Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 03] Invasion- Caledonia (8 page)

Prefect Maximunius and his ala had spent the end of the winter at the newly built fort of Mamucium. There they had replaced broken equipment, trained new horses, practised the new skills needed for fighting on foot and reorganised the ala. Macro had taken over Marcus’ turma as a reward for his increasing maturity and his bravery during the rescue.  He still kept his role as weapons trainer.  As Decius had said, “He’ll burst into tears if you take it off him. He’s still the volunteer.” Decius himself had been made Decurion Princeps. A role he seemed to have been born into; he was a different Decurion Princeps to Marcus but as Marcus himself commented, that was no bad thing.

As the spring grew into summer they began to get increasing reports of banditry and brigandage. The Governor broke off from an inspection of Mona and the west to brief Marcus on his new role.

“Well prefect you have done well for yourself. Governor Agricola praises you and your men highly and you have earned your promotion.” He lowered his voice and spoke conspiratorially, “Tell me prefect did he order you all to swim across the sea?”

“Yes sir although it wasn’t wide four or five hundred paces only.”

“Four or five hundred paces! Gods man, I couldn’t swim ten yards in armour. Well, well so it is true. If you can do that then I suppose nothing is beyond you. I am more confident now that you can cope with the task I am going to give you. It seems there is a large band of bandits operating from the area west of Glanibanta, where you built the fort.  They are preventing trade. Complete your mission from the general and rebuild the fort but then I want this band destroyed. Utterly! Do I make myself clear? I want no survivors. They have to realise that if they disrupt the life of the province they will pay with their lives.” Once more he leaned in, “Next year we will be moving north to repay those warriors from Caledonia who sided with the Brigante.  We need this part of the province secure. Anything I can do for you?”

“More men and horses sir? Those Atrebates you sent last year worked out well. We don’t need to have replacements from the homeland, those from Britannia appear as committed.”

“I’ll see to it. Good luck prefect.”

With that the busy Governor left a bemused Marcus. It seemed that life came in full circle and always came back to the same people. Cresens, Fainch and now Aed, for he was in no doubt that it was Aed who was running the bandits. He and Julius Agricola had discussed what happened to the survivors of the battle of the Taus. There had been too many of them to forget and Marcus had begged his general for the chance to destroy the man who killed his wife. Agricola had been adamant, Mona came first. Upon reflection Marcus realised that the general had done his best to aid him in his quest by sending him back to Glanibanta.

As Marcus waited for his decurions and senior sergeants to arrive he began to appreciate the pleasures a brick building and hypocaust could bring. He would have to forego these pleasures when he rebuilt the primitive fort up by the edge of the icy cold lake. Decius would undoubtedly roll his eyes and utter some unintelligible curse. Marcus made a mental bet with himself. When they arrived and saluted Marcus felt a real pride. He believed himself to be unique; all of his decurions were the best he could hope for.  He had sergeants and chosen men just waiting to be promoted. The number of rogue troopers, normally quite a high proportion, was almost negligible. Indeed most of them had either died with their decurion Scipio Demetrius or deserted with following their decurion Modius.

“You have all become far too comfortable.  We are going for a little ride.” The younger decurions looked delighted, being bored with fortress life. The older ones and especially Decius looked wary. “We are going north.”

“Morbium sir!” Decius glared at Macro who sheepishly sat down.

“No Decurion Macro oh and congratulations on your promotion. I am pleased that it has not changed your impulsive nature,” the blushing decurion had to endure hoots and laughs from his peers. “No we are going back to the land of the lakes.”All laughs, smiles and snickers stopped in an instant for they all knew they were returning to face the Brigante again. If he had demanded close attention Marcus could not have achieved it more effectively. “We are going back to Glanibanta.”

“Shit! That means building a frigging fort again!”

Even Marcus joined in the laughter. “Eloquently put Decius. The Senate missed a fine speaker when you chose the auxilia over politics.” Marcus waited until the laughter had died down before he continued. “We will have to rebuild the fort first and then our task is to destroy the warband which is rampaging through the north.” He paused to allow the words to sink in. “Yes we will destroy them. As with the Ordovices there will be no prisoners taken. Rebels now will pay the full price of their crimes.” He was pleased that they all nodded in agreement. “Sergeant Cato please let me know of any deficiencies in mounts. Quartermaster Verres we will need to get as many supplies as possible. We may not be re-supplied for some time.”Again he paused for effect and he said with great emphasis on every word, “Scour the fortress for anything you think we might need. Understood?”

The huge man grinned, tapped the side of his nose and said, “Understood, sir.”

“Well if there is nothing else we leave in the morning.” There were gasps as the gathering realised the short time scale. The room emptied much quicker than it had filled.

The first part of their journey was over the familiar territory they had traversed heading south with Agricola the last year.  They were even able to use one of the camps they had made which made that day, at least slightly easier. They were encumbered this time by pack mules and a couple of wagons for Porcius Verres had outdone himself with his scavenging. Decius had been delighted to see many amphora of wine disappearing into the wagons and from the look of the one carrying their armour it suggested that the quartermaster had taken Marcus at his word and obtained spares of everything. As it was spring the weather was unpredictable but for the first few days they were lucky to find either sunny or cloudy skies beneath which they could plod their way north.

They reached the first major river since leaving Mamucium and they were in unfamiliar territory for the first time. The prefect ordered the camp built south of the river close to the point they had turned south the previous year. North east they knew for the next thirty or so miles, according to the basic map Marcus was reading, and after that they would be in unfamiliar land. The furthest they had patrolled, all those years ago, was the southern edge of the lake upon which Glanibanta stood. Once they reached that point Marcus would be content for then he would know the land. The next thirty miles were potentially the most dangerous for he knew nothing of the land or the brigands who waited there.

As the camp was being set up he sent for Gaelwyn and Decius. Gaelwyn had not mentioned the rescue of Marcus despite the profuse thanks offered by Marcus and the offer of any reward. It was not in the Brigante warrior’s nature to expect reward.  He had rescued Marcus because he liked him, he owed him loyalty and in a barbarian way he was his chief. When he married into the Brigante royal family then Gaelwyn owed him more than loyalty he owed him fealty. When a Brigante, a true Brigante, gave you his oath it was for life and death. “Do you know the land north of here Gaelwyn?”

He nodded and looked at the map not understanding its writing. Instead he pointed due north, “There are hills with forests and woods.” He pointed north west, “There it is flat with woods, some farms.” He then pointed further west, “There lies the sea with dangerous beaches which eat both men and horses.”

Decius looked at the Brigante sceptically, “Eats them?”

Marcus shook his head, “Ever hear of sinking sands and quick sands. They would eat us quickly enough.” Gaelwyn gave a quick sly knowing look in Decius’ direction as the Decurion Princeps coloured brightly. “Well we have wagons which rules out the sands and the hills so it looks as though we will be taking the middle road. Decius I want a turma with Gaelwyn five miles ahead of us as we travel.  Change the turma at noon I want them all to get the lie of the land as we travel. Keep another turma one mile behind the column. We could be in ambush country and although I think our rebellious friends will be further east I am taking no chances. When you have detailed tomorrow’s duties send Sergeant Cato to me.”

The prefect was studying the map when the sergeant came in to his tent. “You sent for me sir?”

“Yes, sit down.” As he sat down Marcus leaned back in his seat. Riding was a little more uncomfortable now that he had reached more than forty summers.  He remembered how Ulpius had complained of the horse’s back, now he understood why. “What is the state of the herd?”

“We only have ten remounts and a couple of the horses are coming to the end of their useful life. If we had to campaign we would struggle.” He paused thoughtfully. “If we are just patrolling then we might manage until autumn.” Cato knew the prefect well enough not to ask irrelevant questions. He would get to the point in his own time.

The sergeant had recognised both a problem and a solution at the same time. If they were patrolling they would only need eighty mounts at any one time, injured horses could be rested, older horses kept out of action. A campaign meant attrition, injuries and losses. “Very astute of you sergeant. At first we will be patrolling but within a couple of weeks we will need to mount a serious campaign. When we get to Glanibanta I want you to take your, “he searched for the word because it was an unofficial unit, “ horsemen and travel to Derventio and the stud. There should be remounts there and if not you could buy them. You know the farmers.” Marcus and Decius had always kept back part of any loot discovered by or freed by the turmae. It was used to buy horses, extra rations and occasionally, if a trooper was wounded and could not continue, provide a sort of unofficial stipend.  It was one of the reasons that the ala pooled their loot, everyone benefited.  Cato would have plenty of money to buy horses.

Cato nodded. They had been around the farms in the horse country around Derventio and made many contacts. They had set up a stud and, whilst there would not have been enough time to produce numbers of horses, there would be a number of new mounts they could bring. “Ask our farmer friends if they could supply us with horses until the stud begins to produce numbers. We will need many horses in the next two years.  Do you understand?”

Cato was an old soldier and recognised what Marcus was saying without using words. They would be heavily campaigning. “I’ll do that sir and money?”

“I will supply you with enough denari but ask the farmers if there is something they would like to barter rather than using money.” Cato looked at him curiously. “If we catch these brigands there may be things we capture which are more valuable to farmers than money.”

“Right sir.”

Pontius Brutus had been a centurion in the Ninth; upon his discharge he had been granted some land. He had found farming not to his liking and he had decided to become a merchant. His contacts at Eboracum enabled him to get some slaves at a ridiculous price and he soon found a lucrative trade route transporting limestone and lime from Morbium down to the forts being built at Eboracum Deva, and Mamucium. He had finished his contract with Eboracum and now had the longer journey to the south west of Brigante land. This suited the ex-centurion for he could charge a higher price and it gave him the opportunity to buy items not available in Eboracum. He found he had a penchant for trade. His slaves did most of the work and the guards he hired were both loyal and tough. The grey haired florid Roman had a good life and he intended to build a huge villa with the proceeds of his latest investment.

The Brigante bandits watched as the slow column made its way down the slope towards the river. They counted only ten guards which could easily be taken by their fifty warriors. It was Calgus’ first raid as a leader and he was keen for success. Aed might reward him if he was successful. The way the wagons moved suggested they were packed with trade goods.  It would be a rich haul. He also noted the weapons and helmets worn by the guards, they too would be a bonus. His only concern was the merchant who led the column. From his bearing he looked to be an ex-soldier and Calgus, veteran of battles against Romans, was always wary of Roman soldiers, retired or not. He waited until they halted at the ford to allow their animals to drink. His men watched for his signal. As soon as the drivers began to walk upstream to drink he gave it.

The warriors ran swiftly and silently down the slope; the first the guards knew was when one of their number fell screaming from his horse with a spear impaling him. They quickly turned to face the threat and Pontius roared his defiance. Drawing his gladius he charged his horse at the line approaching him. His mount trampled the first two and then he hacked down with his sword. His victim had no helm and the blade split his head. Calgus could see that his men were wavering and he hurled his spear at the horse, and although it was not a lethal strike it caused the horse to drop its front legs just as Pontius was leaning forward to strike at a second bandit. He tumbled from the horse and as he lay winded, on his back the last thing he saw was the tattooed Brigante warrior bringing the axe down on to his head. The remaining three guards saw their paymaster die and they galloped south to safety. The wagon drivers just ran for their lives. Calgus stopped his men from pursuing.  He had already lost four men; he did not want to risk more. “Check the wagons; let us see what treasure we have found.” As his warriors clambered aboard the wagons Calgus quickly relieved the dead Roman of his gold, armour and sword.

As he strode towards the wagons he was feeling very pleased with himself until one of his men shouted, “Stone! Wagon loads of stone.”

Another one commented, “Why would anyone want stone?”

The disappointment was immense. They had only six horses and ten mules to show for their endeavours and losses. They could not even use the wagons for they would have had to empty the stone which in their mind was useless. Aed would not be happy when the returned empty handed.