Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 00.5] Ulpius Felix- Warrior of Rome (16 page)

“Well I am happier here than I was at home.”

The ala would have happily finished their tour in Germania Inferior had events in Britannia not caused a huge change and upheaval. Caractacus had been captured after the Queen of the Brigante had handed him over to her allies.  Her protection had been ensured but her husband, Venutius had tried to take over her throne and the ala was needed to bolster the troops which were stretched too thinly across the new wild frontier. The Legate did not bring the orders himself but sent the unpopular Bucco. Marius had remembered his look at the battle and now, the smug self satisfied look was gone when the aide faced the three Prefects and Legate Labeo.  He looked less self assured and was more hesitant.

“The Legate is pleased with the work you have done and it is now time for the Fist Pannonians to aid Governor Gallus and subjugate Britannia.  You will sail with the Classis Germania to Rutupiae and then travel north to Lindum where you will support the Ninth Hispana in their new campaign.”

As soon as he had scurried away Labeo voiced the opinion of all of them, “Prick! We’ll be sorry to see you go Marius and we will miss your horsemen.”

“I know sir.  It seems a mistake to take away the only cavalry in this region but at least we will be working with the Ninth and six of my officers served with them.”

The Gallic Prefect was less sure. “Without your horse we can patrol less of the land and without the patrols who knows what the bastards are up to?” When the Batavi revolted some years later the Gaul’s words were proved prophetic; not that it did him much good as his body was hacked to pieces as he defended his standard.

As they sailed west they were all sharing a mixture at regret in leaving somewhere they had become comfortable mixed with the excitement of action and the pleasure of being reunited with some old friends. The journey across the Oceanus Germanicus was short but it was far from pleasant.  None of the Pannonians had ever seen the sea before and the storm clouds on the day they left meant that they felt as though they were sailing towards the end of the world.  The pitching of the ships made them all ill, much to the delight of the marines and sailors on board. As they sailed past the white cliffs which marked the river and the entrance to the port of Rutupiae they all vowed that they would die in Britannia rather than risk the voyage back; sadly their wish came true. The fort at Rutupiae was the strongest in Britannia and they had to spend a night there for their horses to recover and for Marius to be briefed by the Camp Prefect.  There were maps to be copied and equipment to be replaced.  This was further north than Germania and the Prefect had a wicked smile when he issued the extra blankets.  “Believe me Prefect.  Your men will need these.  I have never been in such a cold country and you will be further north.  It either snows or rains almost every day!”

Marius spent the latter part of the day briefing all of the officers. “We head towards Londinium here along the Via Claudia. It will the busiest road we travel along but there are plenty of places along it to gather any supplies we need. From Londinium we head north.  The Via Claudia travels west and we go on the road they are calling Fossa Lindum but the Prefect told me the soldiers call it the Via Hades.” He gave a wry smile. “I think we can work out what that will be like.”

“What about the tribes then sir?”

“Well most of them arte happy little bunnies with villas and baths. In fact the Iceni king, Prasutagus, is a big fan of ours, just like Cartimandua.  Once we get to Lindum then we can expect trouble.  The Brigantes have a Queen, Cartimandua, she is an ally of the EMperror.  Met him apparently and she likes all things Rome.  Her husband, Venutius, sees himself, according to the Prefect as the new Caractacus.  You know the hero who will rid his land of the Romans. He is busy trying to remove his wife and then raise the Brigantes against us.”

“What sort of troops do they have over here?”

“Much like the Gauls. They like long swords, they don’t wear much armour, they have horses but they are a bit small and ,oh yes, you will like this they still use chariots and some of them have scythes along the wheels.”

Decurion Aulus Murgus snorted, “If they are anything like the ones we encountered in the east they are easy to avoid.  They can’t turn and they won’t have armour to protect them. Bring them on!”

The officers all laughed.  They had grown into each other and accepted the foibles and character traits of their peers. “We shouldn’t have any problems until we reach Lindum.  That is the end of the province although, as I said, the Brigantes are our allies and their land ia buffer for us.”

“Who is further north sir?”

“Good question Felix. The Carvetii, that is the tribe of Venutius and after that they are the Pictii.  Blue painted barbarians who terrify even the natives.”

“Just like being at home then?”

“Except that we don’t speak their language.  I know the lads did well with learning Roman but we need to speak with the Brigante.  The Prefect suggested we hire a Brigante scout who can teach us the language.”

The Prefect was right and they made excellent time as they travelled north.  They camped north of Londinium which gave Marius and Flavius the opportunity of observing the land through which they travelled. “It looks like flat farmland.”

“It does sir.  I am surprised that they haven’t sent us here earlier.  It is perfect cavalry country.  Better than the swamps of Germania.”

“I think Corbulo hung on to us as long as possible.  Despite what he said to our faces I heard he took all the credit for our successes.”

“He was a prick.”

“When you have survived in this army as long as I have you will find out that good senior officers are few and far between.  Apparently even Caesar was a bit of a bastard and he could waste men’s lives needlessly.”

“Aye but at least he fought with his men.”

“True.  I don’t think Corbulo was a coward.  He never flinched when the Chauci got close to him.”

Back in the camp Gerjen and Wolf were comparing the land of Britannia with Germania and Pannonia. “I tell you what Wolf, it is green.  Have you ever seen such a green country? And the farms?”

Gerjen had grown up since becoming aquilifer.  He was not a leader but he was fiercely loyal and, for him, the standard represented his friend Wolf.  When Wolf had lost his eye Gerjen had prayed that he would not have to leave the army; he did not know what he would do without his friend.

“But the towns Gerjen. They look like proper towns and we have only been here for ten years.  The Romans conquered our land over fifty years ago and it hasn’t changed.  I guess the people here must like the idea of Rome.  Perhaps our job will be an easy one again.”

Sextus Vatia wandered over, having heard them. “I heard that the tribes in the south already had much trade with Rome and they had their ideas.  They didn’t take much conversion not the tribes to the west, I have heard they still have druids.”

Wolf shook his head, “Vexus told me about them.  They are like our shaman but armed to the teeth and he said that they had them in Gaul. They used to sacrifice any prisoners they got to their gods.  Sometimes they put their prisoners in wicker baskets and burned them alive.” He shivered. “Vexus was a brave warrior but he was scared shitless of the druids.”

“They are so tough that there are two legions the Twentieth and the Second trying to contain them. The Ninth have the rest of the country to control. I don’t think this will be as easy as the fight against the Frisii.”

“Yeah but at least we can ride here.  I haven’t seen a hill yet.”

“Me neither and look to the east, the land is so flat it looks like you could walk back to Germania.”

It was, indeed, a monotonously flat horizon and featureless land which oozed east and the next day it became, if anything, even more monotonous. Wolf was slightly disappointed.  This had all the signs of being a boring posting where they would be policemen rather than warriors. He brightened up when, four days later they reached Lindum, the fortress of the Ninth.  It was a frontier camp with no sign of stone to be seen anywhere. The ditches were deep and the sentries keen eyed. “That looks a good spot for a camp Flavius.  I will see if there are any familiar faces in the fort and find out our orders.”

The Camp Prefect was a new man for the old one had retired with Bulbus.  He had every indication that he had been a centurion who was seeing out his time in a comfortable job although from the scars on his arms he had been a brave man.“Appius Graccus.  I remember when you picked your men up in Pannonia.  I take it they survived?”

“Yes we had some interesting times but I wouldn’t swap them.”

“Well you have come at the right time. We have a new Legate Quintus Petillius Cerialis. His brother Caesius Nasica was the one who defeated Venutius last year. He is out with the Tribune and the First Cohort doing a patrol of the region.  Visiting Stanwyck to meet the Queen.”

“The Queen?”

“Cartimandua. She is the real power in this land.  Her support means we didn’t have to fight the Brigante. They are a real threat but, so long as she rules then we won’t need to fight them but it is a huge land and your lads are going to have to cover a huge area.  That is why you were summoned.  You will be the only cavalry.  The other auxiliary force is the First Tungrians.  They came from the land you were just stationed in, close to the Rhenus.”

“Thank you for that update.  It will help. I have my Decurion Princeps building a camp.”

“The Legate will tell you where you will be based; I suspect it won’t be here. We have few soldiers in the fort.  Most are spread out in smaller forts. We just need to control them here.  They are peaceful, generally. Anything else I can do for you?”

Marius smiled; the Camp Prefect was dismissing him, politely of course.  “Well I wondered if you had a Brigante we could use as a scout and translator.”

“Not sure, but there is a Decurion in the infirmary who might be able to help.  He worked with some of the scouts in the campaign.  Decurion Spurius Ocella.”

Marius brightened.  “Spurius?  I know him.”

“Good that will make things easier.”

Spurius was lying in a bed with a bandaged leg.  Marius heard him complaining before he reached the room; the orderly was being berated by the sharp tongued veteran. “I told you before dick head.  I don’t want the gnat’s piss the locals drink I want a decent amphora of wine from home.  If you can’t get it then some of the muck from Gaul will do.”

“Still making friends and influencing people I see.”

The orderly gratefully fled and Spurius smiled.  “Still alive then sir?  I take it the bastards didn’t knife you then?”

“No Decurion.  They turned out to be good lads.  They did well.”

“Must be the training sir.” His grim face softened.  “I’m glad sir.  The Tribune told me your story…there are some bastards out there.”

“How is the Tribune?”

“Happier here.  We gave the Brigante a good kicking and this is lovely cavalry country.  The grass is good for the horses not that stuff in Pannonia.  He is with the new Legate.”

“What happened to you?”

“One of the Legate’s aides, a bit of a dickhead if you ask me, well this Gaius Cresens sees a Brigante and instead of waiting for the order to attack he leaps straight towards him.  His horse crashed into mine and I broke my leg.” He raised his voice.  2And I thought I would have a nice rest here but the dick heads can’t even get some decent wine.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll send over Decurion Vatia with one later.”

The invalid’s face brightened.  “They still in then?”

“Aye, all of them.  They’ll see you later. Now I need a scout and the Prefect thought that you might be able to help.”

He nodded, “He’ll mean Osgar. A good lad.  He can run all day and keep up with the horses but the new legate didn’t take to him.  He said we didn’t need the locals; couldn’t trust ‘em.“ He leaned over, “You can trust this lad, believe me.”

“Your recommendation is enough for me.  Where will I find him?”

“He has a hut by the stream about a mile north of the fort.  He likes hunting.  Tell him I sent you.”

“He can speak our language?”

“Aye, not well but he can understand most words.  But the most important thing is he is like a bloodhound; can track over rocks, through water.  How he does it I have no idea.”

The camp was taking shape when he returned.  “Flavius take charge.  When they have finished let Sextus and Quintus go to the fort with an amphora of that wine we brought.  Spurius Ocella is in the infirmary and is pissed off.” He lowered his voice.  “See if he can find out about this new general and the other officers.  We are going to be working closely with them.  It would be handy if they were as accommodating as the Fifth.”

“Yes sir.”

“Can you spare Wolf?”

“Yes sir why?”

“Thought he could come with me to meet our new scout. I’d like him to get a little more responsibility.  When the older lads, Quintus, Publius and Aulus retire we will need another senior decurion.  Can you think of anyone better?”

“No sir I reckon if you cut him he would bleed First Ala. But isn’t it a long time of retirement?”

“Publius keeps really good records. His enlistment is up next year, they are offering land down near Camulodunum.  He would be a fool not to take it.  This looks to be as civilised a place as I have seen outside of Rome.  Aulus and Sextus have another three years.”

“They might want to re-enlist.  I do.”

“I know Flavius and you will be the next Prefect so taking Wolf is just getting ready for the future and whoever is the senior Decurion will need to speak the local language for that is where our next recruits are coming from.”

“Right sir, and sir?”

“Yes Flavius?”

“Thanks for explaining!”

“Wolf.  Get your horse we are going for a ride.”

“How’s the eye these days?”

“I don’t even notice now sir?”

“Don’t lie to me Decurion.  I have seen you rubbing it, especially on bright days.”

“It won’t be a problem sir.  The grass around here is so green it must ain the whole time.”