Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 10] Roman Hawk (23 page)

Chapter 13

As soon as he saw that the trader had disappeared then Chief Trygg knew how the Roman and his woman had escaped. The floating bodies of the drowned slaves was a stark and visual  measure of the cost of the feast which had seen five warriors killed and others injured. As the slaves were rounded up, Chief Trygg contemplated his next action. Snorri’s sudden arrival brought even more unpleasant news.  “The have damaged the ships.  There are holes in all of them.”

Snorri expected a raging torrent of anger and abuse from the chief who had lost his sword and so many slaves. Instead there was an air of resigned calmness about him as he nodded.  “Get them repaired. Have the slaves rounded up and prepare the crews for sea.”

Snorri looked around at the devastation. “But the ships will not be ready before nightfall and, even then, I am not sure how many of them will be ready. The Roman ship  will be long gone by then.”

Trygg’s voice was quiet but firm and cold as he turned to his lieutenant. “Even if it takes a month to repair the boats we will follow. We know where he will go and we know where to find him.  This will not be over until I have the sword and the Roman lies dead at my feet. Now go!”

The chief now finally understood that the hawk had not been an omen of good fortune as he had thought but was a warning, a sign from the gods of impending doom. The symbol of Rome was the eagle and this was its lesser cousin.  He was being punished for his arrogance. He would not make that mistake again.  Once he had visited Britannia again, killed the Roman and retrieved the sword he would begin his conquest of the whole of Uiteland.  The easy defeat of the Suebi, for which he thanked the Roman, had shown him the way forwards.  He had lost some of the slaves but he would still make a hefty profit.  He strode over to the bay where the dragon boats lay to view the damage. All but one of them was sunk to the oars. The remaining boat still floated half in and half out of the water.  He could see Snorri and his men hauling the ship to the beach.  He had hope; he could follow with one boat filled with his best warriors and then the others could follow in a few days.  Perhaps the gods were giving him back some of the fortune for, with a keen crew rowing hard, he might catch them before they turned west.

******

Hercules looked nervously up at the masthead pennant.  The wind had shifted from the south west to the north west; they were being driven further east than was good for them. All of them feared Gurt whose settlement lay close to the north of the peninsula.  He could wait there knowing that the trader would have to pass his waters.  With oar power
The Swan
would be helpless, even with their bolt thrower. Their only hope was a favourable wind and inclement weather which might swamp the dragon boats.  He looked again northwards wondering if he could head further north and then turn west.  That too brought its own problems for it increased the chance that their pursuers might catch them and also put them closer to potential enemies who were, as yet, unknown. Despite his misgivings he felt that they now had a chance; he had thought it a forlorn hope for them to go after the young decurion but the Parcae had been with them and perhaps the god of the sea, Neptune. He smiled as he saw Furax showing the giant the bolt thrower.  They had both made an impression on each other.

“And with this we can shoot a bolt more than five hundred paces.”

Drugi looked dubious.  “Are you mocking me young Roman?”

Furax’s face became very serious.  “No, honestly, ask Rufius.  He will tell you.”

The sincerity in the boy’s voice convinced the former slave and he looked at the intricate workings.  This was a well made machine.  The Romans had to be highly skilled if they were able to produce these in any quantity. “Are there many of these wondrous machines?”

“Every Roman ship and legion has many.”

Drugi looked aft to the land he had left.  Trygg might get a shock when he caught up with them.  He had been impressed when he had seen the bolts crash through the hulls of Trygg’s ships but if they could fire further than that then the Roman ship might escape. The hunter was philosophical about their flight.  He knew that, if they were caught, he would die; Trygg would show no mercy despite all of Drugi’s services to him.  But he had the feeling that his death would not be aboard this ship; he could have died many times during the escape but the Norms had not wanted him dead.  When they did he would die, until then he would take each day as it came.

“Now then young Furax, I believe you were going to show me the rest of this ship?” Furax eagerly took Drugi by the hand and led him below decks.

“Furax has found a friend then Marcus.  Where did you find him?”

“He is the reason we are here for he aided us many times.  He has been a slave since childhood but the hawk spoke to him and he threw in with us and I thank the Allfather for that.” Marcus turned to Gnaeus. “The two troopers who were with me on the Dunum?”

“They were killed.  We gave chase but had to halt at the mouth of the Dunum.  It was hard to see you leave.”

Marcus clasped Gnaeus’ hand.  “I thank you for your loyalty. You are a good friend.”

Gnaeus shook his head.  “It is more than that, I am an oath brother remember.”

Hercules voice was a reminder that they were not safe yet. “Winds shifting again.  We’ll have to tack and head nor east.” He looked meaningfully at Rufius.  “It means we are heading further from home and we have still to pass the pirates.”

“Pass the pirates?”

“Yes Marcus. Trygg is not the only raider around here.  We visited another village and I know that Gurt will be waiting for us.  We are not out of the woods yet and we may have to fight.” He gestured at the broad back of Drugi disappearing below deck. “Can he fight?”

“He is a superb archer and strong as an ox.  He can fight. I have stood with him and fought off a Suebi warband.  It is a good thing you brought the bolt thrower. It may be the difference between death and survival.”

******

Gurt and his crews had calculated that
The Swan
would be returning to their waters within a few days and so the wily captain had spread his line of five ships out in a broad line so that they covered a wide area.  He had them provisioned and manned well for he knew not how soon the ship would arrive. The delay did not worry him, it was early in the season for shipping but other boats could pass and the wolf would have them. He knew that the trader would avoid the coastline and so the left hand ship of the line was just out of sight of the horizon.  The ship which was furthest east could see another two miles to the west; if the trader travelled any further west then they would be in the seas controlled by barbarians far more fierce some than Gurt and his men and that would bring the Brigante called Gaelwyn more trouble than Gurt’s five ships.  His ships were all facing north east as he assumed the sailing ship would try to out run him.  Gurt was a master at the board game called ducks and drakes played with four white stones and a black one.  This time he had five stones to play with, whilst not a duck, The Swan would soon be his.

******

While Hercules fretted and worried about the wind Rufius organised the weapons on deck.  They had the bows, swords and spears in long wooden boxes below deck and they brought them up to secure them to the sides of the ship.  When they were called to action they would not have any time to go below decks. The small quantity of shields they had brought were already secured to the masts, ready to be untied and used at a moment’s notice.

Gnaeus whistled in admiration as Drugi brought a huge box of swords up.  The rest of the crew had struggled, in pairs, to do the same.  He turned to Marcus.  “He is a strong one. Are the other barbarians as strong?”

“He comes from the east in the land of the Wends.  He was enslaved as child.” Marcus shook his head.  “Having been a slave, for no matter how brief a time, I now have a different view on slavery.”

Gnaeus shrugged.  “My people are like your family Decurion, they own no slaves.”

“No but we frequently come upon them.” He looked darkly across the empty sea towards Hjarno-by, unseen in the distance.”We have been in taverns where men use the women.”

Gnaeus looked dumfounded.  “The men pay the women.”

Marcus shook his head.  “They pay their owners, they pay the men who own the women.  I am just glad that neither Macro nor myself abused women like that.”

Rufius overheard the conversation as he wiped the oil off a sword.  His friend had changed.  He had grown up and learned about life. It was a good change.  He had been worried, when they had gone back for the sword that he was becoming like his brother.  Now he knew different; the sword was a symbol of the Brigante people.  Becoming a father was giving Marcus Gaius Aurelius a different perspective on life.

“The wind is changing. “ Hercules cursed the precocious wind.  He had never known a wind change direction so many times.  The thick scudding clouds above told him that the gods were angry but why could they not ensure that the wind blew in the dame direction.

Drugi came next to the old sea captain. “Why do the crew have to keep changing the sail?  They make it smaller, larger, they turn it? Why?”

“It is the wind. Unless the wind is directly at us we can sail forwards but we have to keep changing direction.” He mad a zig-zagging motion with his hand. “If the wind is behind us it is easier to sail and we travel much more quickly.”

“Ah like the bird.  The eagle holds itself against the wind.”He looked forwards. “Well, captain, you will need your crew to climb again.”

Hercules looked up at the pennant which still blew in the same direction. “The wind hasn’t changed.”

“No but unless my eyes deceive me there are dragon boats ahead and we are heading directly for one.”

With a sinking heart Hercules knew that the sharp eyed slave was right. There, on the reciprocal course to them, was a dragon boat. The question which he needed the answer to was, was it alone or part of a pack? He turned to Rufius. “They have found us.” He pointed to the north west.

Rufius had expected this but it did not make it any easier to countenance. He yelled, “All warriors on deck.” The ex-soldiers were only used for sea duties in times of dire need and they all raced to the deck. With Drugi and the Roman troopers they had fifteen men and Furax who had given himself the job of directing the bolt thrower.

A fearful Frann and the two Brigante slave girls appeared at the hatch, their face filled with terror at the thought of being  returned to the life of  a slave again. Marcus saw the fear on his woman’s face. “It is not Trygg go below decks and hold on tightly.  We may have to move quickly and suddenly.” Her pleading eyes filled with tears.  “Trust me.  I was not saved from slavery to die in this lonely, cold and dark sea.” As the three women went, reluctantly below, Marcus wondered at the lie he had just told.  The dragon boats were smaller, more nimble and would be filled with warriors. 
The Swan
would be both outnumbered and outmanoeuvred. Marcus knew that they were dependent on the wind whilst the dragon boats had oars and the wind.  It was an uneven contest. Perhaps a couple of triremes might have made a difference but
The Swan
was an old trader not a warship.

“Hercules.  Hold this course until we discover if this is just one ship or many.”Hercules nodded but the glum look told Rufius that the captain thought he had sailed his last voyage. “The rest of you get a bow and a quiver.  We have plenty of arrows. Gnaeus bring the amphorae of Greek Fire.”

As Gnaeus went below deck, Marcus paled.  Greek fire was like magic, two substances which when mixed, and lit would continue to burn, even on water but the danger was always fire.  The ship firing the weapon was in just as much danger as their target. Rufius saw the look on his friend’s face and understood. “We will only use it when we have to but we have sacks of sand which will put out any stray sparks.” He shrugged.  “We have to do all that we can, even if it frightens every single person on this ship.” He turned to look ahead. “Any other ships yet?” When he received no reply he shouted, “Furax, up to the top of the mast. You have the best eyes.”

Drugi watched in amazement as the young boy scampered to the top of the swaying mast.  “He is like the squirrel.  I know not how he does not fall.”

Gnaeus smiled.  “It is the bravery of youth.”

“Two other ships.” The voice seemed to be disembodied as they could not see the boy.

“Where away?”

“West.”

Rufius looked at Hercules. “There will be a line of them.  The one we saw first is the last in the line.”

Marcus and Gnaeus joined Rufius who, as senior decurion, took all the decisions. “I am thinking this, if we head for the second in the line the other two will converge on us. They do not know about the bolt thrower and, I am certain that they have no long range weapons.  We fire at two hundred paces. We should be able to fire three in the time it takes to cover fifty paces.  Then Hercules turns,” he looked at his hands, he had not worked out yet the nautical terms, “to the right then our archers can send two volleys at the last ship in the line.  They will not expect us to attack them.  Once we have crossed through their line we sail with the wind, in whatever direction that takes us.  They will have to turn and we will gain time.  I know that they are faster and can catch us but if we can avoid them until dark then we might escape.”

Hercules’ voice drifted over.  “You are not expecting the old girl to turn like a foal aren’t you?”

Rufius grinned.  “You know you can do it.  If you had any doubts you would have told me.”

Hercules mumbled something about eggs and sucking and then shouted to the crew. “When I give the command I want you to give me full sail and we will be turning to starboard.  The wind will be across our quarter and
The Swan
should fly.”

Marcus murmured to Rufius, “I think the old bugger is actually enjoying this.”

Furax had descended. Rufius grabbed him by the shoulder.  “Right Furax, you wanted to be part of this adventure well as of now everything will depend on you. I want your first bolt aimed at their mainmast.  It doesn’t matter if you don’t hit it but you will scare the living daylights out of the rowers and might disrupt their rhythm.  More importantly you might get lucky and hit the steersman. The next two bolts you fire below their waterline, we need the their ships filling with water to slow them down and when you reload you keep firing at the other ship, the one at the end of their line. Is that clear?”