Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 09] Hero of Rome (11 page)

First Spear rubbed his grizzled chin. He wondered if it was raiders from the sea again. There was little use speculating. “Any sign of the whoever it was that was responsible for this?”

“No sir.  But they went in that direction.” He pointed south towards the old hill fort.

“Take the second century and form a skirmish line.  The last thing we need is to walk into an ambush.” Within a short time the third rank had shrunk by half and the skirmishers went forward in an extended line.  They were just below the crest of the first ramp when they were attacked.  A thousand men erupted over the crest, a shock onslaught on the surprised eighty men. Before First Spear could issue an order two more warbands came at the line from the left and right flanks. “Close ranks! Optio retreat!” His huge voice boomed across the battlefield but few in the Second Century heard it for they were already dead.  The ones who could ran as fast as they could for the safety and security of the line.

“Prepare pila!” As the survivors dived beneath the shield of the front rank First Spear shouted. “Front rank! Release! Fall back!” After they had thrown their missiles, the front rank became the third rank.  The skirmishers squirmed through to join the shorter second line. “Front rank! Release! Fall back!” This time the front rank was just one hundred men in length but the spears had done their job and the barbarians were warier now. “Keeping time, fall back!”

The centurion at the rear did an about face and the third rank followed suit.  They began to march back through the still burning town. As soon as the Romans began to move backwards the barbarians charged again. “Front rank release! Fall back!” The shorter line became the second rank and First Spear wondered if the barbarians would keep up their pursuit.  They had but two more volleys of spears and already the arrows of the enemy were picking off one or two of the auxiliaries.  He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the gates of the town were less than a hundred paces away. He turned and shouted, “Lucius take the rear rank in column, secure the gates.” Without waiting to see his order obeyed he continued, “Front rank release.  About turn, double time in column.” They had the element of surprise and the barbarians sheltered behind their shields expecting the same measured retreat.  As soon as he reached the gate the men were ordered into line with those who had retreated first forming the front rank.  They still had two javelins left. First Spear walked over to the centurion.  “Lucius, give those who try to get through the gate a volley.  They will find another way I know but I want you to buy me some time so that I can prepare a line further back.” Lucius looked confused.  “I want a fighting retreat to Gaius’ farm.  It is the only place we can make a stand.  But do not take risks.”

As they trotted up the road at double time the barbarians tried to rush the gate.  Twenty spears found some victims and they halted.  Some of the braver ones climbed the smoking palisade and rushed at the auxiliaries.  Rather than risk their valuable pila the ones who made the Roman line were killed by gladii. The next two rushes were more concerted and Lucius glanced over his shoulder; he could not see the First Spear. “Last section, release javelins! About turn and double time.” The column ran in a column of four up the road.  Lucius joined the last man who plunged to the ground with an arrow in his back.  The centurion felt a prick on his leg and knew that he had been hit but he carried on with gritted teeth.  He found himself hurdling bodies as the men in front of him were picked off.  He caught a glimpse of red uniforms ahead and knew that First Spear had his ambush. He sensed rather than heard the warrior behind him and he stopped, crouched and turned in one fluid motion.  The surprised barbarian sliced his axe through fresh air and Lucius ripped open his unprotected gut. He could see that barbarians were less than thirty paces away and he rose to his feet and ran as fast as he could for the protection of First Spear’s line. He was relieved to see that the remnants of his men had formed the third line as the arrow struck him on the shoulder.  This was not the pinprick of his leg and he collapsed in a heap.  He heard First Spear shout, “Capsarius,” and then “well done Lucius. Front rank release!”

As he lay with his wound being tended the centurion could see that they were stopped with a wood on one side and a wall on the other.  The enemy could advance but they would lose many men while doing so.  Equally the survivors could not stay where they were. He looked up at First Spear who was busily organising the defence. “How far?”

“I think we are about two miles away.”

“That sounds too far.”

First Spear shrugged. “Maybe they’ll get fed up of losing men and wait until night.  When you are bandaged I want you to take the wounded and head up to the farm.  Tell Gaius we are coming and get a message to Morbium.  I think this is more than just a raid.”

Nodding Lucius said, “What is your plan?”

“Exactly the same, leapfrog back with as many as I can. Now go! May the Allfather be with you.”

The centurion was shocked to see that he had fifty men with him some wounded more than others.  He had seen the bodies of his men littering the field and a glance over his should told him that First Spear was defending the line with just over two centuries. He hurried the men on as quickly as he could for he knew that soon the survivors would be upon his heels. The wound in his shoulder was still oozing blood and he hoped that he would not pass out before he reached the farm. He saw one of his men seated at the side and he dragged him to his feet. “Come on soldier.  These barbarians will have your bollocks as a trophy.”

“What’s the point we are all as good as dead anyway?”

“There’s dead and there is torture.  While you breathe you move.” He dragged him to his feet. “Move soldier, enough good men have died already today.”Lucius had to admit that this uphill section was hard on legs which were weakened by the exertions of the run. It was with some relief that Lucius saw the barred gates of the farm loom large in front of him.  Someone inside must have seen them for they swung open and Gaius raced out with some of his men to help the wounded. Lucius was impressed that the old soldier did not bother to ask questions which suited Lucius as he had not the breath to speak.

Once the gate was barred shut Gaius came over and helped Lucius towards the house.  The centurion shook his head. “There will be more men coming.  And we need to send a message to Morbium.  It is a large warband.  More than a thousand.”

Gaius took it in quickly.  He grabbed one of his young farm workers.  “Aelraed, get a horse and ride to Morbium.  Tell the Prefect that this is a large warband and his men have been badly mauled.” The boy looked confused.  “Just repeat my words and he will understand.” Gaius grabbed his own bow and shouted, “Cato, get archers on the wall and prepare to support First Spear.”

Gaius had twenty armed men in the farm and they quickly manned the walls.  Lucius gathered as many men still capable of fighting as he could and dressed them in two lines behind the gate. “When First Spear gets here he will be hard pressed by an enemy close on his heels.  We open the gates and I want a volley over the heads of our men and then form a shield wall on each side of the gate. They bought us time let us return the favour.”

They all heard the clamour of battle long before they saw anything. Gaius was in the tower above the gate and he shouted down a commentary. “They are about four hundred paces from the gate, unbar it. Archers shoot as soon as you can see a target. Centurion, there are not many survivors.”

Lucius hefted his shield so that it was tight against his wounded shoulder.  The pain helped him to focus.  Suddenly he heard Gaius shout, “Open the gate!” The men at the gate quickly swung it open.  The sight which greeted them shocked the Centurion.  There were less than fifty survivors and they were all covered in blood and gore, whose, it was hard to tell.

“Forward! Release!” Above their heads they heard the flight of arrows as their own javelins thudded into the eager barbarians. Lucius stepped forward as did his men and they locked their shields.  The auxiliaries flooded through the gate while First Spear, his helmet now gone and blood dripping from a scalp wound, walked slowly backwards. Lucius could see that his shield was badly hacked in places but he still moved purposefully. As Gaius’ arrows took out any that approached one warrior took his axe above his head and ran hard for First Spear. Despite the arrows which struck him he continued to run at the brave auxiliary.  First Spear waited and then plunged his sword forward taking the warrior through the throat. The barbarians halted as their champion fell and the last of the auxiliaries stepped through the gate to the sanctuary of the farm.

First Spear looked at Lucius and Gaius. “Thank you gentlemen.  That was a close run thing. A few more paces and they would have had us.”

Later, after they had been fed and watered, the three of them joined Cato at the gate to work out their options. “I don’t think we will get any help from Morbium.”

“You are right there Gaius which means we are left to ourselves for our defence.” They glanced around at the pitiful remains of the six centuries.  Many of the soldiers had succumbed to wounds and they were left with a total of ninety men who could fight whilst outside there were around a thousand barbarians.”I think all we can do is make it too expensive for them to kill us.  We have already bloodied their nose.  If the Governor can send men from Eboracum…”

Gaius shook his head. “He will want more intelligence than our first message.  No First Spear you are right.  It is up to us. I wish we knew what their leader was thinking.”

******

Faolan was less than happy.  He had lost far more men than he had expected.  The fight at Glanibanta had convinced him that the Roman soldier was not a worthy opponent.  The events of the morning had proved him wrong. He knew that this was the farm of the sword and he was now close enough to almost taste it.  With the sword and the plunder already collected he could return to Hibernia and claim his throne. Looking at the fortified farm that was easier said than done.  Already they had lost twenty warriors trying to attack the walls.  He had to admit it was well made with ditches lined with lillia and ramparts lined with deadly archers. They had a day in which to reduce the defenders for, after that, relief would probably be on its way.  He called a meeting of Angus and Loegaire.  Hopefully their experience would find a solution.

******

“The time has come!” Caronwyn embraced her young Brigante prince.  “There is a rebellion.”

All of Eboracum was aghast at the news. Stanwyck’s population had been massacred; the few survivors brought tales of terrible warriors wielding axes slaughtering innocents in their beds. The fact that the Governor had no troops to send emboldened the would be rebels.

“I will see my father and see what he says.”

Caronwyn looked at him with undisguised scorn. “And I thought you were a man.  When you said you wanted to throw off the Roman yoke then you were a man. Now you are just a frightened little boy who has to ask his father’s permission.” Gaius Brutus brought back his hand to strike the red haired beauty but he stopped as the knife was placed at his throat. “You would die choking on your own blood if you struck me. Go and ask your father but remember, the longer you wait, the less chance you have of success.”

The young man, quite shocked at the threat of violence from what he had seen as a subservient girl, fled and Caronwyn laughed.  He was pathetic.  It did not matter if he was successful or not, as long as he struck it would make others believe in the possibility of change.  That was the message her mother had given her. She sought out Morag. “Come we can leave.”

Morag looked surprised.  “They will fight?”

“I believe so but it is important that we return to Manavia for I have important information for my mother and we can do no more here.”

As they left she would have been gratified that her words had stung Gaius Brutus into action.  He had bearded his father. “Now is the time father! If the Romans had power they would have sent a force to punish these barbarians.  They have not.  Do we wait to be slaughtered in our beds too?  Or do we seize power? My men are ready.  There are two thousand warriors willing to fight the Romans and if we capture Eboracum then we are half way to victory.”

Reluctantly the trader agreed.  He was torn between ridding Britannia of the Romans and losing his son in war. If they failed then they would lose everything including their lives.  It was a gamble and Antoninus was not a gambler.  He had to have some insurance. “My son I agree and give you my blessing if you will agree to one condition.”

The young warrior, now grown into a man with a man’s body looked sceptically at his father.  “What condition?”

“Wear this.” He took, from a wooden box, a helmet.  It gleamed and shone in the firelight. Gaius Brutus’ eyes widened with joy. “I had it made when you began your training.  It is a helmet fit for a warrior.”

Taking it almost reverently from the box the warrior looked at it from all sides.   It was a thing of beauty made from a single sheet of metal, there were neither seams to rupture nor edges to catch blades. It covered the whole head and yet the eye pieces had been cleverly made to enable to the wearer to see well and not run the risk of a deflected arrow. When he put it on, Antoninus breathed a sigh of relief. His son was unrecognisable in the anonymous yet startling helm. If things went awry as long as his son escaped the battlefield, their part in the revolt would remain a secret and if his son died, well that would be the end of the old man’s world anyway and he would take the poison he had paid Morag to brew.

“I will wear it with pleasure father.” He was pleased with the helmet for it marked him as different.  When he and his ’General’ went into battle, it would be as warriors, and not rag tag brigands.

******

Angus had had enough of this raid.  Had he not promised Morwenna to stay until the end, he would have left with Conan and the slaves. This Faolan was like a dog with a bone. The best of the beast had been picked clean and yet he insisted on chewing the remains. Already some of the Irish had drifted off to brigandage and robbery, had they been in a regular army it would have been called desertion but here it was down to each man to choose. Their casualties were increasing and Angus feared what would happen if they came upon an organised force which was expecting them. Hit and run was the way of the raider and they had tarried too long in this land of roads and organisation.