Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 04] Roman Retreat (25 page)

“Then we can expect the interrogators soon.”

Livius shuddered as he looked at the broken body of his uncle and pictured himself once they had finished with him.

Aula and Decius had managed to get their ill gotten gains to Calleva Atrebatum. The town had been civilised for thirty years and was as Roman as any city in the province.  It was vibrant and thriving.  New settlers were arriving daily to take advantage of its market and its new businesses.  Aula and Decius did not stand out. Perhaps the age difference might have caused comment but the wagging tongues had Aula down as a rich widow and Decius as the new love of her life.  Neither did anything to deny the rumours.  They purchased a modest villa on the outskirts of the town.  As Aula told Decius, “We keep a low profile.  We need to blend into the town.  I want us to be anonymous.”

They had paid off their guards when they reached the outskirts of Lindum giving them the impression that they were heading for Gaul. The fugitives had done everything in their power to throw any pursuers off the scent.  With more money than anyone could imagine they intended to, eventually move to Rome where Aula could finally live the life she felt she deserved.

Chapter 17

The weather had changed for the better when Macro and Gaius finally rode into the walled enclosure of Gaius’ home.  Gaelwyn had spotted them and, by the time they arrived, Ailis was waiting in the doorway with their new son in her arms and Decius clinging to her leg. Ailis forehead creased in a frown when she saw Macro. Gaius leapt off his horse and embraced his whole family.  “I have missed you.  It was not until I saw you that I knew how much I had missed you.”

“And I have missed you husband.  Let us not stand here the cold is no good for the child come to the fire.”

Macro and Gaelwyn followed the family onto the cosy room with the welcoming fire. Ailis pointed to the crib in the corner.  “There is your son Macro. Morwenna did not name him properly but when she comes to join us we can have the naming ceremony.” Gaius gave a slight shake of the head.

Macro went over to the sleeping child and laid his huge hand on the baby’s head. Gaelwyn looked over at Gaius the question in his eyes almost shouting.  Again Gaius shook his head and then said, “Why Decius you have grown and see what we have made for you.” He took out a beautifully carved horse.  “Sergeant Cato spent many long hours carving that for you son.” The boy’s eyes lit up and he gently took it and turned it over in his hands.  “You can play with it.  It will not break.”

Ailis put her baby, now sleeping in his crib and then tenderly kissed Gaius.  “I really have missed you.” She then whispered in his ear, “Morwenna?”

“Come outside and I will tell you.” Loudly he added.  “Gaelwyn and I will see to the horses. Macro you need to be with your son.  There will be much you wish to tell him.”  Macro turned his tear streaked face towards Gaius and nodded.

While the three of them put the horses in the stable Gaius told them of Decius’ murder and Morwenna’s betrayal. Ailis buried her face in her husband’s chest murmuring, “Poor Decius and poor Macro.”

“I thought there was something familiar about her.  Now I know I wonder why I didn’t see it more clearly.”

“I think we all said that. We need to pick the big man up.  He has to get over this however there is worse news than that to tell.”

Ailis looked up, shocked. “What news can be worse than this?”

“Marcus has been arrested for treason and taken, with Livius, to be questioned by the Emperor.”

Gaelwyn snorted, “Marcus a traitor! What fool thought that?”

“The new Legate.  The Governor was fermenting rebellion and I think, because Livius is his nephew, they felt he had something to do with it.”

“When they question him they will realise the error of their ways will they not?”

Gaelwyn and Gaius exchanged a knowing look.  “Sometimes the truth does not matter.  Sometimes things are done which are wrong but which encourage everyone to toe the line.”

Gaelwyn nodded.  “How are the men taking it?”

“Badly.  Julius almost came to blows with the Legate and I feel he has made an enemy there.”

“Loyalty cannot be bought it has to be earned and Marcus has certainly earned it.  I am pleased that the Prefect stood up to the Legate.  I think I might have taken more direct action.”

Gaius laughed and slapped his old friend on the back.  “You are getting too old to be picking fights.”

“I do not pick my fights, I choose them.”

By the time they went back into the house Macro had composed himself. “I think I will call the child Decius.”

Ailis nodded, “I think that Morwenna called him that a couple of times but, “she paused not knowing if she should go on.  Gaius nodded encouragement, “she was never comfortable with him. Looking back I think that she did something to make the child cry; she must have learned potions and tricks. I think she wanted to be away.”

Macro nodded.  “I know it is much to ask Ailis and you Gaius, old friend but I cannot look after my son would…”

Ailis’ face broke into a smile, “Of course. Your son is a lovely child and he can play with,” she looked up at Gaius, “Marcus as they grow to be men together.”

Embracing her Gaius said, “You are the wisest and most thoughtful wife a man could have.  Now I hope there is food for we are starving. It was a long ride from Eboracum.”

Ailis said, “Of course,” and scurried out to organise the slaves.

“Eboracum?” questioned the Brigante scout.

“The prefect wanted us to see what the city was like without a Governor and to deliver some despatches for the Rome packet.”

As the Legate and his escort trekked across the uplands of Northern Britannia, they were unaware that they were being stalked by a second warband sent south by Calgathus.  Their original role was to have been to join the first warband and raid further south to disrupt the Roman supply lines before the forts could be stocked with winter provisions.  Once they realised the futility of that they had joined with the first warbands and were waiting for a supply train.  When they saw the column of cavalry they recognised them as the famous Marcus’ Horse. The number of Caledonii and Selgovae allies outnumbered the Romans considerably.  They had chosen the valley a few miles south of Trimontium as the best place for the ambush.  They had chosen it wisely for the steep banks meant that all travellers slowed down and when they rested at the bottom, in the shallow river they would be vulnerable.  They had also deduced that, because the fort was so close by, they would relax.  So it was that, as Septimus waved the turma forward the Legate called a halt. “It is time for a rest.  We will water the horses here for the fort must be close.”

Remembering the Prefect’s words of warning Septimus said as calmly and reasonably as he could, “With due respect Legate we can rest in the fort.  This is not a good place.”

“Are you a coward man! We are still in the Roman Empire.  The border is many miles hence.”

“The border you speak of a figment of a Roman mapmaker’s imagination.  When we left Coriosopitum we left the Empire.”

Before the Legate could reply there was a whoosh and an arrow embedded itself in one of the Legate’s bodyguards. “Shields!” The turma went into the familiar defensive routine each pair protecting each other.  The bodyguards had no shields and the ambushers quickly targeted them. They died without drawing their swords.  Because the Legate had been moving forward to reprimand the Decurion he avoided an arrow but the banks were suddenly filled with the screaming warband who finally had the turma where they wanted it. “Ride downstream!” Septimus knew that their only chance was to outrun the barbarians and downstream the river became deeper which would enable their horses to swim away from their pursuers.

The Legate had not fought for many years; the last battles he had been involved in had been when he directed the soldiers from the rear. This was the hand to hand fighting which he had not endured since he was a young man. He was now also much older and slower. The Caledonii warrior swung his war axe straight through the Legate’s horse’s legs and it went down in a screaming flurry of blood. The Legate found himself face down in the water and he would have died there and then were it not for Septimus who wheeled his horse around and thrust his javelin into the barbarian’s back. “Get on my horse now Legate!”

As the Legate struggled out of the water and onto the back of Septimus’ mount Septimus held off the warriors who surrounded him.  Five of the turma saw their Decurion’s plight and heroically rode back to help their leader disengage. “Ride.  Make it back to the prefect.”

The small party found themselves clear and they splashed their way downstream. With screams of rage they were pursued. The Legate screamed as an arrow plunged into his leg. One of the turma was hurled from his horse by a spear. Two warriors leapt up to pull a second from his horse and then they mercilessly hacked him to pieces. Septimus saw the bend in the river looming large and, for the first time since the ambush began, started to believe he would survive. Fate can be cruel for, as they turned around the bend three warriors jumped from the overhanging branch and brought the Legate and Decurion from their horse.  Neither had any chance for the wind was knocked from them and the pursuing barbarians caught them. The remaining auxiliaries could only watch from downstream as the two men were hacked and stabbed to death. Aulus, the chosen man, took charge.  “Right lads you heard the Decurion, back to the fort.”

The Emperor had had enough of Germania both Inferior and Superior. He longed to be back in Rome. He sat with his clerk reading the various reports from the Empire. “We have some letters from Senators in Rome Caesar.”

“I will read those when Julius Verinus has made his report.  Where is the man?”

“He has had to travel many miles sir but I believe he has arrived.”

“The why isn’t he here?”

“He is probably making himself presentable Caesar you know what the roads are like.”

Shrugging his agreement he murmured. “Before we built these roads I wonder that they moved at all.”

When the Legate did arrive he was clean and presentable. Caesar wasted no time.” Well!”

“The rebels are defeated.  The ex-governor is dead and my men are mopping up the survivors. “

“Good.  Then I can get back to Rome.”The clerk gave a little cough. “Well what is it you annoying little man?”

“There is the problem of Sallustius Lucullus.”

“He is not a problem. Have him executed.”

“On what charges Caesar?”

“Why treason! Rebellion!”

“The problem there is that they didn’t actually rebel and if we say he did then others might get the idea that they ought to rebel.  We have had one rebellion, brilliantly put down, I might add, can we not leave it at that?”

“You mean let him live?”

“Oh no Caesar but for another crime.”

“What crime?”

“Well he did name a lance after himself without your permission.”

Julius Verinus snorted, “Sounds a bit thin to me.”

Domitian said, “Go on explain.  I suspect there is some plan behind all this.”

“There is Caesar. This tells the world that you make all the decisions, large and small in the Roman Empire.  If any citizen whether Governor or soldier wishes to do anything, they should seek your permission.”

Even Julius Verinus nodded.  “Excellent.  Yes that is my decision.  He is to be executed for naming a lance after himself.”

Marcus had lost track of the days.  From his beard he felt that they had been down there more than a week but he could not be sure.  Sallustius rarely spoke.  Livius made sure he ate and drank each day but his uncle was dying little by little. They had become used to the smell of urine and faeces but the lice which infested the straw and their clothes were a constant source of irritation. Even worse were the rats which were bold enough to try to steal the morsels of food which they were allowed.“Sir?”

“Yes Livius although after what we have been through I feel Marcus might be more appropriate.”

“I am not sure I can go on much longer.”

Even though they were in almost total darkness Marcus felt he could see the abject despair on the boy’s face. “Yes you can Livius because we are still alive and, as long as we are alive, we have hope.”

“What hope is there?”

“I don’t know but I will keep on hoping. I know it sounds foolish but I have learned that life is too precious to give up.  We may well end up being executed but until I see the manner of my death I will believe that I might still live.”

There was a silence only disturbed by the erratic breathing of Sallustius and the rats ferreting around in the straw. Suddenly they were blinded when the cell door was thrown open and six legionaries stood with blazing torches.  A Centurion stepped forward with a wax tablet. “Sallustius Lucullus, one time Governor of the Province of Britannia, you have been sentenced by the Emperor Domitian to death for the crime of naming a lance after yourself.  Take him away.”

Before anyone could speak to question the punishment or even say goodbye Livius’ uncle was dragged away and the door slammed shut. “Naming a lance?”

“I know Livius it seems so petty somehow but the sentence is still the same. Now we have to await our fate.”

Since he had met his son, Macro seemed more at peace with himself. Prefect Demetrius had noticed the change.  In the weeks since he had returned he had become the rock he had always been.  He no longer laughed as much as he once had but he went about his job with a fervour which surprised all, even Gaius.  The news of the Legate’s death had not concerned anyone save Julius who had to send the report back to Rome and detail the circumstances.  What did sadden them all was the death of Septimus who had been one of the most popular Decurions and had been with the ala for a long time. The ala found comfort in the heroic nature of his death. He had died trying to save a comrade and that meant he would now be with the Allfather , Decius and Ulpius sharing tales of brave deeds.