Masters of Rome (6 page)

It was with relief that he saw his cavalry escort, now remounted, following the first cohort into the fort. He took his horse from the decurion and hauled himself wearily into the saddle. ‘Thank you, decurion, I don't think I could walk another pace.'

‘Then you ain't exercising enough,' a voice from behind him commented.

Vespasian spun round, his eyes murderous.

‘Perhaps you should do more riding of a different sort, if you take my meaning?'

Vespasian's face broke into a broad grin. ‘Magnus! What in the name of all the gods are you doing here?'

Magnus rode up to Vespasian and proffered his arm. ‘Let's just say that Rome's a bit unwelcoming for me at the moment, but I think that can probably wait until later, sir, seeing as you seem to be in the middle of storming a hill-fort.'

Vespasian grasped his friend's muscular forearm. ‘I'm intrigued, but you're right, it can wait until I've caught Caratacus.'

Vespasian rode past the last of the smouldering huts. All around lay the bodies of the dead – women and children as well as warriors – sprawled, bloodied and broken. Ahead of him, lined across the hill-fort, from the southern wall to the northern, stood the II Augusta's first and second cohorts, supported by the third and fourth. Beyond them was a mass of warriors and their families.

‘Looks like they're going to surrender,' Magnus observed, scratching his grey hair. ‘They must have decided that a life of slavery is preferable to an honourable death. I'll never understand these savages.'

‘That suits me; it'll save a lot of Roman lives and I'll get a healthy cut of the profit from their sale. But if they are surrendering it must mean that Caratacus is dead.'

‘Or he's escaped.'

‘Impossible, the fort is surrounded.'

Magnus grunted, his scarred ex-boxer's face betraying his scepticism at that assertion, as they dismounted.

Cogidubnus was waiting for Vespasian next to Tatius. ‘They are willing to surrender; Drustan and Caratacus are dead.'

‘Where are their bodies?'

‘Drustan's is with them but they claim that Caratacus' corpse was completely burnt in the fire.'

‘Bollocks!'

‘That's what I thought; but if they're willing to surrender they must be confident that Caratacus is safely away.'

Vespasian scowled. ‘Take their surrender; he can't have got out of here.' He turned to Tatius. ‘Have every hut searched for
trapdoors and other hiding places and whilst the lads do that have the prisoners pass through the gates one by one so that Cogidubnus can examine each of them.' He turned back to the Briton. ‘Even the women; you never know what he could be disguised as.'

Cogidubnus nodded and walked away with Tatius to organise the surrender and search of the hill-fort.

Vespasian turned to Magnus. ‘Something is not quite right here. Come on.'

He kicked his horse towards the south wall and, dismounting, climbed one of the many ladders leading up to the walkway that ran around the palisade's entire length. Magnus followed him up.

Looking out around the hill's circumference Vespasian saw what he expected: it was surrounded by cohort after cohort with never more than a fifty-pace gap between each one. ‘Surely no one could get through that.' They walked around to the western and then northern sections; every angle was covered.

‘Perhaps he was burnt after all,' Magnus suggested.

‘No, if he died they would have saved the body to prove it.'

‘Then he must be hiding.'

‘Sir!' Tatius called from under the west-facing wall. ‘We've got something.'

Vespasian and Magnus ran back and climbed down to the primus pilus; in his hands he held some wooden boards.

Vespasian looked at the ground at his feet; it was a tunnel entrance, just wide enough to admit a man. ‘Shit!' He pulled up the remaining boards and saw a ladder within; he climbed in.

He headed down into darkness with Magnus following. After descending ten feet or so he came to a level tunnel; light could be seen at its far end. He speeded up, anxious to get out of the close confinement. A few moments later his head popped out into the open; in front of him were stakes: he was in the ditch below the palisade. Opposite was another tunnel leading to the second ditch; he made his way through the stakes and climbed in. Pulling himself along with his arms for a dozen or so paces of gradual descent he emerged at the other end into the second ditch. He dusted himself off and looked around. On the far side
was the only growth of bush that had been allowed to cultivate around the defences on the steep west slope; foot-holes led up the ditch's side beneath it.

Magnus joined him. ‘So this is how he got out.'

Vespasian pointed to the foot-holes. ‘Yes, and that's how he got away.' He climbed up the vertical bank and peered into the bush; there was a narrow path cut through it that went on for thirty paces down the hill. He crawled down its length and came out into a dell in the hillside, deep enough to obscure him from both the walls above and the auxiliary cohort on station at the base of the hill.

‘He could have got to here unseen,' Magnus said, peering over the edge and down to the troops at the bottom, ‘but the rest of the way down is open ground; our lads are bound to have seen anyone coming out of here.'

‘Let's go and ask them.'

Vespasian and Magnus jogged over to the auxiliaries; their prefect strode forward to meet them. ‘The fort is ours, legate?'

‘It is, but we're missing one vital component, Galeo. Did anyone come out?'

The prefect looked confused. ‘Just the man you sent an optio to bring out: the spy.'

‘What spy? What optio?'

‘The young lad seemed too young to be an optio but it was hard to tell under all the grime on his face.' He pulled a scroll from his belt and proffered it to Vespasian. ‘But he had written orders with Plautius' seal on, giving him permission to get our agent out of the place before it fell, so he wouldn't get killed in the chaos of the assault.'

Vespasian glanced at the scroll, knowing immediately that it was a forgery. ‘When was this?'

‘Just after the attack started.'

‘Where did they go?'

‘They rode off, around the fort heading for our camp.'

‘Are you sure that they didn't turn away and ride off?'

‘I don't know; I didn't pay them any attention once they'd gone.'

Vespasian's fists clenched. He felt like pummelling the man although he knew that it was not his fault; he had been duped. ‘This optio, did he give his name?'

‘Yes, sir; Alienus.'

Vespasian raised his eyes to the sky. ‘I might have guessed.'

‘So he was from you?'

‘No, prefect, he was not.'

CHAPTER II

‘W
E PICKED UP
their trail, sir; they doubled back and headed west.' Lucius Junius Caesennius Paetus, the young prefect of the Batavian auxiliary cavalry ala, reported in clipped patrician tones, standing to attention on the opposite side of the desk to Vespasian in the praetorium tent. ‘Judging by the tracks, they were a good two hours ahead of us. After five miles or so they met up with a group of at least thirty horsemen and changed direction to just north of west. By that time the light was fading and we had to turn back.'

‘Thank you, prefect. Maximus, have you had the legion's casualty list?'

‘I'm just waiting for the second, third and fourth cohorts' reports; they suffered the most scaling the walls. I'll bring it to you when it's complete.'

‘Has there been a report of an optio going missing just before the attack?'

Maximus looked surprised. ‘How did you know, sir?'

‘A guess. Well?'

‘The optio from the sixth century, ninth cohort went missing just before the assault started as the cohort moved into position.'

‘Thank you, Maximus.' Vespasian looked over to Cogidubnus, seated to the right of him next to Valens. ‘How long is it since you've seen your cousin Alienus?'

‘Verica's grandson? Why?'

‘Because I believe that he was the man masquerading as the optio who got Caratacus through our lines.'

The Britannic King thought for a few moments. ‘Not since he was a boy, well before he went to Rome, say six or seven years. Why?'

‘Could you identify him?'

‘I doubt it after all this time; he'd be a man now and I only saw him a few times as a lad.'

‘A pity.' Vespasian looked at the crude map rolled out before him; there was not much detail on it south or west of where they were, just the coastline of the peninsula that narrowed as it ran southwest into the ocean and marked with a couple of rivers. ‘Where do you think they're headed?'

The Briton got up and peered at the map in the lamplight. ‘My western scouts who came back in this afternoon reported another hill-fort about here.' He pointed a dirty-nailed finger at the map slightly north of west of their present position, almost halfway to the sea on the north coast of the peninsula.

Vespasian noted its whereabouts on the map; most of the markings were in his hand, the cartographic record of the island being sparse to say the least. ‘How large is it?'

‘Larger than this one; it's got three ditches and four ramparts.'

‘Is it occupied?'

‘According to my men there is a small force holding it but not more than a few hundred; it would seem that most of the warriors were called to muster here.'

‘Question the prisoners and find out all that you can about the place.'

Cogidubnus nodded.

Vespasian considered the facts for a few moments, running a hand through his thinning hair. ‘We'll need to take it anyway as we move west, although I can't imagine that Caratacus will let himself be caught in a siege again. What's between here and there?'

‘Hills and some flat land; there are a few settlements but none are fortified so they'll probably be abandoned as we approach them.'

‘What news from the scouts in the north?'

‘They're not back but if any hostile body was close enough to threaten us they would have sent a message.'

‘Have that agent of yours report to me, he may know something about the place.'

‘I will, as soon as I can find him.'

‘What happened to him?'

‘I don't know; he disappeared soon after we brought him down.'

Vespasian paused, frowning. ‘How long has this agent been working for you?'

‘He appeared before me about four months ago, just as you were settling into your winter camp, saying that he was an Atrebas who'd been captured by the Durotriges as a child and had spent ten years as a slave on a farm. He'd managed to escape and came to me to offer his services in return for some land of his own to farm; he said that it would be easy for him to pass unnoticed in and out of any Durotrigan hill-fort as he had no status. I could see the logic of that so I accepted; and, having so nearly caught Caratacus today, I think that I was right to do so.'

Vespasian nodded before studying the map again. After a few moments he pointed to a small peninsula attached to the southern coast by a thin strip of land, about thirty miles directly south of the hill-fort. ‘This looks like a good sheltered anchorage for the fleet; have your scouts had a look at it?'

Cogidubnus squinted at where he was pointing. ‘They're not good judges of nautical affairs, but they said that there are a couple of fishing settlements on the eastern side of the promontory, but there is another well-fortified settlement about six or seven miles inland from it.'

‘Then we'll take that on our way down to the coast having dealt with this next problem.' Vespasian turned to Valens. ‘Get a message to the fleet and have them rendezvous with us there in ten days' time with next month's supplies.'

‘He'll leave at first light.'

‘Good. Maximus, we'll leave the Gallic cohort that led the assault here to garrison the fort; I expect they could do with the time to lick their wounds. Have another cohort escort the prisoners back to our winter camp; the slave-traders can assess their value there. The legion will strike camp before dawn tomorrow and force-march towards this hill-fort; there is a chance that we can get there by dusk. Paetus, you will take your Batavians and ride at the speed of Mercury and get to the western side of that
fort without being seen; take one of Cogidubnus' scouts as a guide. I want you to intercept anyone who tries to leave the place; and I mean anyone, even the ugliest old crone.' Vespasian stood, leaning on the desk with his hands; his officers also got to their feet. ‘Gentlemen, once again speed is essential. The chances are Caratacus will leave that fort in the morning and head on west; but if he doesn't, I want him caught like we had him today, although this time we do not allow him to escape. We'll take these two forts, resupply with the fleet and then continue west along the coast to this estuary here that marks the border between the Durotriges' and the Dumnoni's lands.' He pointed to a large river mouth twenty or so miles from the rendezvous point. ‘This is our objective this season and then we'll strike north across the peninsula to the northern coast next year to link up with our allies the Dobunni's land. Any questions?'

There was a general shaking of heads and positive mumbling.

‘Gentlemen, you have your orders; dismiss.'

The officers saluted and they and Cogidubnus turned and left.

‘You didn't ask them the obvious question,' Magnus said, sitting in the shadows in the far corner of the tent.

‘How do they think that Caratacus and Alienus communicated to effect the rescue?'

‘Precisely.'

Vespasian smiled, raising his eyebrows. ‘That's because I've just worked that out. They didn't need to; Alienus was in the fort already.'

‘What do you mean?'