Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 08] The Last Frontie

  THE LAST FRONTIER

  The Sword of Cartimandua Series

  Book 8

  By

  Griff Hosker

  Dedication

  To all the people who have supported me so much. Thanks to Rich and Alison, Pam, Ste and Gordon. You make writing the books much easier!

  Published by Griff Hosker 2012

  Copyright © Griff Hosker First Edition

  The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  Part One- Troubled Times

  Chapter 1

  Livius Lucullus Sallustius peered over the stern of the swiftly moving trireme. The Pillars of Hercules, through which they had passed the previous day, were now just a thin grey smudge on the distant horizon. At firs, Lucius had taken to standing by the stern to look on Britannia and then latterly Aquitania, the scenes of many battles recently fought by the scarred young man. He glanced down at his disfigured legs; the result of torture by his brother Decius, Lucius knew that he would never be able to run again as he once had or even walk with any dignity but at least he had ended his family’s disgrace with the death of his brother in the estuary in Aquitania. The damage to his legs had been a small price to pay for the honour which he had regained.

  He noticed that the rollers which had pounded them all the way from Eboracum had now changed to gently rolling, inconsequential waves which barely disturbed the increasingly blue sea. They were in the waters owned, ruled and controlled by the mighty Roman Empire, they had moved away from the precipitous edge of the world to the very centre of its existence. The Pillars of Hercules seemed to mark the boundary between barbarity and danger to civilisation and security.

  During the voyage the crew had assiduously avoided him. Apart from pleasantries from the Praetorian Centurion, Titus Aculeo, sent to fetch him by the Emperor, he had lived in a silent and undisturned world. Part of the silence was the fear that they carried a frumentari, one of Trajan’s feared secret police. They were not to know that it had been a disguise to enable Livius and his companions to capture his brother and regain the gold stolen from Eboracum by them. He had not minded the silence for it gave him the chance to think and to weigh up his future. It allowed him to reflect on his military career and life thus far. He had spent too long in the service of Emperor’s like Vespasian and Trajan to even consider a quiet retirement. He knew he had the money to do so and he knew where he would choose to spend the quiet, peaceful days of reflection, Morbium, where he could be close to those he loved the most, Gaius’ family and the retired members of the exclusive club which had fought in Marcus’ Horse. That was in his future. His present would be determined by his interview with the Emperor Trajan and his acolyte Hadrian. Having been summoned to Rome, he had speculated upon its purpose, as the Centurion had said, it was for a reward not a punishment. He had implied, in their first brief conversation, that another task was required of him but what could he do for Rome with his crippled legs and damaged body?

  Ostia made Eboracum look like a fishing port. The smell from the busy gateway to Rome assaulted his senses even before they could make out the buildings. The produce of the world seemed to be sucked into the port and then sent on the cobbled Roads to feed the greatest city in the world. Livius felt himself shrinking back against the rail. If Ostia was this powerful then how much more so would Rome be?

  The Praetorian had his servant bring Livius’ belongings from the hold and gestured for him to head for the gangway. In truth, Livius would have preferred to stay on board the trireme which had been his home for so many weeks rather than entering a world of which he knew nothing. The oppressive heat of the city and the smells emanating from the busy port of Ostia, felt like an invisible barrier preventing him from stepping on to the gang plank which was the ship’s umbilical cord. The Praetorian was eager to be rid of his charge and he took Livius’ arm to propel him down the gang plank. As soon as his feet touched the stones of the wharf he felt unsteady as though he were standing on the pitching deck of a ship in a storm and not the solid stones of a road.

  Titus Aculeo laughed at Livius’ drunk act, “It always gets you when you step ashore. Don’t worry Decurion, it doesn’t last.”

  He took him by the arm and steered the Briton towards the imposing stone structure guarded by the soldiers of the Imperial Guard. The sentries immediately recognised the Praetorian and, from the looks on their faces and the speed of their salute, Livius surmised that the Praetorian was feared.

  “You have two horses ready for us?” It was not a request, it was a command and the sentries responded immediately.

  “Yes Centurion. We’ll just get them.”

  Once mounted Livius felt less nervous. This was his territory, on the back of a horse. Although he felt guilty it was good to be above the human detritus which ebbed and flowed like a living sewer. He found that the smell of the horse was preferable to the spell of his fellow men. Around him was a sea not of salt water but all manner of humanity, ebbing and flowing in a human tide.

  The Praetorian noticed him as he wrinkled his nose. “This must be your first time in Italy. If you think this is bad then wait until we reach Rome then you will see and smell far worse things than this.” He looked down disdainfully, as his horse nudged a cripple into the gutter, “It is no wonder that the Emperor lives on a hill above the maddening crowd.”

  “I am not used to towns. I am a cavalryman and more used to sleeping under the stars where it might be cold, especially in Britannia, but at least it is healthy. This smell does not bode well for health.”

  “You are right there Decurion. We have the plague galloping through the city every couple of years.” He shrugged philosophically, “Gets rid of the weak and the rest, who remain, are stronger.”

  Livius glanced over at the callous soldier. Perhaps he was right. Livius and his men had taken many men’s lives, what was the difference if they were taken by the Allfather? The road to Rome was a crowded heaving mass but the Praetorian’s uniform and his free use of his vine staff ensured that their passage was as swift as it was possible to be. Once they had entered the Porta Ostiensis, the massive gate in the walls of Rome, then the wheeled traffic ceased as they were not permitted to use the roads during the hours of daylight. The thoroughfares were still thronged as the busy bees that made up Rome’s population scurried about eagerly looking for a profit but at least there were no wagons or chariots to contend with.

  “Where are you taking me Praetorian?”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth Livius regretted them as they sounded like he was issuing an order and Livius was intimidated by the huge Centurion with the icy eyes and arms rippling with knotted muscles. The steely glare he received in reply told him that he had been correct and the snarled answer ensured that he would not open his mouth again. “You have the honour of lodgings in the Castra Praetoria and you would think well to watch how you use the term Praetorian Not all my colleagues are as kind and thoughtful as I.” Even as he was speaking the words the huge Centurion was slashing down on the head of an unfortunate traveller who had mistakenly stumbled against the warrior’s mount.
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  Livius deemed it wiser to hold his tongue and refrain from any further irrelevant questions as they negotiated the capital of the Roman Empire. He glanced up as they passed the Palatine Hill and marvelled at the palace which adorned its crest. As he did so he shivered a little for when he did visit that edifice it would be to meet with the Emperor and Emperors, even one held in such high esteem as Trajan, could be precocious and unpredictable. Many visitors had arrived at the palace expected good only to have their remains end up in the Tiber.

  The Praetorian camp was outside the walls of Rome on the north eastern side of the city but as it had control of its own gate this was not a problem. Livius was admitted with a cursory glance due to the towering presence of the Praetorian. He was pointed in the direction of the principia, the camp office. “Present yourself at the principia my role has finished. I have finished my stint as baby sitter!” He started to turn away but then reined in his horse; he leaned close to Livius, speaking quietly for only the young Explorate to hear. “A word of advice Decurion. You seem like a decent sort. “He leaned forward and lowered his voice even further so that only Livius could hear. “Beware your tongue. Use your ears wisely and do not trust every smiling face. Rome is filled with those who appear as a friend. These are not your comrades be careful whom you trust.” Nodding, as though to confirm his words, he rode away leaving Livius even more worried than he had been.

  The optio behind the desk had been expecting him. He was a young officer with an arrogant air about him; he looked to Livius like a young noble man on his way up through the ranks. He would probably end up commanding some auxiliaries on the frontier with no experience of war of any kind. Livius suddenly wondered why he had been expected and then he remembered the signal station at Ostia. Although it had taken them half a day to negotiate the road from the busy port the signal had been sent as soon as it had been sighted and the message would have reached Rome within an hour. The Empire was mighty indeed.

  “Ah Decurion. “ The nasally voice grated on Livius’ ears and oozed condescension, “You were to have been housed here in the camp, but as the Emperor is still in the East it has been decided that you will stay in an inn we have located for you. It is half a mile out of Rome on this road. It is the one with the sign of the black grapes. You will stay there until sent for.” He threw over a small bag of coins. “This should be sufficient for your needs.” He looked up, a cold look upon his face. “Do not return for more. There will be none forthcoming. You have one visit to this well so husband your finances accordingly.”

  From the sly look on the optio’s face Livius surmised that the optio had taken more than he had given as his cut; not that it bothered Livius. He had brought enough coin to keep himself comfortable. Around his waist was the belt which contained enough gold to keep him comfortable, it never left his body. Nodding his thanks he took the paltry bag of coins and mounted his horse once more. As he left by the camp’s ,Porta Decumana he noticed that the looks he received were very suspicious. He absentmindedly patted his hidden money belt in which were also secreted his letter from the Emperor and the frumentari pass. No-one had asked for their return and he was certain he would need them again. Having once suffered the horror of the Emperor’s gaol he would be as prepared as it was possible to be.

  When he reached the inn he was pleasantly surprised. He had expected his accommodation to be basic at best but the Praetorian optio has not risked the ire of an Emperor. Livius might look like a nobody but the fact that the Emperor had sent someone to the edge of the world had made the optio a little more circumspect. The inn keeper greeted Livius like a long lost son. The Decurion was in no doubt why; he would be expecting more business and a healthy return on accommodation provided for a guest of the Praetorians. The horse would be looked after like Pegasus, he was assured. Once Livius had found his room he decided that Rome was worthy of a close inspection and he would return to the capitol and explore its streets. The Explorate in Livius meant that he always tried to prepare for any contingency. If he had to leave Rome in a hurry then he wanted to know the quickest and the safest way.

  Walking back along the road towards the city walls he reflected that the Emperor could return to Rome and the west in days or in months but whichever it was Livius felt that he had to find his way around the city and he began to examine the city with the eye of an Explorate. He decided to use another gate and avoid the inspection of the Praetorians. He headed for the Porta Esquilina which he knew from the landlord was further south but much busier than the one close to the Praetorian camp. He soon found that just how busy this gate was as its route was from the east and the road did not have to cross the Tiber and the bridges there. The wagons and carts were backed up down the road as they waited to enter the gates at dusk. Livius approached the gate confidently and the two sentries nodded to him as he walked through. Once inside he turned and looked at the others trying to gain admittance. They were all being searched and questioned. Why had they let him through so easily? He quickly discovered the reason; his sword and clothes identified him as a soldier; he was openly wearing a sword. Perversely that would guarantee minimum inspection as they were looking for any visitor intent on wrong doing and hiding both their intentions and their weapons. He stored the information. When he returned to Britannia he would use that idea with his Explorates, new skills and techniques would make his spies even more effective than they were.

  The cobbles began to hurt his injured legs but he gritted his teeth and persevered. He had exercised as much as possible on the ship and his legs were now stronger than when he left Eboracum but the cobbles and the jarring caused spasms of pain to shoot up his legs. If he was to become fully fit again then he needed to build up his muscles and his strength even further. Heading due west he saw the mighty buildings and temples on the Capitoline Hill begin to spread out and dominate the skyline looming above his head like something dropped there by the gods.

  He had heard that the Forum was always a good place to start a visit to the Eternal City and, avoiding the newer Trajanic Forum he headed for Caesar’s Forum. He was intrigued with the legend of Caesar and wanted to see where the great man had been struck down. It would also afford him the opportunity of visiting the Senate. Although not as powerful as it had once been, it was still an important body and one which every Emperor tried to rule and control.

  After negotiating the crowded streets filled with people who seemed anxious to get somewhere finally he reached Caesar’s Forum, famed throughout the civilised world, he was surprised by its compact nature. The usual opportunists, who inhabited every city in the world, thronged around selling herbal remedies, get rich quick schemes, sexual favours or just tried to steal the purses of the unwary. Livius was far too accomplished a spy and scout to be caught out and every senses tingled. As he was jostled he felt the hand trying to creep beneath his jerkin. His own hand snapped out to grasp the arm which he twisted in one fluid motion. The high pitched yelp emerged from a young boy whose terrified face peered up at Livius.

  “Please don’t hurt me sir!”

  Livius saw the boy’s eyes flick to the column of vigiles on the other side of the forum. “Well son if you do try to steal then you should expect to be punished,” he pulled out his razor sharp pugeo with his left hand. “What I should do is slice off a couple of your fingers and mark your forehead so that everyone will know you are a thief.” The point of the pugeo pricked the centre of the boy’s forehead drawing a tiny droplet of blood.

  The boy’s face filled with terror and tears welled in his wide eyes. “No sir. Please sir! It is my first time! I have never stolen before! I promise I’ll never do it again!”

  “Now you are adding lying to your crimes perhaps your tongue would be better being fed to a dog!” The boy was squirming and weeping with terror.

  “Now then Livius surely you aren’t going to hurt the boy when he actually failed to relieve you of your purse?”

  Livius recognised the voice immediately. “Julius!”


  He turned, still holding on to the boy’s wrist, to see his old Decurion Princeps, Julius Demetrius, now Senator of Rome. The years had been kind to the old warrior and yet he showed his age. There was a paunch there which was missing in Marcus Maximunius and Gaius Aurelius, the other officers left from Marcus’ Horse. The hair was whiter and showed signs of thinning. But the face was still as honest as always and the smile was genuine. “I think, before you break his arm, we should deal with this urchin.” He turned to the boy and held his arm. “Now then boy what is your name?”

  A small crowd of people had gathered around them and the boy could see that he would not be able to escape. He relaxed his arm and Livius let go his vice like grip. The boy rubbed his arm. “Furax sir.”

  “Ah the magpie and the thief,” Julius liked the irony of the name, “well you are well named. Do you have parents?”

  The boy shook his head. “Not living sir.”

  “And where do you live?”

  The boy vaguely gestured off to the north. “Near to the Lupanar sir.”

  Julius nodded and patted the boy’s head. Livius looked at him curiously. “The Lupanar?”

  “The red light district Livius where the prostitutes are to be found.” He turned back to Furax. He held out a coin. “I will give you this coin. Wait over there and when I call you come back and there will be more. Do you understand?” Nodding the boy moved to the wall of the Temple of Peace which afforded some shade from the blazing sun.

  Livius shook his head sadly. “You’ll never see that coin again Julius.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure Livius. Some of these boys barely steal enough to feed themselves. Many end up selling themselves in the Lupanar, sexual favours for the young rich Romans, in exchange for a little food.” He took him by the arm and led him to the wine seller who had an awning which gave shelter from the sun’s rays. Julius pointed at the wine he wanted and then paid for the two beakers. “Before I find out why you are here in Rome let us have a toast to Marcus’ Horse.”