Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 09] Hero of Rome (25 page)

Cassius glanced out at the ships in the bay. “Is that why you have brought the ships?  They have more troops aboard?”

“No Cassius, the frontier is not secure enough yet, it is up to you and your men I am afraid.  There is no rest for you. Come on board, I have some wine and we can discuss my plan, and Cassius, I am not sending you to do what I will not, I am coming with you.”

Macro’s face lit up for the first time in months when he saw the irascible Furax. “What in Hades’ name is Hercules feeding you?  Sea monsters?”

“No just fish and hard tack,” his face became serious, “but we did see sea monsters when we rounded the northern coast.”

The decurions all became attentive. “Really?” asked Rufius, “genuine sea monsters?”

“Yes they were huge beasts, bigger than a horse.  They had two enormous teeth as long as a legionary sword, huge whiskers but no arms and they lay on the rocks and roared at us.”

Rufius looked sceptical. “Have you been at the spirits?”

“No he is speaking the truth,” one of the sailors who had been tying up the ship came over.  “He isn’t exaggerating either.  I was sure that they were the guardians of the edge of the world, like Cerberus at Hades, you know, but the Senator he was calm as you like.  ‘
We will not sail off the edge of the world’
he says ‘
but they are fine monsters, perhaps we will come one day and hunt them captain’
.“ He shuddered, “He can hunt them without me. They looked like they could bite a man in two and chew him up.’

“I apologise for doubting you young Furax.  You have, indeed, had quite an adventure.”

Furax had a happy, confident look.  “I wasn’t sure, after meeting Sergeant Macro if I wanted to be a horseman or a sailor but I am sorry Sergeant, I have chosen the sea.  It is much more interesting.”

“No need to apologise Furax and now it is Decurion Macro, but I quite envy you and I will come with the Legate when he hunts this beastie.”

“The Legate?” Furax looked confused.

Rufius ruffled his hair, “The Senator but he has been promoted by the Emperor and is now our general, our Legate.”

Just then Cassius came on deck.  “Decurions if you could drag yourself away from the young mariner the Legate and I would like to discuss our next moves.”

As they went aboard Macro shouted over his shoulder, “And I want to hear more about these monsters and your sea adventures.”

Hercules had arranged sacks around the quarter deck for them to sit upon whilst Cassius stood, like a schoolmaster lecturing his students. “We have a new task, gentlemen.  Some of you are going to become marines.” If he had grown another body part he could not have surprised them more.  Even Rufius’ jaw dropped. Cassius smiled. “We are going to Manavia and we are going to rescue the Brigante captives.”

He glanced over at his brother.  He had felt the surge of excitement through his body and when he looked at his eyes he saw that they were actually gleaming in anticipation. He hoped that this was not another of the Parcae tricks.

Cassius continued once the initial murmurings had ceased. “Now not all of you will be going. One of you will have to remain behind with the wounded, the horses and to await the arrival of Metellus and his charges. The rest of you and your men will sail in the three ships here, to be landed as close to the slave pens as we can and when the guards are asleep, slip ashore and rescue them.”

There was a silence and a smile played around the lips of the Legate and Cassius as they wondered who would have the courage to ask the inevitable questions.  They knew it would not be Macro for he would go into a fire without regard for himself.  He did not need to ask questions; he just had to be given a task.  Sensible, cautious Rufius was the one who stepped forwards. “Firstly sir, how do we know where the slave pens are and secondly aren’t there at least a thousand barbarians who would love to get us on their turf and spend six months killing us?”

“Good questions.  To answer your first question Hercules and those on The Swan will find out where the slave pens are by sailing into the port and asking.  Secondly we are not going there to start a war, we are too few.” Macro’s snort of disappointment made everyone turn and look at him. “For we are too few.  But we will make sure that we let them know we have landed and retaken their prize. Any further questions?”  There was an embarrassed silence.  “Oh surely there is one hanging on your lips?” Again silence. “Surely you want to know who is staying behind?”

“Every decurion’s face showed the same expression and made the same plea, ‘
not me, please not me’
.

“I will put you out of your misery. It will, I am afraid, have to be you Graccus.  Your wounds make it impossible for you to move quickly.” Seeing the wisdom of the decision but cursing the barbarian who deprived him of the task, he nodded. “Gather your men together but do not tell them anything.  We do not know yet who we can trust in this nest of vipers.  We will tell them when we are on board.  As with Decurion Graccus bring no-one who is wounded.  Make sure your men all have sound equipment for this will be the most difficult task the ala has ever performed.”

There were one hundred and fifty troopers aboard the three ships. Cassius, Decius and Calgus boarded one of the biremes whilst Rufius, Antoninus and Lucius boarded the second. They all had the largest turmae and the Swan was the one at the greatest risk and Julius, sensibly, decided not to put the largest force aboard her.  Marcus, Macro and Drusus joined the Legate aboard the cramped trader. They would not have the luxury of being able to walk around the open deck as their companions for they were sailing into the heart of the druidic domain whilst the biremes would remain hidden from view.

The port to which they were heading was on the north eastern shore of the island.  The sullen villagers at Itunocelum had been questioned about the geography and the currents around the remote island. When Julius pointed out that he was leaving troops in their town with orders to kill the headman should they not return then they became sulkily cooperative. They had told the Legate that there were three main settlements; one in the west, one in the south east and the main one in a large bay at the north eastern end of the island. They also found out that it was close to the druidic centre and Morwenna making it doubly dangerous.  Cassius had tried to persuade Julius not to give Macro the opportunity to desert and gain revenge upon his mother but Julius was confident that, having been promised by Macro that he had no such intentions he would be better placed aboard the Swan. Cassius had to agree that Macro and Marcus were excellent Explorates and if they needed someone to sneak ashore and scout out the lie of the land they were the best two but Macro’s behaviour of late had led Cassius to doubt the boy who had changed in the last two years.

All of that was forgotten as the two biremes heaved to north of the island to await the return of the Swan with news of the location of the slave pens.  The small ship suddenly felt very lonely to the Legate as he went below decks to the dark and somewhat pungent heart of the ship.  The three decurions and the one turma were huddled together in the cramped space. They had no concept of place and speed just the rise and fall of the boat in the northerly swells. The troopers of the turma had all emptied their stomachs and the smell of the vomit was adding to the general smell of decay. The Legate hoped that they would have recovered by the time they went ashore or they would be useless for the task in hand. Everything now depended upon the old man who was now steering the ship.

Up on deck, glad to be away from the smells which occasionally wafted to him, Hercules was going over in his head the story he and Julius had concocted. He called over Furax. “Now have you got this story straight?”

Furax sighed, for the first time since joining the legate and the captain, Furax would be using his old skills of the Lupanar, deception and trickery.  “Of course. We were going to the land of the Pictii to buy slaves when we were hit by a storm and driven south.  We went to Itunocelum to buy spares for the ship but they had none and they told us of Manavia.” He spread his hands like a market magician who has just deceived his audience.

“Well done but don’t get cocky.  This is a dangerous game we play.” He shouted so that all the crew could hear.  “No-one goes ashore but me and the lad and no-one, get that, no-one comes aboard.  If they realise we have Romans aboard we are all doomed.”

The crew needed no further urging and they all made the sign against evil.  The Red Witch’s reputation terrified them all.  Furax was the only one who was curious about this woman.  He had heard so much from everyone and they all seemed to fear and respect her in the same breath.  He wondered what she was really like.

“Land ho!”

“Right boys this is it, lower the mainsail, we’ll take her in on the foresail. Be ready to luff when we see the lie of the land.”

When Hercules saw the island it reminded him of Capreae but bigger.  There was a large hill as at Capreae, too small to be called a mountain, in the middle which seemed to divide it up. He could see the cluster of buildings around the small wooden jetty and then a ribbon of dwellings leading up to a natural mound where there was a palisade suggesting a fortress or citadel of some kind.  He made a note of all this to relay to the senator. There appeared to be a large number of ships and boats of all shapes and sizes.  Hercules presumed this was the fleet which had rescued the raiders.  He just hoped that they had left the vicinity of the port; they might just want to ask some awkward questions and, even worse, wish to board.

Judging the distance and the wind was a skill which Hercules had acquired over many years and Furax watched in admiration as the old man looked at the sail, the wake and the land to decide the most opportune time to give his orders. “Lower sail!” The sailors quickly furled the foresail and the ship visibly slowed. She still had seaway and gently turned to touch the jetty. As she moved away from the wooden jetty the sailors threw coils of ropes over the side to act as buffers whilst two of the nimbler crew men leapt to the mooring posts with the two main hawsers in their hand. The Swan was securely tied to the jetty within moments of arrival and the usual hangers on nodded their approval.

If this had been a Roman port then some wizened official would have scurried up with a list of demands and taxes.  Hercules wondered what the equivalent was here. His curiosity was soon satisfied as two druids, identifiable by their uncut hair and beards and the garlands of herbs and mistletoe around their necks walked up to the ship, assessing its worth as they did so. “Well judged captain.  Many others would have damaged both their ship and our jetty. We are two of the leaders of the village.  May we ask your business?”

Although politely put there was an air of a threat about their words and Hercules noticed the small gang of armed men who were within twenty paces. “We were heading for a port north of the Roman frontier to pick up some slaves when we hit a bad storm which drove us all the way to Itunocelum. We had hoped to buy some spares there for many of our ropes were damaged and the foremast weakened.  They had none but they told us that you might be able to supply our needs.”

The answer seemed to satisfy the druids but the second one asked.  “Did you see Romans there?”

“No but the villagers told us that the Romans had been there and there had been a battle of sorts.  We did see crosses on the hillside.” The Senator had impressed upon Hercules to keep as close to the truth as he could.  “I was just glad we had missed them.” He tapped his nose.  “The Romans and I don’t always see eye to eye.  They want too much tax.”

Now fully satisfied the hint of a smile appeared on the two men’s faces. “Then you are welcome here.  We charge no taxes merely berthing fees. It is one gold piece for every seven days berthing.”

“But I only need one day and then I will be off again!” Hercules managed to put the expected indignation into his voice. It was an exorbitant fee but the Senator was paying.

Openly grinning now the first druid said. “Those are our terms. And we expect payment up front.” He held out his hand.  They might be religious men but Hercules could see that they were business men as well.  He tossed the coin down which they bit to test it. “Now you are welcome and you will find what you need in the settlement and if you want slaves then we have a new batch just in.  They will be put up for auction with the new moon.  Do you wish to view them?”

This was working out even better than they had planned. “Well if it will save me a trip,” he turned to Furax and winked, “Shall we go and view the slaves then?”

“Oh yes grandfather!” Furax played the part well. 

As they left the ship Hercules said, to the two druids but loudly enough for the armed gang to hear, “No-one allowed on board.  Understand me.  I think one gold piece should guarantee privacy.”

The two druids looked at each other, the point having been well made, they nodded to the armed gang who slouched off, disappointed that they would have no fun that day.

Below decks the Legate’s party breathed a collective sigh of relief.  They were safe, at least for the time being. They now had to wait in the increasingly stuffy and smelly hold, helpless to affect the course of action and securely in the hands of an old man and a young boy.

Furax was really enjoying the day.  The port was different to anything he had ever seen.  It was the first place outside of the Roman world and everything was made of wood. There were no roads merely tracks which the boy assumed would become a muddy morass once the rains came. He wondered how wheeled vehicles would get up the slope they were climbing to, what they both assumed, would be the slave pens. Hercules was also interested but he was becoming worried when he saw the number of guards and armed warriors who seemed to be camped around the lower hillsides.  Evidence of the recent conflict could be seen as druids attended to the wounds of the warriors. He could now see where the pens were for there was a plateau below the fort.  It looked as though the guards and the ramparts would have a direct view of the insides of the pens. Hercules was glad that the problem was the Senator’s and not his.