A trip over a clump of grass covered rocks made the Carvetii warrior slip and the Roman sank his blade into the unprotected left arm. Maeve did not make a sound but he realised that he would die soon; he could see his dead and dying companions lying around.  He needed to get away and warn the king. Recklessly racing forward he hacked at Marcus who retreated slightly giving the Briton the chance to discard his battered shield, run to his pony, mount and gallop away.

Later on Marcus realised he should have given chase immediately but he did not know how many enemy remained and how many of his own men still lived. By the time they had discovered that their entire enemies were dead or dying it was too late to pursue. Realising that they were safe Marcus set sentries and told Gaius to look after the wounded. “Decius, are there any still living?”

A moment or two later Decius shouted over.  “Here.”

It was young warrior and the life blood was seeping from his arm.  He would not last an hour. “Where were you going?”

The young warrior shook his head. Inside he wondered why the normally brave Maeve had fled leaving them there to die.  He felt betrayed and the pain was hurting; he could not believe how much a blade could hurt.

Marcus looked at Decius who nodded. He removed the young warrior’s breeks and held his knife under his testicles. “Now I know you are brave but would you go to the Allfather half a man or a whole man?”

“Kill me you Roman bastard! Kill me!”

“Oh we will but first my friend here will slice off you manhood. Then remove your eyes.  You will wander sightless and dickless for all eternity.” He paused to allow the thoughts to sink in. “Or you can tell me where you were going and who your leader was and I will put your sword in your hand and we will give you a warrior’s death.” The sadistic look in Decius’ eyes convinced him to tell what in truth was not secret information but it galled the young man to do something so traitorous.

“We were summoned to the muster by the king.”

“And who is we?”

“Earl Woolgar and his warriors.”

“He was your leader?”

“No that was Maeve his brother,” Marcus nodded; that must have been the warrior he had faced.  He would remember the names, both of them for it could help to understand the command structure of the enemy. “And you were headed for?”

“Brocavum.”

Marcus smiled.  “There, that was not so hard was it?” As he put the sword in his hand he nodded to Decius who thrust his sword into the warrior’s throat. “He was brave.”

“He was fucking stupid.  He could have had you when you gave him the sword and he would still have had a soldier’s death.”

Marcus smiled wryly.  Decius was a fierce warrior in battle.  “Then thank the Allfather he was more like me and less like you. What is the butcher’s bill?”

“Eight dead and two wounded.”

“Can they ride Gaius?”

“Yes sir they can ride.”

“Then let us take our dead and return to the fort we have discovered what we need to.” By the time they had tied their companion’s bodies to their horses dawn was breaking.  Marcus saw that the older troopers had taken the heads of the enemy.  While Marcus did not do it himself he knew that the enemy hated this.  It would have an effect.

Glanibanta

“Where is he? He should have returned yesterday?”

Lenta put her arms around her sobbing sister. “Do not upset yourself so you have a child within you.  Ulpius said that they might be out all night.  He will return. Remember the father of your unborn child is a warrior and warriors sometimes die.”

Slumping to the floor the pregnant princess began to dab at her eyes.  “I know but I would have some time with him as a husband before that happens.”

It was a contentious issue and Marcus and Macha had argued about this.  As an auxiliary Marcus need permission to marry.  Lenta wondered why he had not asked Ulpius whom she knew would have given permission.  When he returned he would suffer the sharp edge of Lenta’s tongue. Her sister had been looking healthy and well but, since he had been on patrol, she was beginning to look a little drawn. Cartimandua’s death had been so sudden and so unexpected that both sisters felt vulnerable.  When they had hidden from Venutius and fled his forces they had known the risks; it was galling to lose a sister in the safety of a fort. Lenta did not blame the Romans but wondered if her sister’s death could have been avoided. Orrick and his warriors had warned Lenta and Macha that the tribes were gathering. They were al in a difficult position; if the Carvetii won then all the Brigante who had supported them would be slaughtered. If the Romans prevailed then Lenta, Macha and Orrick would lose all their power and would be subsumed by the Roman imperial machine.  Cartimandua had had a plan but neither Macha nor Lenta was privy to it.

Not for the first time since the patrol had head north did Ulpius stand in the north western tower almost  willing his men to return. He had felt disquiet when the messenger told him of Marcus’ plans.  If the fort was in a parlous position then the patrol was even more so. They were isolated with no friends within a week’s march.  Every bush and rock could conceal an enemy. It was two days since the messenger had arrived and the decurion princeps had hoped that a second would have brought a progress report. He could not bring himself to chide or castigate his young protégé, after all Ulpius had trained him and he could find no fault with the young warrior’s actions.  Even so the waiting was something to which the man of action could not become accustomed.

“Stand to!”

The gates were slammed shut and the fort called to arms at the sentries warning. The snows had gone from all but the higher hills which made it harder to make out the line of figures. As soon as the horses could be made out it was obvious that it was the returning patrol.  The sentry looked at Ulpius to see if he ordered the watch to stand down. Ulpius shook his head.  “We’ll stay alert.  This may be a trick. They are Roman horses, they are dressed in our uniform but until they speak we will be wary.”

He felt rather than saw the two princesses clamber up the ladder.  It would have been churlish of him to chastise them for this breach of rules not to mention the potential health hazard of a pregnant princess falling from the ladder and he understood their anxiety.

“It is Marcus! He is alive.” Macha’s face lit up as she was the first to recognise her man.

Ulpius frowned when he saw the bodies draped over the backs of the horses. He shouted down. “Get the surgeon!”

Even though every part of Marcus yearned to be with his love his duty dictated that he report to Ulpius and, in truth, his report was vital. Ulpius took him into the now complete fort Headquarters.  The brazier in the corner gave off immediate heat which to the half frozen Marcus was a lifesaver. Ulpius waved his hand for his protégé to sit and handed him a goblet of honeyed warm wine.  His desire and need for the valuable information in Marcus’ head was counterbalanced by the understanding that he had been through an ordeal; the dead bodies draped over the horses was testimony to that.