Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 10] Roman Hawk (22 page)

Rufius looked in amazement at Marcus. “Why? Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get the sword.”

Before Rufius could stop him he had taken off for the Great Hall. Rufius cursed. “Gnaeus come with me.  You two take her to the boat and then back to the ship. Warn Hercules that we may be leaving in a hurry.” Frann looked terrified as the two men half carried her away but she remained silent.

Rufius caught Marcus’ arm just as he was about to leap up the steps. “Wait! This is stupid but if you are going to get the sword then let us do it properly. It is hanging on the throne. Get a helmet and a sword. If we walk in there like this we will stand out. Let’s play drunks.”

The three of them soon looked the part and they staggered, with trepidation in their hearts, into the Great Hall. There was barely any movement and Rufius could see that the drink and violence had taken their toll.  He pointed to the throne which shone in the firelight above the unconscious form of the Chief of the Tencteri. They moved cautiously through the bodies, careful not to step on any. While Gnaeus and Rufius kept watch, Marcus slipped to the throne and grabbed the sword. Hardly daring to breathe they made their way back to the main door. Suddenly a figure lurched drunkenly towards them, it was Snorri.  He did not recognise them but he recognised the helmet. “Harald?  You still fucking sober?  I thought you passed out hours ago. Here let’s go and shag some slaves eh?”

As soon as his face drew next to Rufius he realised it was not his friend and he stood there with a stupid expression on his face. Marcus swung the scabbard of the sword to crash into the bodyguard’s head.  His mouth and nose exploded in a mess of blood, teeth and gristle and Gnaeus caught him before he hit the ground. He was alive but out for the count.  The three men quickly fled.  No-one else was stirring and it was only as they left the gate that Rufius realised that he should have locked the slaves’ hall for they slaves were not drunk and if they saw the door open they would leave and that might alert the warriors.  He realised it was too late to do anything about it and they ran down the slope to the jetty towards the boats and safety. The two guards they had left breathed a sigh of relief as the three of them appeared.

Marcus grasped  Rufius’ arm.  “Thank you old friend.  Where is Frann?”

“Your woman?” Marcus nodded, “On the boat.”

They were just climbing into the boat when a silent figure suddenly rose menacingly from the shadows. Rufius and Gnaeus’ hands went to their weapons but Marcus restrained them.  “Don’t worry.  He is with us.  This is Drugi.”

The huge hunter grinned as he joined them in the heavily overloaded boat. “Your friends are not as silent as you are Roman.”

As they rowed away Rufius looked up at the giant seated in the rear of the boat.  His weight made it precariously close to the water. “Where did you find this Titan?

“This, Titan, is the finest hunter since Gaelwyn, probably including Gaelwyn, and we owe our escape to him.  Without him this would not have been possible.” As they rode to
The Swan
which Rufius could see was preparing for sea, Marcus looked at the beached dragon boats. “We’ll have to do something about those.”

Rufius threw his hands into the air. “Marcus, have you lost all your senses.  First you want the sword and we nearly get caught.  Now you want to do something to their ships. What in the name of the Allfather can we do?”

“Sink them because if we don’t they will follow us and believe me they are faster than this ship and then Chief Trygg will have even more slaves; including Furax and Hercules.  Now you do not want that to happen do you Rufius?”

Rufius knew that, infuriatingly, Marcus was right. As they clambered aboard Frann hurled herself at Marcus to hug him tearfully while Hercules and Furax looked up at the giant who appeared on their ship. “Get us under way. Furax get the bolt thrower ready.”

“Bolt thrower? We have no time for that.”

“Yes we do Hercules.  Sail slowly towards the dragon ships, we are going to try to sink them, or at least damage them to prevent them following us.  Marcus has pointed out that they will follow us otherwise.”

Saying a silent prayer to Neptune Hercules wondered if he would ever get back to his beloved Italy.

“We need to aim below the waterline, two bolts to each boat, at the closest possible range; we need the maximum damage. Gnaeus keep your eye on the fort and let us know if there is any movement.”

Furax and the crew aimed their weapon at the acutest angle possible. When they were fifty paces away they fired and quickly began reloading. They were closing too quickly and Marcus shouted, “Shorten sail, slow down!”

Cursing the trooper Hercules did as he was told. They managed to hit the other five with two bolts each but their first target had only been holed by one. Rufius was not convinced that they had struck them all in the right place and he was also doubtful that it would hold them up for long.  Had they been in deeper water then they would have sunk and been harder to repair.  As it was he suspected they had only delayed pursuit by a day at the most.  It was now important to put as much distance between the barbarians and themselves as possible.  Having taken not only their Roman prize but also the famous sword they would be angrier than a hive of wasps which has been poked by a child- they were that child!  “That’s all that we can do Marcus.  Hercules, you can sail as fast as you like now.”

“About time too!”

******

Back at the village there was a strange silence punctuated by the snores, belches and farts of the inebriated warriors. The foxes and rats ventured out to feast on the pieces of discarded food and detritus which had been left after the feast. The dead bodies had not attracted attention as there were piles of much easier pickings lying both in and out of the hall. As a sharp frost hardened on the warrior’s bodies there was a stirring in the slave hall.  One of the boys had felt the cold draft from the half open door.  Urination was normally carried out in a container in the corner but the boy saw the glint of moonlight through the door and went outside to relieve himself. To the young boy’s eyes the sentries looked asleep rather than dead but he could see the gates to the fort wide open.  He ran back to his mother and shook her awake. 

“What is it child?  Get back to sleep.” The mother knew that they needed every moment’s rest that they could get for they were worked long and hard.

“The gates they are open.”

Suddenly awake the mother looked and saw that there was, indeed, light coming from the door.  She went and peered nervously out and saw that her son was correct.  She slipped back inside and quickly woke her sister and her two children.  “Come! Quietly and follow me.”

The younger sister did not question the elder sibling’s command for they trusted each other implicitly. On reaching the door, they saw that freedom lay ahead and they raced out with the three children. As the left the fort one of the foxes barked in shock as the silently passed.  Inside the slave hall, another mother woke at the sudden noise.

The fugitives fled down to the jetty.  There was only one way off the island, by boat, and they just hoped that they could find one. The passage to the southern stretch of mainland was but a hundred paces and they knew that, inept as they were, if they could find a boat then they could achieve freedom. On reaching the jetty they saw, to their disappointment that there were no boats.  Beneath the black waters they could see the remains of sunken and damaged boats but none which were usable could be seen. Picking up the discarded bearskins of the dead sentries, the resourceful elder sister wrapped them around the children.  “Wait here and I will look for another.” The younger sister held the three children fearfully as she stared up at the village, just waiting for the alarm which would signal the end to their brief foray into freedom. She caught a glimpse of movement at the gate as other slaves realised that they were free and she felt her heart sink.  They had come so close and yet failed. Suddenly she heard a, “Hssst!” Looking along the jetty she saw her sister waving.  Running as quickly as they dared along the icy wooden jetty they ran to where Drugi had left his boat.  It was small but it was a means of escape and the five of them boarded and pushed off just as the first of the escaped slaves arrived at the end of the jetty. The other shore was closer than they could have hoped and they were soon halfway across; their fellow captives staring helplessly at the only means of escape. Two of the younger women jumped into the icy waters and half waded, half swam towards the departing boat. One of the girls barely made it ten paces to the slowly moving boat before she succumbed to the cold and sank slowly beneath the waters. The other had more resilience and, despite her freezing joints kicked on.  The elder sister took pity on this brave soul and they stopped rowing. As the girl reached the boat the sister said, “Hang on to the back and we will take you with us.” The six refugees stood on the shore, the swimmer shivering, draped in a bearskin as they looked at the jetty which was filling up with freed slaves who had nowhere to go.

As the elder sister led the party south the younger one took an oar and pushed the small rowing boat back to the island.  If the Norns so willed it, then others would have the same chance of freedom as they were grasping for such hope with both hands.

The sound of the fox and the movement through the open gate had woken Orm. The blow he had suffered in the brawl had been slight but the ale he had consumed had taken him to the depths of sleep. He stood, wondering what had occurred when he saw the stream of women and children running towards the jetty. It took him a few moments to discover that he was not dreaming and they were fleeing.  He grabbed his spear and yelled, at the top of his voice, “To arms! To arms!”

On the jetty there was a collective wail as the refugees realised that their bid for freedom was over.  Some sat, silently sobbing on the jetty, oblivious to the cold.  Others fled along the shoreline to try to find a hiding place on the island.  One or two jumped into the water to try to grab the rowing boat which had floated tantalisingly close. One or two the women slipped back to the nearby houses to wait and hide.

Chief Trygg jerked awake, his head pounding with the sudden movement. Orm appeared at the door of the Great Hall. “The slaves! They are free! They are escaping!”

The angry chief shook awake the bleary eyes men around the table. “To your feet! The slaves!” He turned around to grab his sword and saw to his horror that it was gone. Although his mind had been befuddled a few moments earlier, he had a sudden clarity of thought, the Roman had, somehow organised the escape and taken the sword. He took his dagger out and banged hard on the discarded helmet lying at his feet. “Get to your feet you lazy whoresons! The Roman has taken the sword! On your feet!” He had a cold hard fury about him.  He had been deceived and, what made it worse, was that he had known there was something wrong.  He cursed the Roman but he also cursed Lars and his brothers; but for Lars’ lust Marcus would have been safely on the mainland, well away from his friends.

******

Marcus stood staring over the stern.  To his left the first lightening of the sky could be seen. Nestled in his arm was Frann who could not quite believe that they had escaped. He turned to Drugi, “The horses?”

“Cato and his family are free running wild in the forests of Uiteland but the ponies did not wish to go,” he shrugged. “The Norns.”

Marcus nodded.  He was, in some way pleased, for he had liked the sons of Trygg and enjoyed watching them ride. He had seen in them a love of horses and riding which mirrored his own.  They would grow to become the first horsemen in their tribe. They would be happy, as would Cato and the small herd they had created.  He regretted leaving Cato for he was the finest horse he had ever written.  When they returned to Britannia he would ask Nanna to find one as good. He laughed aloud as he wondered what made him think they could escape.

“Well I am pleased that you have something to laugh about decurion.”

Marcus could hear the censure in Rufius’ voice; he was still unhappy about their diversion to rescue the sword. “Nothing ill came of it Rufius and we could not leave the blade in a foreign land.”

Rufius’ face was angry. “You young fool! Have you become your reckless brother?  Do you think this is a game?  We have travelled half way around these northern waters to find you and you want to go back for a piece of metal.” He gestured at Furax and Hercules. “These men risked their lives for you.”

Marcus faced up to Rufius, truculently. “I did not ask you to.  I am grateful but I would have found a way to escape.”

“You are your brother again. Within seven days you would have been sold. How would you have escaped then… with the sword, your woman and your unborn child?”

Drugi spoke suddenly in the embarrassing silence which came between the two Explorates and his deep slow voice made them all start. “I think that Odin or your Allfather determined all of our actions and the Norns wove a web so complex that all of our decisions were not ours.” They all looked at this giant of a man as though he had suddenly materialised on the deck. He shrugged, “I was content living in the land of the Eudose but I am here.  Why?  I did not intend to leave my hut ever and then this Roman came into my life. “He shrugged again and then grinned, his smile lighting up the stern. “My Roman friend has not told you who I am but I am Drugi the hunter and the woman with my Roman friend is Frann the mother of his unborn child.”

Marcus looked with increasing respect at Drugi.  He was wiser than any.  His brief interjection calmed the atmosphere and made smiles appear on the faces of all of his friends. “Are you one of the Titans?  Are you a giant?”

The wonder in Furax’s voice made Drugi smile.  “No I am but a slave, or I was a slave and now I breathe free air.  It feels good.”

Hercules sniffed, “Aye well we are not out of the fire yet. “

Marcus said, “It will take them some time to repair their boats.”

Rufius shook his head. “There is another dragon fleet awaiting us in the north.  We are between pirates. I would put your woman below decks for when the dawn breaks we may well be fighting new foes.”