Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 06] Druid's Gold (2 page)

“Yes and yes but we will just have to be careful.  I have travelled these lands before and they are empty. You will all take it in turns to scout far ahead so that we avoid any such encounters but remember we are all going to be rich men; isn’t that worth a little danger? For remember the alternative is to face a Roman force and believe me they would have your heads on their forts before you could draw swords.” He saw that their faces were downcast and he realised that he needed these men; the mules would not drive themselves and the six mercenaries might mean the difference between success and failure.  Failure would not only men the loss of the gold but either crucifixion at the hands of the Romans or a much worse fate at the hands of barbarians. His voice softened, “I believe that the hardest part of this journey is behind us.  Three or four days travel will bring us safely to the coast and I doubt not that we will find a boat once we reach there.

As the men settled down for the night Decius walked the mule line with Centurion. “Do you believe all that you just said?” Centurion waved a dismissive hand towards the already sleeping soldiers.

Weighing his words carefully, for Centurion and Tiny were his only allies in the inhospitable land which surrounded them, he nodded, “I believe it is our only hope.” He paused before he continued.  “I do have a worry, well two if truth be told. My brother is serving with an ala of cavalry, Marcus’ Horse.” Centurion face showed his surprise.  “So you have heard of them? They are a formidable force and they patrol the land of the lakes.  Were they to stumble upon us then our venture would be at an end.”

“And the other thing?”

“There are rumours that the Brigante are now led by a powerful witch and she too is known to have her base in the land of the lakes. It would not do fall foul of a fell witch especially as this gold we bear was taken from the sacred mountain of Wyddfa and witches take a dim view of theft from their holy places.”

“Which leads me to ask, respectfully, why are we heading there, when it would seem to be the most dangerous place for us to be?”

“The alternative is to cross the spine of this rocky little island and then cross all the major Roman roads which run north to south chancing Roman patrols, informers , bandits and ,once we reached the east coast, we could have to avoid the fleet which protects the shipping which travels to and from this rich little island.” He spread his hands to make his point. “When I worked for my uncle I saw just how prosperous and efficient the Romans were. There are a couple of villages on this coast and we will try those.  It may be that we do not come close to the Brigante or the ala.”

Centurion shook his head, “It seems to me it is a gamble but you have been right up to now so let us roll the dice. I will sleep first, wake me when you are sleepy.”

“Do you not think my words had the desired effect?”

“I think they will behave but I would not like to bet either your life, or mine on it, would you?”

*

Half of Decius’ worries were needless if he did but know it.  Even as they headed north the remnants of Marcus’ Horse were gathered for the last time at the legionary fortress of Eboracum. They were pitifully few in numbers; there were only three officers still remaining from the seventeen they had had when at full strength, Julius, Livius and Sergeant Cato.  They could barely muster two turmae of troopers and many of those who still mustered showed the signs of the ravages of the battles over the past year.  Julius had spent the morning with the Governor and Legate discussing the fate of this famous force. Julius had not had time to talk to either Livius or Cato and he knew that they would be surprised, not to say shocked with his words. The faces before him were only a tiny portion of the ones Julius remembered; the lucky ones had retired or left with minor injuries.  The far greater numbers were those who had died in battle, amongst them his brother and the greatest warrior amongst the troopers Decurion Macro.  He shook his head absent mindedly to clear away the sentiment.

“Men, today is a sad day.  Today is a day I did not foresee coming, certainly not as long as I was prefect of this ala.  Marcus’ Horse is now a fraction of the force it was and it has been decided to disband it as an ala.” With the exception of Sergeant Cato every man looked aghast, Livius in particular, he opened his mouth to ask a question and then thought better of it.  He was too well trained an officer to be insubordinate and interrupt his commanding officer. “Some of you are due a pension either now or soon and any man who has served eighteen years will be granted his pension and a plot of land on the border.  For those younger men,” he glanced at Livius, “there is the chance to transfer either to the Gallic Horse based at Coriosopitum or the cavalry unit attached to the Ninth.” He paused to let his words sink in. “You will need to tell me of your decision within the next two days.” Some of the men began to talk to the trooper next to them. Julius held his hand up and there was absolute silence once more.

The attention of the guards on the walls was totally focussed on the drama unfolding before them. They were witnessing the end of an ala which had been famous since they had rescued Queen Cartimandua almost forty years earlier. The inns and taverns or Eboracum would have but one topic of conversation at the end of this working day and that would be the disbanding of Marcus’ Horse and the retirement of its swallow tail standard.

Julius rode to the end of the line.  “I would like to thank you men, you brothers in arms, for all that you have done in my time with this glorious ala.  You have always done more than even I could have expected, you have never retreated and never shown dishonour. Our brothers who are no longer with us but with the Allfather are looking down now proudly on the last of their comrades and I would like to clasp the arm of every one of the finest warriors not only in Britannia but the Empire.”

As he rode down the line speaking a few words to each man and clasping forearms in a soldier’s salute there were many silent tears shed. It was, as the Governor himself had said, ‘the end of an era’. Finally he embraced Sergeant Cato and then Livius both of whom were fighting to remain stone faced. As he turned to face the ala for the last time every troop pulled his spatha from its scabbard and raised it in a last salute roaring, as a man, “Marcus’ Horse!”

The silence echoed strangely around the fortress as every eye in the fort, sentries, clerks, farriers was fixed on the dramatic tableau. Time seemed to stand still until every man slid his sword back into his scabbard and led their mounts back to the stables and barracks. Only then did a murmur of comment rise like the buzz from a swarm of bees.  Livius and Cato dismounted to face the Prefect. “Bit of a surprise eh Livius?”

“That is putting it mildly.” He glanced over at the Sergeant. “What about you? Did you expect it? Are you happy about the decision?”

Cato shrugged, “I was going to take my pension this year anyway, the prefect, er sorry sir, Marcus has asked me to help him with the stud.” He paused.  “I am sorry to see the ala go but remember all my comrades are either dead or retired… a long time ago. I have buried enough comrades, now I just want to raise foals.”

Livius nodded, “And you sir?  The Gallic cavalry or the Ninth?”

Julius’ face darkened and he became sad.  “Neither, I am to return to Rome.  My father is not well and I am to take his place in the Senate.  I am going home.”

“But surely this is your home Julius!”

“It is my adopted home but I was always destined to return to Rome and take up my family obligations, we have always served in the military and then in the Senate,” he shrugged, “a tradition. Now that I am the only son… well let us just say that I feel obliged to continue to serve my family and Rome at the same time.”

Cato took the reins of their mounts.  “Right then sirs I will see to these horses now.”

“A last dinner tonight eh Sergeant?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world sir.”

“And you Livius?  Any thoughts?”

“It has all been so sudden I…”

As Cato led the horses away, talking to them all the time, Julius put a paternal arm around the last officer’s shoulders.  “I would like to offer you some advice and give you some information. The role in the Ninth is a new one.  They are to be called the Exploratores.”

“I’ve heard that term but I never knew what they were.”

“Well they are the eyes and ears of the legion.  In the old republican days the Cavalry of the legions fought like the legions in blocks of men.” He looked pointedly at the soldiers on the wall.  “Unlike the legionaries they were not very successful. Gradually they became glorified messengers and the men who would have formed the cavalry joined with either auxiliary units as I did or the legions as foot soldiers. Finally someone realised what a good job the auxilia did and decided to use them that way.  The legions which did that showed how successful they could be, giving better warning of an enemy and not charging of to death and glory.”

“How are they different from the ala then?”

“Much smaller units not thirty men but little pockets of ten or so and they operate less openly.”

“Less openly?”

“Less battles and charges more information gathering, pretending to be locals, working behind enemy lines things like that.”

“Spies?”

Julius considered for a moment.  “I suppose you could say that.  Gaelwyn would have been perfect for an Explorate; able to track, hide, able to speak many languages.  Which is why, young Livius I recommended to the Prefect of the Ninth that you would be perfect as a decurion in his Explorates.”

“You flatter me I…”

“I never flatter, you of all people should know that.  I have watched you since your uncle placed you with me to gain experience.  You speak the important languages.  You are a good tracker.”

“Not in Gaelwyn’s league.”

“Who is?  Most importantly you are a good cavalry officer who has intelligence.  Your men worship you. If you take this post I guarantee that the Gallic cavalry will have no recruits from the last of Marcus’ Horse.” Julius paused to let his words take effect. “The other factor is to do with the posting.  The Gallic cavalry will be sent to Wales to fight the Silures and Ordovices  but the Ninth is staying on the border, here in the land you know.”

“Close to Morwenna.” Livius had a personal score to settle with the witch who had deceived so many in the ala and killed friends who were dearer to Livius than his own family.

Julius shrugged, “She could have gone back to Mona.”

“The new Queen of the Brigante? I don’t think so.” He looked up at the blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds appearing over the Praetorium.  “I do like this part of Britannia.  It is not my home, not the place where I was born but it is the place I love. I will take the posting with the Ninth.” His eyes became harder, “If only to rid this land of the witch Morwenna and make it safe for Ailis and her children.”

Chapter 2

Optio Septimus Aurelius was pleased to be out in the wild again and away from the camp. Although he had been with the Ninth legion for over twenty years he preferred the detachment duties better.  He was old for his rank but he was an engineer.  The six men with him were almost young enough to be his grandchildren but they were a good team.  They were all eager to learn from the most experienced engineer in the Ninth. They had spent the night in the deserted fort of Glanibanta.  It would soon be repopulated with Tungrian auxiliaries but it had been a pleasant way to spend the night, safe and secure in the work of others.  He had been lucky to secure the services of a mule for it saved the backs of his legionaries and increased their speed.  This would be his last engineering job before he took his pension and the little piece of land west of Lindum; he was to survey a route from Glanibanta to the coast with a view to building a fort somewhere on a high pass. He felt proud that he had been given the task, perhaps the engineering tribune had heard of his endeavours over the years, whatever the reason it was a fitting laurel to a successful, if uninspired career. He knew the younger optios teased him about his increasing waistline and receding hairline but, as he had trained most of them, he took it in good part. 

As he looked around at the beautiful scenery he reflected that it was good to be walking in such fine country.  He constantly scanned the valleys through which they passed seeking out the rocks and materials which would be useful to the legions when they came west to build the road and the fort. It was one of the skills he liked to demonstrate, the ability to do two jobs at once and do them very successfully.

“How far do we go today Optio?”

“Well Julius that depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“It depends in the country.  We have to make sure that the road is as straight as it can be and that there are enough raw materials to make the task easier. If the valley is straight or the ridge straight then we will have an easy time but Mother Nature has a habits of making rivers and valleys curve, just to annoy engineers.”

The young legionaries smiled.  They had all been pleased to be working with the old engineer.  In the legion he was a legend and they knew they would learn much from him.  Unlike some of the younger optios he never felt the need to impress them with his knowledge or humiliate them with their lack of it.  He was almost like a teacher or a kindly uncle demonstrating a skill.  It would be a nice little holiday from the rigours of the legion.

He smiled paternally at them as they grinned and joked along the path.  He liked to think that if he had had sons then they would have turned out like these young soldiers before him.  Perhaps when he retired he would find a Brigante woman who would find an older, overweight and slightly balding Roman an attractive proposition and bear him some children; he would like that.  “Come on you wasters we have twenty miles to go today and we have much to do. Drusus take the lead and find an easy path for my old tired bones.”

*

Tadgh examined the trail to check for footprints and breathed a sigh of relief when he found none. Aodh had given him the responsibility of looking after Morwenna, the Queen of the Brigante and her two acolytes and fellow witches, Maban and Anchorat. The handful of men at his disposal was far too small and it was only through the diligence of constant scouting and traps in the forest that had enabled them to survive thus far. Aodh had only been gone for a month but it felt much longer. Tadgh and his men were in total fear and awe of the three witches who seemed to be able to communicate without the need for words.  Although all three had been pregnant when Aodh had departed one, Anchorat had given birth. Tadgh and his men had begun to celebrate as the newly born boy was brought to the entrance of the cave. In their innocence they had believed the witches had brought the child there for them to acknowledge it as a child of their lord, Aodh, but when the new mother smashed the newly born baby’s skull against a rock they knew otherwise. After they had buried the baby, as Morwenna requested, his men had pressed Tadgh to discover the reason. It was with extreme trepidation that Tadgh approached the Queen as she drank the green foul smelling concoction of nettles and mandrake leaf.