Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 00.5] Ulpius Felix- Warrior of Rome (12 page)

Flavius was waiting for them when they rode in.  “How did it go sir?”

“Er, Felix, bring your turma to the command tent please.” Wolf walked off grinning.

“Felix?” Flavius was totally confused both at the name and Wolf’s reaction.

“Let me explain.” He looked at the departing warrior, “That one is interesting let me tell you.” He then explained about the Legate’s need for roman names and the discussion with Wolf. “I took the liberty of offering him Chosen Man.  I realise that is your prerogative.”

“I totally agree with you sir.  He is the perfect choice but how did you get him to agree to give up the standard?”

“It is his eye.  For a while he will not function as efficiently on that side.  At least if he has a shield he can turn to defend himself.  He took it well.”

They heard the murmur of voices outside of the tent. They saw the turma lined up.  Wolf was holding the standard and grinning at Marius.  It was as though the two of them were sharing a joke. “Fist turma reporting as ordered sir.”

“Thank you Lupus Ulpius Felix.”

The Decurion joined with the turma in looking at the two men who seemed to now something they did not. “You have a new Chosen Man, Sesquiplicarius Felix.  Gerjen would you accept the post of aquilifer?”

“Yes sir!” He beamed with pride.

“Now you may have noticed that Wolf here has a new name.  It is a Roman name. That is because he is to be awarded a phalera for his bravery.” It was the turn of Wolf to look surprised. “The Prefect has ordered that only those men with Roman names can be awarded a phalera.” He took a deep breath. “Gerjen and Kadarcs you showed great courage yesterday and I have recommended that you also receive a phalera.”

“And you want to know will we change our names sir?”

“Yes Gerjen.  I want to know it the First Turma will be, once again, the pathfinders for the ala, and take on this duty.”

They all looked at Wolf who nodded forcefully. “Then, yes sir I will.”

The ceremony was held in the main camp.  Only those honoured were present.  There were three from the ala and eight from the Fifth Alaude.  The Gallic Prefect had told Marius that they deserved more but Marius was pleased that, at least they had some recognition.

The aide, Appius, had a sour look on his face as he handed the shiny piece of metal to the Legate who managed to look down his nose as he, reluctantly handed them to the Pannonians. “Decurion
Casca Petronius Paterculus.”

Cava stepped forwards and took his medal, “Thank you Legate.”

“
Sesquiplicarius
Lupus,” the Legate wrinkled his nose at the choice of name, “Ulpius Felix.”

Wolf did not care, “Thank you sir.”

“Aquilifer Serjenus Ulpius Lupus.”

Gerjen shyly took it and murmured, “Thank you General.”

Gerjen had wanted the same family name as his friend, as did the others in the turma but Cava still felt he owed much to Flavius and he took his family name. The rest of the ala was interested in the idea but not all took the plunge.  Wolf knew that they would come around for he had noticed that they were becoming more Roman each day.  They used the language easily although there were new words, such as felix, which caused some confusion.  Some of them had even been persuaded to visit the newly built baths. Their patrols, as winter drew on, taught them to use their new equipment more efficiently and the cloaks, which had been seen as cumbersome at first, were grateful used to keep out the biting winds and give them some protection from the biting snow showers. The Legate still had a low opinion of the ala but it gradually improved as they captured Chauci who tried to infiltrate the camps to sabotage and terrorise the Roman invader.  Their camp was the one closest to the danger area and, under the watchful eye of Aulus Murgus they became vigilant in the extreme.

As the first signs of spring arrived Decurion Paterculus was on patrol when he saw the column of men trotting towards him.  He recognised the Tribune from the Ninth, Gnaeus Marcius Celsus. “Sir, what brings you over here?”

Celsus waved his arm behind him, “More recruits for you.” He seemed to see the Pannonians for the first time. “I almost did not recognise you.” He waved his hand before his face.  “What happened?”

“The Legate disapproved and we now have Roman names, “he shrugged, “you get used to it.  You have along journey back then sir.”

“No Decurion, we are to rejoin the rest of the legion in Britannia.” He pointed to the river.  We sail from here.  We have the foot sloggers with us.”

“The Prefect will be glad to see you sir.  If you will excuse me I have a patrol to finish.” As they rode down the line of new recruits Cava and the rest of the troopers wondered had they ever looked that way.  Their hair hung lank down their shoulders or in a pony tail and their moustaches and beards were festooned with bones.” They would change as he had.

The Tribune decided not to accept the invitation to dine with the Legate, much to his obvious annoyance.  As he said to Flavius and Marius as he joined the ala’s officers in their quarters, “I will be serving in Britannia.  The last thing I need is to have to watch my manners.  I prefer eating with barbarians.  Much more my style!”

“I thought Britannia was pacified.”

“No Prefect. This character Caractacus is causing all sorts of problems.  We are joining the rest of our legion to put an end to him.  The Eight has replaced us in Pannonia. These six hundred recruits may well be the last ones you get for a while.  All the ones who wanted to fight have fled north to join the Marcomanni.”

Cava almost spat out his food, “But they are our enemies!”

“They are now seen as allies.”

Marius pointed across the river.  “Some of the last recruits, the ones you were worried about, they deserted and joined the Chauci so I suppose we can understand it.”

“You’ll be campaigning again in the summer then?”

“I suppose so but until we actually build forts on the other side of the river we will never have true peace.”

They watched their friends in the Ninth sail away.  it was not the last they would see of them but the next time they did would being the Ninth’s darkest hour. Marius had his work cut out assimilating the new men. “Flavius, I think we merit a Decurion Princeps now.  That will be you. You can take charge of the training of the new recruits. I am going to Promote Felix to the post of Decurion.”

“Good he will do well.”

“We will make Casca the Decurion of the First Turma and move Felix and the rest of your old turma into Turma two.  Now we need other officers who would you recommend?”

“Most of Felix’s men.”

“We can’t take them all but how about taking Quadratus, Cicurinus and Paullus?” Darvas, Kadarcs and Panyvadi had shown themselves to be highly self reliant and efficient.

“They will hate it but they will be good officers and we can spread some of the new men in the other turmae.” They had learned not to separate and isolate new men.  Sura had been a salutary lesson to them.

The Legate, however, did not give them time to settle in the new men.  The Prefects and tribunes were ordered to the Praetorium where Appius waited with written orders for each of them. “Gentlemen we have been asked to teach the Frisii a lesson.  They have been raiding the ships taking supplies to Britannia.  The Classis Britannica is busy supporting the fighting in the west and the Navarchus tells me that he cannot control the pirates on his own.  We need to destroy their ships and their towns.”

The Gallic Prefect, Arminius, came from the north coast of Gaul and understood the nature of the people. “But sir, if you destroy their ships they will starve, they are a sea going people.”

“Then perhaps the lesson will be a good one. Do not raid Rome! This time we will be ferried by ship.  The disaster of the bridge will not be repeated and besides the Rhenus is wider near the Frisii land. The ships will tow barges with the horses of the cavalry.  The Fifth will remain here and we will use the First and Second Cohorts of the Fifteenth.  This sort of work is best performed by auxiliaries.” Marius and Arminius exchanged a knowing look.  It meant they were expendable.

Deep in the forests north of the river, Herrmann and his chiefs were seated around a fire with Sura. The winter had been a sombre one; the attack on the village had cost two of the chief’s sons their lives; the abortive attempt to prevent the evacuation of the slaves had cost many brave warriors and the tribe wanted revenge. Herrmann was a cautious and wise chief.  He had lost too many men to be able to launch the attack he wished but he needed to send a message to the Romans that the incident was not forgotten.

“You fought with the Romans.  What do they fear?”

Sura had acquitted himself well in the battle but his wound had been grievous and he still found difficulty in breathing.  The warrior called Wolf would pay for that but it had given him much time to think about the correct way to wage war against his former enemies. “They think they are secure behind their river and behind their ditches and ramparts.  If we could make them fear us at night then they would begin to weaken.”There were nods around the fire for that suggested a few brave and reckless men rather than risking the heart of the tribe. “We need to tempt them across the river again but this time, we must ambush them.” He told them the story he had heard about the Teutonberger massacre and they seemed impressed.

Herrmann nodded. “They are good plans.  We have not the numbers yet to ambush them but you, Sura, the Pannonian, take your men and a hundred of my warriors.  Cross the river and make them fear us/”

“I will do as you command.”

The voyage across the Rhenus was frightening for those in the ala who had had to swim after their last battle and for the recruits it was another ordeal on top of the horror of the hair being torn, as they felt it, from their bodies. Wolf, or Decurion Felix, as he was getting used to, was eager.  This would be the first time he had led his men into battle.  He knew twenty of them but there were ten recruits and he hoped that he had trained them well. He knew that they had all been intrigued by his wound; many men’s wounds remained hidden but his was there every time he looked at them. He deigned to use the patch and the scar had reddened and then turned white.  He knew from Decurion Casca that he looked frightening.  He hoped that his enemies were as fearful as his men. He had chosen to keep his men on the barges with the horses rather than travelling in relative comfort on the biremes and triremes of the Classis Germania.  As he said to his men, “The horses are our most valuable weapon; we travel with them to protect them.”

The low marshy shore loomed ahead as the trireme pulling them swung around so that the ungainly barge was side on to the reeds. “Get those ramps over!”

His turma worked well, led by those warriors who had followed him from their homeland. They led the shaking beasts into the land of the Frisii.  By the time the other turmae came for their horses the Second Turma was mounted and in skirmish order. “Well done Felix.  Take your men in a five mile circuit.  Tell us what is out there.”

“Yes Prefect. Second Turma, follow me.”

The Prefect couldn’t get over the change in Wolf. Since his promotion and the wound he had become a different officer.  No longer reckless he was efficient and organised.  He marvelled at the change. If losing an eye could guarantee such a change he would order them all to be so blinded. He looked at the sea of reeds before him.  His men and horses would need to become fish or frogs to survive here. “Come on get those horses ashore.”

Wolf turned to his chosen man, Gaius.  “Send Lucius and Titus ahead to scout.” He hated having to use his old companions all the time but he knew he could rely on them.  The new troopers were keen but he feared to use them.  He was always looking for a safer occasion in which to test them.  So far he had not found one and now that they were so close to the Frisii, it seemed almost foolhardy to do so.

The two troopers galloped off and wild flow took to the air. Had they had bows then they could have had meat for the pot.  They rode through the fens until he felt solid ground beneath Blackie’s hooves.  He halted the column to give them time to rest. “Gaius, make sure they all take a drink.” Gaius gave him a look which suggested that he was trying to teach his grandmother to suck eggs. “I know the old hands know what to do but some of these are still fresh faced.” He looked at the nicked chins and cheeks, “Literally, fresh faced.”

Grinning, Gaius rode off, “Yes sir!”

Wolf took a swig from his own water bottle.  He had been tempted to bring some of the wine they had acquired.  He knew that the Gallic Centurions and Optios did, but much as he enjoyed the taste he knew that it made him less alert and in enemy territory that could cost you your life. Suddenly, about four hundred paces from their left a pair of wild fowl noisily fluttered into the air.  He could see Titus and Lucius well to the right and knew it was not them. As quietly as possible he said, “Gaius. There are men in the reeds.  Warn the men and on my command I want a line abreast.  Do it quietly.”

Gaius knew Wolf from their village and he went around each of the men quietly giving them clear instructions.  Now would be the time when Decurion Ulpius Felix would see the mettle of his men. He checked that his shield was tight, loosened his spatha and held the javelin in his right hand. He would now see if the Greek doctor spoke true; he would find out if his left eye was working harder. He glanced at Gaius who nodded. He turned to Spurius the standard bearer, “Signal the charge!”

The standard pointed forwards and Decurion Lupus Ulpius Felix led his men into battle for the first time.  Titus and Lucius had seen the movement and they galloped to join the right hand side of the line.  The first arrow almost struck Wolf but he sensed rather than saw it and inclined his head to one side; it flew over his head. He instinctively pulled his shield to cover his precious left eye and aimed Blackie at the place from whence the arrow had come. The ground was relatively firm and Blackie was surefooted.  Wolf looked ahead for the sight of a target.  He had covered almost three hundred paces when they flushed their quarry.  A dozen men stood and loosed a volley of arrows. Hoping that they would miss his mount the Decurion hoisted his shield to take the impact.  He heard the crack as three of them hit his scutum.  The red crest atop his helmet marked him as a leader and that meant he was the primary target; that suited Wolf. Their quarry turned and ran; it was a foolish move as the horses could move faster. He hurled his javelin at the nearest man and had the satisfaction of seeing it strike him squarely in the back.  The escape route of the barbarians was being cut off by the approach of Titus and Lucius.  Wolf threw the second of his three javelins and he aimed for the lower back of the man ahead.  He struck him in the thigh. His last javelin hit another in the back and he drew his sword. It was not needed. “Don’t finish them off.  We need prisoners!”