Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 06] Druid's Gold (18 page)

“This sounds more than half a dozen. We need to hide the helmets and mail. If you go in villages go afoot and without anything which marks you as Roman.  But we need to get in the villages and gauge the moods. Rufius find Drusus and give him the information I just gave to the others.”

“What will you do sir?”

“I will find the Prefect and report this intelligence to him.  I should still be able to meet with you as arranged. Be careful there is something going on here which looks bigger than just a few raids.”

Metellus rubbed his chin. “It looks remarkably like the work of Morwenna to me.  But what do I know?”

“Don’t disparage yourself Metellus.  You may well be right. Keep your ears open for any witch or druid related intelligence.”

Chapter 11

The Prefect was both surprised and pleased when Livius arrived at Glanibanta.  The cohort had made good progress on the road and they would soon be able to begin work on the fort. Star looked exhausted to the point of collapse and Livius knew that he would need a spare mount before returning south.

“You are a pleasant surprise Decurion although I suspect that your unexpected arrival means that things are not as they should be.”

Once in the Praetorium Livius outlined the problems and unexpected events south of him. “Hm.  That does not sound good.” He looked shrewdly at the intelligent intelligence officer who had matured rapidly since taking over his new role. “What do you think Livius?”

The use of his first name gave Livius an indication of the Prefect’s perception of him and encouraged him to be frank. “I think this is Morwenna’s doing.  One of my men, Metellus, who has a shrewd brain, agrees with me in this.” The Prefect looked at Livius thinking ‘as you have.’ “He also thinks that this reeks of Morwenna for it is both subtle and insidious. I will know more when my men and I have had the chance to visit the settlements.”

“From what you have told me, that could be dangerous.  If they do not trust Romans then they may just take their anger and frustration out on your men operating alone as they do.”

“We will pretend to be just ordinary Brigante or Trinovante. It is the main reason why I have allowed my men to grow their hair longer and beards,” he chuckled, “despite some less than complimentary comments from some of the other officers of the Ninth.”

Waving the idea away with a dismissive hand gesture the prefect leaned forward. “I will send for the Batavians to help us build this road a little faster.  I think that we can have the road finished in two weeks and then, if I leave the Batavians to build their fort I can bring the cohort south to… What did you say the name of this fort was?”

In answer Livius pointed to the spot on the map. “It is about thirty miles south of here on the road. If you just march down the road you will find it.” He hesitated. “If I might suggest something sir?”

“Speak freely Livius, your ideas are rarely frivolous.”

“If the Governor were to send some of the fleet around the coast it would increase our intelligence gathering and make a statement about our presence.”

“A good suggestion but by the time the message has reached Eboracum and the fleet and then the fleet despatched it could be winter.”

“Which may be the time we need it.  Besides it would do the people such as the village of Itunocelum good to see the reassuring presence of the fleet. It would put down a marker for our authority.  Neither the Irish nor the Brigante have ships.  It might give us advance warning of any enemies and it might help with the supplies for there is only one road in the region. You will only have four hundred men and while the legions are doughty warriors they may well be outnumbered with the army facing them similarly armed.  They have stolen armour intended for the auxiliaries at Brocauum. This deserter cohort we hear about worries me.  We can defeat the Brigante as we have shown before but these may well be Roman legionaries trained by us.”

“A dangerous combination indeed.  Very well I shall send for the third cohort and base them here as a back up.  The Ninth is very thinly stretched and we must head north in the next year if we are to make the Stanegate secure once more. Anyway Livius when will you return south?”

“This afternoon when I have found another mount.”

“It is fortunate that you left spares here.”

“Not fortune sir but planning.  The old sergeant from Marcus’ Horse brought the string over last month and they are fine horses.”

When the Explorates met in the middle of the lonely copse they all had disquieting news for Livius.  “It is worse than we thought sir.  It seems Roman soldiers have been going into small villages taking what little they have and then killing or wounding a few in every village.”

“They even crucified one headman!”

“And all in the name of Rome sir. If we have not grown our hair and beards we would have been torn limb from limbs sir.”

“As bad as that Metellus?”

“Worse!” said Drusus. “There is an anger and fury amongst the Brigante that I didn’t see in the rebellion.  They are like a volcano waiting to erupt. Many men have left the villages.  I fear there is a rebel army somewhere that was not here before.”

“Perfect conditions for Morwenna to make a return.  Well the Ninth is coming down and we can’t deal with a rebellion but how do we find these deserters?”

“Metellus has an idea sir.”

“Well Metellus spit it out.”

“It seems to me that they have to have somewhere local to recruit these deserters sir. “

“With you up to now but Britannia is a big province.”

“Yes sir but they have to be somewhere close to where we are now and yet far enough away from a legionary fortress to avoid accidental discovery. If they are legionaries I would say Mamucium would be a good place to start as it is an auxiliary fort. I think the fort you visited sir is too isolated. Then there must be some big vicus with a population of men who have deserted from the auxiliary,” he tailed off lamely, “well sir that was the idea.  Seems a little flimsy as a plan now that I have mentioned it.”

“No Metellus I think you have something. What we need is for one of us to frequent the taverns and see who is recruiting. My maniple will take Mamucium, Drusus and Marius, split the rest between yourselves and find taverns.  We only need two men from each of your units to be the bait.  The rest can just keep their ears open.”

“One thing sir.”

“Yes Drusus?”

“You can’t be the bait.”

Livius’ face reddened.  “Why not? It is out of character for you Drusus to be insubordinate.”

“But he isn’t sir. We have spent the last day while waiting for you to discuss this.  You are known sir.  You are famous.  You are the nephew of the Governor.  Do you think no-one would recognise you and if they recognise you then we are all in trouble? “

“And the same goes for Rufius.”

“Why me? No-one knows me.”

“True but you are too young.  Deserters are men who have had enough of life in the army.  You look like you only started shaving last week.”

“No I am afraid it has to be old miserable looking troopers.”

“Like me I suppose Drusus?”

“Well Agrippa if we had an award for misery, you would win it every time.”

“You are right Drusus, at least about Rufius, Decius and me. So we will give it a week.  Metellus, Rufius and Decius your role will be to scout along the coast.  Find out if there have been any unusual occurrences.  Look for fires and camps where you would not expect to find them.  Ask about shipping. When you have combed the coast head inland and do the same.  We meet back here in seven days.  May the Allfather be with you.”

Agrippa had been completely transformed by the time they reached the outskirts of Mamucium. He and Cassius looked as though they had slept in a hedge for a month. They were unkempt with a dirty and stained tunic while sporting a wicked looking non-regulation dagger at their sides.  Agrippa also carried a nasty looking cudgel. They waited in some scrubby bushes just outside the vicus while Livius gave them their last instructions. “I will go into the fort first and find out what they know then I will stay at the inn closest to the Porta Praetorium.  I would imagine that would be the one least likely to be used by any deserters or potential rebels.  You two find any tavern tonight in which to stay and keep your ears open. Tomorrow come to the inn where I will be staying.  If I have any information I will try to pass it on to you but If I don’t stroke my nose I have nothing to tell you so stay away and repeat the following day.  If you have anything for me then scratch your head.  I will then give you the sign to talk. Remember we only need an idea of where the deserters, if they exist as a force, might be.  There is no need to take risks.”

“And I thought our role was one big risk.”

“You know what I mean Cassius.  I will go first with the horses.  You two separate and go in individually.”

Livius frowned as he approached the gate of the fort.  The sentries were lounging and did not appear to have the usual alert expression he had come to know from the auxiliary cohorts in the north. Prefect Sura would have torn more than a strip off each of them had they been his Batavians.  As he approached and looked closer he could see that their armour was rusted in places and their helmets did not gleam as he would have expected.  Livius had arrived feeling dirty and dishevelled but already he felt smarter. The two soldiers took one look at him, as he approached the Porta Praetorium, and went back to their conversation.  If this was the standard throughout the fort then Mamucium was in trouble.

The main avenue in any fort was normally a hive of activity this one seemed to be a drone of apathy and lethargy. He shook his head.  Perhaps the Prefect would give him a better insight into this cohort. There was no-one to whom he could give the reins of the three horses and he regretted not stabling them at the tavern.  He had hoped that the fort would have looked after them but so far he was not impressed and was loath to leave his horses here.   He tied the reins together knowing that Star would not move until commanded.

He climbed the steps and knocked on the door. “Come.” When he entered he found the prefect’s clerk with a jug of wine in his hand. “Yes?”

“Decurion Sallustius of the Ninth Legion to see the Camp Prefect.”

Sniffing the clerk went into the inner office saying, “I’ll see if he is free.” After what seemed an age, the clerk came out and said, “You can go in now.”

Porcius Fortuna was a huge red faced man.  Livius had known other auxiliary prefects who liked to drink but each of them had looked fit.  Porcius looked like he would struggle to get out of his chair and Livius could not imagine him marching further than the nearest inn. Although the clerk had tried to tidy the office Livius could still see the wine stains on the floor and the amphora peeping guiltily out from under the curtain.  The man himself reeked of alcohol both stale and fresh.  The stains on his uniform told its own story. The desk itself was devoid of anything other than a vine staff and there were no maps on the walls at all.  Livius wondered what the man did to fill the day.

“Prefect Porcius Fortuna at your service. My clerk misheard he thought you said you were a decurion in the Ninth.”

“He heard correctly.  I am Decurion Princeps.”

“But the Ninth don’t have cavalry.”

“They do and they are called Explorates. “ The Prefect looked blank.  “We act as scouts.”

“Ah and what brings you here. “ Suddenly he sat forward his face a picture of panic.  “They aren’t coming here are they? I mean we have the Twentieth Valeria at Deva already.”

“They are coming south Prefect although not as far south as Mamucium. At least not at the moment, it all depends on my report and how things work out.” Livius decided on the small lie just to get the walking wine cask before him to cooperate and help him.

“How can we help you?”

“First some questions.  Have you heard of any outrages committed against the native Brigante around here?” The blank look on Porcius’ face answered the question but the shake of the head and outstretched hands confirmed it. “Do you have trouble with either deserters or men deserting from the cohort?”

He began to wave his arms around and become more defensive, “Every cohort has men who desert.  We have no more than the average.”

“What would you say was the average?”

“Well I would have to look up…”

“No Prefect you said average.  What would you say was the average?”

“Ah you mean in other units as well, oh twenty or thirty a year.”

Livius almost gasped at the figure. He had never known more than one or two men desert.  In Marcus’ Horse it was hard to remember a deserter. He kept his face straight as though this was an average number. “And are there any inns and taverns in the vicus where these men might congregate?”

“Might be. I rarely leave the fort.  You’d have to ask my clerk.”

“Do you not go on patrols then?”

“No I am Camp Prefect.  I am kept pretty busy here. Important job running this fort you know. Well if I can be of any further service. Just see my clerk eh?”

Holding his temper in check Livius went to talk to the clerk.  It was obvious he had been listening for he said. “I have heard that the inn with the sign of the white horse and the tavern at the holly bush are the most disreputable and I would assume they would be where deserters would go.  They are also the furthest from the fort.”

“Thank you, you have been most kind.” The sarcasm was wasted on the clerk who merely shrugged.  Livius would not affect his world and he would go on profiting from a lazy superior.

As he rode through the gate the two sentries paid him no attention at all. This was intelligence which the Prefect would need to know. Mamucium controlled an important road; if it could not be relied upon then the whole of the north was in danger. Next time he would ask to speak to First Spear, which was always a good measure of the quality of a cohort.

He went straight to the first tavern which was within sight of the gate. It had a crude sign of a sheaf of corn and he went in.  The owner was a neat little man with a greying beard and moustache. “I wish a room and stabling for three horses.”