Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 01] The Sword of Cartimandua (11 page)

The old woman merely nodded and Macha added. “We saw. It was good that you treated our dead with respect.”

“Why did you not come out sooner? Why wait until dark?”

“The woods are filled with scouts. We thought they may have attacked you and then we would have been in a worse position. The speaker gestured at the older woman. Aurelia Gerantia wanted to pay respects to her husband. If it were possible we would have remained hidden but they would have searched the wood once you began to leave. I assume you will be leaving on the morrow?”

Marcus could see that she had wisdom beyond her years as well as a cunning and supple mind. “Are they still there?”

“Yes. It took us many hours to work our way close to the grave. We were resting, intending to make the last few yards in daylight.”

“You need not fear. The scouts will pose no threat to us. You will be safe for you are correct we will be leaving in the morning.”

Lenta spoke for the first time. There was anger in her voice. “It is a shame that you did not protect our people when you could. Many would have lived. Perhaps you feared to face them then!”

Marcus looked closely at the angry young woman who coloured up with eyes wide and fierce.  He could see that there was more to her than met the eye; she was more than a handmaiden. She was not afraid to speak up to a Roman officer who towered over her.

“Peace sister. My sister is overwrought. Her husband and child died in the attack.” She looked at her sister. “Remember sister the warriors were too few to defend us and their duty was to protect our Queen.” She turned to Marcus. “The Queen lives?”

“Aye, she asked us to return here to save what we could and,” he looked pointedly at the box, “to return a precious item which was buried.”

“Aurelia’s husband led us here even as you were leaving. He dug it up and gave it into our safekeeping. We were on our way out by a secret passage when some of Venutius’ supporters attacked the guards. That is when Lenta’s husband died and her child taken. We too would have died had not Aurelia’s husband fought off our attackers.” She put her arm around the shoulders of the old woman who was now crying silently. “He bought us the time to flee with his life. Even though mortally wounded he killed the last of the traitors. Perhaps had he lived they might not have taken Stanwyck. Who knows?”

“You have done well, you have all done well. Keep the Queen’s box and guard it.” He turned to Drusus. “You and Gaius are to guard these ladies and the box at all times. It is important that they are returned safely to Eboracum. Now get some food and drink and then rest. We leave at dawn.”

Macha looked at this seeming boy but one who had such command of his men.  She could see that he was a leader but more than that he was a man and she felt herself curiously attracted to a man for the first time in her short life. She touched his arm. “Thank you. I can tell that you are a good man. Forgive my sister’s outburst. She will look kindly on you when she is over her grief.”

Marcus turned at the softness in her voice and her touch. Her eyes seemed to suggest an even more personal message but perhaps he was imagining it.

“Lady you need not explain.  We are doing our duty and tell your sister that if we could have prevented the death of her family we would gladly have given our lives to do so.” He paused, the delicate question almost catching in his throat, “The child?”

“That is why she is so angry. She blames herself and feels that she should have protected the girl but there was nothing she could have done. Had she attempted she would have been captured raped and then killed.  It would not have saved her daughter.”

Marcus noticed that Macha had not referred to the child by name. He understood that for by not naming the child it gave a detachment that it was someone else. Soldiers often did that. “Will she be sold do you think?”

“That is the small hope and consolation that we both share. What we fear is that Venutius and his animals will used and then kill her. If she is a slave then when Venutius is gone and the Queen has control again we may find her. Until then Lenta will be not the happy, laughing Lenta I know. She will mourn and yet not mourn for the child who is neither alive nor dead.”

Chapter 6

Eboracum

Gaius Cresens was looking over his books. He had already lost money and it was down to one man, Ulpius Felix.  He had planned to sell the scale armour to a local chieftain who had managed to acquire some gold. The quartermaster suspected it had been illicitly acquired but he didn’t care. He would have made a small fortune. As it was he was out of pocket and for the shields and javelins as well. He would not only have to pay back the one eyed horseman he would need to remove him permanently  for he would thwart all his schemes which relied on his cunning backed up by his thugs. His associates were all ex-legionaries none of whom had covered themselves in glory. They all had one thing in common; greed and Gaius Cresens used that.  He would have to arrange for an accident.  The accident would have to wait until his armour returned and then the decurion could join his leader in Elysium. He then applied himself to working out how to make money from his new post.  It would not be quite as easy as there were Imperial clerks whose sole task was to scrutinise the dealings of people like Cresens in the far flung corners of the Empire.  It would be more difficult but, potentially, more profitable.

The cavalryman was blissfully unaware of his fate as he slipped from between the Queen’s sheets. She half murmured a kitten like noise which almost drew him back into the bed and more lovemaking.  Her sleep controlled hand wandered over to the warm space his body had occupied. Much as the tough old warrior wanted that he knew his duty came first and he had to drill his men. As he dressed his thoughts wandered from the bedroom to the battlefield and he wondered how Marcus had fared. The task had seemed simple enough but he had been in these islands long enough to know that simple did not always work out.

Even as Ulpius was thinking about him Marcus was in action. They had found some items of clothing for the Queen and a few items such as brushes and brooches forgotten in the aftermath of the massacre. The problem would be how to get them and the ladies safely back. There were no horses to be had. He ruefully took the decision to harness four of his horses to the wagons and use them to transport the women back to Eboracum. It would not only slow them down but also make them more vulnerable to attack. They were safe from Venutius as long as they were mounted; now they would be yoked. His one advantage was that he knew where he could be ambushed and he would avoid those places. He wondered, not for the first time, why they had not sent the whole of the ala quinquigeria. It would have made more sense and would have allowed them to find out just where Venutius was.  As it was they were blind and Macha’s comments about the woods being filled with the enemy filled him with disquiet. He could only do one job at a time and his job now was to get the women and the box back safely. 

As his men trotted away from the refuge Marcus gave the signal and his men began firing the fort.  It was little enough but it would, at least, prevent Venutius from re-occupying once he had left. He was certain that the tribune would return and there would be a proper Roman fortress soon, one which would not be so easily taken.

Marcus allowed the third turma the honour of leading the small column back. The more experienced second turma provide the rear guard and flank guards. They remembered well enough the places to look out for. Marcus himself rode next to Macha and Lenta. He was more than a little curious about the box they guarded but he could not bring himself to ask.  Instead he asked about them and their relationship to Cartimandua.

“It is an honour that we serve her majesty. She is not only the Queen she is also the high priestess and the mother of our people. This is why Venutius cannot kill her for she would be reborn or else the land would die and he could not risk that.”

“What does Venutius know of our people? “Interjected Lenta her face still filled with anger and hatred. “He is of the wild Carvetii. They live amongst rocks and know nothing of growing and rearing just hunting and killing.”

“They are a wild people, “agreed Macha. “I sometimes think this is the reason our Queen married the wild man to protect the lands to the west as the sea guards our lands to the east.”

“And what of the south and the north?”

“We never feared the south, until you Romans came and our Queen was wise enough to live with you. As for the north no-one can tame the Pictii but they only hunt cattle and slaves. Stanwyck always withstood their pathetic attempts to capture it. It has been many years since they tried. But they make life difficult for our people who live near the big rivers to the north. Even Venutius feared them and he has made Stanwyck the fortress you saw. Perhaps you Romans can, at last, tame them.”

Marcus had not had such pleasant conversation in a long time and he was disappointed when Gaius came racing up with news that a patrol from the ala was coming to meet them.  They were home far too quickly for Marcus for soon he would not be able to speak so freely with the Brigante beauty who had ensnared him. He smiled ruefully when he saw that the patrol was being led by Ulpius. The big warrior obviously wanted to get all the information before they arrived at Eboracum. Marcus shook his head, he had much to learn about being a leader but at least he had a good teacher.

The quartermaster looked nervously about him as he left the safety of the temporary fort. He was treading in a dangerous area. The civilian encampment was made up of some legitimate merchants and providers of services but there were a far greater number of villains, thieves and chancers. As soon as the Romans arrived in numbers then there would be many people some honest, some dishonest who would want a share of the money they brought. From bread makers to whores, from beer sellers to bodyguards they were all drawn to the honey pot that was a Roman fort. He had some contacts but he also know that this throat could be slit for the price of a pair of sandals. He had taken no-one with him.  He was vulnerable, as he made his secretive way past crude dwellings and groups of locals who, to the quartermaster, looked like murderers and thieves. This assignation had to be secret otherwise he would have made the journey in daylight. . The message he had received was a verbal one from a local who sometimes acquired women for the corpulent Cresens. He would have ignored the request were it not for the silver piece which had been passed over and the frightened look on the man’s face.  Whoever wanted to speak with him was powerful enough to scare a whoremaster. He was not making as much from his new position as quartermaster and he was a greedy man. Even though it was a risk Gaius Cresens had found that sometimes great risk brought great reward.

The path he took left the main inhabited area and dropped through a small copse to a stream. By the stream were two wicker huts. He approached them gingerly, cautiously for he was known to be a man who had riches. He would see no apparent sign of life, suppose this was a trap? Just when he was about to turn and leave he felt a sharp blade prick him behind the ear and the rancid smell of grease and unwashed body; it was a warrior.

“Where are you going fat one? I thought you had a meeting.”

Without warning he was propelled unceremoniously into the darkened interior of the hut. The entrance was so low that he found himself on the dirt floor.  A dying fire gave the outline of shapes but he could not make out the faces of any of the men who squatted around its embers. He did see, however, the mail they wore and the blades that lay at their feet. There were warriors and he was alone, a Roman amongst rebellious tribesmen. The wrong word could end his lucrative career here and now.

He tried to raise his head but was sharply forced to the ground a blade in the back of his neck. The figure in front of him, hooded and dark raised his sword in the direction of the Roman. “I hear you are a man with the love of gold?” Gaius nodded, unable to speak. A small leather bag was thrown from behind him and landed at his feet. “Here is gold.  Examine it.” His greedy, podgy fingers opened the pouch and poured the contents into his hand. “Is that the sort of thing you had in mind?”

“Yes… lord. It is just the sort of thing. How would I er, earn this?”

“Call this a down payment for loyalty. It is yours to keep. What it buys is your services for me and, “he added threateningly, “your silence. I will request information. I will do dos frequently. When you provide it I will supply more. Is that acceptable?”

Aware that the wrong response would see his throat cut the ex-cavalryman was cautious in his reply.  The blade was not pushed so hard into his neck and glancing up at the hooded figure he became aware that the man was enormous.  His shoulders seemed to fill the hut and, worse still, he could see many amulets on his arms; a sign amongst these Britons that he had killed many.  He swallowed hard; he was getting into dangerous territory.  It could result in great fortune or crucifixion but if he betrayed these animals it would be much worse.  “What sort of information?”

“Nothing difficult. Nothing that you cannot handle. Numbers.”

“Numbers?” There was surprise in his voice.

“Numbers of troops here, Lindum.  Military information.”

“That is dangerous. I could.”

“You could die here and now fat man.  You could die when we drive the Romans into the sea. You could die if we informed the Romans of your treachery.  You could die if we told your comrades how you mixed lead with their flour. You could die if we told of your pleasure in young children. There are many ways for such as you to die.  The question is when and where? This way you live, no matter what happens and you make gold. For when we win we will spare you. It is a clear choice Roman, obey us now or die! Which is it to be?”

Put that way there was little choice. “I will live and become rich.”

“Good.  I thought you would see sense. When you leave here go into the next hut you will meet my contact there.  She is the only one who you will ever see and she is the one who will pay you. You will come here once a week and she will ask you a question.”