Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 00.5] Ulpius Felix- Warrior of Rome (3 page)

The other boys stood defiantly around their leader. Gerjen pointed impudently back at Abad.  “If Wolf goes, then we all go!”

Wolf could not help but smile as Abad became apoplectically red in the face.  “How dare you speak like that to me.  I will have you whipped.”

Wolf paused, “Leave it Gerjen.  I am more than happy to leave the village for it is now a village of women.”

His mother held back her tears as he entered the dark hut.  “You are just like your father, aye and your brothers.”

“You can come with me mother.”

She laughed. “And do what? No my son do not worry about me.  I am still the best midwife in the village.  I will not starve but you are, like your father, a warrior.  I should have seen it.” She took the family amulet from around her neck.  “Take this; it came from your father when we wed and he had it from his mother.  It will keep you safe and when you touch it you will think of me.”

As soon as he put it around his neck he felt different. When he looked at it, his mouth almost dropped open.  “It is a wolf.”

“Your appetite was not the only reason for your name.  Your father was proud that you fought like a wolf for that is the family emblem.  You are the Wolf!”

Wolf heard the jingling of horse furniture and wished he could see these warriors who had conquered his people. He peered around the door and saw the column of men in shining armour and red cloaks;  their shields and swords gleaming in the afternoon sun. There were warriors; with armour like that a man need not fear an enemy.  He had never seen so many men dressed the same way before. It was no wonder that his father and the others had been defe3ated by such a mighty enemy.  One of the elders walked by and slammed the door shut so that he could not peer around.  The red rage came and he would have thrown open the door and ripped out the man’s throat had his mother not put a gentle arm around his shoulder.  “Now is not the time, my son.”

Abad had calmed himself by the time the tax collector and the officers had dismounted. The one he knew, the Tribune spoke, “Before we begin I have a request to make headman.  We are seeking warriors for a campaign against the Chauci.  We will pay and arm as many of your warriors who wish to join us.” He pointed to the south.  “The others we have recruited await us in their camp.  I know that you do not have many warriors, but any you have…”

Abad almost leapt to his feet with joy.  The gods were smiling on him.  He could ingratiate himself with the Romans and be rid of all the bad apples in one fell swoop. “We have ten young warriors in the village and I am sure they would be suitable.”He glanced up at his brother.  “Fetch them!”

“All of them?”

Abad looked meaningfully at Wolf’s hut, “All of them!”

When the ten young warriors were gathered all but Wolf wondered if they were to be punished by the Romans who seemed to be inspecting them. The one with the crested helmet came over and addressed them, haltingly in their own language. “Your headman says that you would be willing to fight for Rome for a year, for pay.  But I would know what you young warriors have to say for you will be fighting far away from your home and I would not have you desert. “He stared at them all.  “The penalty for desertion is death.  So, who will join?”

The nine of them all looked at Wolf who said, “We will join, Roman!”

Chapter 2

As they rode from the village, none of the young warriors looked back, nor did they speak. They were the youngest of the band of Pannonians which headed south. They had received a cursory inspection by the older, scarred warriors and then ignored although their place at the rear of the column which headed across the dirty plain was clearly a mark of their status; they were the untried warriors. Wolf was offended but he knew he had to prove himself to his fellow tribesmen.  His people lived separate lives and had only come together, albeit reluctantly and a little late, to fight off the Roman invader. Each clan used different weapons, horse furniture, even their style of hair and Wolf couldn’t help looking enviously at the neat Roman troopers who looked identical.

“Wolf, where did they say we were going?”

The officer’s words, although accurate had been hard to hear but Wolf had given the red crested Tribune his total attention. “To the west, by the sea.”

Gerjen had never heard this word before. He had no concept what it meant.  He looked at Wolf almost willing his leader to give him the answer but he knew he would have to risk scorn to find out the answer to his question. “What is the sea?”

Surprisingly Wolf did not heap scorn on his friend.  His action in the ambush had elevated Gerjen, he was now trusted by Wolf; he had earned his respect and Wolf understood his friend’s confusion.  He had had to ask his mother when he had returned for his arms and clothes. “It is like a pond except you cannot see the other side and it is salty.  If you drink it you drown.”

“Why are we going there?”

“The Chauci, brothers of the Marcomanni, live close by and the Romans will pay us to kill them.” Wolf had never been as happy in his life.  Someone was going to pay him, feed him and arm him to fight and, even better, to fight his enemies; the ones who had killed his father.

As they approached the fort the three officers at the front discussed the men who had volunteered and then chosen to be the six men who would command this barbarian horde. They had only managed to recruit seven hundred Pannonians but it was a start and meant that each of the Romans would be responsible for a hundred and twenty men; Marius thought that was more than enough.  He needed the troopers to know the barbarians they commanded for he knew that the big issue would be control.  He had no doubt that the barbarians would fight but would they obey orders.  It was one of the reasons he had wanted Roman officers rather than using the native leaders.

“So Decurion, go through the six men with your assessment of each one to give the Prefect an idea of what he can expect.”

Decurion Spurius Ocella thought about what he was about to say.  He had taken a long time to reach the elevated rank of Decurion and he wondered how many times he had been discussed by others.  He determined to give an honest opinion of each man, regardless of how he felt about them as comrades. Sextus Vatia was an old friend and he felt safe talking about him first.  “Sextus Vatia joined about ten years ago.  He is reliable and follows orders.  Perhaps not able to come up with a plan himself he can follow any plan you give him sir. Then there is Quintus Atinus, he is the oldest one of these and he did have a family but the fever took them.  The lads confide in him. I know it isn’t important but your Pannonians, when they learn to talk a decent language, will tell him things.  He has that ability.” He looked at the Tribune. “He is the one we will miss the most sir; he is the one they whinge to and he normally puts them straight.  Now Flavius Bellatoris, he is the youngest of the ones you have and he is the one with ideas.  He is quick, both with his hands and his mind.  He is the best with a sword in the whole Turma. He can think his way out of problems.  Seems a pleasant lad too. One final thing, he can speak the local language.  Don’t ask me how but he can translate for you.” Marcus smiled to himself.  He suspected that to Spurius they were all young lads. “Now the other three.” The Tribune and Prefect exchanged a glance; the Decurion had given them the good news about the better three and now he was going to give them the bad news about the other three. “Publius Tullus. What can I say about him?  he is the dullest most boring man in the whole turma but, he is organised. The lads tease him because everything is laid out neatly on his cot and his armour is always polished, even when there is no inspection.” The Tribune smiled, his surprise inspections were notorious for keeping the men on their toes, and obviously Publius was not worried by such inspections. “Numerius Buteo, “The Decurion gave a knowing look at his commander, “Well you know what he is like. Fucking mental!”

Marcus looked at Gnaeus, “Mental?”

“Yes, Decurion Spurius is right and we considered long and hard about this one.  He seemed the best of the rest.  He is brave to the point of insanity. The number of an enemy does not worry him and I have seen him charge fifty men on his own. Luckily we have taught him to listen to the cornu and obey, albeit reluctantly.”

“Thank you, that is handy to know.”

“Finally we have your bastard, Aulus Murgus.  He is a bully. You will have to watch him he uses his fists more than he should but he is probably the best cavalryman you have.  Tough, a good fighter, he can think and doesn’t panic.  Me? I hate him and others like him.  there is no way I would recommend him for promotion in the regular army but,” he waved a had in the general direction of the barbarians who were following, “with a bunch of mad barbarians you might just need some steel and Aulus is just that, hard as nails.”

“Thank you for your honesty Decurion and I am just sorry that you didn’t volunteer.  I could have used you.”

The Tribune smiled, “And I couldn’t do without him Marcus so there is no way you would have got him.”

The Decurion muttered under his breath, “No fucking way I would sleep with a bunch of hairy arsed barbarians within slicing distance of my dick!”

The two senior officers heard and smiled.  The habit of slicing off Roman soldier’s manhoods by barbarians was well known and accounted for the harsh treatment of any barbarian unlucky enough not to die on the battlefield.

“Well that is useful, thank you both. With your permission I will build a camp close to the gyrus and begin training straight away.  You are going for more taxes and recruits?”

“Yes we will have a quick turnaround and we should be back within three weeks.”

“My orders are clear.  I leave in three weeks no matter how many men I have.  There are other officers charged with raising bands just such as this.”

“I am tempted to come with you.  It might be interesting to see barbarians led by Romans.”

Spurius sniffed, “Could be a disaster too sir.  Imagine having a thousand barbarians on your flank.  I know most of the Ninth would be a bit twitchy about that.”

“I think Decurion, that this is the future. The Emperor seems intent upon conquering the known world and we have a limited number of citizens we can use.  I suppose we will have to use the conquered people at some time.”

“That’s as may be sir but the prefect here had best sleep with a pugeo under his bed if he wants to live beyond this campaign.”

The Pannonians lounged lazily near their horses watching the seven Romans who were holding some kind of meeting. They had all joined for different individual reasons but the one reason which unified them all was a desire to fight.  Some of them were even casting hateful glances at others whose clans they had fought in inter clan disputes. When they were established there would be some old scores to settle. Wolf and his small group kept to themselves.  Wolf was not worried about the other warriors but Darvas and some of the others were. Wolf had decided that he would not back down it trouble broke out.  He was not called the Wolf for nothing.

“We do not have the time I would like to get to know you.  You have all volunteered.” There were a couple of looks askance at the fortress.  “If anyone feels they were coerced then now is the time to go back to the legion.  There will be no recriminations but if you stay then you are mine for a year and you obey my orders.” He was pleased that they all stood a little straighter. Which of you is Flavius?” A diffident looking trooper held up his hand.  “You speak their language?”

“Some.”

“Don’t be coy trooper, can you or can’t you speak with these,” he waved a hand behind him, “Pannonians?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Then until they learn our language, you are designated interpreter. Stay close by me. You are all being paid at optio rate, as you know.  That, of course, is less than a decurion would receive.  I will try to get you Decurion pay but in the meantime I will address you as Decurion.  It will make it simpler for all of us.” They nodded their agreement. “We have three weeks to organise this horde into a functioning cavalry until which will obey orders.  Regard them as new recruits with the advantage that we don’t need to teach them how to ride and, apparently, how to fight. We need to do three things first.  Get them to build a camp here. Secondly, sort them into six turmae, each one under your command and thirdly make sure they understand the orders to move, halt charge and retreat. We have no cornicen so we will use the standard.”

A trooper held up his hand, “Yes er…”

“Sextus Vatia sir.  Do we have a standard?”

”No yet so give it some thought and then try to find one of these warriors who might be able to carry it and use it. Now when we get to the Rhenus there will be armour and weapons for them but, until then they use their own.  Just make sure that all have a sword of some type.  Let me know of any deficiencies and I will see what the quartermaster here will do.” The looks them men exchanged told Marius that the quartermaster was like most of that office, tight regarding every item as their own personal property. Well he would cross that bridge when he came to it. “Now Flavius we will organise them into six equal groups.”

“How sir?”

“I will choose six men and then you will tell them to choose a line.  Then the rest of you will count them and make sure there are one hundred and twenty in each line.” The six troopers could not find fault with that and they nodded.  Marius strode forward with Flavius next to him. “I intend to learn the language too so I will ask you to teach me when we have the chance. I suspect we can learn their language faster than they can learn ours.”

Wolf watched as the men approached and he tensed.  He was as excited as when he had led his warband to raid the Marcomanni. The younger looking Roman stepped forwards.  “This is Prefect Marcus Proculus, he is your Prefect.” Some of the men looked confused although Wolf had worked out what it meant. “Your new chief.” They all grinned and nodded.”I am Decurion Bellatoris and these are the other Decurions.” He was aware that the word Decurion would sound strange and he sighed at the confused looks; this would be a long day. “Little chiefs.” Again they nodded.  “When the Prefect, the chief, points to you then stand behind the Decurions, little chiefs. Put your hand up if you understand.” Gradually, after small discussions all of the hands went up. He turned to Marius.  “All yours now sir.  They seem to understand although you are the chief and we are little chiefs at the moment.”