Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 01] The Sword of Cartimandua (33 page)

West of Brocavum

Caesius Alasica was pleased with his legionaries. They had made much better time than he could have dreamed possible all those months ago when he began planning this campaign back at Eboracum. Although not up to full compliment he had six thousand legionaries and two thousand cavalry.  No matter what the barbarians threw at him he knew he could defeat them. According to his scouts once they crossed the river they would be within a day’s march of Brocavum. He had yet to see a barbarian stronghold which could withstand his siege weapons.  He thought back to the fortress at Stanwyck he had visited whilst his men were building his new bridge. Although it had been deserted by the barbarians his inspection had convinced him that an onslaught of bolts and stones from his onagers would have made it simplicity itself for his legionaries to carry the feeble walls. The very size of it meant that it would need a huge army to control the walls. He could only hope that Venutius would hide behind his walls. He wondered, as he did every day where his lost vexillation was; he had had no word of them. Had they perished at the hands of the enemy or had they succumbed to the climate of this inhospitable land? Not for the first time he cursed the order which had left him shorthanded for the cavalry he had with him were new to Britannia and untried. It was the one area of weakness in his army.

“Sir, sir,” The rider who galloped up to Alasica was one of the young auxiliary optios. “The decurion told me to tell you we can’t cross the river sir.”

“Why not optio?”

“There are hundreds of barbarians stopping us.”

Taking only his aide and the young trooper Julius rode to the river to see what the problem was.  When he arrived he could see that the boy had not been exaggerating.  There were indeed hundreds of barbarians; they were painted for war waving spears and swords and they had the high ground.  He had no doubt he could carry the crossing but he would lose many men in doing so and his legionaries’ lives were too valuable to be wasted. He called over the messenger. “Prevent them from crossing if you can but if they do manage to cross your orders are to get to me as quickly as possible.” He paused and looked sternly at the auxiliary.  “And no heroics, without the Pannonians you are my only cavalry.”

“Sir.”

As he rode back Julius began to search for a solution to his problem. Heading towards his men he could see the road climbing away to the west. He could not allow the enemy to take the road for if he were to be cut off from his supplies then the barbarians could starve him out. He was reluctant to retreat. He saw the solution as he closed with his aides. The road began to climb up a terrace. His engineers had had to make a deviation from their normally straight lines. They had made it twist and turn.  Although it was nowhere near finished it was a solid base upon which to stand his men. They would all have firm footing.  He could use the terrace as it would allow his bolt throwers to fire over the heads of his only infantry and would scythe down the enemy.  It went against his nature but here, as when Boudicca was defeated, defence would have to come first.  He did not have enough men to guarantee victory and he was in a perilous position so far from a secure fortress and support. He gathered his officers about him and quickly issued his instructions. He had chosen his men well and soon the legionaries were arrayed on the terrace with twenty bolt throwers above them. His few archers were just in front of the bolt throwers but above the legionaries. His weaknesses were his flanks.  He had too few cavalry to guard both flanks.  His auxiliaries were placed on the right flank as this faced the barbarians at the river crossing. He place the strongest century, the first century with First Spear on the left flank. They were his best chance to hold the enemy.

There was the sudden sound of a buccina and then he saw the auxiliaries riding for their lives. The commander of the cavalry on the right flank signalled the decurion and the rearguard fell in behind them. The decurion in charge began to dress his lines and prepare to face the advancing Carvetii.

“Hold your fire.” Alasica did not want his missile surprise to be wasted on the few hundred barbarians who suddenly stopped their pursuit when they saw the Romans before them. They were a mass of taunting painted barbarians who were waving the heads of the Romans they had just killed. He had fought such men in Batavia and Germania as had his legionaries. They would ignore such taunts but he was less sure about his inexperienced auxiliaries who could see the decapitated heads of their comrades. The longer they taunted the more likely that his auxiliaries would feel honour bound to charge.  Alasica did not have to wait long for Venutius, mounted in a richly decorated war chariot suddenly appeared on the facing hillside ahead of his huge warband filling the skyline from east to west as far as the eye could see. He was armed and mailed with a driver next to him. He looked huge next to the diminutive driver and his armour gleamed in the morning light. The warriors around the king were his oath brothers; they were the best mounted warriors with finest armoured helms, shields and corselets. They would be fearless in the fighting and the Roman commander could see that whilst the majority of the warband were second rate there was a huge elite force of well armed and armoured warriors. They would have to be the target for his bolt throwers. He was taken aback by the numbers. He would have been taken aback even more had he known that a mounted warband of a thousand warriors was making its way around the unguarded left flank of the Roman army. All he could see was an unbroken line of enemies gradually edging forward. He looked at the forces arrayed against him spreading across the skyline. Although hard to estimate numbers when the formation was so loose it looked the equivalent of eight or ten legions; almost fifty thousand men. It would be a bloody day and would test the mettle of all his troops.

Ulpius and his men were exhausted.  Even though they had rested for a couple of hours their night time ride skirting the camps of the Carvetii had sucked all the reserves of energy from the hungry troopers. When Esca had told them that there were at least two warbands to the north and east Ulpius and Marcus had had no choice but to begin a detour south and east to get around them. It was demoralising to move further away from hope and food and friends but with only two hundred men and a few Brigante scouts Ulpius could not hope to take on two warbands. As the early morning wore on they gradually found themselves climbing a saucer shaped hill.  They had long left what passed for a path and were picking their way through scree and tumbled rocks. Suddenly Esca and his scouts ran back. “There is a warband,” before Ulpius could even begin to formulate a new plan Esca continued, “and Romans.”

Even though he was well outnumbered by the host of barbarians before him Caesius Alasica was unworried. His archers and bolt throwers would make the thousand paces before him a killing ground. The barbarians wore little armour and had few defensive tactics. Waiting until they were but five hundred paces away he gave the signal and the missiles flew, carving a path of death and destruction through the enemy lines. The bolts took out whole ranks of men whilst the arrows plunged like a deadly rain from the skies. Not only did the front ranks fall and falter but the whole of the warband shuddered to a halt as they met missiles, fallen men and the upslope. The bolts were so powerful that they went through three or four warriors. The arrows began to take an even bigger toll as they plunged down onto unprotected bodies, painted but without any armour.  The barbed tips tore through necks, backs and shoulders to kill in huge numbers.

To the west the two cavalry forces were engaged in mortal combat.  Although the Carvetii outnumbered the auxiliaries the superior horses, weapons and training meant it was an even match. Alasica cursed again as he realised that his shortage of cavalry might cost him the day. The cavalry were holding their own; with another ala he might have been able to turn them. He was pleased that they had at least restrained themselves from a headlong attack and their fight was now a revenge dedicated to their lost comrades.

Venutius signalled a third warband into action and these began to press towards the weaker left flank. Although the missiles were still causing devastation there were not enough to cover the whole of the front and their fire was slightly slower on the left added to that was the inevitable nature of missile fire the closer to your front ranks the less effective they would be.  So it was that they inexorably began to draw closer to the front ranks of the Romans.  With a sudden roar they leapt forward free from the torment of bolts and arrows.  The legionaries released their pila and the front ranks fell only to have their places taken by the second rank who hacked and chopped with axes and swords, oblivious to both pain and wounds. It was as though they had regarded the arrows as fleas or insects and were now free from the torment.

The tribune from the left flank suddenly appeared at Alasica’s side. “Sir they are forcing us back we need support.”

“And I have no reserves. You will hold them Titus Quintus. You will hold them.”

In his mind the young commander began to work out how to extricate his men from this trap without being routed. A collective shout from the left ended that train of thought. Earl Woolgar’s warband had worked around the left flank of the Romans and suddenly launched an attack on the unprotected edge of the defensive line. Even as he watched he saw the western most cohort begin to fall in lines as they were assaulted from two sides. The First Spear was a good leader but his men were being attacked on two fronts. “Gaius Aurelius take two cohorts from the right and support the left. Antoninus begin to pull back our forces on the right but slowly use the cavalry to screen our withdrawal.” Was this to be the early end of what had promised to be a glittering career? Alasica knew that defeat would mean the slaughter of his men and the loss of the eagle something which had never happened on these islands before.  It could mean the beginning of the end of Roman rule in Britannia for defeat would leave the whole of the north unprotected. It would also mean the death of every Roman north of Lindum for with only a skeleton force at Eboracum this warband could sweep Rome’s influence from the north of Britannia. “Today gentlemen we all fight or we will leave our bones to be scattered, whitening on these desolate hills.” Drawing his sword he urged his horse towards the left flank which was in imminent danger of collapse.

Ulpius, Marcus and Esca sat on their horses just below the skyline. They had a perfect view of the battle and they could see the effect of the charge of Woolgar’ warband. The unthinkable was going to happen, Romans were going to lose. No matter how disciplined they were they were outnumbered and outflanked.  They would die. A whole Roman army would be destroyed it would be like Crassus in Parthia, the republic at Cannae or the most recent slaughter in the Teutoburger Forest. Their only chance was for the Pannonians to destroy the warband. Ulpius looked at his hungry, tired and battle weary warriors. The warband outnumbered them five to one even if they saved their comrades they would all die. He looked at Marcus. “There is but one chance the arrow formation, the wedge. “ Marcus nodded. “Prepare the men” He turned to his troopers. “I know you are tired, I know that were outnumbered but before us we see friends who will be slaughtered unless we intervene. You know me I don’t lie and I don’t bullshit.” His men laughed a tired laugh. “We are going to die but we are warriors and we will die together. Are you with me?” The roar from his weakened men raised Ulpius heart. His men would not let him down. He turned to the Brigante,” Esca we ride to our death take your men back to the fort and protect the princess. You can do no more here.”

“No Roman we can do something here. The enemies before us have killed our Queen and our brothers; we win or die with here you.” Clasping hands in a warrior’s handshake they roared their defiance. The troopers were now riding hard towards Ulpius with Marcus and Decius leading three men and then four so that a wedge fanned out. Ulpius drew his sword and kissed it. “For Cartimandua and Rome. Charge!”

The noise of the battle hid the sound of the thundering hooves crashing down the hillside and the first that Earl Woolgar and his band knew of their doom was when the arrows and javelins of the auxiliaries sliced through the rear ranks of the Carvetii. The shock was a palpable ripple which ran through the enemy ranks. The most frightening event for a warrior in a battle is to be attacked from the place you think you are safe.  With enemies to their front and enemies to their rear panic spread through the ranks of the warband. The sword of Cartimandua carved a bloody path of death, the blade almost singing as it sliced through the unprotected ranks of Earl Woolgar’s men; Decius and Marcus widened that path. The backs of the bodies before them were like the practice targets they had used back in Eboracum. Their only problem was ensuring that the blades did not become entangled or trapped in the dying bodies. As in all battles and wars the bravest and the most fearless are at the front so the opposite is also true, those at the rear are not as brave and not as fearless. Some of the Carvetii decided that they could avoid the swords and hooves of the Roman horses by breaking back towards their own lines. The pressure on the Roman line dropped and the legionaries were able to get a second wind. First Spear recognised the weakening. “Dress your ranks we are not finished yet!”

The Roman commander had no idea who had launched the attack on the Carvetii but he suspected and hoped that it was his lost vexillation. The battle was at a crucial stage and the pendulum was swinging in the Roman’s favour. All along the Carvetii line warriors were slowing wondering what was happening on their right flank. Alasica’s voice sounded above the din of war. “Sound the advance. “ The buccina sounded loudly in the cacophony of noise that was the battlefield. “Romans forward!”

Venutius could not believe his eyes. A few minutes earlier the battle had been won.  He had seen the Roman left crumbling and the right withdrawing.  Suddenly the appearance of a handful of cavalry had caused his men to retreat. Some of his allies had decided that discretion was the better part of valour and were retreating at full tilt north and east. He still had his own warband. If he could attack the Roman left open the field the impetus could swing the battle in his favour again; perhaps his allies would be shamed into returning. He could still win this battle. Even with some of his allies deserting him he still outnumbered the Romans and he had seen them falter, one more push would do it. Shouting to his driver to whip his ponies he cried, “Charge!” and the whole host began to charge forwards. His oathsworn brothers urged their mounts forward pleased to be released from the punishment which had been the bolt throwers. Those warriors on foot formed a solid, unbroken line of iron. They longed to sink their blades into Roman bodies. Their collective scream was a terrifying sound and they all raced forward to present a deadly line of blades. They knew they had longer blades than the Romans who had spent most of their deadly pila.  If they could close these combat hardened veterans would save the honour of their king and defeat once and for all these Romans.