Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 01] The Sword of Cartimandua (3 page)

Towards the rear the troopers rode in single file with the easy, comfortable banter of men who have worked and fought together for a long time. Drusus and Metellus had to have Lentius and his horse between them because for some reason their horses, Pirate and Chestnut did not like each and would bite and kick whenever they were in distance. This meant that not only did Drusus and Metellus have to carry on conversations with a horse between them they had to suffer Lentius’ mount, a black gelding with a small star called Blackie. Blackie seemed to Drusus, who was behind him that he suffered from terminal wind added to which he seemed to stop with amazing regularity to relieve himself.

“Lentius if your horse shits one more time I will feed it to you.”

“That would be preferable to that slop you passed off as food last night!”

“You can tell that you came from the valleys otherwise you would have truly appreciated the find taste of roast squirrel.”

“That’s what it was! I had been trying to work out the taste all day.”

“Ladies if you don’t shut up and keep you eyes peeled you will all be shovelling shit when we get back to the fort!” Marcus’ voice effectively silenced the three who knew he would carry out his threat. Drusus reined his horse so that it was not quite so close to Blackie and Metellus spurred his on a little. Marcus smiled to himself the easy banter was no bad thing it showed that they were confident. He too had found the food unusual but was because he was the only Cantabrian amongst these Pannonians although he had been with them for so long that he had almost forgotten his Cantabrian roots but he still remembered the taste of the salted fish his mother had given him as a treat and now he was eating tough roasted squirrel.

Raven told him that they were coming before Osgar’s nose sniffed them out.  The nodding head appeared to some like an equine message; Ulpius knew that the gelding was just as eager for action and could smell the enemy. Osgar touched Ulpius’ foot and pointed north; in truth the scout was a tiny little runt, far too small to be a warrior but he could run all day and find tracks in the most unlikely places. He had the same animal senses of Raven and Ulpius knew where the Brigante would be, north. Ulpius relied on him more than he liked for the man was of the Brigante and some of those people were now in a state of rebellion; so far he had never let the Roman down but the decurion was always aware that he could change sides at any moment. 

Ulpius could just make out some movement in the leaves. He turned in his saddle and pointed his vine rod to the south.  Almost half the turma eased their way deeper into the copse following Marcus, his chosen man. As second in command he had the responsibility of backing up Ulpius even when he didn’t fully know the plan.  He had been with him for five years and most of the time understood his superior’s intentions.  Today it was easy; he was the shield and Ulpius the sword. Marcus would defend whilst Ulpius attacked. The other half of the turma loosened their swords in their scabbards to ensure they would not stick when they were needed and then adjusted their grip on their javelins.

The raiders were trotting along at an easy lope.  The troopers could make out the captives in the middle. They were bound and roped together by the neck. It was obvious that they were not warriors; they looked to be farmers and merchants and by their dress less Brigante and more Roman.  Ulpius looked towards the rear of the column.  That would be where the fiercest fighters would be, in the place of honour; they would be the target for his twenty men. He lifted his body a little to count them.  There were nearly sixty; a large number but on foot and he would have the element of surprise. He looked along the line and saw that his men were ready. He hefted the heavy infantry pilum he carried, an unusual weapon for a cavalryman but Ulpius was incredibly strong and the weapon had given him the edge in many an unequal combat for it was far sturdier than the light javelins they used as missiles.

The end of the enemy column was almost level with him; he could see an older warrior, probably a chieftain at the rear.  His face and body had been painted blue but it had worn in parts giving him the mottled look of an adder.  His long hair was spiked up with lime and he bore the scars of other combats. Ulpius’ greedy eyes lit up when they say the torc about his neck.  It decided him.  As he raised his pilum the rest of the turma steadied themselves. As soon as the spear left his hand his men would be upon the raiders like wolves. The spear flew from his hand in a steep arc; even as it was descending he had taken a javelin from his sheath and was kicking forward Raven. His spear took the chieftain in the neck and Ulpius could see from the dark spurting blood that it was a kill. He selected his next opponent. This time he did not throw the javelin until he was almost upon the man. The warrior deflected the javelin as it hurtled towards him but in doing so he revealed his naked torso and the decurion’s gladius slashed down opening the man from his neck to his gut. Seeing no more warriors in front of him he reined Raven to a stop and surveyed the ambush. His man were despatching the enemy so quickly that many were surrendering, for they had not expected any Romans to be operating so far from their fort. He held his sword in the air and his men formed a circle around the few warriors left standing. They all held their javelins at the enemy throats in case of treachery.

Ulpius slid his leg over Raven’s shoulder, he did not even bother to look for the trooper who would hold his reins they were a well practiced turma well drilled by the most experienced decurion. His good eye took in the warriors who remained and he identified the leader. He did not have a torc but from the bracelets about his arms he had won many fights. His practiced eye saw that the man had been wounded in his arm and could not carry on the fight which was why he had surrendered. He walked over to him and, using his sword, knocked the warrior’s weapon to the ground.

“So Roman you cannot kill a one armed man you must disarm him first!” He spat the words at Ulpius, defiance in his voice and eyes.

“If I wanted you dead your worthless corpse would be spilling its life force on the ground in front of me. I want some information. Where is Venutius?”

“You think I would betray my King. I am Brigante we do not betray our leaders.”

Ulpius nodded as though he understood the motive behind the statement.  “And what of Cartimandua? Where is she? Is she with the king?” The queen was known to favour Rome and Ulpius had been given instructions to find out where she was. It was rumoured that she had divorced her husband and taken up with a shield bearer.

“That Roman whore is no concern of mine but she will soon be joining her ancestors.”

Ulpius mind took in the threat but his voice feigned ignorance. “I did not know she was sick.”

“Sick! You Roman fool.  When Venutius takes her he will burn her body and the Roman house she has built. Had you not taken us I would be watching as the flames licked her diseased body.” He spat at Ulpius in a last defiant gesture.

Realising that he would get no more information from him and that the warrior had told him more than he intended Ulpius gave a nod. His men despatched all the Brigante where they stood. In minutes their heads were taken and strung along the saddles, their bloodied, mangled and mutilated bodies left where they fell; despoiled and deserted. The Brigante prisoners watched as their rescuers took everything of value and mounted their horses. As Ulpius was tucked the torc into his saddlebags a portly trader came up to him. “Thank you lord you have saved us from slavery.”

Ulpius looked at him briefly and signalled for his men to mount. The ex-prisoners stared around in disbelief as the column trotted after Ulpius. “Lord, are you leaving us here?”

”Why?  Would you have me escort you back to your farm? For what purpose? We do not escort overweight, whining thieves, we hunt Brigante. Now out of my way before you suffer the same fate.” He paused and looked east. “Go that way as fast as your fat little legs will carry you. There is a camp at Derventio. You may make it merchant before the Brigante eat your eyes for their supper and piss in your empty skull.”He urged Raven into a trot and they headed westwards.

Marcus fell in besides him. “We could have taken them back to Derventio.” Ulpius stared at him in silence. Marcus was one of the few men who could question Ulpius and live.  In his mind Marcus knew there was a sound reason and, equally, knew that Ulpius would only tell him when he wanted to.

The decurion reached under his saddlecloth and removed a piece of dried meat he had been tenderising.  As he tore a morsel of the sweat dampened meat and chewed it he gestured with his head. “Did you not hear what that warrior said?  Cartimandua was to be taken; Venutius was on his way to her stronghold to kill her. Think on it Marcus, she was the one who gave us Caractacus.  She is the reason we do not need the Second Augusta here. If she is captured by that hothead of a husband we will have the whole of the north of this godforsaken place rebelling against us and remember Eboracum is a half finished wooden fort. Remember what that bitch Boudicca did eight years ago? I know not how but the tribes know of the trouble in Rome and the many Emperors of this year. They see the chance to evict us. Besides we were ordered to protect her by no less a personage than Marcus Bolanus the Governor himself; it was a standing order that she was a priority. The only reason Venutius not despatched her yet is that she holds his family hostage. She is a clever woman.” He spat out an inedible portion of meat and glared at Marcus. “Now having spent more spit than I wished on a useless turd with nothing better to do than question his leader’s orders I will get back to the task assigned to me. You detail a trooper and tell him to go back to Eboracum and tell the tribune that I am going to Stanwyck to see if I can find out what has happened to the only ally we have in this part of the world! We will need help. I hope the gods favour me and it is Flavius who rides to our aid for if it is that thief Cresens we are dead men.”

Marcus smiled ironically to himself as he went to the rear of the column to give one of the younger troopers the task of riding the fifteen miles back to Eboracum.  He should have known the old wolf had something on his mind. Knowing his superior as he did, he also realised that the decurion would have worked out how to profit from the rescue of the famous Cartimandua. Since he had first been captured he had seen the power of Roman coins and the way the soldiers of the Empire looked to make a profit out of anything. He had learned much in the few years he had served with Ulpius. He had recognised a wise older warrior and took very opportunity to watch and learn; in many ways he was the father Marcus had lost all those years before. The chosen man was a superb swordsman, especially with the short sword so loved by his tribe, and could ride a horse better than anyone but he knew his limitations.  He wanted to be a leader and he could see in Ulpius Felix the sharpest military mind a warrior could wish for. A man who never took chances but always achieved his objective. He was never careless with his men or his mount which was why he had been selected to lead this patrol for the tribune knew that he would succeed.

Taking his place at the rear of the fast moving column Marcus constantly scanned the wooded hillsides. He had a keen eye and an even sharper brain.  One day he hoped to be a decurion too and be a leader of men. He would have blushed had he heard himself being discussed by Ulpius and the leader of the Ala Flavius Bellatoris.  Both warriors viewed Marcus as a future leader, not just of the turma of ala but perhaps a general.  The respect shown by Marcus for his leader was returned and both his superiors regarded him as protégé, in Ulpius’ case like the younger brother he had left in Batavia, his back broken by a Gaulish axe. All he needed were the right breaks and a little luck. Fortunately Marcus was unaware of their thoughts and he could focus on scanning the horizon for enemies who might wish to ambush them. He was a tall man and as his mount was one of the bigger horses he could see further.  This was another reason why Ulpius had stationed him in the vanguard. Although the Brigante only had ponies they were light enough to race from the cover of the woods and hack at the auxiliary horses. This was not the perfect place for horses; there were too many streams, gullies and hollows. Happily for the Romans they were armoured from their skull cap helmets to the greaves on their legs; even their horses had protection on their heads. He checked the fastenings on Argentium’s head and rubbed his ears at the same time.  The bond between rider and horse was close and Marcus had seen a steed save his rider on more than one occasion. The care and attention they paid to their horses was often more than the care and attention they gave to themselves. In this part of the world you needed to know you could get away faster than you arrived.

Young Gaius reined in his horse a little to ride next to Ulpius. Ulpius looked at the young man.  He had only joined the ala a few weeks ago but he had shown himself to be bright and brave to the point of being foolhardy. It was not permitted to leave your place in the column and the decurion would have to tell him so but he could see that there was something on the young trooper’s mind.

“So young Gaius what is so important that you risk a week of shovelling horse shit just to ride next to an old flatulent one eyed man who has no patience at all?”

“Why did the decurion leave those prisoners back there?  They were helpless.”

“They were and so are we. We have destroyed a large war band. It is unlikely that we will meet such a large one in this area. Remember Cartimandua supports Rome. It is her ex-husband Venutius who ferments rebellion. And that is why we are hastening to Stanwyck.  We need to warn her that Venutius intends her harm.”

“Will the Brigante army not protect her?”

“Since she took up with her shield bearer she has been shunned by the Brigante nobility.  She has few warriors to protect her.  Her fortress is not as strong as one of our camps.  If they chose they could easily destroy both her and her men. It is only her status as Queen which protects her and the fact that she threatens her husband’s family. It seems Venutius has decided to change that.”He held his hand up to silence the next question.” And now young Gaius, as you have so much energy for your tongue ride back along the trail and make sure we are not being followed.”