Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 01] The Sword of Cartimandua (6 page)

“I think our decurion wants to get the Queen to safety.  There is always a risk in an ambush. This is why there are now only two of us!”

The land was full of dips, hollows and mounds with thick copses and it was becoming difficult for Ulpius to see the enemy. “Gaius, ride to the rise. Keep yourself low to the horse and watch for the enemy. When you see them, follow us.” Gaius nodded his face eager for adventure. “And Gaius, take no chances. I can ill afford to lose another man. Even someone as useless as you.” Gaius grinned as he trotted up the hill. Ulpius urged his horse forward and he joined Marcus at the front of the column.

“Send Lentius forward I want no surprises.” Marcus did so and then rejoined Ulpius who had taken some of the dried meat from under his saddlecloth. He looked questioningly at the decurion but realised he had asked enough foolish questions for one day.  Ulpius was just finishing chewing when they heard the distant screams of both men and horses. Everyone in the column looked urgently behind them except Ulpius who took a swig from his water sack. As he wiped his mouth he said, “Drusus!” There was a pause as he put the stopper back in. “I hope the useless weed avoids having his head taken. He still owes me for his scutum.” Despite the words Marcus could hear the affection in his voice for Drusus had been with them both since Batavia.

A few minutes later they heard the sound of hoof beats thundering after them. It was Gaius. He reined in next to Ulpius who had not slowed down. “Half of them followed Drusus and Metellus into the woods the rest are hard on my heels.” It was unspoken but they both knew the other two auxilia were dead.

“Right your majesty now we ride and we ride hard! Gallop”

The cavalry horses leapt forward and immediately a gap opened between the Romans and the Celts. Ulpius pulled his vine branch from his saddle and began whipping Cartimandua’s ponies who suddenly found extra energy and the bodyguards were the ones left behind.

“We are coming to the stream.” Ulpius turned and shouted to the bodyguards. “Here is your ambush!” Alerix nodded and slowed down. The ten guards raised their arms in salute trotting off to take their place in the woods.

As they came up the low rise the chariot’s ponies began to struggle and Marcus and Lentius had to help pull them up.  By now they could hear the Carvetii following them and as Gaius turned he saw the first of them reach the rise. They would not be able to escape. As they reached the flatter area the remaining bodyguards slowed down. They too saluted their Queen and then formed themselves in a thin line at the top of the rise. Ulpius knew they were sacrificing themselves and he raised his arm to acknowledge their action. Without the ponies to slow them the Roman horses soon put the diminishing daylight between them. He couldn’t see the enemy but he saw the back of the bodyguards disappear down towards the stream and hear the class of metal on metal and the whinny of horses. When he heard another cheer he knew that those in the ambush had attacked. Twenty against fifty. They could not succeed but they might slow them down and cause enough casualties to enable them to escape.

Had he been an eagle he would have been able to look down and see that the Queen’s bodyguards were doing better than could have been hoped. The last thing the Carvetii and Brigante scouts were expecting was to be attacked. The shock cost the first warriors their lives. The momentum of the riders and horses threw the rest into confusion and once they were amongst them they began to inflict casualties. They would have been soon despatched for the Carvetii had reformed but their comrades charged into their rear causing not only confusion and mayhem but death to many. Inevitably the twenty died but they took far more of the enemy than Ulpius could have hoped. He knew nothing about this miniature battle for he was racing as fast as he could towards the legionaries at Eboracum. Alerix and his brother were the last to die.  Back to back they slaughtered all who came within reach of their long swords singing their death song.  Some of those they killed had been fellow warriors in battles past but they cared not. They were fulfilling their oath to fight and die for their Queen. Their heaven would be to join their brothers.

The war chief of the Carvetii knew that his warriors would sacrifice themselves for the honour of killing the mighty Alerix but he had the Queen to catch. He signalled to his archers; within less than a minute the two warriors were mortally wounded and covered in arrows, even so they had the strength to raise their swords and shout “Cartimandua” before dying.

After a mile or so of hard riding Ulpius slowed to a walk. He turned to Lentius. “Wait here. When they come, ride and let me know. Wait until your horse is ready to ride. That will be time enough.”

He rode next to the Queen. “There has been no pursuit. Your warriors died well.”

“They were oathsworn. It was their duty to die. They will be reunited and live forever.” Ulpius nodded. His own people had a similar belief. There was no finer end for a warrior than to die honourably with a blade in his hand.

Ulpius nodded towards the Queen’s sword which he could see in her chariot. “I have never seen so fine a blade. It is a noble weapon.”

It has been handed down for five generations and came with us from over the water. They say it is an ancient blade with magic and protects its bearer.”

“Do you believe that?”

“None of my ancestors died with it in their hand. It was old age or treachery which killed them all. It is always close to my hand.”

“Does it have a name as most powerful weapons do?”

“It is called Sax Lacus in our tongue. Sword of the lake.”

“I am happy that you have such a weapon.” He smiled sardonically. “It will make my job much easier.”

She caught his eye as she murmured.”I am happy too Roman.” The Queen felt feelings well up in her for this warrior, this man. She glanced at Vellocatus who was a fine and strong youth but she knew that if she ever bedded the Roman it would be a more satisfying experience.

Despite its fine sounding name the reality of the sword was somewhat different from the legend. It had been made by the Celts in the land called Gaul before it was conquered by the Romans. It was made by the finest swordsmsith who used his own blood in its casting. When the Romans had conquered Gaul one of the last warrior chieftains to leave took the sword with him and went to the land of the Iceni in Britannia. Being a belligerent warrior he fought and argued with his hosts and decided to travel north with a few retainers to seek a new kingdom. It was in the land of the Brigante in the valley of two lakes when the legend really began. The uncle of Cartimandua’s ancestor was hunting with a few warriors when he came across the sword and the unpleasant Celt. They fought hand to hand and the Brigante won.  However his victory was short lived for the retainers shot arrows in to the Celts until they were all dead. The only one to see where the sword fell was the great, great grandfather of Cartimandua’s father. He waited until the following day, waded out and retrieved it from below the surface. It was fortunate for him that other warriors of the Brigante were passing the lake as he emerged with the sword in his hand. Although he had been the outsider to inherit the kingdom the superstitious Brigante felt this was an omen and he was pronounced king. The legend of a sword from the lake calling to him came from his own mind. His great, great, great granddaughter inherited all of his guile, cunning and adaptability.

Drusus and Metellus had seen the movement of the Queen’s bodyguards and, unsure if that was an enemy they had ridden away to the south. Fortunately for them they were hidden from their pursuers by a line of trees and the curve of the hill so it was that they unwittingly led the Carvetii into the ambush and caused more casualties than if they had not been followed. Hearing the scream of battle they were able to surmise that it had been a Brigante ambush.

“We can rest the horses a little now Metellus. I am not sure we are still following the line of march of Ulpius.” His leader had told him to rejoin him but their detour had taken them away from the trail taken by the auxiliaries. Drusus knew that they had to make a choice or die.

Metellus shaded his eyes against the sky. “I think Eboracum is in that direction. He pointed southwest. If we continue in this line we will either see the rest of the turma over there or reach Eboracum. And I don’t fancy going back in that direction.” He gestured over his shoulder.

“No you are right there. It is as good a plan as any.” Having made a decision the two cavalrymen felt more contented. As troopers they were normally detached from the main army and both had learned years before that, unlike the legions with their massed ranks and security in numbers, they had to think in the saddle and use their wits. They walked their horses over the flat plain between two low hills giving the winded mounts some time to recover for who knew when they would need to gallop again. They were beginning to believe they would reach Eboracum, as they crested the low hill to the south. The sight which met them made them both clutch at their sacred amulets murmuring for the Allfather to protect his sons.  Before them was a whole warband of Carvetii. Drusus estimated that they were about the same number as an ala, five hundred. Metellus who had the sharpest eyes shouted, “That is Venutius!”

They had no choice and they galloped as hard as they could to the north for that was away from their enemy and towards their few friends.

The light was beginning to dip behind the hills in the distant West when he heard the hoof beats of Lentius’ horse. “No pursuit decurion. They have either gone a different way or given up.”

“Excellent.” For the first time Ulpius believed they might make it. The horses could smell the river and were eagerly riding towards it. That meant that they were so close to Eboracum and the safety of the legion that they could have walked there in the time it takes for the sun to set on a spring evening. The last barrier was the river, not as mighty this far north of Eboracum but difficult to cross with a chariot. They were almost at the river when Marcus shouted the alarm; he was riding five hundred paces to the south of the much diminished band when he saw the movement of mounted men galloping over the rise. 

“It is Drusus and Metellus.” As soon as they heard the alarm every man took his javelin out and checked the strapping on his oval shield.

Ulpius could see his men riding for all they were worth. The fronts of their horses were covered in sweat and they were almost out on their hooves. Drusus was shouting long before he was close. “It is a trap.” He pointed behind him. “The Carvetii.”

Venutius roared his pleasure when he saw how pitifully few the Romans were. They would not be able to escape him and he would have the bitch Cartimandua to parade before her subjects a visible sign that he, Venutius, was the rightful king of the Brigante and the Carvetii. The Vellocatus boy would be castrated alive and then left for the crows, ravens and magpies. He drew his sword. “Kill the Romans but I want the Queen and her boy alive!”

Ulpius could now see how clever and devious Venutius had been.  The scouts hadn’t been chasing; they were the stopper in the bottle, the hound driving the stag on to the spears. The Carvetii leader had known where they would take the Queen and had ridden north east not north west.  His men and horses would be fresher; not that that would be an issue for he outnumbered the Romans by at least ten to one. Behind Drusus he could see the Carvetii army. There were chariots, horses and foot soldiers. Their enemy intended to cut them off and prevent them from reaching the safety of Eboracum. He made up his mind quickly. The river twisted and turned southward to Eboracum. “Right lads we are heading down there towards the river. The queen can use the chariot as a boat and float down to Eboracum. We’ll buy her time. Let’s go.” He secretly hoped that the current would take them to the other shore and they would be safe from the arrows and slings of their attackers but at least the river was a safer option.

They rode hard. They were riding towards the enemy but also getting closer to the river. When they reached the banks they dismounted and the auxilia began to strip the chariot of all that was heavy. Ulpius looked over to the approaching barbarians.  It would be a close run thing and he feared that he and his men would have to sacrifice themselves in order to secure the Queen’s escape. Decius shouted, “Ready sir.”

“Lower it into the river, gently we don’t want it breaking up or floating away. “They began to lower the wooden chariot into the water.

“I am not going.” The queen’s words told the Romans that they would not be able to persuade her.  Their ride, the sacrifice of the bodyguards, the deaths of the auxiliaries had all been in vain.  They would be slaughtered and without any command the troopers turned to face the enemy now less than two thousand paces away.

“But your majesty.”

“I cannot swim.” She smiled an engaging smile that helped to harden their resolve. “Besides decurion as long as I hold the sword I cannot die.”

He nodded, he had already assumed he was going to die but he had been prepared to die so that the queen might live. If this tough old queen wanted to join him, sword in hand, then he could understand it.  At least they would take a good number of the enemy with them. “Shields!”  The men locked their shields into a wall. They were not as solid as legionary shields but they were better than nought.  Ulpius gazed at the approaching horde and then his men, their advantage was their shields, their armour and, most importantly, their discipline; typically, they were bare chested and only a few had any kind of helmet, there were also few shields. That would give the Romans the edge for when they threw their javelins each one would take out an enemy and that would slow up those behind. They would still die but they would take many of the Carvetii with them. It was not in his nature to give up hope; as long as he had a weapon and his men around him Ulpius Felix would always believe he could not only survive but win. “Remember who we are. Remember we fight for each other and remember these bastards only want one prisoner and she has tits!” The men laughed at the irreverence as did the queen who admired the way her rescuer was undaunted by his imminent death. The only one who looked upset was Vellocatus who glared at Ulpius’ back.