Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 10] Roman Hawk (28 page)

Their first charge, even at a trot, was, as he expected, an unmitigated disaster.  He had counted on that fact.  Almost a third of them fell off while another group couldn’t control their mounts and ended up charging an empty section of the field.  When they finally sorted themselves out they looked totally dejected. “Don’t worry about that disaster.  No-one is hurt but you need to concentrate more.  Your horses are good horses but they need control. Keep a tight grip with your left hand.  Grip the flanks of the horse with your knees and ankles. Make the horse do what you want not what he does. When you throw your branch, throw from the shoulder, don’t lean back as you did when you were on foot.  Now let’s try it again.”

Over the course of the morning they gradually improved but by the noon break they were exhausted and a number of them had the bruises to show they had either fallen or been struck by a lucky branch. Marcus wondered how they would react to having to prepare their own food when he heard the wheels of a cart and saw Drugi and Frann appear.  The former slave did not look anything sat on the cart but when he descended the recruits’ jaws dropped to a man.  Drugi was used to this reaction, “Your mother thought they might be hungry Roman and she has sent bread, cheese and some ham.” He winked at Marcus, “And to stop me becoming lost she sent your woman to help me.  You see to your woman, I will feed these boys.” As Marcus helped Frann down, he heard Drugi roar, in a voice which would have made First Spear proud. “Get in one line. One man comes for the food for four of you.” They looked at him.  “I assume you can count?”

While Marcus and Frann watched Drugi fed the whole contingent and then he came over to them.  “You were right Roman this is a good place to live.  I thank you for my new home it is a fine hut and I will honour your uncle.”

“You are welcome Drugi.”

“He looked sheepish and then pulled, from under the seat of the cart an enormous ram’s horn. “I found this in Gaelwyn’s hut, hidden beneath some animal skins.  What is it?”

“I haven’t seen that in years.  It is the Brigante war horn.  It was used to summon help or sound the charge in the time before the Romans came.  It hasn’t been used since I was a boy.” Drugi looked at in anticipation.  “Go on, my friend, try it.” Drugi put his mouth to the horn and blew. It sounded like a small dog breaking wind.  “No you need to make this sound.” Marcus put his lips to the back of his hand and blew, much as a child would.

“Ah now I see.” The next time Drugi blew, the sound echoed across the hills and flocks of birds lifted in the air. The recruits looked up in shock.

Drugi looked expectantly at Marcus who nodded, “Of course, keep it.  It seems fitting somehow to pass from one hunter to another. He looked nervously at Frann.  He hoped that she too had been made welcome but… “And you Frann, what of you?”

“Your family are so kind and I am very happy.”  She patted her bump, “And, more importantly, our son is content.” She looked at him seriously, “You are a warrior and you lead men. Do not worry about me for I am safe and happy.  There will be no men coming in the night to take me.” She pointed at the recruits. “This is what you do and I am proud of you.”

The recruits did not know Marcus but they did notice a change in him during the training session following the meal; he was happier and full of energy.  By the time they made their weary back to their camp they were exhausted, bruised and mentally drained but they had made huge progress.  They could charge with their javelins and throw them without falling off.  They could halt their horses rather than chasing over the countryside and they had a confidence about them that had not been there in the morning. In short while they were not troopers, they looked, at least, as though they might become them in time.

Nanna had reached the farm just about the time that Marcus was doing his last rounds around his camp. Although not lonely, Nanna missed the company of others; she got on well with her servants but that is what they were, servants.  Her husband was many miles away and so she took the opportunity of visiting Ailis to discuss the problems of these pirates. She was a little sceptical for she had not seen any evidence of raiders although she did know that Marcus had been taken. She enjoyed riding through this country.  Her childhood had been filled with horses and now, after her marriage to Metellus she had the chance to work with and to ride fine horses.  It was a pleasure to be riding through the crisp late winter evening, the hooves crunching through the early frost, anticipating the warm welcome at the farm. She had told her servants not to expect her back for she knew that Ailis would expect her to stay.  When she had first arrived she had felt guilty about imposing on her neighbours but she quickly discovered that Ailis enjoyed her company, especially at night for she missed her husband. As she had said to Nanna on one of her earlier visits, “It wasn’t as though we spent each evening chattering to each other, more often than not we sat in silence but it was a companionable silence, and that I miss.”

The extra security at the farm was obvious as soon as Nanna approached the entrance for there were alert guards watching.  The gate swung opened silently and Ailis was there to greet her. Ailis was always happy and cheerful but she appeared to have a twinkle in her eye. She could not wait to tell her friend the news.  “I am to be a grandmother again!”

Nanna was delighted. “That Decius, he cannot keep his hands off that Mara.”

“Oh no Nanna, it is Marcus.  He has a wife and she is Brigante.”

Realising that there was a tale here Nanna could not wait to meet the woman who had won the heart of Marcus.  Nanna had more than a soft spot for Marcus; he had saved her from the barbarians and she knew she owed her life and freedom to him. As soon as she saw Frann she embraced the girl.  “What a bonny girl! Marcus is, truly, a lucky man!”

Frann could not believe her good fortune.  Not only was her new family welcoming but all those associated with the family appeared to be the same.  Having spent years in captivity it was something she appreciated.  On their first night together Ailis had told Frann the true story of her captivity.  It was a tale she had not told her sons but she could tell a fellow slave and the two women bonded immediately.  It was the reason Ailis had behaved the way she had for she understood, above all others, the pain and the horror, not to mention the degradation, of slavery.

Chapter 16

Gurt watched the stern of Snorri’s ship as it edged northwards up the east coast of Britannia.  The stern light was his only guide as it was still not yet dawn. This was the second time they had made the trip for the previous night there had been no fire and Trygg had retraced his steps back to their hidden estuary.  Gurt had not been convinced that there were any ships. 

“Your men might not have reached there.  It could be that there are no Roman ships and we are wasting our time going backwards and forwards.”

Trygg knew his men and had chosen well.  “They will have reached the hill and there will be Roman ships.”

The discussion, if one could call a couple of words a discussion, had ended swiftly with Gurt dismissed like a kitchen slave.  He did not enjoy the experience. Now, a whole day later, he glanced up at the cliffs which towered above them.  They were relatively close in for Trygg said that the water was deep enough for them up to fifty paces from the rocks; Gurt did not like having to rely on another captain’s judgement but he had little choice. The six ships they had were a large group of vessels and Gurt knew it made observation easier but he would have preferred to be further away from the sharp teeth rocks which seemed to snarl and roar from the white capped water at the foot of the towers of stone.

The whole of the crew were nervous; to venture this close to Roman ships had been bad enough once but to risk it a second time seemed to be tempting the Norns. It was hard not  to order the steersman to head for home but then Gurt thought of the face he would lose.  This way he could follow the infamous Trygg and any blame, laid at his door. Suddenly a light flared from the top of the cliff.  The ships were gone! Excitement and feared gripped the pirate captain in equal measure.  They would gain some plunder but they would be taking eggs from the eagle’s nest and hoping that the eagle stayed away; it was a gamble with great rewards but should the Roman eagle return then many hearths at Gurtstead would be cold.

Dawn’s first fingers began to spread out across the black sea as the six ships closed slowly towards the estuary. Glimmers of light showed Gurt that it was indeed a wide estuary.  He became aware that he could make out the ships ahead of Snorri’s and they seemed to be pulling away from the final two in the line.  His first panic subsided as he remembered that they had to get upriver and moored before dawn truly broke.  The place where they had captured the Roman was deemed to be the best place as it was overhung with huge trees and ships could only be seen from the riverbank. Snorri’s boat began to turn to the northern bank and Gurt prayed that Snorri knew the passage as well as his chief. He had been impressed with the Tencteri lieutenant for he was quiet and modest with the ability to listen.  Gurt found that he could talk with him whereas when he spoke with Trygg he felt he was being talked down to. There was a slight levee on the north bank and as they approached it Gurt saw Snorri order his oars up as the ship was steered close to the bank.

“Up oars. Follow the Tencteri.”

When they finally reached the bank Gurt saw that the levee was deceptively high and effectively hid the ship from view on the northern side.  The southern bank was covered in heavy foliage and mooring was difficult.  Here there were two tall stumps each about a hundred paces apart, perfect mooring posts. As Gurt met Snorri on the bank he mentioned this and how fortunate it was.
Snorri had laughed, “Not fortunate, we cut those trees down many years ago when we first came.” He pointed to the other side of the river. “The river is wide here and we can easily turn around.  Chief Trygg will have a harder task for where he moors the river will be narrow.  He will need to turn his boats around.  We will be the first to the plunder.”

Most of the men were now on the bank.  The six men detailed to watch the boats were already building a shelter and putting out fishing lines.  As the oldest members of the crews, they had had their fill of running through enemy lands; they were quite happy to wait, watch and fish.

As the men adjusted helmets and shields Gurt could not help but notice how much better equipped Snorri’s men were compared with his. Many had leather or mail armour; some was Roman and some Suebi. Their weapons were also of higher quality with short Roman swords and javelins and the longer Suebi blades showing that they had taken the weapons from their previous owners.  When they returned from this raid he hoped his men would be as well armed as his present allies. Snorri detailed two of his warriors to bring up the rear. When Gurt gave him a questioning look the Tencteri shrugged.  “They know this land. If we get separated then you will have someone to guide you.”

Gurt nodded, that made sense. With his shield and axe strapped to his back and his arms free he was able to move easily down the well worn river trail. Snorri came down the line checking that all their equipment was secured.  When he reached Gurt he pointed to his helmet.  Gurt was proud of the helmet which had a nasal and the wings of a hawk protruding from each side.

“I would carry that until we near the village if I were you.”

“Why? “ The annoyance was tempered by curiosity.

“We have to move quickly and we are unlikely to be surprised.  I have scouts out.  This way will be more comfortable.” He grinned, “But it is your choice.” It was only then that Gurt noticed that the Tencteri were all bareheaded. The practical chief complied.

The trail along the bank was well worn but the recent rain and snow had made it somewhat slippery.  After one of the warriors had slipped in and been helped to the shore, while his companions laughed and jeered, the reminder watched their footing and kept a safer distance from their fellows. They ran for about a mile and a half, by which time dawn had truly broken and Gurt could see the hills rising on the southern side of this flat valley. Trygg had done well to find this land of plenty.  It was difficult to see them from the north and any observers to the south would have to have a boat. He was beginning to feel tired after the unexpected run when Snorri, at the front held up his hand and they all stopped. When those at the front began to don helmets and unsheathe weapons, Gurt’s band copied their actions.  Gurt made his way forwards.  He had not minded following before but if there was going to be fighting, then, as chief, he wanted to make the decisions and to show them his bravery.

Snorri’s scouts were there and Snorri held up a hand to silence them until Gurt arrived. “They have just opened the gates and they are loading a small merchantman with what looks like iron.”

Snorri nodded.  “Odin is with us for she would have spotted our boats and raised the alarm had we sailed close; as it is we can take the town and the ship.” He looked at Gurt.  “Eabrycg is the large port on this river. They have a long jetty and a long wall around the settlement.  There are four gates, one on the river, one opposite and one on each side.  We will attack the eastern and the northern gates. Tell your men to keep low. It is just two hundred paces away.”

The land through which they were travelling was marshy and clung to their boots making their progress slow. The next time Snorri raised his hands they were but fifty paces from the eastern gate. Snorri waved Gurt and his men to head towards the northern gate. There was a shallow ditch which ran around the wooden wall but beyond it, closer to the raiders was a low line of bushes and Gurt led his men to the next gate.

There were no guards at the eastern gate; they looked to be helping load the ship and Snorri did not wait for Gurt to reach his objective. Raising his war axe he stood and they raced through the open gate. At that hour of the day there were few people about and the ones who were around were busily working at the quayside.  They were not seeking slaves this time and Snorri’s men had been given one instruction- no prisoners and no survivors. One of the sentries was lurching his way back through the settlement to his post on the eastern gate.  He was armed with little more than a cudgel and looked at be half asleep.  He looked up to see the war axe scything down to take his head.  His dead eyes watched as the raiders hurtled towards the ship. Out of the corner of his eye Snorri saw Gurt and his men enter and began to spread out towards the western gate.  Trygg had told them both that he wanted no one to survive.  His mistake on his last visit was to leave people alive who could raise the alarm.  That would not happen on this visit.