Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 09] Hero of Rome (22 page)

It was Marcus who answered for the two of them. “We will sir. We have a nephew we would like to see on our next leave and tell him the tale of how we destroyed an Irish Warband and rescued the Brigante slaves!”

The warband was led by an Ebdani called Carn. He was proud to have been chosen by Angus for this task.  Unlike many of his tribe he respected the older warrior.  He knew that he had done exceptionally well to get so many warriors here in the face of this determined Roman opposition. He had placed himself at the centre of the wall with his oath brothers around him.  He had no doubt about the fidelity of the rest but he wanted the reassurance that those around him would give their lives defending the line. He watched as the steady line of Romans approached. He noticed with interest that it appeared to be a wedge formation with the red crested leader and the standard bearer in front of a double line of twelve troopers, behind which was a double line that appeared to be twice as long as the first. He nodded, pleased.  He would have the honour of taking the first blow. He roared out, “Lock shields and every warrior interlocked his shield with his neighbour, keeping his weapon above the shield wall to strike any unarmoured place.  Behind them were the men with double handed axes, their shields slung over their backs.  They would sweep over the heads of those in front, all of whom would drop to their knees on Carn’s command.

Some of those in the front rank began to tremble slightly as the ground shook with the thunder of the horses.  Out of the corner of his eye Carn could see the rest of the cavalry moving forwards a little slower.  He smiled to himself, the brave ones were in the middle and the others would flee once their leader was down; it would fall to him to kill the leader. “Brace and prepare to drop!” The horses were thirty paces away. When they were but twenty away he roared, “Drop!” and the line fell to its knees. At exactly the same time the line of horses stopped and a volley of javelins fell amongst the men with axes who were about to decapitate the horses. Carn cursed the dishonour of warriors who would not fight man to man. “Up!” The second lines approached and did the same but this time their javelins thudded into shields and not flesh. Carn noticed that the rest of the Romans had stopped to watch. Cowards. As the Romans in front of him reformed, the line braced itself. An idea came into his head.  When the Romans threw their javelins and turned they were vulnerable. He turned to his oath brothers.  “When they turn this time we charge them and kill their leader.”

The angry axe men who had lost some of their fellows heard his instructions and roared, “We’re behind you.”

This time the line threw fewer javelins and, as they turned the line suddenly bulged as the Hibernians chased after Cassius and his troopers. The speed of the warriors took the Decurion Princeps by surprise and he had to kick his mount on quickly to avoid being caught. The turmae of Antoninus and Lucius were also surprised by the unexpected charge and three of the horses were hacked by the axe men with the wickedly sharp double handed blades.  The troopers were despatched ruthlessly. The feigned retreat became real as the two turmae raced away from the vicious blades.

On the flanks the waiting barbarians took heart from this easy victory and relaxed. Their shields were no longer locked as they waited for their chance to charge. Suddenly they saw the two turmae approaching and knew what to expect.  They did not drop to their knees but they all raised their shields slightly to protect more of their thin line.  Macro and Marcus’ turmae flew steeply into the air as they jumped the waiting warriors and they fell, almost vertically amongst the second and third ranks. Then, most surprising of all, half the troopers before them jumped from their mounts and charged on foot.  Many of the raiders in the front ranks who had survived still had shields about their faces and the first that they knew of an attack was when their bellies were ripped open. On the Hibernian left, they watched the two lines of troopers approaching them and they braced for a volley of javelins.  Instead, Rufius’ and Calgus’ turmae unslung their bows and began to pick off men in the centre of the line, striking their unarmoured backs.

When Carn realised he had been deceived he shouted, “Back in line! Lock shields.” The men in the centre and the left did so easily, presenting a solid wall of wood and iron but, on the right, their cohesion had gone and the line began to crumble from the side assaulted by the turmae.  Those mounted troopers, still holding their companion’s horses began hurling javelins at the warriors who were fighting Macro and Marcus.

The blood lust was on the brothers as they felt the line crumbling and Marcus chose his moment well.  “Forward! The Sword of Cartimandua!” With a roar the two turmae charged even more fiercely and the barbarians were dismayed as they heard the name of the blade roared.

Carn could see that the integrity of the shield wall was compromised and he shouted, “Fall back!”

Rufius and Cassius charged with their turmae hurling javelins as the disorganised barbarians tried to avoid the horses’ hooves and make it up the ever narrowing pass.  Those who tried to scramble over the fell side were easy targets for Rufius’ archers whilst Macro and Marcus were still rolling up the line as they faced men on their unarmoured side. The rearguard was haemorrhaging and bleeding warriors.

Angus looked admiringly at the barrier erected by the Romans; it showed a cunning mind for the barbarians were infuriated when they saw their dead friends and comrades’ ravaged bodies piled up like the carcasses of animals. “Pull down the barrier!” They looked at him in horror as though he had asked them to do something horrendously sacrilegious. When they hesitated he pointed down the pass, “Your brothers are dying down there so that we can escape this trap!” Spurred on they began to tumble the bodies down the steep sides of the pass. Suddenly those at the front were plucked from the top as Metellus’ archers picked them off. Angus was becoming increasingly impressed with the stubborn defenders but enough was enough.

“You men! Protect the workers with your shields. You twenty get up the slopes and dislodge these archers.” They hesitated again.” Fools there cannot be more than a handful.  Go!” Angus glanced over his shoulder; he could see Carn’s fighting retreat and he could also see the trail of bodies which marked their passage.

On the slopes Metellus had begun to hope that they might, against the odds, actually get out of this alive. He had watched in admiration as the ala had destroyed the shield wall and taken so few casualties; now as he heard the tumble of rocks he knew that they were the next target. “One in each pair, take the arrows and keep firing; the other prepare to defend against swordsmen.” He gave his quiver to the trooper next to him and hefted his sword.  His leg was still stiff and, if he moved too much, then it would burst open making not only Sextus but also Nanna, very unhappy. They did have the advantage of height and he replaced his sword in its scabbard and took instead one of the spears they had recovered from the barbarian camp.

The warrior making his way up the slope saw the bandage on Metellus’ leg and grinned.  His first kill would be an easy one and he moved towards the decurion.  It would have been easy for Metellus to throw the spear and kill the man but then he would have lost his weapon so he allowed the man to come closer. The barbarian swung his sword at Metellus’ good leg and, hopping over the scything blade Metellus plunged the spear into the man’s unprotected neck.  The dead man soundlessly fell and then his body rolled down the steep slope gaining speed as it did so.  The dead man killed one of his comrades when his body took the man’s legs from under him and he crashed over those destroying the barrier and tumbled to a rocky death.

The barrier of bodies was no more and Angus began to order his men to demolish the stones. The rearguard was now less than forty paces away but the Roman progress had been slowed by the narrowness of the pass. At the point where the two forces met was a deadly conflict between Carn and his oath brothers and Marcus and Macro and the oathsworn of the sword. The brothers were finding it more difficult as the barbarians had the high ground but their superior weapons and armour gave them the edge. Ironically it was the axe men with the superior reach who were the raiders downfall for, once swung, the momentum left them open for an upwards stab of the blade.  The Roman helmets also saved many lives as blows from swords, to the head, merely stunned them and there was always another Roman to take his place. Cassius could see however that the front rank was tiring and he gave a command which he knew Macro would hate but he hoped he would obey.

“Ready Rufius?”

“Sir!”

“Front rank rotate!”

Instantly obeying the front rank disengaged and stepped backwards as Rufius’ men replaced them. Carn yelled, “Cowards!” but none of Macro’s men spoke Gaelic and merely walked back to the rear of the line.  Macro shot a dirty look at Cassius but he obeyed.

The change had an instant effect.  Some of Rufius’ men still had javelins and the extra length proved effective.  Carn was screaming in rage. These Romans had no honour and would not fight as men. He swore that when this was over he would return one day to wreak his revenge on these Romans.

Further up the pass Angus had finally succeeded in breaking through the wall but it was not wide enough for all of them. He shouted to the men who had dismantled it, “Get through and build a defence over there.  We will be through soon!“ To the rest he shouted, “We are nearly through. I want this barrier gone! Now!” The men redoubled their efforts as they saw how close they were to success and, in a shorter time than one would have expected the barrier was gone. Angus grabbed his horn and blew an enormous blast upon it. Every warrior knew that it mean retreat and they disengaged and ran as fast as they could through the gap. One or two of Carn’s men, their bloodlust up kept fighting, enabling more of their colleagues to flee but it was in vain as they were cut down. When Cassius reached the site of the wall he looked up and saw a bloodied Metellus waving to him. They had the job half done; now it was time to complete it.

Both sides were bloodied and exhausted.  They had fought all day and the sun was already beginning to set giving the air an even cooler feel than it had in the valleys. Cassius ordered Calgus’ turma to form a defensive line while the rest began to build a crude wall in lieu of the traditional wooden camp. “Rufius check our casualties and set up a station for the capsarii beneath that rocky overhang. Marcus set up a picket line for the horses and see to their feed.” Marcus gave him a quizzical look; where would he get feed? Cassius shrugged.

When they felt the scurry of rocks tumbling from above, every man’s hand went to his weapons but they smiled with relief when they saw that it was Metellus and his men leading their horses and the captives down the treacherous slope. Cassius turned to Rufius, “It looks as though the expedition has not been a total disaster.”

“You do yourself a disservice old friend. Neither the Governor nor the Legate could have expected you to do more.”

Cassius shook his head.  “It shows that we need better planning and support.”

“How do you mean?”

“If we had had more arrows and javelins then we could have whittled them down.  They had no missile weapons.  We might have been able to stop them earlier.”

“You may be right but that is the future.  You did… we did well here and we should be proud.”

“I am proud but I am also sad for the losses we suffered.” He pointed to the tomb erected by Metellus and his men, the pile of stones topped by a solitary shield and javelin.

Chapter 13

The horses of the two turmae were flecked with sweat and the poor beasts were labouring when Spurius halted the column above the small port of Itunocelum. To call it a port was a little grandiose for it was little more than a fishing village with a jetty, a jetty constructed under the watchful eyes of the druids of Manavia to act as a supply base for their sanctuary. It was built upon an estuary and the port was on the northern bank.  The estuary was wide enough for ships to turn around and Spurius could see that it had been well chosen. Spurius could see that they had arrived before Faolan could escape but unfortunately there were other barbarians there along with captives.  Spurius assumed that they were the ones who had fled first. Whoever they were it meant that he could do nothing for they were behind the solid walls and wooden ramparts of the town.  It would take ballistae and scorpions to breach them. From the small number of ships the decurion could see that not all of the barbarians could easily be extracted in the near future which gave him more  time.

The younger officer, Graccus, turned to his superior.  “What do we do now sir?”

“Good question.” He scanned the land around.  “I think I will leave a couple of scouts to watch the port here and then the rest of us will head back to help Metellus deal with the rest of the barbarians.”

“Perhaps the rest of the ala will be there?”

“Perhaps but I have learned never to count on anything before the event,” he grinned, a disconcerting sight as he had lost many of his teeth over the years, “it saves disappointment.”

******

“We sent for the ships as soon as we arrived, Prince.”

“Then why are they not here?” It was a rhetorical question and Conan made no attempt to answer it. “Let us make the best of a bad job.  Strengthen the defences and then feed the men.  They have had short rations long enough.” He looked again at the empty harbour. “There are no boats here?”

“The fishing fleet was at sea and I sent Angus’ man in that.  I hope he made it, it didn’t look very seaworthy.” Faolan shrugged, the man’s survival was irrelevant so long as he sent for his ships. “Damn that witch. She should have had boats waiting for us. If she has played me false…”

“I think not lord for we have not been away as long as she might have expected.  We had great success.” He waved a hand around the huddled captives and captured gold.”

“But I did not get the sword!”

“You might yet,” Conan stroked his beard. “One of the captives heard my men talk of it and she boasted of its powers.  She said that the man who wielded it lived in the farm we destroyed and she knew he would come for you.”