Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 10] Roman Hawk (34 page)

“Snorri! Abandon ship and run down the other bank.  We will pick you up!”

The survivors needed no further urging and they scrambled down the side, mercifully safe from attack as the ship afforded some protection and then clambered up the bank.  The bushes lining the bank afforded them some protection and they ran as hard as they could. The slow progress of the boat meant that they soon outstripped both Trygg and the Roman javelins but Snorri knew that only eight of his men remained and the dragon boat he had left seemed to be shaking its head as the water rocked it back and forth. Trygg’s men had suffered another wound but they were moving away from the Romans.  He heard the Roman officer shout a command and when he risked a glance he saw that they were forming up to follow him. “Oars out!” Once they began rowing they made much better progress and Trygg steered the ship towards Snorri and his men.  They needed no urging to make all haste and once on board they joined Trygg’s men at the oars.

They were just about to begin rowing when they heard a weak voice cry out.  Snorri looked over the side and saw, entangled in the overhanging trees, Gurt, his arm still pinned to the log.”It is Gurt! He is wounded.”

Trygg contemplated leaving the treacherous Gurt to his fate but then he thought better of it.  This would improve his standing once he reached home, that he had risked his crew for a dishonourable man.  “Help him aboard but we quick about it.”

Snorri jumped over the side and, putting his foot on Gurt’s arm pulled the javelin for all he was worth.  It popped out spraying blood on Gurt’s face.  Snorri and the other crewman helped him aboard and then, after unceremoniously dumping him to the deck they grabbed their oars as they began rowing again. It was now a race down the river. The bends and loops slowed down the ship and every time Trygg looked to his left the Romans were keeping pace with them as they trotted down the river trail. If they slowed up then they would be in danger of another volley of missiles.

Marius had made excellent time to reach the detached Century and the Centurion knew exactly what to do.  He lined the trader and the dragon boat with his men. Although the river was much wider here he still hoped that his men could inflict casualties.  Marius eagerly joined them on the ship and the Centurion smiled at the youthful enthusiasm. “Any good with that?” He pointed at the javelin.

Marius grinned sheepishly, “We’ll find out soon enough won’t we sir?”

“Good lad.  Now everyone down and hide.  If they see us they will steer to the middle.”

Trygg was delighted that the two ships were where they had been left and he began to steer towards them.  There was, however, a nagging doubt in his mind; where were the guards who had been left. They were not his men he knew that but he hoped they had stayed with their ship. He shouted, “Ho! Jackdaw! Show yourselves.” The silence seemed to be deafening. They were not within hearing; perhaps they were drunk. The fat little trader seemed a very tempting prize. Snorri had told him of the iron it held and he could almost smell the profits but there was something about this he did not like.

“Snorri.  Get that javelin that was stuck in Gurt.” The unfortunate Gurt had passed out shortly after he had been dropped to the floor but the javelin remained where Snorri had left it. “Throw it at The Jackdaw.”

Snorri did not argue but bent his arm and hurled the missile across the thirty paces which separated them. As it thudded into the mast the Century all stood up and hurled their javelins. “Shields up!”

Snorri barely had time to roll into the guardrail before the deck was peppered with the javelins from the Roman occupied ships.  One man was too slow to react and lay pinioned to the bench.  Gurt would not return to his home for exposed as he was he was hit by three javelins and silently expired. Trygg pushed the tiller hard over and the second volley fell harmlessly into the water. By the time they had reached their last two ships their nerves were in tatters. Trygg pulled over to collect the eight men who had been left and putting Gurt in one dragon ship and the dead rower in the other they towed the boats into the middle of the stream and set fire to them. It was a warrior’s death and a warrior’s funeral; it was more than Gurt deserved but Trygg knew that this take would be told around fires for winters to come and he wanted men to think well of Trygg Tryggvasson, Chief of the Tencteri who had risked all to give two warriors safe passage to Odin.

“Well horseman that was a good shot. My men hit the body and you killed the rower.  Well done.” Marius took the plaudits but knew that he had thrown more in hope than expectation.

******

Marcus did not have much time to spend with his family. Once Marius had returned with the news of the departure of Trygg he had to finish off the training of his recruits. They had lost eight men in the skirmish but, as the Prefect at Morbium said when they passed through, that was a small price to pay in the scheme of things.  First Spear had lost three men but the barbarians had lost all but one ship and, so far, forty bodies had been found.  It had been a victory.

His farewell with Frann was brief but poignant. “I will return when I can but this is the season for fighting on the wall.  Just let me know that you and the child are well when he is born.”

Frann was too upset to speak but Ailis put her arm around her son’s wife. “She will be cared for here so do not worry.” She smiled a nod at Drugi, “And we have our giant to protect us now.”

Drugi grinned.  “It will be an honour!”

The return to the northern frontier was something of an anti-climax for it was incident free. The Prefect at Coriosopitum merely inclined his head when Marcus gave him his report. “You horse warriors seem to do things the hardest way but the Legate and your Prefect will be glad to see the recruits and at least we know that they are bloodied.”

The recruits were all keen to see Rocky Point having heard so much about it. Once they reached the wooden fort it seemed to be smaller than they had imagined it.  Marcus had laughed at their reaction. “Compared with your new homes this is a palace. But I would like to thank you gentlemen.  I am in your debt.  You helped to save my family.”

Marius rode forwards. He had become the one who spoke for the recruits since returning from his patrol. “No sir we would like to thank you for having the confidence in us and we too will swear allegiance to the Sword of Cartimandua.”

******

Drugi saw the hawk as it circled the farm.  He had seen it every day for a week since the battle.  Each day it had come closer. He decided to speak with Ailis about it.  When he reached the farm he could see that Frann was even bigger. In another two moons she would give birth.  Drugi had seen many animals give birth and he had a sense about that sort of thing. Frann’s face always lit up when he entered for he was at once familiar to her and a close connection to her husband. As he sat in the kitchen drinking the weak beer he looked seriously at Ailis.

“The hawk is the spirit of your son.”

“My adopted son, yes.”

“Would your heart be sad if it was tamed?”

Ailis thought about that for she too had seen the hawk flying over the farm and wondered why it was not watching over Marcus.”I believe that Macro’s spirit is in the bird but if it came to you and allowed you to train it then it would not be tame for taming suggests control and Macro could never be controlled.  If he comes to your hand then it is his choice.  You have, for what it is worth, my blessing.”

“I have wondered why it has not flown north with your son and I believe it watches for his child. It means Marcus is not in danger if the hawk stays here.  I will make a glove and see if it chooses me.”

A week later and the glove was ready.  Drugi had killed a dove and held the piece of choice meat in his hand.  The hawk circled above, lazily and then swooped down to sit astride the glove. It picked lazily at the meat as though that was not its main concern. Now that he was this close to the bird he saw what a magnificent creature it was.  Its bright yellow eyes were sharp with interest, the head constantly turning to take in all that it saw. Its plumage was magnificent and its claws, razor sharp. When the head swivelled and the yellow eyes bored into him Drugi felt a connection and he smiled. “Your brother has told me much about you and we shall hunt together. I know that I can learn much from you and, hopefully, you will learn a little from me.”

Epilogue

On the wall the legionaries were feeling marginally safer.  They now had at least one fort on the wall and they could sleep easier at night without the worry of having their throats slit. They were less happy about the order they had just received from the Emperor.  They were to paint the plaster running along the face of the wall, white. They understood that it was to make a statement to the barbarians that this was a line they could not cross but as First Spear Vibius said, “There is no reason to totally piss them off is there? They don’t like it at all but to make it stand out… I think we are in for more fighting here lads not less.”

The defenders of the workers, the ala and the auxiliaries knew that their summer would be a hard one as the massive construction spread like a white snake westwards. Although not a continuous barrier, large sections had been built and, even now, the Emperor Hadrian was making subtle changes.  His experience on the frontier had shown him that this was not an easy place to defend and, unless he was prepared to keep a massive standing army then he would need to make the wall a real barrier to the barbarians.  If that meant more money now then in the long run it would be worth it. The plans made so long ago in Rome were now being changed and altered to suit the circumstance.  He would have to delay his departure a little longer.

******

The huge villa at Capua was surrounded by guards.  As the brother in law of the Emperor, Lucius Julius Ursus Servianus demanded such protection but they were also there to protect the meeting. The Senators, who had arrived clandestinely, hooded and with no sign or rank were there to sound out a possible new Emperor. The fact that Hadrian’s brother in law had agreed to see them went some way to allaying their fears that this might be a devious trap created by Hadrian. During the meal they had dropped vague hints about what they wanted without committing themselves and, perhaps, incurring a sojourn in the Praetorian prison.

“Gentlemen,” Servianus had a deep and rich voice which sounded as though it had been drenched in honey.  “The Emperor is performing a fine job in Britannia defending that province from raiders, renegades and rebels.  I fail to see why you need to meet with me.” He knew, of course, precisely why they were there but he was intrigued to discover how they would persuade him.

“We understand the valuable work your brother in law is carrying out but the expense is exorbitant. The taxes in Britannia will not cover the cost of the building of his limes.  If you could persuade him to cut back on some of his ideas…”

Spreading his hands he said, sympathetically, “By the time a letter reaches him in that forsaken frontier he may well have finished his wall or moved on.  I am not sure how I can help you.  It isn’t as though I have any power myself.”

“But if you did have power…”

“The things might be different. I will do as you suggest and write to my brother in law but until I have real power my hands are tied.” The smile which spread across Servianus’ face reminded one of the Senators of a Nile crocodile.”

“It may be that the Senate can use you skills, perhaps in Egypt?”

Servianus’ eyes lit up.  Egypt was somewhere where he could become even richer and more powerful for corruption was rife. All he needed was a power base and then?  Who knew? “Thank you kind sirs, I will sleep on that.” As long as his brother in law stayed away from Rome then Servianus would continue to build up both his power and his riches. When he did return…

******

There was a stunned silence as the solitary boat pulled into Hjarno-by. Women looked beyond the ship to see other slower boats who they hoped would be following; there were none.  As the handful of survivors trudged from the dragon ship they wondered what disaster had befallen their men.  Women and children began to wail and to weep as they saw that their man was not amongst those weary eyed and haunted men who stepped gratefully on to dry land.

Finally Trygg stepped on to the jetty.  He did not need to hold his hand for silence as there was only the gentle keening of crying women. “Odin was not with us on this journey. My pride was too great and we have all paid the price but I tell you this, people of the Tencteri, we will emerge stronger from this.  We have seen weapons of such power that to own one would be to be as a god.  When we have perfected such weapons and learned to fight as the Romans do then we will conquer the whole of Uiteland and drive the Suebi from our land.”

The cheer from his men did nothing to disguise the silence from the people. He had lost, in a few short weeks all the power and honour he had spent years building.  He cursed the day that he had seen the sword, found the Roman and heard the hawk.

******

Orm had spent the last three months surviving in the woods and forests.  Since he had buried his son he had little left to live for. He had tried to get back to the sea but the increased Roman patrols along the road had forced him to constantly hide and change his direction of travel.  He had become a bandit, preying on those who travelled alone. He hated himself for it but his heart burned with a desire for revenge. Either the Roman with the sword or the slave who helped them to escape would die and then Orm would be content; he would have avenged his own dishonour and made up a little for his failure to protect his son. Now two months after the death of his heir he was back in the place of the battle.  The cairn of rocks above the grave of Ormsson and Sigurd was undisturbed. If he could have seen himself he would have been shocked at the sight, a thin, emaciated scarecrow of a man with a short seax, a bow and handful of arrows. He ate his food raw, when he could get it and slept under the trees. He was no longer a warrior, he was barely a man, and he was a carrion creature, feeding off the dead. Now he was back seeking revenged once more.