Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 09] Hero of Rome (4 page)

“What do you think of this Governor then Macro?”

“He couldn’t be any worse than the last one. He was about as much use as a one legged man in an arse kicking contest.”

“A little crudely put but I get your drift. The important thing is that Livius seems to approve.”

Macro nodded, “And that says it all.” Both young men felt the same about Livius.  He was the model of leadership to which they both aspired.  Although both their fathers had been great warriors and great leaders they only knew of them through the words of others.  In Livius’ case they were able to witness his wisdom and skill. “You or me for the hunting today?”

Each day one of the two young officers had taken a couple of men and hunted the food for their evening meal.  While most legionaries and auxiliaries survived on a diet of porridge the men of the ala had grown used to fine food. “You if you like.  I am not as familiar with this part of the country as you.”

Macro laughed as he gestured for the two troopers to join him. “You are getting lazy brother.  I’ll save the deer’s heart for you, build up your strength.”

That evening the ala feasted well on the fresh venison which was superbly roasted by the ala’s cooks. As the decurions sat with the Governor and the Decurion Princeps around the blazing fire, Livius looked over at Pompeius who nodded.  They had agreed that he would brief the ala on their new role.

“Gentlemen I hope you have enjoyed your feast and thank you Decurion Macro, once again your hunting skills have helped us eat like kings.” While the other decurions cheered Macro looked at Marcus.  He had been called Decurion; was this Livius’ way of promoting him and what about Marcus? They both paid rapt attention to every word. “It may well be the last such feast for the Governor and I have decided that the ala will serve the province best by patrolling a larger area. Tomorrow Cassius will escort the Governor to Morbium while the remainder of the ala will build a new fort on the frontier, north of the Stanegate. Once our headquarters is built then pairs of turmae will be allocated a section of the frontier where the turmae will build their own camp and patrol the immediate area.” He waited while the murmur of questions and comments rippled through the assembly. When it died down he continued, “The clerk, quartermaster and cooks will be based at our new fort as will the weapon trainer and horse master Decurions Macro and Marcus and me.” The two newly promoted Decurions grinned as the news sank in, they had been promoted, and the other decurions slapped them on their backs. “You will need to liaise with the clerk and the Quartermaster to ensure you have sufficient supplies.  You will have to be self sufficient in such things as guards, food and forage.”

The Governor took it all in.  It was a mark of the leader that the decurions felt like a team and, indeed, almost a family.  He had noticed the easy way they had with each other. He would have thought that discipline would have suffered but, if anything, it improved and they were a well drilled and efficient team.  If this could be replicated then his task might be easier. He was looking forward to meeting the new Legate for they had an enormous job. In his experience, the moment you started building a barrier then the local tribes took instant offence.  Once they began building they would also begin fighting and it looked like this ala would be the only mobile strike force until the reinforcements reached Britannia from the mainland Empire.

Livius held up his hand for silence. “This is a new phase for us and a difficult one. I know that all of you will meet this new challenge for, gentlemen, you will be operating on your own, making your own decisions.” He gestured at Cassius, Metellus, Rufius and the two young decurions, “We Explorates know how to do this and if you need any advice then these officers are your mentors.  Enjoy the feast.” As the decurions crowded around the five Explorates, Livius and the Governor retired to the headquarters tent.

“One thing Governor, I would like to hire and train some troopers to act as guards for the main fort. At Corio and Morbium we were able to use the auxiliaries nearby but it seems a waste to tie down cavalrymen to guard a fort.”

“Excellent idea.  I realise that the men with the money will squeal but the Emperor has faith in you and a need for this frontier.  Go ahead.” He poured Livius a beaker of the Gaulish wine they had taken to sharing at night. “You have a close relationship with your men.”

Livius understood the question.  It had been asked before. “That is because they are family. The two brothers, Macro and Marcus are sons of former decurions of the ala. We still keep in touch with those officers who have retired and remember those who fell.” He looked apologetically at the Governor, “The decurions feel more like brothers than inferiors.”

“Do not apologise, for it is to be commended. The difficulty is replicating it.”

“Oh that can be done.  We have built this ala on the model of the first one Marcus’ Horse which grew from the Second Pannonians who rescued Cartimandua and her sword.”

Pompeius looked intrigued. “I have heard the legend.  Was she as beautiful as they say?”

“I was not with the ala while she lived but Gaius, Marcus and Macro’s father said that she was.”

“I wonder what happened to that sword. Perhaps it never really existed.  The stories told of it are too incredible to be true and seem the stuff of legend.”

Livius smiled.  “Oh it does exist and the legends are true.” He stood, “Would you like to see it?”

For the first time Pompeius Falco showed real surprise.  “You have it?  It is here?”

Livius went to the tent’s entrance and shouted, “Marcus, bring the sword!” Returning to face the Governor he continued.  “The sword is the heirloom of the Brigante and Decurion Marcus is the second son of the heir of Cartimandua. His elder brother farms and it is the warrior who wields the weapon.” He lowered his voice.  “Many of the men took a blood oath to protect Marcus and the sword. I know that it is not an Imperial policy but many of the men are Brigante and it makes them even more passionate and loyal about the ala.” There was a cough outside. “Come in Marcus.”

The Governor knew fine weapons but even he had never seen such a glorious sword. It looked unlike anything Roman with its long tapered blade and its jewelled hilt. The craftsmanship was exquisite from the runnel for the blood through the well shaped guard through to the jewelled hilt and pommel. He looked longingly at it and Livius, smiling, nodded to Marcus. “Would you like to hold it sir?” With an almost child like grin Falco nodded and Marcus handed it to him. “It is lighter than it looks is it not sir? The blade is sharp enough to shave with.”

Falco swung it in his hand.  “It is indeed a fabulous weapon. Are the legends true then Decurion Princeps?”

“Which ones, for there are many?”

“You know, the sword has never been defeated in battle.  It heals any wounds and a light shines from it.”

Livius and Marcus smiled.  Livius gestured for Marcus to explain. “It is true that it has never been in a battle which we lost and even when used in a skirmish we are successful.  As for the healing and the light they are not true but when we fight on a sunlit day and the light is right the steel of the blade seems to shine brighter than other swords so perhaps the light part is true. One legend which is true is that it binds men together.  When the sword is unsheathed in battle the men fight as though double the number.”

“If only we could forge more like this.”

Livius shook his head.  “The legend is that the sword came from Gaul and is ancient.  Certainly we have never seen its like.  It can also create problems for its owner for every barbarian who has ever heard of it desires it and seems willing to throw their life away just to gain it. Marcus’ father believes that the only reason the Brigante have not openly revolted is because the sword fights for Rome.  If it were ever lost then problems might ensue.”

Handing the sword back Falco said, seriously, “Then you must make sure that the sword never leaves your side.”

“Don’t worry sir.  My men and I guard it with our lives.”

******

Prince Faolan stood before the assembled warriors of the Ebdani and raised his sword in the air. “And I swear that I will kill the warrior who wields the Sword of Cartimandua and return it to Si an Bhru from where it was taken. Any warrior who wishes to follow me will share in the honour.”

There was a huge roar of approbation and Corentine narrowed his eyes.  His cousin was indeed cunning. He did not know what the old witch Sceanbh had had to do with it but he was certain that the sword of the Brigante had never resided in Hibernia.  His cousin was up to something but the King could not see what.  He was worried that many of his finest warriors would leave on this foolhardy quest to Britannia. Pragmatic as every the wily ruler began to work out how he could use this to his advantage,  With his biggest rival away he could recruit newer, more loyal warriors to be his bodyguards. He would also question Sceanbh and discover what the plot was for he had not stayed in power for so long without being careful and overly suspicious. He stood, the decision made and held up his hands. “We applaud our cousin and his quest.  If he and any of those who wish to undertake this perilous journey return, we will welcome them once more to the family of the Ebdani.”

The cousins exchanged a look of pure hatred. Faolan had to admire his cousin; while allowing him to leave he was telling all of the assembly that this was not Ebdani business.  He could absolve himself of all responsibility while still enjoying the glory of the success and a share of any plunder. Faolan would throw any plunder into the sea rather than share it with his cousin. He nodded back to his cousin.  “We will return cousin with great glory, great riches and even greater honour.”

As Faolan left the hall Corentine was disturbed by the huge number of warriors who followed. He knew that he should have allowed his men to raid their neighbours and that would have assuaged their blood lust but now it was too late.  He would need to begin to build his own army to thwart his young cousin’s obvious ambitions.

Sceanbh also smiled as Faolan left.  Her life would soon end but she had fulfilled her duty to Morwenna and the Mother.  Rome would be attacked. Corentine did not know that the sisters had already spread the word of the quest to seek the sword and hundreds of warriors were heading from all corners of Hibernia to join in this quest for glory and riches. 

By the time Faolan was ready to embark on the fifty or so boats they had organised for the short crossing to Manavia, there were almost twelve hundred warriors gathered from the four corners of the island.  Every landless prince and warrior had been drawn by the lure of adventure and plunder. Watching them arrive in ones twos and sometimes tens Faolan knew that it had only needed a small pebble to be pushed for this avalanche to start.  Everyone knew that Roman Britannia was weaker than in the days of Julius Agricola but they also knew that it would take a large warband to survive.  Faolan’s biggest problem was stopping the blood feuds and old tribal enmities from flaring up. Loegaire had to kill two particularly belligerent warriors and Faolan himself sent back ten warriors who had a blood feud with each other. As they left he knew that it would be a matter of hours before most of them were dead, killed in a pointless bloodbath. The culling had the desired effect; no-one questioned his leadership and there were no more outbreaks of old fights and feuds. Leaving Loegaire to oversee the loading of the boats Faolan and his bodyguard set sail in the most seaworthy of the ships.

******

Morwenna stood with Brynna watching the ragged fleet as it edged its way to the port. Forewarned by her daughter, Morwenna now understood the nature of the pragmatic man who was heading her way.  She was no longer the stunning beauty of a few years ago and now had to rely more on intelligence than pure animal attraction.  Smiling at her beautiful daughter the witch with the grey flecked hair knew that she could leave the attraction to her daughters. Caronwyn was in Eboracum with the most dangerous of missions, Brynna had successfully recruited her warriors and Eilwen was busily preparing the young priestesses who would flood the land of the Brigante with their particularly subversive religion. Ever the realist, Morwenna now knew that she was the spider, spinning her webs and waiting for her victims to be brought to her. She now knew where she and her mother had gone wrong, they had tried to lead from the front too often and it was unnecessary.  There were others who could be fodder for the Roman Ballistae and crosses.

She turned to her daughter.  “Bring him to me when he lands.”

Brynna nodded as her mother left.  She knew that it was now down to the careful staging arranged for the benefit of the warriors who would be arriving soon.  She wanted them to be in awe of her and her power which meant dressing the room and making it as ethereal as possible. Heavy scents and candles would fill the air.  The half darkness would create fearful shapes and shadows and, out of the midst of this would appear, as though by magic, Morwenna the Red Witch Queen of Mona. Even though she had seen it many times Brynna still found herself getting a thrill of anticipation at the thought and dreamed of the day when she would do as her mother had done and command the world.

Chapter 3

As they headed north from the Stanegate Cassius rode his mount so that he was riding next to Livius and would not be overheard by the troopers. “Sir?”

Livius smiled; Cassius was just what he needed, the faithful gainsayer who would ask questions, just like a young child, until he was satisfied that he understood.  Cassius had fired regular questions since they had left the Governor and his escort. “Yes Cassius what can I do for you?”

“This strategy of dividing up the ala; is there no alternative?”

“It is how we operated when we were Explorates Cassius.” He needed Cassius to make the same connections he had made when devising the strategy.

“Yes I know sir but we were only a handful then and, well, we knew what we were doing.”

“Ah.  That is it. Well firstly Cassius we are the only cavalry here at the moment and so we are the handful.  Would you have us in one place, perhaps forty miles from a problem?  By the time we arrived, it would all be over.” Cassius could see the wisdom there; he was not happy but he would live with it. He bit his tongue to prevent himself from asking the question he had meant to ask. Livius knew his second in command and answered it anyway.  “You are worried about the decurions are you not and the lack of experience amongst the whole ala?”