Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 12] Roman Wall (30 page)

“And when this is over, Elidr, what then?”

“I will take your sword and we will slaughter your men.”

Marcus nodded. He understood the rules of the combat. “And if I win, what then?”

Elidr could not comprehend failure and so he spread his arms and smiled. “Then my warriors will carry my body to yonder hill and burn it.”

“Do your oathsworn so swear?”

Elidr frowned, the first hint of doubt entering his mind.  This Roman understood the Brigante psyche. He nodded and the leader of his oathsworn said, “We swear.”

Marcus dropped his cloak and went into his fighting stance.  “Then let us get on with it, Elidr of the Brigante.”

The Brigante was a bigger man than Marcus and his sword was also longer.  He decided to use both to his advantage.  He brought the sword over his head and swept it towards the Roman’s neck in a diagonal sweep.  Had it connected then the contest would have been over. Marcus flicked up his shield and angled it so that the Brigante blade slid harmlessly down the side.

Marcus’ right hand darted out in a steel blur and the tip went directly for Elidr’s eye. He jerked his head to the side but the sword cut a long gash in his cheek.  There was a groan from the Brigante.  It was first blood to the Roman.

Elidr was warier now. He swung his sword horizontally at Marcus.  This time the blade would not angle down the shield. Marcus braced himself with his left leg as he waited for the blow.  At the same time he feinted with the Sword of Cartimandua. Elidr thought it was coming for his eye again and he moved back slightly.  The result was that his sword cracked weakly against the Roman’s shield. The decurion did not wait for his opponent to regain the initiative and he punched with his shield making the Brigante tumble to the ground as he tried to keep his balance.  There was another groan. 

Marcus stepped back.  He could have leapt in and finished off Elidr, it would have been easy but he did not do so. He needed to win well. He wanted the Brigante to lose heart. He gestured with his sword for the Brigante to rise. Anger filled Elidr’s face.  This was not the way it was supposed to happen. He would finish off the Roman quickly.

Once on his feet he roared at the Roman and swung his sword with every muscle in his arm, shoulder and chest behind it. Marcus stepped to one side and the sword flashed through fresh air.  He took the opportunity to slash at the Brigante’s head.  He was slow to raise his shield and the blade cracked against the helmet. The dent the sword made in it was matched by the ringing in Elidr’s ears.

The Brigante knew that he would have to use cunning to defeat the Roman.  He was a skilful swordsman. Using his left hand he pulled his dagger from his belt. It was hidden from view by his shield. He swung his sword, once more, at the Roman’s head. As Marcus countered with his shield Elidr’s left hand darted in with the dagger.  It caught on some of the mail links but still penetrated.  It came away red.

Elidr grinned, “We are even now Roman!”

“No we are not for you have no honour and now I will kill you.”

Marcus’ calm voice and the icy look in his eyes told Elidr that he meant it.  As Elidr swung his sword Marcus blocked it with his own sword.  As they came face to face Marcus pulled his head back and butted Elidr in the face.  He heard the crack of bone and cartilage. He punched with his shield and, as Elidr stepped back, swung with his sword. Elidr had to counter with his own blade but his size and weight made him over balance and he had to step back quickly to keep his feet. He was now but five paces from his oathsworn who were watching in horror as their leader was given a lesson in arms from the young decurion.

In a blur Marcus feinted with his shield and as Elidr tried to adjust his feet the sword of Cartimandua darted out and pierced the Brigante’s throat. Marcus held it there for an instant. “The Sword of Cartimandua has dealt out her justice! Die rebel!” He twisted the blade and pulled it out. Dark arterial blood spurted out like a fountain and as Elidr fell backwards it showered his oathsworn.

The ala began to cheer and the oathsworn’s hands went to their swords.  “Remember your oath.” He held up the sword of Cartimandua.  “This is the sword of the Brigante. Think before you break an oath.”

The leader nodded.  He and his brethren picked up the body and slowly began to carry the corpse to the hill.  The rest of the warband followed leaving Marcus and Titus alone.

“Well, sir, you never do things the easy way do you?”

They mounted and rode back to the waiting, cheering turmae.  Marcus could see the anger on Rufius’ face but he would not reprimand him in front of the men.  Marcus was saved by the rider who galloped over to them.  “Sir, the Prefect says we are to pull back over the bridge.  He says can you cover the withdrawal and then use the ford?”

“Tell him aye.” As the messenger rode off Rufius shouted, “Javelins at the ready.  Skirmish order.”

There were no warriors between them and the road.  They trotted forward.  The Brigante on the left of Caronwyn’s column were suddenly aware of the cavalry approaching.  They partly turned.  Caronwyn had no idea what had happened to Elidr.  His warband appeared to have disappeared. She was incandescent with rage.  Her warriors had forced the Romans back.  The corpses of the horses and the troopers marked their withdrawal. Briac too had had success. Now her men were halting.  She saw the troopers who had been facing Briac use the hiatus to flood back across the bridge to the safety of the fort.

“Forwards! Victory is within our grasp!”

Before her men could react Rufius and his four turmae charged in and hurled their javelins.  The Brigante held their shields above their heads.  A second shower of javelins followed.  A buccina sounded and Caronwyn cursed as the Romans she had been fighting fled across the bridge. All her anger and hatred was now directed at the four turmae who had suddenly attacked her. Her men now held the end of the bridge.  The last horse warriors would be slaughtered.

“Kill them!”

Rufius had done enough.  “Sound the recall!”

The four turmae wheeled to the right and followed the decurion as he headed directly for the river. Caronwyn wondered what he was doing.  She and her amazons galloped after them. When she reached the bank she saw the eighty odd troopers swimming the narrow river.  Already the first ones were clambering on to the bank.  They had evaded her!

Julius Demetrius had watched the whole battle from the southern gate.  He had not been idle and two Scorpios had been man handled from the east and west gates to double the artillery pieces protecting the bridge. Every available man was now on the southern walls.  He had no idea what had just happened although he had seen Marcus fight a single combat with a barbarian. He did not know what had made the warband leave but it had saved the day. The Prefect and the rest of the ala had been restricted by the land and were not as free to manoeuvre as Rufius and his men. He watched the ala ride to the east and west gates. It would have been madness to try to enter through the southern gate.

Caronwyn reached Briac and his men.  They were cheering and celebrating as though they had won. “Your cousin had better be dead, Briac, or he will wish that he was. He has cost us a quick victory.” Before the warrior could reply she snapped, “Now take the bridge and attack the gate!”

Briac nodded and turned to the warriors closest to him. “Make a wedge and advance across the bridge.  Make sure that you are covered with shields.”

The hundred men closest to Briac eagerly began to line up. Pedair was amongst them in the front rank.  He would show his uncle what he could do. They would march six abreast across the bridge and they knew that their shields would be effective. The vaunted Romans were going to lose!

The Brigante warriors had not faced bolt throwers before.  The Legate allowed them to reach the middle of the bridge before he ordered his four machines to release their deadly bolts. He did not do so all at once.  There was a count of five between each one. It was a clever move for the cracks as they were released rolled together like thunder.  The bolts themselves carved a line through shields, metal, flesh and bone.  The four bolts cleared the bridge of the sixty men who had just stepped on to it. Not all died immediately.  Some were thrown into the river while others merely had deep wounds and broken limbs. Pedair was one of the few who survived and stumbled backwards, still shaking from the shock of the wall of death which had struck them. The first attack had failed. They had, however, no respite for the Legate continued to send bolt after bolt across the river making the barbarians move further and further away.  Even when they moved from the bridge itself the deadly machines tracked them and continued to plague them. Finally the Brigante took shelter out of sight of the fort and the artillery.  Caronwyn had been thwarted.

Banquo and his warriors had spent a day watching the routine of the men on the wall. They knew now of the dangers of the ditches and they also knew of the dangers beyond the walls. In the forest, overlooking the wall he gathered his men around him.  His brother’s style of leadership had been to tell just the chiefs of his plans.  Banquo knew, from his oathsworn, that young warriors liked to feel part of the plan.

“Brothers, we will scale the walls tonight.  If we have to kill the Romans on the wall we will do so but I hope that we can be as the shadows of the night and move through their land unseen.  I want us to march south and join our Brigante friends and the priestess of the Mother. The Votadini gave their word.  My brother might have broken his oath but I am a Votadini and I keep my honour!”

They were the right words to say and the young warriors were all committed. They would follow this valiant young prince and the Votadini would be honoured once more.

As night fell they slipped like wraiths across the ditch.  The two sentries who might have alerted the mile castle were slain by arrows.  Once over the wall they disappeared south and by morning had crossed the Vallum and the Stanegate. Unknown to any Roman a warband of armed Votadini was south of the wall. The Parcae were toying with the Romans.

The VI
^th
were being pushed hard by First Spear Broccus. He turned to the centurion of the 1
^st
century. “Just keep them moving Servius. We have waited too long as it is to move.  I know some of these auxiliaries are good soldiers but they can’t handle a rebellion on their own.”

Almost on cue one of the Thracians galloped in.  “First Spear, the decurion sent me.  The bridge is held.  They are wearing Roman uniforms.”

There was hesitation from the trooper.  First Spear snapped, “Well get on with it! If they are our lads then we can slow up can’t we?”

“Sorry sir, the decurion reckons they are deserters or barbarians in looted uniform.”

“That’s better sonny. Now ride back and tell him to report everything.”

“Er, sir, there is a boat moored next to the fort. On the other side of the island.”

First Spear sighed, “A report in three parts! How refreshing!”

The trooper leapt on his horse, threw a quick salute and galloped back to the relative safety of the fort.  First Spear scared him.

Turning to his cohort First Spear shouted, “Right boys.  A quick double march up the road and we can see if can make these deserters shit themselves and give up!”

The men cheered.  They were in the mood for action.

The auxiliaries guarded their flanks in case the Thracians had missed an ambush and they made double time to reach the bridge.

Inside the fort Severus had seen the Thracians.  He hoped that they were the only threat but he was not certain. He and his men had not bothered to follow Caronwyn’s orders and destroy the bridge.  It would have taken them too long.  Once their friends and their boat had reached them then they had an escape route. He turned to his number two.  “Get the treasure in the boat and stand by.  If this goes wrong we will head out to sea and Gaul.”

“It could be just a turma of cavalry.”

“I know but it could be the VI
^th
. I do not intend to risk a run in with them.”

He went to the gate and watched the Thracians as they dismounted and tethered their horses. They had done their part. Severus had his fifteen Romans and forty two barbarians.  Most of the Brigante had been wounded and all of them were useless.  He knew that for if they were warriors of any standing they would have gone with the army north. Severus knew that they could hold the fort against the Thracians and even a second auxiliary force.  He hoped that was all that would be coming.  When he saw the eagle he knew that they were doomed.

He summoned Ragdh. “They have sent the legion.  I have a plan. I want you and your men to keep the bridge clear with the bolt throwers and I will take my men to attack the legionaries when they manage to cross. We will use my boat to cross the river downstream.”

Ragdh was suspicious.  “Wouldn’t it make more sense to all wait in here?”

“If you like you and your men can attack them and we will use the bolt throwers.  We are better than your lads anyway. My boys have fought the legion before.  If you keep the bridge clear of large numbers we can deal with any who get through.  We have to protect the gate don’t we?”

Ragdh could not see any advantage in what the Roman was doing.  It seemed both brave and foolhardy.  He and his warriors were happy to use the bolt throwers.  It would be good to kill Romans in large numbers. He nodded to Severus.  “When do we begin?”

“Wait until the first men try to come across the bridge.  When they get half way over let them have it.  That will give us time to get in position and to hide.” He pointed the small island in the middle of the river.  “We will come down from that direction.  The island will hide us.”

Ragdh had to admire the Roman’s cunning and his bravery.  He watched as they left the fort through the east gate and then he returned to the southern gate.  “Get ready with the bolt throwers.”

First Spear saw the Roman helmets disappear from the walls. He wondered what that meant.  He had seen the bolt throwers.  They would make the bridge a slaughterhouse for anyone who tried to cross.  He summoned the Tungrian centurion.  “I want twenty of your lads to run across the bridge.”