Roman Courage, page 6
part #13 of Sword of Cartimandua Series
Marcus did not panic. He vaulted himself into the saddle and pulled his sword in one motion. He dug his heels into Raven’s flanks. In the time it had taken for him to mount and move the Votadini were just ten paces from him. He saw them pulling back their arms to throw at him. He had no doubt that they would aim at him and his horse. He galloped at the two to the left and then, as he swung his arm back he jerked the reins to the right. Raven bundled over one warrior and Marcus brought his sword down on to the neck of the other. They expected him to flee. He had used all of his luck up already. If he presented his back to the other two he was a dead man. He whipped Raven’s head around, vaguely aware that there was a spear sticking out of one of the saddle horns. This time the two Votadini were taken by surprise. Marcus lunged at one and scored a hit along his shoulder. He swung his foot at the other and connected beneath the man’s chin. He fell. Marcus had not time to examine the four for another five had broken cover and Marcus, wisely, headed back to the safety of the fort. He had learned enough.
As he reined in, just inside the gates, an auxiliary pulled out the spear from the saddle horn. “That was impressive sir. Taking on four barbarians like that.”
“I was lucky.”
First Spear strode over, “Well?”
“They have you surrounded. I found signs to the west, north and east of you. As their camp is to the south I think that we are cut off. In my opinion, they will use that stream for cover. It is only three hundred paces to the ditches. That is inside bolt thrower range.”
“I know. We can change many things but not the course of the stream.”
Marcus rubbed his chin, “There is one thing, sir, the heather to the east, it is bone dry.”
“And?”
“If the wind was from the west it would not take much to fire it. As I discovered, they can hide in the stuff and be invisible. It is just a suggestion sir but if I were you, I would fire it as soon as an attack starts. Even if they are not attacking from there, I believe that there will be Votadini hiding.”
“Good idea.” He pointed to Raven. “Your horse is injured.”
Marcus saw that a spear had scored a long wound down the shoulder of his horse. It was not serious but, without attention, it would be. He led the horse to the stable. He cleaned it with acetum. Raven protested but Marcus had her head tied to two rings so that she could not move easily. Then he smeared it with some honey. He put her nose bag on. He would not need to ride her for a few days but she needed all the help she could get to recover. Marcus had not ruled out the possibility that he might have to flee with news if the worst happened and the fort fell. He would fight as long as he could with the auxiliaries but he owed a greater duty to the army. He had been sent to gather information and that was what he would do.
Felix galloped wearily across the bridge into Coriosopitum. Tensions were running high and he was delayed until a messenger could be sent to the Principia for confirmation that they were expecting his news. Already delayed by the Votadini Felix was acutely aware that the attack would be taking place the next day. Knowing the Votadini it would be at dawn. First Spear was also unhappy with the delay. The unfortunate optio was berated by the centurion who came to fetch Felix.
“Where is your Decurion, scout?”
Felix was well used to the ways of the Romans. They liked to take charge and they did so with questions. The most efficient way would have been for him to simply pass on the message. He answered, “He is in Bremenium, First Spear. We discovered news that it is to be attacked and he needed to warn the garrison.”
Before he could go on and give more details the impatient First Spear interrupted, “But the garrison knows of the trick which worked last time. They will be safe, surely? Why did the decurion not return?”
Felix hid the half smile, “The Decurion and I counted more spears than we have seen in a long time. I was delayed in my return by the weight of numbers who were surrounding Bremenium.” He paused, “The decurion asked for help to be sent.”
“It is that serious? What numbers are we talking about?”
When it came to large numbers Felix had to rely on those that both he and the First Spear understood. “I would say that there is the equivalent of two Cohors Milliaria.”
There were other centurions present and one of them burst out, “Surely that cannot be right, sir! The clerk who escaped told us that there were less than two hundred involved in the attack.”
Before First Spear could speak Felix said, “Sir, they have been drawing men from all over. I even saw some Brigante who live south of the wall heading there. The success in destroying a fort is drawing warriors from all over. This is not all of the warriors available to the Votadini. I spied some Selgovae. All who wish harm to the Romans are flocking to the banner of Randel.”
First Spear looked at the map. On this coast there were just three forts north of the wall. One had been destroyed and the other two were surrounded. He cursed the Legate. Until a new Legate and Prefect arrived it was his decision to make and this was one which taxed him. He could not leave his comrades exposed. He would have to go to their rescue.
“Scout, you have done well but I need you again. Get a fresh horse.” Turning to his number two he said, “Get the First Cohort ready we march north.”
Felix smiled, “If you are marching then I need no horse, sir. I can keep ahead of you. I will go and prepare.”
As he went First Spear said, “And that is my worry, gentlemen. Young Felix is right. Even at double time the barbarians can still move faster than we can. Whichever fool took Marcus’ Horse south put the whole of the north east of this province in terrible danger.”
Randel had watched the Roman rider escape his ambush and head east towards the stream. The man was lucky. The men he had sent to take him had been too eager and too excited. That was the problem with their victory. His men believed that every Roman was an easy target. That was not true, Randel knew that and the Roman horsemen were their best warriors. He did not know how they could control their horses, use their shields and fight at the same time. This was when he missed his brother. Just talking to Baradh seemed to clarify his thinking. Creagh was there instead and he was no help.
“A little careless, chief, to allow the rider to escape.”
“Where can he go? The fort is surrounded. If he heads to Alavna then there will be warriors to take him. Fear not Creagh, son of Agnathus, he was not important. Tonight, we get into position. They will be expecting us to fight in their borrowed mail. Instead we will hide in plain sight. Our warriors will creep closer to them. Their bolt throwers are deadly but they cannot depress when you are close to them. Tadgh learned that. It cost him his life but we will benefit from that knowledge. They have six of them. By attacking from every direction and in a loose line we lose only six men. They can reload quickly but not that quickly. When we reach their ditches then they cannot hit us.”
Creagh’s face showed his disappointment. Randel had thought things through well and Creagh did not like it.
Randel lowered his voice so that only Creagh could hear him. “Until I fail then these men will follow me. You will have to bide your time to take control.”
Creagh hated the way that the young chief seemed to read his thoughts. To cover himself he asked, “And where is your brother, Baradh? I heard he was always at your side.”
“And he normally is but I had a task and he was the only one I could trust to do it.”
“You do not trust the rest of your men?”
Randel smiled, enigmatically, “The ones I have fought with, those I trust.”
The two of them watched the men as they began to slip acorns the road and into the stream. He had worried that the Romans might send bolts to discourage them but now he realised that the road was at extreme range from the fort. When the rider had been pursued across the road the bolt thrower had remained silent. The Allfather smiled on them. Had this been Baradh who had been with him then Randel might have shared that information. It was Creagh and Randel did not like the man.
“Creagh, why are your men not in the ditch with the others?”
“Look at the weapons my men carry. They are superior to those who wait in the ditch. Better to save them for the second assault when their weapons can be of more use.”
Randel was angry and his voice, though quiet, showed this, “Put your men in the ditch with the others. When it is almost dawn you and I will join them and lead the attack.”
Creagh looked appalled. He had assumed that they would watch the attack and then join in later on, “We go in the first attack?”
“That was the way of Tadgh and it is the way of my brother and I.” He smiled, “You are not afraid to die, are you? I thought that death would be nothing to you. You have sent many men to the Otherworld have you not?”
Creagh did not like the way this young chief seemed to be able to get under his skin and see his flaws and weaknesses. “No, but I do not see any point in throwing it away.”
“It will not be thrown away. We attack while it is still poor light. The bolt throwers and the arrows are the danger. The men who operate them will have difficulty seeing fast moving men who run without armour. We make the first ditch and we are safe from the bolts. Then we have to navigate the ditches. I confess that will not be easy and it is why we need your men. Many of them have shields. We have many we collected from the Romans but the more shields we have the less men we will lose.”
Creagh was almost convinced and he nodded but he would make sure that he hung back. A shield was not a defence against a Roman bolt.
Baradh and his men were in position. They were south of the river and hiding by the road which led to the fort. The fort was five hundred paces from them. He dared approach no closer for the Roman commander had cleared the land all around. They had even cleared a killing zone for the three bolt throwers on that side. He had chosen the best place to wait. Hidden in a stand of trees they would be able to intercept any who fled the fort or join any refugees who fled after his brother’s victory. He now had more men than when he had started out. They had found men heading for Otarbrunna to join his brother. He took it upon himself to order them to join him. His warband swelled to eighty. With forty equipped as Romans Baradh now believed he had more of a chance to take Alavna if the opportunity arose.
Cynwrig led the eighty men who waited in the heather to the east of Bremenium. Baradh had marched with his cousin on his way to Alavna. Cynwrig was eager to show his two illustrious cousins that he, too, knew how to fight and to lead. Although most of the men he led were new to him, he was confident that they would not let him down. As soon as it was dark they began to crawl through the heather and the gorse. The gorse was harder to negotiate. The spikes could take out an eye! It did, however, afford more cover than the heather. It was dark and Cynwrig knew that they would not be seen but even in daylight the movement would have looked like the wind blowing from the east. Cynwrig was like all of his people, he understood the land and the winds. Arianrhod, who gave them winds, was already shifting the wind for them. By the time they were within range of the bolt throwers the wind would be coming from the west and would take their smell away from the fort. The gods did not like the Romans! Even as they crept Cynwrig could smell the Romans. The food they ate was different. They ate something which smelled pungent, even from a distance and, as he crept, the smell came into his nostrils. He could also smell the faint whiff of fresh bread. If they were close to the wall with the bread oven then he and his men would have an easier opportunity to fire the fort. He and his men moved forward. They moved one arm or leg at a time to minimise movement. When Cynwrig made the noise of the owls which hunted at night they would stop. That would be just a hundred paces from the ditch. The Romans had cleared sixty paces from the ditch and Cynwrig and his men needed the cover of the heather and gorse to avoid exposure.
Agnathus was not camped as the others were. He and his men were at the camp of one of his chiefs. It lay to the north of Alavna. Agripanthus had been a mighty warrior in his time. His battles had been ended by the spear thrust at him by one of the dreaded horsemen of the Romans. His men had not joined those of Randel. He had awaited his chief. His village lay two Roman miles north of the fort although as there was no road and a river between the distance was more like three. He and Agnathus sat and talked, after they had eaten of their plans for the next day.
“I would not waste the one hundred men we have with us. My son will be with Randel. If they can attack and take Bremenium then we may be able to take advantage and reduce this fort which makes us cower.”
“It is well positioned, my lord. It lies in the bend of a river. The river and the Roman ditches make it very hard to take. They have chosen a high part of the land so that they can see us coming from a great distance.”
“And that is why I will be cautious. I will send some men to cut the road to Bremenium. There are woods north of the river?”
“Yes lord.”
“Then the rest of us will wait there. If the chance comes, we attack and if not, we wait to see what happens further west.”
Chapter 5
The message which Marcus had brought meant that First Spear knew when the attack would come. If they were outside the walls and ready to attack it would either be at night or at dawn. He had the men fed and standing on the walls well before dawn. The auxiliaries did not complain. Their centurions, optios and chosen men had told them all of the massacre just down the road. A little lost sleep was preferable to a lost manhood and head. The night drew on and still no attack materialised.
Marcus donned his helmet and made certain the Sword of Cartimandua was sharp enough to shave with. He picked up a handful of javelins and joined First Spear on the fighting platform above the road gatehouse. He sniffed the air, “They are out there. The wind has changed and I can smell them. They smell of sweat, pig fat and I can detect lime. There are warriors out there with limed hair.”
First Spear nodded. The bolt thrower crew were peering anxiously into the dark gloom. He turned to them. “When they come it will be as fast as lightning. You lads will earn your extra pay today and that’s no error.” He shouted, “Everyone, stand to and keep watch. It will be dawn soon enough.”
The optio on the bolt thrower asked, “Why don’t they come in the dark, First Spear?”
“Simple, Optio Assellio, they are not as stupid as they used to be. They know that we have traps and stakes in the bottom of our ditches. They want to see where they are. They will avoid the bridge. They know it is a killing ground.” Turning to Centurion Lucius Furius Calva he said, “Take charge here Centurion. I want to make sure that they have fire at the east gate. It seems our Decurion here has good senses. The wind has changed. We may be able to burn the buggers!”
Centurion Lucius Furius Calva was an older centurion. The grey at his temples told Marcus that the man had seen some service, “Could do with your lads right now, Decurion. Horsemen are the best deterrent to barbarians.”
“I agree but there is never enough. There are three alae in the whole of the Province at the moment and two of them are now down at Deva. That leaves just one and they are heading north even as we speak. The good news is that they are twice the size of Marcus’ Horse. The Ala Petriana have a good reputation. We just have to hope that that they can get a move on.”
Well south of the wall Prefect Aulus Gemellus Glabrio was approaching Morbium. He was not a happy officer. He did not mind being prefect of Ala Augusta Gallorum Petriana. In fact, it was an honour for this was the most prestigious of all ala. What he was unhappy about was the haste with which they had been sent north. The Ala Augusta Gallorum Petriana had been at Lindum for three years. Depleted by the battles north of the wall the original Ala Quingenaria had been doubled in size. He had been with the ala for just three months, the original commander having died. Prefect Aulus Gemellus Glabrio needed more time to whip the wild Gauls and Britons into shape. He wanted them to be a disciplined unit. His success in this barbaric land might lead to a better posting in the east. That was a better climate and a life style which would be more agreeable than this little rock squatting at the edge of the world. The Governor had been insistent that they cease their training and go north of the wall to quell a rebellion.
He waved forward the Decurion Princeps, Marius Scaeva Pera, “You have served here before, Decurion Princeps. Does Morbium have barracks enough for us?”
“No, Prefect. The only fort on this coast large enough to house the ala is Coriosopitum. We cannot make that today. We will have to use Morbium. I believe that they have still to demolish the old fort. We can use that. The troopers will have a roof. It will be safe enough.”
“I am more concerned about comfort. And this weather? Does it never get warm?”
The Decurion Princeps bit back the laugh, “Prefect, this is summer. This is as hot as it gets.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him of the winter but that would be a surprise he would let the arrogant patrician discover himself.
“Then we must win a stunning victory and I will be posted to a decent clime.”
“I fear that this will be anything but quick, Prefect. The land favours the barbarians and they are fierce fighters. Death in battle is an honour to them. They are no respecters of horses. They would as soon take an axe to a horse’s leg as a sword to a trooper’s throat. They know that once we fall then we are helpless.”
“Barbarians! Why Emperor Hadrian does not exterminate them all I do not know. There is little in their land that we want! That is why he built the wall.”
