Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 03] Invasion- Caledonia (12 page)

The two leaders had been leading their mounts but now they sprang on to their backs.  Modius cursed. The auxiliary were attacking from the east and his men were silhouetted against the setting sun whilst the Romans were all but invisible. The men in the camp were panicking and Aed had to slap them with the flat of his sword to make them stand. “Turn and fight. These are cavalry. If you flee you will not escape you will be hunted down. Stand!” Aed turned to Modius, “You take the right and I will take the left.  We outnumber them still.” Aed’s voice betrayed his uncertainty.

“Yes but they have the surprise.”

The camp was a chaotic scene but the sheer numbers in the camp had slowed up the attack. The horses had lost impetus as they ground to a halt on the dead bodies of those killed in the first charge. Pockets of warriors gathered around their chiefs and heeded Aed’s words. They formed shield walls and threw their javelins at the Romans who circled them like starving wolves. The sudden appearance of Modius on their right flank heartened them and the shield walls coalesced into a slightly more solid line. Decius could see the organisation and he shouted his voice strident above the din of war. “Turma five reform.”

His men were trained so well that they performed the manoeuvre as though in the gyrus. Once they were in a line Decius just pointed his sword at the enemy. The mailed and armoured auxiliaries swept through the warriors who still fought isolated combats with great courage but no support from other warriors. The auxiliaries were relentless and in the rhythm of killing striking down almost in unison. The barbarians had no answer and they fell to sword, spear and horse’s hooves.

Suddenly Decius caught a glimpse of Modius trying to rally his fleeing troops. Decius’ face was a mask of hatred and anger. Spurring his mount he charged at the traitorous auxiliary. As he screamed, “Modius you bastard!” the rebel turned, shocked at the use of his name. He tried to wheel his horse around to face the Decurion but the press of bodies around him was too great and he only managed to half turn around. Decius’ horse struck him as he was turning and he tumbled to the ground. Decius’ mount cleared the jumble of arms and legs enabling the Decurion Princeps to hurl his javelin at the writhing body of Modius. Although it failed to hit him the deserter had to turn away from the blow making him disorientated. Decius swung his horse around and leaned down to strike his long sword at Modius’ body. The edge nicked Modius’ arm and opened a slit the length of a man’s hand.  Blood began to pour from the wound and he had no option but to drop his shield from his now useless arm. Roaring in anger Modius swung his sword in a backslash which luckily for the rebel caught Decius’ horse. As the horse’s head reared up Decius felt himself slipping off and he went with the action landing nimbly on his feet. Modius was a bigger, heavier man and he rushed at Decius with his sword held in two hands. The blade crashed down and had he not had quick reactions it would have split his helmet and his skull. The Decurion Princeps fended the blow off with his scutum and stabbed upwards the edge ripping through the edge of the body armour. They both stepped back breathing heavily. The warriors and troopers surrounding them were all engaged in their own private battles and it was as though the two were in a world of their own. Modius looked down at the blood seeping from his arm and he felt with his fingers to see what damage had been done to his armour; the blade had weakened it and Modius knew he would have to finish the fight quickly.  He quickly twisted and turned his blade as he struck Decius repeatedly on his left and his right. The blows were two handed and were coming too frequently for Decius to do anything other than defend with his shield. Modius was becoming weaker and Decius waited his moment. One double handed slash went too high; Decius ducked beneath the blow and thrust his spatha into the unprotected neck of the ex-decurion. As the life left his eyes he looked down in surprise to see the blade protruding from his throat. Decius withdrew it swiftly in one fluid movement.  He was covered in the flood of arterial blood as Modius’ life gushed from his throat.

His men had already been weakening but the sudden defeat of a warrior they feared took the heart out of them and they began to drop their weapons. Despite the prefect’s instructions about prisoners, the beleaguered troopers were almost too exhausted to carry on with the slaughter. Many of the barbarians fled across the boggy and marshy ground close by the lake. When the Romans failed to pursue others joined in and soon there were forty or fifty men splashing across the darkened lake.

Over on the far side of the battlefield there was almost as much confusion. The only way Marcus and his decurions knew who enemies were and who were friends was by the fact that their friends were mounted. Aed and his bandits had not fought a serious enemy since the battle of the Taus but the Pannonians were a finely honed and well trained machine.  The end was inevitable but Aed continued to fight. His bodyguards were whittled down as sheaves of corn at harvest time. Realising that all was lost he stabbed at a trooper with his spear and, as the trooper defended with a shield he turned his horse and ruthlessly rode down those of his men who stood in his way. He heard a voice cry, “After him!” He did not make the mistake of turning and showing a white face in the dark night instead he put his face as close the mane as he could and galloped over the dead and dying remnants of his erstwhile rebel army. All was lost here and Aed would ride to the Taus and join Fainch.  The battle had been lost but not the war.

Macro heard the shout and saw the figure streaking away. He dug his heels in and his mount responded instantly. The grain fed horse began to outstrip the rebel horse which had not been well looked after. Aed could hear the thunder of the hooves but he knew he dared not look around for fear of missing his footing on the treacherous, rock filled plain. Macro had no such fear and he was already sliding his spear in his hand to extend it beyond the tip of his horse’s nose. He used his knees to guide his horses and he reacted to the movement of the horse in front of him. The end, when it came, was a sudden shock to both men. A deer had been drinking at the lake and when it had heard the thunder of hooves it had panicked. It suddenly leapt in front of Aed’s horse causing him to swerve in front of Macro. Macro had the lightning reactions of the young and in one fluid movement he had thrust his spear through the gap in the breast and back plate of Aed’s magnificent armour. As he felt the life blood ooze from the fatal wound he wondered if Fainch knew of his death and how she would take it. The puzzled expression on his face made Macro wonder about the last thoughts of this, the last Brigante rebel. Had his last thoughts been of the power he had so nearly had or perhaps it was of his victories? Macro spent the long ride back to the battlefield with the dead rebel and the dead dear slung over the horse’s back pondering on such thoughts.

“Sound the recall!” The prefect did not know for certain if he had won. From the lack of enemies around him he assumed he had but he could not see far on this cloudless night. Night had fallen heavily as the battle had progressed. Any further pursuit was fruitless and he did not want to lose any men unnecessarily. He could hear the moans and cries of the dead and the dying and the last few combats played out in darkness. He turned to the men around him and shouted. “Form up in your turmae. Decurions report to me when you have ascertained casualties Gaelwyn!”

He almost jumped when the wily warrior’s voice came from behind him. All through the battle the scout had protected the prefect’s back, having saved his life once it was now his duty to protect his life for ever. “Yes prefect?”

“You gave me a start. Find us a good place to camp.” Without acknowledgement the man melted into the dark. His decurions started to arrive with their reports. He smiled as he realised that they were all there and then he counted again. Macro was missing! He hoped the impulsive but likable young man had survived. From the casualty figures supplied by the decurions he discovered that they had lost barely a handful of men so swift had been their attack and the shock it had created.

Decius was the last to report and he held the grisly remains of Modius’ head. “Found one deserter sir.”

They all turned, their hands going to weapons as they heard the thunder of two horses. “Friends! Friends! It is Decurion Macro.” As he reined in his horse Decius shook his head. “Killed their leader sir and I got us dinner, tonight we have venison.”

“You know son if you fell in a pile of shit you’d end up with gold in your hands.”

The next day as they surveyed the battlefield the prefect saw what a complete victory it had been. True, rebels had escaped and in that he had disobeyed his orders but the number of rebels who had escaped was so small that a couple of turmae could have defeated them. At long last Brigantia was safe and the northern rebellion was over.

Gallia Aquitania 77A.D.
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Julius Agricola almost jumped for joy when he received his new posting.  “Britannia!” He yelled at his wife. “Britannia. I am to be governor of Britannia.”

His wife looked decidedly unhappy, “But it is such a damp little province and they have no baths nor theatres…”

“I know my love which is why Emperor Titus wants me to finish the task of conquering it so that we can release the legions and make the natives lot in life better. You do not need to leave here. I chose this villa rather than the governor’s residence so that we could have a long term home. And one day we will return to Gallia Narbonensis and Forum Julii.” It made his heart glow when he saw the pleasure that brought. He would build a villa in his home town so that when he retired he could live in that idyllic land by the sea of blue and warm his southern born bones after the vicissitudes of his service in the cold harsh northern lands...

Glanibanta

The Prefect and the Decurion Princeps were enjoying the pleasant autumn morning. They were travelling the pleasant ride which encompassed the two small lakes closest to the fort.  It had become daily exercise for the two warriors who had spent the autumn and winter tracking down and destroying the small bands of bandits who had escaped their clutches. The summer had been a time to consolidate, build roads, train recruits and manage the new trade routes.

“Do you know this is the first time since we came to this province that I have felt safe almost peaceful. It is a strange feeling. I keep looking over rises and behind bushes for Brigante and they are all gone.”

“You are right Decius. It has been a long journey since we rescued the Queen Cartimandua and began to fight these Brigante.”

“They were a tough bunch, not very bright but tough.” He gestured around with his hand at the steep hills and valleys. “This is a natural fortress.  They should have held us here for years.”

“Yes Decius but they are not builders. You have seen Stanwyck; it is not as strong as this little fort and yet it is much bigger.  Had they been builders we would still be fighting.”

“Well I won’t be sorry to get some fighting in and stop this road building. I hate it.”

“It is necessary and look how peaceful the land is now. Time to head back I think.”

“At least we have had the chance to get to get all our replacements trained and kitted out. These southern volunteers are quite good you know.”

“That’s grudging praise from you Decius.  There was a time you thought they were one step away from pigs.”

“I admit it I didn’t like them but once they take to Roman ways they change somehow.  Perhaps they just needed civilising.” Decius glanced up at the prefect who seemed to smile a lot more these days. “Speaking of civilisation and such matters have you finally reconciled your self about the witch?”

“What you mean do I think as you and the others do that she is dead? No. She lives.” Decius shook his head. “It is not just a feeling Decius there have been rumours of a woman being seen in the camps of the Pictii and Caledonii; I am sure it is she.  She was ever the mischief maker using Venutius, Aed, Brigante, Carvetii, and Ordovice.  She seems to have a power over all men.” He looked down at the back of Argentium’s head. “Did I tell you of our meeting?  When she spoke to me?”

Decius looked at the prefect and was taken aback.  The prefect never revealed himself. Perhaps it was a sign that they were becoming closer as leaders, much as Ulpius and Flavius before them.”No you didn’t.  I mean I knew she must have spoken to you when they captured you but you never said about a conversation.”

Marcus sighed. “The woman I hated.  The woman who had destroyed all that was dear to me and when she spoke. I was aroused. “He shook and hung his head.  “I was aroused and it shamed and angered me. I only glimpsed her but her eyes have the ability to se into your soul but it is her voice Decius it has a power.  A frightening power.  If you ever see her do not let her speak.  Kill her.  Kill her as quickly as you would kill a snake in your bed.”

Decius had never heard his friend speak so powerfully and with so much hate. “Don’t worry prefect. She will die. Of that you can be sure.”

The land of the Venicones

Fainch was tired. She was no longer the young woman who had bedded kings and chiefs, who could move around quickly and silently like a ghost. She had travelled through the lands of the Novontae, Selgovae and Votadini seeking support for opposition to the Romans. She was tired because she had to repeat the same arguments and she received the same responses.  The kings and chiefs would fight the Romans to the death when they crossed into their lands. She had tried to tell them that the peoples in the south had tried the same tactic and been swallowed piecemeal as morsels at a Roman feast.  Finally she had heard of one King Calgacus, who lived in the far north, who hated the Romans as much as she did.  He seemed to be her last, if not her only hope to spark a fire which would engulf and destroy the Romans. Her guides were passing her from kingdom to kingdom to enable her to meet this mighty king. That they did so swiftly showed just how much they wanted her out of their kingdom.  They did not want to offend a witch but they feared her nonetheless.