Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 00.5] Ulpius Felix- Warrior of Rome (2 page)

Gerjen had continued to pour arrow after arrow at the enemy but, seeing his quiver empty, and his friend without a sword he bravely rode to his aid.  He too pulled his own dagger out as another German raised his sword to strike at Wolf who was defending himself with his dagger. Gerjen did not hesitate.  He threw himself from his own horse and flew like a spear towards the unguarded warrior’s back. His dagger went beneath the arm and plunged into his body killing the warrior instantly. Gerjen fell to the floor and the warrior’s body tumbled on top of him.  He pushed him off and grabbed the weapon from his dead hand.

“Behind you!”

Wolf’s cry made him turn to see the last German riding towards him, with his spear held before him. Gerjen could not evade him and he bravely held his sword before him. Wolf’s arrow struck the warrior on the arm and he swerved as his reins slipped.  He kicked on and the horse jumped over Gerjen, catching him a glancing blow with his fore hoof and then they were gone, heading to safety.

Wolf leapt from his horse and grabbed the semi-conscious Gerjen.  “I owe you my life brother.”

Gerjen tried to shake his own head but it hurt too much.  “As you saved mine. I think that makes us even.”

When Wolf looked around he was disappointed.  There had only been four warriors and one of them had escaped.  He had hoped he could return with heads adorning his saddle showing his prowess as a leader but they had had almost three times as many warriors, surprise on their side, and still one had escaped.  Even worse he saw that four of his band had received wounds of one type of another.  He saw Darvas binding one badly gashed arm, Kadarcs and Panyvadi looked to another two minor wounds. Gerjen rose to his feet and they went around the bodies looking for trophies of war. They had at least three fine swords and Wolf kept the best giving the other two to Gerjen to divide.  He made a pile of the bracelets and daggers. When he pulled the helmets off he saw that the warriors were little older than he.  One helmet fitted him and he took it, along with a shield.

“Come, the one we allowed to escape will return with others.  Take what you will and bring the two horses which survive.  We ride for home.”

Kadarcs looked at the dead. “Are you not taking the heads? As trophies?”

When it came down to it, Wolf was not sure that he would be able to cut off a man’s head and he did not wish to risk looking foolish before his band. “We have no time.” He waved a hand at the weapons. “We have enough here.”

They seemed relieved at that and they all roared a cheer of victory.  They setoff at a brisk pace back the way they had come.

Gnaeus Marcius Celsus hated this desolate, wide empty country. He and his Cavalry Turma had a huge area to patrol.  The Ninth Hispana was a proud legion raised by Caesar himself but Rome had sent all but one cohort and the infantry to help subdue the new province of Britannia. The duty in this land had worn down the spirits of the few who remained. It was almost like a punishment. Although conquered, this mounted people were like a flea flicking around and annoying. Gnaeus wished that he had some of them as auxilia to relieve some of the tasks of his overworked one hundred and twenty man turma. The worst part of his duties was the escorting of the tax collectors.  They were generally fat and greedy little men who insisted upon travelling in the slow and ponderous wagons making each journey an even bigger nightmare.  It was for one such duty that he was returning to the fortress of Novae to begin the next round of collections.

When he reached the Praetorium one of the Tribunes was waiting for him.  “Come with me Tribune.  The Legate wishes a word before you begin your task.”

When he entered the office he noticed a soldier, slightly older than himself seated towards the back of the office.  He nodded at Gnaeus.  The Legate looked up from the map he was studying.  “Ah Celsus, still bitching about the patrol and the tax man?”

The Legate, Marcus Bulbus was a good natured general with white tufts of hair around a totally bald pate.  This would be his last posting and when the rest of the Ninth left for Britannia he would retire to his lemon groves south of Surrentum. He was what the men called a ‘sound general’ which meant he did not waste their lives in useless attacks.  He was also known for his sense of humour and Gnaeus did not take offence.

“Of course sir! I am a cavalryman.”

Everyone laughed and the atmosphere immediately relaxed.  “And that is why you are here, because you are a cavalryman.” He pointed to the northern frontier of the Empire, close to the Rhenus River. “We have a couple of tribes here, the Chauci and the Frisii and they are causing a little bit of bother on the frontier.  As you know the divine Claudius has decided to invade Britannia and we are a little short of troops which is why we only have one cohort here and the rest are with the forces conquering Britannia.” Gnaeus was intrigued; did this mean he would be in action again? “Now you cavalry fellows attached to the legions are all well and good but you are damned expensive with your armour and fine horses and the Legate commanding the force, Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo has asked for some native horsemen.”

Gnaeus went from the elation of imagining that he would be leading a vexillation against barbarians to the sudden realisation that he would be a recruiting officer. “The Pannonians.”

“You see Julius I told you he was quick on the uptake.” He waved his hands, “Their tribe does not matter, just so long as they can ride.  This is the main reason you have been chosen.  You know horses and you know men. We need about a thousand in the first instance but, for the next year you will be recruiting others.” He saw the disappointed look on the cavalryman’s face.  “If it is any consolation I think that this legion will be in action soon so regard this as a necessary evil to allow you to achieve your ends.”

“Sir.”

“Now then you will accompany the tax collector but I have told him that you need to be quicker than usual and he will have to ride.” Gnaeus smiled.  That was not so bad. “You need to be back here, with your new men within two months.”

“That is a tall order sir the province is huge.”

“Concentrate on those closest to the fort and work outwards.”

“And who will command these barbarians.  Should I find a local leader?”

“No, no.  That wouldn’t do.  He might get ideas if we gave him a thousand men and armed them. No, no, we have an officer. Proculus.”

The seated officer rose and Gnaeus could see, as he emerged from the shadows that he was at least ten years older than he with grey hair at his temples. Marius Ulpius Proculus.”

Even as he took his arm Gnaeus knew that he had heard the name before but where escaped him. “Tribune Gnaeus Marcius Celsus.”

“Proculus here will be in charge of them when they go to the land of the Rhenus. Oh and see if there are, say, six or so men who would like to volunteer for detached duty until they have fought their first action.  Offer them a temporary pay grade of optio.” Even as Gnaeus wondered who he could be rid of the Legate went on, “I want decent men for they will be returning to the legion and I want our Prefect here to give me a good report.” Proculus gave a wry smile and inclined his head to one side. He, too, had known what the Tribune would have attempted. “Right, off you go.  You will need to get acquainted.  You leave today!”

As they left Marius said, “Sorry about this duty, and stealing your men.  I will return them I promise.”

“If you return.  These Pannonians are a wild bunch and the Chauci, well I have heard of them too.  Madmen, apparently.  I would be worried to take my regular cavalry against them, let alone a bunch of wild barbarians who like nothing better than to take off a head or two and adorn their saddles with them.”

“I have heard that but this is a chance and I intend to take it.”

They walked towards the stables in silence for a while. “If you don’t mind me asking, Prefect, what is your background?  Even the officials in Rome do no pick out a name at random to command allies.”

Proculus paused, “My father was the victim of one of Caligula’s little purges.  I was serving with the First Minerva as a Narrow Stripe Tribune, much as yourself, I was arrested and thrown into prison.  Luckily for me Claudius came to power and I was released.” He paused and looked sadly off to the west. “The rest of my family, all of them died. I suspect I am being given this assignment to be away from Rome and they hope that I will not return.”

The Tribune was taken aback by the honesty of the Prefect.  In the treacherous world since the death of Augustus you kept your counsel until you knew the politics of the person to whom you were speaking. “Very honest of you and sympathy for your loss.”

Proculus shrugged, “The Legate said that you were an honest man and I have tired of deceit. I now speak my mind.  Keeping silent when that madman was shagging his sister and his horse did no-one any good.  Perhaps a little more honesty might help.”

“I admire your sentiments but do not believe all that you have heard about the Divine Claudius. He is not a stammering half wit as some would have us believe and he had spies everywhere.  I would watch your tongue until you get to know people.”

“I will and, as I said, I only spoke to you after the Legate spoke well of you. I wanted you to know what kind of man I am.  That may help in your selection of my men.”

They had reached the stables. “Decurion!”

An older cavalryman appeared from nowhere. “Sir?”

“Get the men on parade.  We need to address them.”

Decurion Spurius was a veteran and he was no longer surprised by commands from the young officers who ordered him around.  “Sir!”

“We are going on a recruiting drive while we collect taxes and the Prefect here will command the Pannonians we recruit. We will need six volunteers to be detached from this legion to help him to train them.  They will be returning to duties here when the men are trained but to compensate the men concerned I can offer a pay rise to that of an optio.  If you are interested then speak with Decurion Spurius.  We will of course decide which six men are chosen.”

The tax collector was less than happy as he bounced along the road on the back of his horse.  He was not a horseman and he liked his comfort but the Legate had been insistent.  Even worse he had to do this collection quickly which was not his way.  He liked to study the places he went and discern who was trying to rob the Emperor.  The sooner these barbarians were recruited the better as far as he was concerned.

At the head of the column the Tribune rode next to the Prefect with the Decurion behind, listening. “What are these Pannonians like then?”

“Mad little ugly buggers who’ll whip your bollocks off as soon as look at you!”  The men behind laughed.

“Thank you Decurion.  Very colourful I am sure.  First off the Decurion is right they are ferocious fighters but the finest men on horses I have ever seen.  It is as though it is not two beings but one.  Did you know this is the land where the Centaurs were thought to have lived?  Seeing them I can believe it.  They ride with their knees and can use both hands to fight, bow, javelins, lance, and any weapon no matter what the type.”

“Which begs the question how did we win?”

“I hate to say it but the legion did that.  They are brave as any warrior and they hurled themselves at the legionaries who sheltered behind their shields and hammered them with ballistae. When their horses tired then they were surrounded and butchered. They only obey their chief; they do not even have a king which was another reason we won.  We beat them bit by bit.  Had every horsemen joined to fight us then we would have struggled.” He turned to look at the Prefect. “You will have your work cut out you know.  They don’t know the meaning of orders; well not as far as I can see.”

They rode in silence for a while and then the Tribune said, over his shoulder, have you thought of any men who might volunteer Spurius?”

The veteran gave a throaty laugh. “I can think of a few wankers I could give to the Prefect but he seems a nice chap so I will pick five who are good enough to take charge of a bunch of hairy arsed barbarians.”

“I assume that this is just for one campaign?”

“That depends on how good they are.  I think I am expendable; if they kill me then Caligula’s work is done and if I succeed then it can be repeated.  From what you say though I think they would be a valuable asset.  Think of the times your hundred and twenty troopers have been the only cavalry on the field. My father said we used to have Numidians but not in our lifetime and besides I don’t think the land we are going to would suit Africans from the desert.  It is supposed to full of foetid swamps, forests and fogs.”

“Your job gets better and better!”

By the time they were approaching Cavta, Wolf’s village, they had recruited three hundred warriors. Marius and Gnaeus had still not settled on the men they would use as officers but they had whittled the list down. “We’ll make our decision tonight after this village.”

“What is this one like Gnaeus?”

“This is an interesting one.  The warriors here like fighting so much that after the peace they took to raiding the Germans.”

“The Germans! Are they mad?”

“I told you, mad as fish.  They generally get the worse of it as they were outnumbered but it doesn’t stop them trying.  The trouble is it means there are fewer men here.  Still it is the last stop on this leg and we head back tomorrow in a loop to the west.  We should have good pickings there.”

Abad saw the long Roman column from some distance. He glared at Wolf who defiantly faced him. “You endangered this whole village and for what,” he contemptuously threw down the helmet and sword Wolf had brought proudly into the village, “this! And what of the boys who are injured following you! Wolf! You are a wolf and a lone wolf at that.  Better we cast you from the village than allow you to stay here and contaminate others.”

Gerjen stepped forwards, “That is not fair! We went because we wanted to go.  We would be men as you were.  You went on raids when you were a boy! Why not us?”

“That was in the past and times have changed.  We are now ruled by Rome.” He pointed at the nearing column.  ”This is the future.  We now have civilisation and prosperity.” He jabbed an angry finger at Wolf as though it was a sword.  “You! Return to your mother.  When the Romans have left we will decide your fate.”