Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 01] The Sword of Cartimandua Page 6

  Speaking quietly, almost to himself Ulpius said, “Nor will you majesty for I fear for your sword arm. This may hurt my lady but I must stop the blood or you will die.” She nodded and, closing her eyes turned her head to the side. Using both arms he pulled the crude javelin from her arm. He tightly wrapped his neckerchief around the arm to stem the bleeding. “You are brave my queen. I have known warriors who would have been screaming like pigs.”

  “You have saved my life Roman and I will repay the debt. Take my sword until I can hold it again. Guard it as well as you guarded me for I have never seen a warrior like you. You defeated the best of the Carvetii this day. Brigantia owes you a great debt for you have prevented Venutius from killing the rightful queen.” With that her eyes closed and drifted off into unconsciousness. As Ulpius gripped the hilt of the magnificent weapon he felt as though it was alive; it felt like an extension of his arm. Ass soon as he touched it he knew he would find it very hard to return it. The balance and feel seemed to make it sing and, as he ran his hands over the Celtic inscription, he felt himself back in the world of warriors from which he had come. It truly was a blade from the old time and the barbarian in Ulpius thrilled at the thought of using it.

  Chapter 4

  Eboracum

  Vellocatus hung on for a few days. He occasionally recovered consciousness but the legionary surgeon held out no hope for him. The Queen fared better although she too drifted into unconsciousness on more than one occasion. The Greek doctor in the fort was a clever man who knew he had to save the life of the Queen or suffer the consequences of his Roman masters being unhappy. As Ulpius remarked to the tribune and surgeon the enemy were prone to smearing faeces and poison on to their weapons. As soon as he knew that the doctor was able to find the right remedy to cure the angry wound on the Queen’s arm.

  A day after she arrived in the fort she sent for the tribune Saenius Augustinius. “The soldier who rescued me, what is his rank?”

  “He is a decurion majesty. Why did he do anything to offend you? If so I will have him spread across a wheel.”

  “Silence! He served both Rome and me well. I would have him promoted.” She paused as a look of incredulity crept across the tribune’s face. “You can do this can’t you? Or should I send for the governor?”

  “No majesty I can do as you wish.” The tribune was a politician and he ignored the implied command and changed it to a wish. He didn’t see why the ugly barbarian should be promoted but he would make political capital out of it. It would endear the Queen and the barbarian to him. They would be in his debt. “I will see to it immediately.”

  Making her tone gentler she mollified the tribune a little. “As my ex-husband has stirred up my loyal subjects against me and brought in his Carvetii dogs I would like to invite Rome to make my lands safer.”

  The queen’s statement suddenly made Saenius see that he had the chance to make political capital out of the situation. The Queen was inviting Rome to take over Brigantia. It would cease to be an ally kingdom and become a vassal kingdom. She had to be protected and Venutius had to be destroyed. He calmed himself to meet with the prefect. He needed to pander to the queen and any sensibilities the prefect might have would be ignored. Leaving the Queen’s quarters he summoned a guard over. “Tell the prefect I wish to speak with him.”

  By the time Flavius Bellatoris arrived the prefect had maps and reports spread across his table and he had regained his composure. “What do you think of the decurion, Felix, the one who rescued the Queen?”

  “He is a good warrior and leader. The men love him.”

  “Promote him.”

  Flavius looked nonplussed. “Promote him but to which post? He is already senior decurion the next promotion would be decurio princeps in command of the ala.”

  The tribune looked flustered; he did not understand the workings of the auxiliary. He preferred the organisation and order of the legion. “Well then just do that.”

  “With respect sir there are two decurio princeps already in command of the alae.”

  This was a problem. One could not just dismiss a decurio princeps.”Are they both good?” The pause told Saenius all he needed. “One of them is not. Can we dismiss him? Give him land? A pension?”

  “Gaius Cresens has not the required years to qualify for land or a pension on the other hand he is not,” the rough tribune struggled to find the right words; “perhaps the best man to lead the ala.” Flavius himself wished the corpulent cavalryman removed but it galled him that he was being ordered to do so by an outsider; someone recently arrived from Rome without the first idea of what it meant to live, fight and die on the wild frontier.

  “Well,” said the prefect impatiently, “what can we do with him?”

  “As yet we have no quartermaster at the fort. We will need someone who is senior and understands the army to be in command. It would be a better pay grade so I assume he will do it.”

  “Then do it. Dismiss.”

  As the prefect left his headquarters, the tribune began to write the report to the Governor; the report that might just make his political career. He was giving the largest tribal area in Britannia to Rome. Perhaps this would be his escape back to Rome!

  The turma had suffered. There were ten auxiliaries, including Ulpius who were fit for duty and all of those had scars and minor wounds. Osgar and Metellus had gone to the gods but Marcus, Lentius, Drusus and Gaius had survived. The prefect, Flavius Bellatoris summoned Ulpius to his office the day after the enemy were vanquished. “So you old goat. You decided for the first time in your miserable life to be a hero.” Flavius was an even older grizzled veteran. He made Ulpius at thirty five look like a young man. He had seen service in Batavia and on the Rhine under Caligula and Claudius. He was known as the toughest cavalryman to fight for Rome but he protected his ala like a father. Ulpius was silent although a slight smile played about his lips. “A good thing that you did. The queen might act like a Pompeian tart and about as popular amongst her people as the Egyptian clap but she is still the queen and had that bastard killed her he would have been king and Mars himself would have struggled to contain the North. He might still be king to many of the Brigante but at least, with the queen behind these walls, we have a figurehead. It was fortunate for you that I was the one who received your message. The tribune likes the protection of these wooden walls. He does not want to venture anywhere where the locals might whip off his balls. ” He spread his hand out expansively to the vague south.” Bolanus is struggling with the Second Augusta to put down the Silures and the Ninth is still not up to strength. All that trouble in Rome has stretched us a little. We could do with a couple more legions and then the job would be finished. Good job Ulpius.” He reached over and gripped Ulpius’ forearm in the soldier’s grip. “As a reward the tribune,” he managed to turn the word into a sneer, “Saenius Augustinius, has asked that I promote you.” Ulpius was still silent. “Speak you sneaky bastard.”

  “I am grateful to the prefect knowing, as I do that it means more pay to be promoted. I am silent because I do not know, as yet, what the promotion is.”

  Flavius laughed; his laugh came from deep in his belly as though released, like a volcano erupting. “Excellent. Your heroics have not changed your mercenary nature.“ His eyes narrowed. “I should have known when I heard that you had acquired a torc. I am sure I too will be profiting from the acquisition. Shall we call it a contribution to the ala funds?”

  Ulpius wondered which of his men had let that slip, he would find out and they would suffer. “I have not had time to dispose of it yet.”

  “Leave that to me. I know a few dealers and I will ensure you get the best price. So you are to command the ala quingenaria. Can you handle five hundred men?”

  “I can command them better than the overweight Gaius Cresens. And what is he to do now that I have his command?”

  “He is to become quartermaster here. Our Governor has decided to make the fortress more solid and permanent. Our friend will help provi
sion it.”

  “And my turma?”

  “Who do you suggest Marcus? Drusus? Lentius?”

  Ulpius thought about it briefly. “Marcus, Marcus Aurelius Maximunius. He’s solid as a rock.”

  “Good. There are some new men coming in over the next week. Fill up your turma and prepare the men for the field. We gave Venutius a bloody nose but he has merely retreated behind his mountains and he waits in the West. We will be campaigning in the spring. Now piss off and have a drink. Thanks to you I have work to do with the lists of dead and wounded.” Ulpius turned to leave. “And Ulpius… bring back the torc.”

  Ulpius went back to his tent happy that he was promoted but seething with anger that he would have to share the golden torc with the prefect. It was not the fact that he would be handing over a share it was the fact that one of his men had betrayed him; one of his men had violated their code. He saw Marcus and called him over. “Find out which of the lads blabbed about the torc.”

  “What torc?”

  “Don’t play the innocent with me boy. You know which torc. I know as it wasn’t you; if it was you’d be chewing fist. Just find out.”

  “Atticus.”

  Ulpius stared at Marcus. Atticus had been with them both for four years and they felt he was a trusted comrade. “That little prick. I’ll think up something special for him.” He led Marcus away from the tents towards the horses. “How did the lads do in that last little action? I was a bit busy defending her majesty.”

  “They did well. Young Gaius saved your life.”

  “He what?”

  “When you were coming to help me out-oh thanks for that I owe you one- there was a big bugger with an axe about to take your head off. The lad had him and then took out two more who were keen on having a decurion’s head in their hut.”

  “Good he might turn out to be alright. And young Marcus some good has come your way, you might make an offering to the Allfather.” Marcus looked puzzled. “Pick yourself out a chosen man. You have the turma. I am decurio princeps and I have the ala quingenaria.” Marcus beamed his joy and blushed his pleasure. “The bad news is that I will still ride with the first so you don’t get rid of me that easily!”

  When Vellocatus died, the whole of the camp turned out for the funeral. Although he had only been a shield bearer he had been the consort of the Queen and the tribune was keen to ingratiate himself with the artful Cartimandua. It was a mark of respect for the Queen rather than the lowly shield bearer. The Queen herself looked magnificent. Her injured arm was hidden and she wore not only a magnificent jewel encrusted torc but a small silver crown which accentuated her hair. There were many legionaries and auxilia harbouring lascivious thoughts as they burned her husband’s corpse.

  After the funeral the prefect called Ulpius and Marcus to his office. When they arrived they were surprised to see the Queen reclining on a couch.

  “Her majesty has asked us to recover a few of her possessions from her capital,” Flavius began, his face expressionless. “There are not only her clothes but her slaves and servants.” I thought that as you had been there,” he gestured towards Marcus. “You might be the best person to ask. As new commander,” he looked directly at Ulpius, “I wondered if you had any suggestions.”

  Ulpius looked from the Queen to Flavius but could detect no hidden meaning in his words. “The turma is not up to strength I would suggest he takes the third turma their commander Julius Augustina is still in sick bay with the wound from the battle. We do not know if Venutius went over the mountains or stayed at Stanwyck.”

  Flavius nodded his judgement in Ulpius’ ability having been confirmed. “It goes without saying Decurion that, if the refuge is held, you return here. That would need a legionary intervention.” Marcus nodded. The Queen coughed and looked pointedly at Flavius. “There is a box containing,” he paused,” important items which the Queen requires. They are buried in a secret location. If the old centurion, Gerantium is there he will show them to you. If he is dead then you will have to find them yourself. Here is a map.” As Marcus went to take it the prefect went on. “It is important that you share this with no-one other than your second in command. Do no open the box which will be locked and return it here. Is that clear?”

  “Yes prefect.” He took the map and left.

  “Ulpius make sure they have a cart. You will have to see the new quartermaster,” he smiled, “that should be an interesting encounter. You took over his command before he had chance to totally fleece his men.”

  “I look forward to it.” He turned to go.

  “I have told the prefect that I am indebted to you. I would like to reward you but we must wait until your men return.” A playful, flirtatious smile played upon her lips. “Can you wait that long?”

  Ulpius could feel his face colouring. “I er, that is…”

  Flavius saved his embarrassment. “He will have to wait your majesty, he has troopers to train. Dismiss!”

  Partly flustered and partly angry Ulpius gestured to the waiting Marcus to follow. Marcus knew his commander well enough to keep his thoughts to himself. The journey to the quartermaster’s stores was not a long one but Ulpius had got his temper under control by the time he got there. Gaius Cresens was a huge barrel of a man. It was said that there were no horses strong enough to carry him. He avoided any duty which appeared remotely dangerous but he was a cunning man who had spies and informants everywhere. He gathered information and used it. He was a bullying brute who had risen not through ability or skill but corruption. He had not ridden at the head of his ala for many months. If truth were told Flavius had been looking for an excuse to move him. Cresens did not view it that way. He was a corrupt, greasy man and he had been cheating his men out of money for years. He had planned to become quartermaster but the decurion’s promotion had meant that he had not had the time to extract the last view coins from his ala. He would have to use his new post to do so. Now as he saw Ulpius come in his anger began to boil up.

  “Watch your stuff lads, old one eye, the thieving horse shagger is here.”

  “Cresens your dick isn’t big enough to fuck a flea so shut it and show a bit of civility or I will personally show you the business end of my sword!”

  As well as being corrupt and a bully the fat quartermaster was also a coward who preferred a knife in the back to a face to face encounter. “No sense of humour that’s your trouble.”

  “Right I need two carts and drivers. We need forty javelins and, “he turned to Marcus, “what about shields?”

  “About five shields should do us. Oh and two of the lads need some mail.”

  “You heard him. While you are back there see if you have some scale armour in my decurion’s size.”

  Gaius Cresens’ face became red with rage; his bloated features made him look like an angry toad puffing out his cheeks. “Scale armour but...”

  “I know you have some; the prefect told me and this warrior needs it so be quick about it.”

  The armour was almost thrown at Marcus; had Ulpius known the thoughts racing through the quartermaster’s evil mind he might have saved himself and others a great of pain by gutting him there and then. As it was he dismissed him as a blowhard. He was a blowhard but he was also a plotting, calculating vicious thug who would have revenge on the man who had stolen his position and humiliated him. The murderous look which burned into his back as he left would have warned him that not only his life but those he held dear was in grave danger.

  The following day Marcus and his men left as dawn broke. The land around the putative fortress had been cleared of shrubs and trees and they were able to make good time as they trotted across the hardened paths which would eventually become roads. They headed into the still dark west. Ulpius watched from the main gate; it was the first time that anyone other than he had led out the turma and he felt a little sad. Marcus would make a good leader but they were his men. They fought and died as a unit and now they belonged to someone else. He doubted that he would have the sa
me control and bond with the five hundred men he now commanded but that was what happened when you were promoted. It had taken him some time to achieve this position but now that he had he longed a little for the freedom of his turma.

  Before he began his reign, some of the lazier men would call it a reign of terror, he had one last piece of turma business to deal with, Atticus. He wandered over to the tents of his men. All the rest were out on patrol but Atticus had claimed he was still injured. Every unit has its weak link and his was Atticus. Drusus and the others fought as though two men with one warrior protecting another whilst Atticus just looked after himself, he was a loner who fought well but for himself. He had forgotten the cardinal rule of the unit; never betray another member of the unit. He had done so. He had told someone else about the golden torc. No matter that Ulpius would have given him, as he would with all the other survivors, some recompense, no matter that he would still make a profit and did not mind sharing it with his superior, he had been betrayed and he was going to have his revenge.

  He stood in the tent, towering over the sallow faced trooper. Atticus knew why Ulpius had come and he began begging, pleading, drool and spittle erupting from his mouth like a volcano. “I am sorry sir. I didn’t mean it. I was forced to. Give me another chance.”

  As he saw how pathetic the creature was he could not bring himself to inflict the physical punishment he had intended. Instead he bodily picked the runt of the litter up with one hand. “Atticus you are a pathetic little shit. Your mother obviously tried to get rid of you before you were born with wormwood and failed. Just as I failed to make you a soldier. You have let me down. You have let the turma down. You have let the ala down. I don’t want you in my ala. I am going to transfer you to the second ala. Let’s see if Aurelius Suetonius can do a better job.” Seeing the pitiable look of relief on the face of the man he had just dismissed he added,”And I will be telling your new commander what a slimy, untrustworthy little bastard he is getting.”