Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 04] Roman Retreat (22 page)

Chapter 15

Cornelius summoned the Governor to his office, which had, until recently been his own office. The armed guards at the door now answered to the Legate.  His report was already on its way to the Emperor. The Governor had lost all his bluster. “So Sallustius still no news of your wife,” he shook his head, “nor your nephew. I do find that interesting, not to say suspicious.  It does put you in a very poor light and begs the question, why did they leave in such a hurry and carrying gold too. Gold that came from?” He held his hand up as Sallustius began to rise. “Well you will be pleased to know that I have finished my preliminary investigations and I am afraid that I find that you have abused your power and as a result I am removing you from office.” He looked sternly at the ex-Governor and his words conveyed a threat like a death sentence.  “Before you bluster and complain remember this, I have the Emperor’s authority.  My orders will be obeyed. The Tribunes and Prefects here and in the south understand that and when the other Tribunes arrive, the ones you appointed then they will be told of the change of command.”

“What are these abuses I am accused of?” The question sounded weak in his head and even worse when he heard it echoing around the room.

Cornelius smiled,”You really want them itemising? Let me see, you stole gold from the Emperor, you created cohorts for your own use.”

“They were to replace the legions taken by the Emperor.”

“You now accuse the Emperor of treachery,” he wrote on his tablet, “another charge.  If the cohorts were intended to fight the barbarians why are they here and not on the border?” There was a loud silence which filled the room. “I shall carry on. You named a lance after yourself without asking the Emperor’s permission.” Sallustius’ mouth dropped open. “I know it sounds pathetic and, were it your only crime, you might still have a post somewhere in Britannia, probably a clerk somewhere. As it is it is serious enough to be brought to the Emperor’s attention. And then there are the charges I cannot prove. I have informed the Emperor about these crimes and told him that the evidence is thin.”

In a small voice the ex-Governor murmured, “What crimes?”

“Treason! You were working with the Governor of Germania Superior to jointly rebel against Rome. Had I got my hands on this Rufius Agrippa, his emissary, you would already be dead.” He slammed his hand down on the table.  “As it is I will send you to the Emperor to allow him to decide upon your sentence.”

Sallustius slumped, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his woes.  He was already dead.

Macro had to see to his men and his horses before the Prefect would allow him to go to Morwenna. She feigned sympathy very well. “Are you hurt my love? Did the barbarians kill many of your men?”

“Do not worry my sweet, we slaughtered far more of them.”

“And your friends?  They are all safe?”

“Not a scratch between us.  We must bear charmed lives.”

Inside Morwenna was seething for she had hoped that, with the warning she had given, the Caledonii would have killed far more of her hated enemies.  “Good. I pray to the Allfather for you.  When will I get to meet your friends?”

“Tomorrow we are having a farewell dinner and the Prefect has invited you.”

“Farewell dinner? Who is leaving?”

“We are.  The ala.  We go south to winter at Coriosopitum.  You will get to meet Decius there, he is camp prefect. They have emptied the fort to make way for us.”

“Will I meet the famous Marcus at the dinner?”

“No he is heading south to Eboracum even as we speak.”

Once again she cursed the luck her enemy had. She had hoped he would be close enough to be in her clutches but at least she had some useful information for Lulach. Perhaps they could benefit from the empty fort and, if the Mother permitted, another of her mother’s murderers would die.

Marcus and Livius were riding hard south of the Dunum.  They were trying to out run the snowstorm which they could see looming black and threatening behind them.  Decius had urged them to stay in the fort but Marcus had too many pressing issues on his mind. “There is something wrong Decius.  Why won’t the Governor send us his cohorts?  Does he want us to fail?  We are hanging on by our fingernails and the only force we have to stop an invasion is the small group of auxiliaries trapped in their forts and the ala.  We need those men.”

“Politicians!” Decius had snorted.  “They are useless.”

Now as the two men hurried south Marcus couldn’t help but agree with Decius’ assessment. Give him soldiers any time.  You knew where you were with them. “Sir, are we going to stop before Eboracum?”

“No we will change horses at Cataractonium. The ride will make the beds in Eboracum seem even softer.”

Livius was not sure he agreed with the Tribune but if a man twice his age could manage to ride for such long distances then so could he.  As they thundered down the vale between the snow topped hills rising away east and west of them, Livius could not help but reflect on the changes since he had been seconded as aide.  When he had heard that his cousin was to take charge of the gold mines he had been resentful.  Now he knew that he had had the better of the arrangements. For he had come to love the life in the ala, the comradeship and, if he was hones, the danger.  His cousin was a merchant but he, Livius, was a warrior and he could wish for nothing more.

At the fort of Cataractonium they were warned of wolves in the vale which had descended from the hills and forests. “That is another example, Livius of the problems the Governor is creating. The auxiliaries should be here to protect the people not guard the Governor.  The sooner we see him the better.”

They arrived at the city after dark and the gates were closed. “Tribune Maximunius and his aide to see the Governor.”

The huge doors swung open and when they entered they were greeted by ten grim faced soldiers.  The biggest of them, a Centurion to rival Macro, stepped up to him and said, “Tribune Marcus Aurelius Maximunius and Livius Lucullus by order of Legate Furcus I am placing you under arrest.” Before either could react their arms had been taken from them and they were marched away.

“I will have to go to the fort my love.  I will return for you this evening.  Remember to pack your things for we leave on the morrow.” As he looked outside at the snow filled hills he asked, “What will you do today? The land is so cold.”

“Oh I shall wrap up and look at the hills,” she said airily.

“Make sure you do wrap up then.” She smiled at his concern and obvious affection. He was like a piece of clay in her hands; he would do everything she asked of him.

As Macro strode away to the fort Morwenna decided that the snow would be a good way to hide her from prying eyes. She intended to find Lulach and tell him of the ala’s movements. As she left she hut she heard the tramp of feet as the cohorts from Coriosopitum marched up the military road to reinforce the forts. Lulach and his companion were harder to see in the snow but Morwenna knew where to look. They all squatted down behind a snow bank.

“The ala leaves tomorrow to winter in Coriosopitum.” She pointed at the auxiliaries marching west. “Those are the garrison which was stationed at Coriosopitum, the fort is now empty.”

“Good.  We can attack the fort tonight.  There is a warband south of the Bodotria. I will send orders for them to raze it to the ground. My father says you are, indeed, your mother’s daughter and he is pleased with your work.” Morwenna nodded graciously, pleased by the compliment.  The king’s praise was unnecessary; all she wanted were her mother’s murderers dead and the Romans thrown out of Britannia. “Will you go with your husband?”

“I will have to but I can still aid you.”

Lulach nodded. “I will send three men south. Aodh here will be your contact and will protect you.”

She flashed him an angry look.  “I need not your protection!”

He looked at her as a master looks at a slave who has questioned his orders. “Well you will have it whether you want it or not.  You are too valuable an asset to throw away. Now go back to Mairi’s.  Aodh and his men will follow you and the ala when you travel south. You will need to find some time during each day when you walk and Aodh will meet and contact you.”

Decius felt uneasy as the snow hurled itself at the solid walls of the fort. His fifty recruits were strutting the walls as though they were battle hardened veterans but Decius knew better.  Veterans would see in the dark and not be spooked by branches. Battle hardened veterans would not gossip like girls and giggle at flatulence.  Old soldiers knew that a moment’s lack of concentration could result in a throat being slit. He yearned for daylight and the arrival of the ala.  He had decided he would forego sleep.  He had another reason not to risk sleep for the previous night he had had nightmares about Fainch. He was not bothered that he had killed a woman but Fainch had been a witch and his nightmare had been real enough to make him wake in a sweat.  The spectre of Fainch with a knife, filleting him like a fish whilst he had been unable to move had made him afraid; his dream had been so real that, when he awoke seating, he felt his body for the wounds she had inflicted.  The walls and the snow were safer for one night than a Fainch filled nightmare.

“Sir?”

“Yes trooper.”

“We have heard many stories about Marcus’ Horse.  Are they all true?”

“Probably not.  It depends which story and who told you.”

“Did the Prefect, Marcus fight King Venutius to get the Sword of Cartimandua?”

“No you pillock! The Queen gave the sword to Ulpius Felix and when he was dying he gave it to the Prefect.  He in turn gave it to the Decurion Princeps.”

“Oh.  So you probably didn’t kill the Queen of the witches either?”

Suddenly his nightmare became real and he shuddered.  “That one is true.  We crucified her as far north as any Roman soldier has been and good riddance for she was an evil bitch. Now stop asking stupid questions and watch.”

“No-one is likely to attack the fort are they?”

“If they know I have a bunch of wet behind the ears recruits they will. Now watch.” As Decius glanced around he thought he detected a movement. He focussed on the spot and saw snow fall from the bush.  He whispered to the trooper.  “Go to the barracks and rouse the men but do it quietly.” The young man was going to ask a question but the look in Decius’ eyes told him that this was serious. He quickly went around the other sentries.  “Stand to!” He whispered.  “Enemies out there.  Keep your eyes peeled.” He made sure each man had javelins.  It was then he realised that none of them had bows.  That part of their training required Macro.  Well they would have to make do with javelins but in his heart he knew men would die because the enemy, whoever they were, could get much closer.

The flaming arrow was aimed at the tower but the young sentry walked in front of it and was hit in the chest.  His screams seemed to launch the attack for the air was filled with war cries, screams and arrows. “Use your shields over your heads and throw your javelins.” Experienced men would have known that but Decius had to make do with what he had.  He ran to the dying trooper and put out the flames with the bucket of sand which was placed near the tower for such incendiary attack. Raising his shield he peered over the wall. They were Caledonii.  He picked out his target, a leader and hurled his javelin into the warrior’s unarmoured chest. His young recruits were making a valiant effort but there were many more Caledonii than recruits.

Cursing himself for his oversight he shouted up at the tower. “Fire the bolt throwers now!”

Suddenly the pendulum swung the Roman’s way and the bolts from the two towers caught many Caledonii in the crossfire. Some Caledonii had, however made it to the wall, and the recruits were taking too many casualties. Drawing his sword and hefting his shield Decius ran down the walkway. He did not pause when he reached the melee he just punched with his shield and his sword. One warrior fell over the ramparts and was impaled on the spikes thrusting out of the snow filled ditch.  The other warrior fell backwards into the fort and, even with all the noise, Decius heard the crack as the man’s back broke. He found himself facing two warriors who had despatched the young troopers guarding that section. Decius lowered his knees and then punched one with his shield whilst slashing down at the other warrior’s sword. Seeing the opening Decius head butted him and, when he instinctively put his hand to his damaged face, he finished him off by slicing through his unprotected midriff. The first warrior took advantage of Decius’ distraction and hacked the shield from his left arm. It was now blade to blade and Decius felt his years as the younger man relentlessly forced him back. When Decius tripped over the dead trooper’s body the warrior’s eyes lit up and he stabbed down.  Decius tried to roll out of the way but the sword went through the soft flesh of his upper arm and pinned it to the walkway.  Before the warrior could withdraw the blade Decius stabbed upwards between the man’s legs and, as he felt the warm arterial blood gush over his arm, he knew that the man was dead.

Two troopers ran over to help Decius.  While one removed the sword the other wrapped a cloth around the wound. “Looks like they have gone sir.”

“Well done lads. Go round and check for any of their wounded.” He looked each of them in the eye. “Finish them off.”

As dawn broke Decius could see how lucky they had been. Forty dead bodies lay outside the fort whilst inside there were eight who had made it over the ramparts.  Decius looked at the line of troopers lying in straight lines within the fort.  They had lost twenty brave young men. As the surgeon bandaged his arm Decius again wondered how they had known.  He deduced that they must have had spies watching who saw the garrison leave but there must have been a warband close by.  When the Prefect arrived he would have to be informed.  This would not be the easy posting they all hoped for.  They were all in danger.

Marcus stood with Livius in the Governor’s quarters in Eboracum.  The guards surrounding him were unknown to both men and Marcus could see from their decorations that they had fought in many campaigns.  From the decorations on his uniform the Legate was obviously an experienced soldier. Marcus noticed how he had studiously ignored them both as he read the tablet in front of him. Off to the side was a clerk who appeared to be making notes.  Eventually the Legate looked up.  “Do you know why you are here Prefect?”