Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 09] Hero of Rome (21 page)

Shocked, Marcus recoiled. “Macro what has come over you?  You are not the man who was trained, as I was by Gaelwyn; who was taught the way of the ala by Rufius and taught by our father to obey orders.”

Macro’s shoulders sagged. “You are right Marcus and I am sorry to take my anger out on you but we are not real brothers and it has taken the death of Gaius to make me realise that. My father, Macro, died saving my life and yet the first thing my mother did when she met me was to try to kill me.  Those raiders who took Gaius’ life came from Manavia; they came from my mother.  I cannot rest until she has died at my hands.  That means I must kill this Faolan first.”

Marcus was appalled.  Morwenna was a witch but she was his mother.  How could someone live knowing that they had killed their own mother? “She will be protected and she will be guarded.  It will be impossible. You will be killed before you can reach her.”

“Then I will die trying but that will be better than the living death I have now, knowing that she wants me dead and one of her acolytes could poison me or one of her men could sneak up at night and murder me.” He looked terrified. “I have not slept well since she had me in her clutches and I saw the hate in her eyes.  She is a witch and she wants me dead. I am a dead man walking.” His eyes softened and he put his arm around his brother. “Sleep now Marcus.  You can tell Cassius that you spoke to me and I will be a dutiful soldier once more.  But when we reach the coast…”

Chapter 12

The Fist and his band of deserters made good time as they travelled through the empty lands which lay well south of the heavily contested part of Brigantia.  Their horses were fresh and for all his cruelty towards his fellow troopers, The Fist knew how to care for horses. So they came down at last from the barren moor land to a fast flowing river.  They kept to the north bank and the river turned north west. They were no longer in a hurry for there had been no pursuit. The initial worry for the deserters was that the Romans would send cavalry after the survivors and now that it had not occurred they could take the trail at their leisure.  They were also trying to grow out their hair and develop facial hair.  They had looked too Roman and now, after a few days on the trail, they looked more like the barbarians or at least natives of Britannia. As the river turned west they found a road of sorts which headed north west in a more direct line. It seemed likely that it would lead to the sea and that was their ultimate destination.  When they struck the next river they kept to the western bank and were rewarded one sunny afternoon with the port of the Setantii.  They had played the part of traders seeking a port as they had travelled through the country and discovered that the small tribe who lived in the region existed through fishing and a little commerce.  Seeing little evidence of Rome and its influence they ventured into the small settlement which did not even have a substantial wall, merely a wooden palisade which would have stopped no-one.

“This looks like a likely place.” The Fist looked out at the port which had a small jetty and a few small ships and boats lying at anchor. “We keep a low profile and just ask for passage on a ship.” He glared at his small band.  “We pay for everything and we cause no trouble! The last thing we need is for them to remember us.  Once we get away from this island we will be safe.  Until then we are peaceful.”

The port had one tavern which had a stable in which both their horses and they could be housed. Occasional visitors from the passing ships often stayed overnight but there was curiosity as to why they had not used one of the bigger ports further south or even Itunocelum, north.

The Fist would have made a good actor as he leaned in to confide in the headman. “Have you not heard of the trouble?  The Brigante revolted and the Irish invaded.  North of here is dangerous. No we came here because we heard you were a fair people and we would be able to take passage.”

The headman beamed at the compliment whilst worrying about the two conflicts his guest had mentioned. The last thing the Setantii needed was war.  And they could do without the Romans taking an interest in them and taxing them. They plied their trade with both Hibernia and Manavia both of which left them alone but if raiders came or rebels, then that would upset their economic success story.

“Where would you like passage to?”

This was the part which had the deserters the most worried for they had no idea of the relationship between Manavia and Setantii. “We had heard there were good opportunities for trade in Manavia.”

They were all relieved when the headman nodded.  “Indeed they are good people and we have many boats which trade with them. I believe there is one going there on the morning tide.  I can arrange a passage,” he paused as he weighed up the potential purses of these travellers, “for a fee. In gold.”

The Fist smiled, “That will be agreeable.”

The headman was delighted to have made such an easy profit for the boat in question was his and he would make double money as he would charge them twice over. “Yes there is a cargo of shackles going over.  They are expecting a consignment of slaves.  When the new moon rises there will be a huge slave auction.  Traders will be travelling from all over Britannia and Hibernia.  You will be well placed to do some deals in…?”

The Fist was too crafty to fall for that trick.  “Oh we trade in all sorts of commodities from people to services.  We just need a new market.  You know?”

The headman had them summed up now. They were fleeing Britannia and he mentally upped the price he would charge. “You are wise to travel to Manavia then for they have a very liberal view of trade.  There are two ports one in the south and the larger one in the north.  The ship on the morrow is going to the southern port but it is but half a day’s ride to the northern one. “

“That will suit us for we would like to see the whole island before choosing our base.”

“You will have to go to the northern port eventually then for you will have to ask the council’s permission to stay.” He leaned forward, “They are druids you know.”

“That doesn’t worry us.”

“Good.  Well until the morrow.  I will meet you at the jetty and we can settle up then.”

******

Spurius and Graccus whipped their mounts as hard as they could along the trail desperately trying to catch up with the remnants of Creagth’s command.  The advantage they had was that they had not fought earlier and their mounts were fresher than those they pursued. When they reached more open parts Spurius could see that some of those before them sported wounds.  Their disadvantage was that they did not know what they were riding into. The trail they followed was the pack horse trail to the port of Itunocelum and was well worn. The fact that it was down hill helped the barbarians before them for the Roman armour made their burdens greater. Spurius turned to Graccus, “You have better eyes than I; can you see the other band?”

“Yes Spurius.  They are about a mile ahead.”

“That means that when we catch up with them we will be outnumbered. We need to hold them until the ala can catch up.  We must prevent them boarding their ships at all costs.” Just at that moment one of the barbarian’s horses jinked to avoid a rock and the warrior, unused to riding, slipped from the saddle.  His companions glanced around and saw the pursuing Romans.  As the hapless raider was speared by a trooper’s javelin the shout went up.  “Romans! Behind us!” Urged on by the danger the barbarians kicked even harder and soon began to catch up with Faolan and his men who had slowed up believing that their comrades were still holding the pass.

Faolan heard the sound of horses and turned to see a handful of his warriors, led by Creagth, his arm bleeding heavily and a column of fifty Roman troopers bearing down upon them. “Can you see the sea yet Loegaire?”

“No but I can smell it and there are gulls. It is not far now.”

“As soon as we reach it dismount and prepare to receive cavalry. I do not want to be picked off as we try to get to the ships and, Loegaire, you must make sure that our gold is safely secured. I do not want to lose it this close to safety.”

******

Angus was a hard task master.  “Come on you sons of whores.  We have but a few miles to go and we will reach the safety of the pass.”

Ceol was a huge bully of a warrior and he had had enough of being ordered around by Morwenna’s pet thug.  He came from the north west of Hibernia and he had seen most of his friends die.  Now there was just himself and three others left from the original group.  He had come to Britannia for glory and plunder and, apart from one or two occasions, it had been retreat and disgrace that they had endured.  He had had enough and he knew that many of the others had had enough.

“No! I say we fight the Romans here.  We run no more!”

Angus heard the murmurings from some of the others who were disaffected and knew that this had all the hallmarks of a revolt.  He nodded and walked over to Ceol.  They were about the same height but Angus was older, the first wisps of grey flecking his beard.  “So you would fight horsemen. On foot?”

Ceol laughed.  “There are trees and forests where the Romans cannot ride but I can run. I am not an old man who is afeared.”

Approaching him Angus too laughed.  “It is true that I am older than you Ceol but in that I have wisdom and unfortunately for you I do not have that other trait which is patience.” In one well practised move he took his two handed sword from its scabbard over his back and took off the head of Ceol who was already forming his reply. He saw the two men behind the dead Ceol begin to reach for their weapons and with two strokes they lay dead.

“Now does anyone else wish to challenge this old man or will you obey me?” There was a sullen silence.  Ceol had been a fierce warrior but he had been killed as easily as a helpless child. “We will fight today, believe me but we will fight where it suits us.  When we reach the pass the Romans will be at a disadvantage and we can turn on them and kill many of them. Then we will travel to the coast and, after a rest at my home of Manavia, you will all travel home to Hibernia, rich men.” Even the most truculent of rebels realised that their goal had always been to kill Romans and become richer.  They could achieve that with Angus and they banged their weapons on their shields to show they agreed.

*******

“Sounds like they are happy about something?”

“Yes Marcus but I wonder what? You take the point today and keep your blade in their backs.  We reach the pass this morning and I hope that Metellus is still there.” Cassius was worried by the lack of news from the pass. He had asked his friend to do an impossible task.  The cunning of his enemy had thrown the Decurion Princeps’ plans into disarray and he did not know what he would find at the pass. “Did you speak with your brother?”

Marcus looked away, unable to meet Cassius’ stare. “I did and he will now follow orders.  There will be no more outbursts I can promise you.”He shrugged apologetically, “I think he just wants to fight.”

“Well today he will get his wish.  Believe me.” He pointed west. “The land begins to rise and there are no trees.  We will be able to use our speed there. Keep pushing.”

Once the warband saw the pass, rising like a scar in the distance, their spirits too rose.  They could see the barrier created by Creagth and felt relief.  Soon they would turn like a cornered wild boar and tear these dogs to shreds. Angus had been right they just had to be patient.

High in the pass Metellus spirits fell just as quickly as his enemies rose. He did not have enough men to defend the pass. There were hundreds of warriors approaching.  They were like a black cloud moving across the land. Behind them he could see the distinctive shapes of the ala but he knew that there could only be seven turmae there and they would not be at full strength. The best he could hope was that he could slow them down and whittle their numbers to enable Cassius to catch them. “Take every weapon you can and withdraw up the hill.” He could see the disappointment in their faces but it was more important to protect what they had saved so far and not risk all in a glorious but, ultimately useless sacrifice. The twenty two of them limped up to the rock filled hillside; each trooper working with another and hiding behind whatever cover they could find. “The ala is coming but it will do them no good to find our corpses and those of our charges littering the hillside.  Our task is to slow them down and thin them out. If I fall then withdraw slowly to the captives. They are our prime concern!”

The grim faced troopers glanced up the hill; those women could be their sisters and mothers.  They knew that their comrades’ sacrifice would have been in vain if they fell into the raiders’ hands once more. One of the older hands shouted anonymously, “We’ll not let you down sir!”

As the warband approached the foot of the pass Cassius became uneasy.  There was a wise head guiding these warriors for they did not race up the steep slope to the improvised barrier but they halted and two hundred men turned to face the ala, now five hundred paces away, and formed a shield wall. Lucius rode next to Cassius, “What are they doing sir?  Are they going to charge us?”

“No Lucius.  Unless I miss my guess they are stopping us from charging but the question is why?  We have made no attempt to do so yet. Tell me Lucius can you see our men on the barrier?”

Lucius scanned the stone built blockage.  “No sir, there are men lying down in… no sir there are bodies in front of the barrier.”

“Ours?” Trepidation oozed from that one word.

“No sir, barbarians.  There sir.  On the hillside I can see some red crests, but there are only a few of them.”

“That is why they have halted then Lucius.  The bulk of the army will dispose of the wall and the others will stop us from attacking them.”

“But they will get away sir!” Even Lucius could see that, once the band passed the col, they would be safe.

“I know son, which is why we have to get rid of these warriors.” He turned to the ala. It was much depleted. With a notional roll call of seven turmae he should have been able to field over two hundred troopers.  With the casualties they had taken he had less than a hundred and eighty fit men available. Their route was lined with wounded men awaiting their successful return. “Men, I know that you are tired and we have ridden far in the past days but we need to dislodge those warriors from the entrance to the pass.  We have not the time, nor the ammunition to whittle them down with javelins and arrows so we will have to use cunning. I will lead an attack on the centre, Lucius and Antoninus will support.  We will try to draw their fire first. When I give the signal then we will retreat.  I believe they will try to follow us and when they do then, Rufius and Calgus, you can take your men and harass the left of their line but do not commit.  Macro and Marcus you have the harder task.  I want you to attack their right when the centre surges forward.  It is where they are the weakest and you are the best swordsmen.  You will need to dismount and fight afoot. Rufius when you see them shift to their right then go in harder and I will swing around to support Macro and Marcus.” All of the troopers banged their shields making the rearguard look upon them with a little more interest. “You two,” he addressed the two brothers directly but looked particularly at Macro, “fight hard but not recklessly.  We still have to defeat the bulk of the warband on the pass and I need every trooper I have.”