Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 03] Invasion- Caledonia (2 page)

Inside Gwynfor felt himself become angry, he was not used to being given instructions by a woman, even a priestess.  It was however a necessary evil for they had tried to defeat the Romans the old ways and they had been beaten in the old ways, he knew that Fainch and the other priestesses had been responsible for the uprising which had thrown the Romans into such a panic. As he considered his answer he saw, for the first time that the priestess was aging, almost before his eyes. The temptress, who used her sex as a weapon, was not as alluring as she had once been. Perhaps the strain of the magic and the spells was beginning to tell. “They know that the Romans must be allowed to get to Hen Waliau unmolested and then attack when they try to cross Afon Menai.”

“Good.”

Looking shrewdly at the priestess he added, “What if the do not come as far as Hen Waliau? They can cross much closer to their own lines.”

“It does not make much difference for your men will still be able to fall upon them.”

“But they will not Fainch, for you have given them instructions not to attack until the Romans reach Hen Waliau.” He emphasised her name to leave all in the hut in doubt where the blame for any failure should lie. He also noted the tic of annoyance which appeared on her face.

“Send a messenger then and tell them to watch the Romans.  When they try to cross and they are committed then they will attack.” Gwynfor nodded a smile of satisfaction creasing his weathered, gnarled face. “We will then fall upon them as they try to land on the beaches. “

“The Deceangli scouts say there are many Romans, at least one legion and many auxiliaries, some of them mounted.”

“They all have the same problem.  They have to cross to Mona and that is not easy.”

“Unless they bring their ships.”

Again he noted with quiet satisfaction that she was not as confident as she had once been. “If they bring ships then we will fill coracles with brush wood and light them from the two ends of Afon Menai.  They will burn and drown.”

Gwynfor was not certain for the currents were notable irregular and the coracle so small it would probably burn out before it could do its job. However he kept his counsel. The witch had the bones in her hand and she had thrown them.  If they failed then Gwynfor would go back to the methods he knew best and harry them all the way back to Deva.

As the column turned its back on Deva Fluvium Marco nudged his horse so that it was next to Decius. It was Decius’ turn to be the vanguard and they were heading away, briefly, from the security of the sea and river as the right flank. “I thought the mountains here were supposed to be enormous. Those hills don’t looks so big.  We had much bigger ones than that in the north.”

“It’s a good job that you can handle a weapon because you haven’t got the brains of a mule.” He pointed forward to where the clouds were just rising to reveal the sharp, jagged white tipped peaks that were the mountains around Wyddfa. “Those are the mountains.”

Macro looked at the mountains looming in the distance and his jaw dropped. “Oh! They are big. Do we have to go up them?”

“I hope not.  No we are just cutting across country because there is a valley up ahead we can travel down to the sea again. Gaelwyn reckoned it was the Clwyd or something but all their words sound like someone is coughing up phlegm.” He looked anxiously around. “This is the part I don’t like.  We are spread thin enough as it is and now we have to be all around the column for protection. But who protects us.” He turned to look at the plodding feet that were the infantry.  He had plenty of time before they would catch him up. “Take two men and ride ahead.  The sea is supposed to be about eight miles away. Ride until you can see it and then come back to us. And Macro, be careful. No chasing warriors or investigating anything.  Find the sea and then get back. Right.”

With the grin of a young child the sergeant yelled, “Yes decurion” and galloped to find two other eager volunteers.

Over on the right flank Marcus smiled to himself as he watch Macro and two other troopers gallop up over the skyline. He was smiling because he enjoyed Macro’s enthusiasm and because it showed him that his old friend Decius was being as cautious as ever. Scanning his ala he saw just how depleted they were.  They had had over a thousand mounted men before the battle in the north west now they could barely muster five hundred and twenty three. He had had to reorganise the ala to enable them to operate.  It also meant he had had to return temporary decurions like Macro back to their original roles.  Although it had not been an easy decision Marcus knew he had taken the correct one; he needed experienced heads in charge of his men for they would have to think without him looking over their shoulders. The fifteen turmae how had a formation of three in the vanguard, three with the rearguard, four to the south and five to the north. A sudden attack in this unfamiliar territory could easily result in many empty saddles.  Decius was doing what Decius did best, he was being aggressively cautious.

Chapter 2

Inir was waiting with his warband close to the Afon Menai. He was a powerfully built young warrior and, unusually for an Ordovice quite tall.  He stood out on a battlefield. It was said that he could shoot an arrow further than any man alive and no one had ever bested him in battle. Perhaps this was the reason King Gwynfor had detached him from the main army to ensure he did not outshine his king on the field of battle. Inir had ten thousand Ordovice with him and a few of the Deceangli who had not been either defeated or Romanised. His men were spread out in the gullies and sharply pointed valleys which littered this side of the mountains. The coastal plain was narrow; thirty men abreast could fill it in places. If the Romans could occupy that Inir knew they would be hard to shift, especially with their armour and testudo formation.

Idly chewing on a piece of wild garlic he pondered his latest instructions.  He was not to attack until the Romans turned their back upon him. Those instructions made no sense; he was a puissant warrior and he had a military mind as sharp as any. He would know the best time to attack not some witch, no matter how strong in magic on an island forty miles from the enemy. He did not like the idea of taking orders from a woman anyway. A woman had two places where she was useful, in the bed and in at the fire to prepare food. He preferred the company of men, men whose conversations were about war and heroic deeds not the problems of mewling children or the cleanliness of the home. He was proud of his warband.  The men who had followed him had chosen to follow him because of his deeds. One day he would rule the Ordovice and then he would make all the decisions.

Agricola stood with Marcus and the Batavian prefects as they gazed across the small bay to the promontory which stuck out into the sea. To their left the land drifted in low hills towards Mona, a faint smudge on the horizon. Rising behind the hills were the high mountains. The scouts had returned despondent for they reported that the only things which could move on those hills were goats or sheep. They had however reported a river which would halt their progress. There was a crossing place but it was a couple of miles inland.

“Gentlemen we are deep inside enemy territory. So far we have seen no sign of the enemy. Decurion what is the latest intelligence?”

“My scouts report that the plain narrows considerably towards Mona with the mountains almost blocking the path.”

Agricola nodded, “And still no sign of the fleet. The plain looks too narrow for the legion.”

Cominius could not hold in his reaction. “But we need legionaries if we are to take Mona!”

Agricola smiled, much as a father smiles indulgently at a child’s outburst. “Calm yourself prefect.  I will leave one cohort at that place. What did your scout call it?”

“Caerhun.”

“How these people communicate with words like that I do not know! We will build a fort at Caerhun and the other will come with us to Mona. Still no sign of the fleet eh?” This was a rhetorical question for they all knew that the fleet had not arrived and that meant they were not as well supplied as they might have been. Marcus also realised that it gave them a headache.  How would they cross the straits? “Let us push on.  I would like to camp at this Caerhun tonight.”

Decius and his turma were eating well. Marco had gone hunting and returned with a mixed bag of game, rabbits, gulls and even a fox.”They must have no sense at all these foxes; it was still daylight when I saw him.”

“Well young Marco I know the Allfather forgot to give you brains but at least he gave you a keen eye and arm.”

Marcus wandered over. “Any problems today decurion?”

“I might have known! We start cooking and the senior officers just happen to come over.”

Marcus grinned.  “Decurion you know I always do my rounds at this time.  Just because I happen to come when you are cooking what I hope is a magnificent stew is happenstance.”

“And I know that you wouldn’t want your old friends to miss out.”

“Gaius! Can’t your men hunt?”

“Not as well as young Vindonnus over there.”

Later as they all mopped up their game gravy with the last remnants of the hard bread they carried they discussed the campaign so far.  The three of them had served together for long enough to speak their minds. “We lost no more horses today?”

“No but this land is leg breaking country. I would hate to have to gallop.  You only get twenty strides and you find a chasm opening up in front of you.”

“I know what you mean Decius.  We are travelling barely faster than the infantry.”

“That suits our leader,” commented Marcus. “They will have good, close protection. What about the men?”

Decius gave an almighty belch. “Well it just shows that if you cut out the right pieces of bad flesh you can end up with a healed arm.” Gaius looked at him in confusion. “Get rid of the bad men and even though you have fewer men you are stronger.”

“Ah you mean Modius?”

“Not just Modius although he was the worst but Scipio Demetrius and his turma.  They were all a bad lot.”

Scipio Demetrius had been the son of the former prefect. Over promoted at a young age he had been a corrupt and demoralising influence in the ala.  He had had Gaius unjustly flogged and promoted his own cronies to positions of power. Fortunately when his turma was massacred in the northern forests the canker had been cut out.  Modius had escaped to join the rebel Brigante.

“Julius has turned out to be a fine officer.”

“Yes young Gaius and that just shows that if you train ‘em right they turn out all right.”

Again Gaius looked confused and then he grinned with understanding. “Oh yes I forgot you trained him.”

Decius nodded, “And you, remember that I trained you.”

Gaius looked over at Marcus who had remained silent throughout. “But remember who trained all of us.”

It was an embarrassed Marcus who changed the subject. “Let young Julius take the van tomorrow.” They both looked in surprise at him. “I know but we have used all the experienced decurions and they all have to know what it is like. That is how we learned.”

“I know Marcus but we don’t know these people. They aren’t going to fight like the Brigante.  Look at this country. They can’t use horses and I have heard they fight with witches at their side.”

Marcus’ face hardened.  “Camp gossip. The women might fight but we had that at Stagh-herts didn’t we? And they died just as easily. As for the witches, we have met a witch before, and their power seems to be in poison; men’s minds and food! Julius will be fine and I have a feeling that we will be in action sooner rather than later.  They have allowed us to get far closer to Mona than I thought they would.” He gestured at the plain. “This would have been a perfect place to hold us up and ambush us.  I can’t think why they didn’t”

High in the foothills overlooking the camp Inir was thinking the same thoughts. The Roman invasion force was like a flea on a dog. His scouts had reported they were building a fort. Perhaps this was the total sum of their invasion! He would wait until the following day to decide what to do but he had made his mind up, witch or no witch, he was going to attack the Romans before they got to Mona and if the king did not like that, then there could be a new king ruling the west of Britannia before the turn of the year.

Julius Agricola rode his mount next to that of Marcus as they headed North West towards the coast. Marcus turned to view the vexillation which followed them. The four hundred and fifty legionaries seemed a pitifully small force. The Batavians and the Gallorum auxiliaries added fifteen hundred and Marcus could only muster five hundred and twenty three troopers.

“You are thinking Decurion that, perhaps, we have too few men?”

“I was thinking sir that we could have done with a few more legionaries.”

“I disagree.  On a battlefield which is unencumbered by rocks, rivers defiles and trees then yes, the legion is invincible.  However look around you. Do you see such a battlefield?”

“No sir but the terrain suits neither my horses nor my men.”

“Your horses, I agree but your men no. They can fight on foot.” There was a silence as Marcus pondered this. “Do you see a problem Decurion?”

“No. it is just that Prefect Demetrius wouldn’t have dreamed of taking his men from their horses. Had I known I would have had the men training for that different style of warfare. Luckily Sergeant Macro has had the men sparring on foot.”

“The advantage we have over the tribes is that not only do we have the superior weapons and armour but they have the discipline. They don’t need to fight as the legions do, in fact, that would be too difficult.”

They were interrupted by a trooper from Julius’ turma. “Yes trooper.”

“Decurion Demetrius’ compliments and we have arrived at the straits.”

“And?”

“And, that is all sir.” The trooper looked confused.

Marcus smiled and said, “It is his first duty as vanguard and I think he is trying to make sure he does not make mistakes.”

“Return to the Decurion and ask him to wait for us at the coast.” The trooper galloped off glad to be away from the senior officers. “We will make camp there and then we can launch our attack in the next few days.”