Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 05] Revolt of the Red Witch by Griff Hosker Page A

a wall of sand before the incoming tide. Each trooper was filled with a rush of blood which brooked no defence and soon the only Selgovae remaining on the field were the dead. “Find our wounded and tend to them. Cassius find the dead and let us burn them.”
    Later, as the Prefect led the remnants of his turmae south to Morbium he felt that they had, at least acquitted themselves well. They had found ten of their comrades wounded and counted over a hundred dead barbarians. But as Julius felt every blow and cut he knew that this meant the Selgovae had joined the revolt it was going to become more difficult before it became easier. Leading his weary warriors south Julius could only pray that his comrades in the north were faring better than his beleaguered ala.
     
    Gaelwyn came hurtling down the trail.  “Hide! Caledonii!” Ever used to instinctive reactions his two comrades raced into the trees with their mounts, pulling swords from scabbards in anticipation of action. The three of them were as stationary as statues when the barbarians raced down the trail.  Gaius noticed that they were all afoot which meant that they could probably outrun them if they had to but at the same time he didn’t want their presence advertised.  They were so close to the Clota that they could smell the sea but they had also encountered many bands of warriors patrolling the estuary to protect their prince, Lulach.    When they had passed by Macro was the first to speak. “We will be spotted soon.”
    “I know.”
    “We need to find their base and then seek a place of seclusion before we meet with the tribune.”
    Gaelwyn shook his head. “You two still look like Romans.  Take the horses to the meeting place and camp. I will find where they are keeping Ailis.”
    Gaius could see Macro reddening and about to argue.  He had come to realise, after Marcus’ advice, that Gaelwyn was looking out for all of them and they had to obey the scout.  They were no longer in the world of the ala with orders and regimentation, they were in the barbarian world and the old scout was king.  What they would do without him Gaius could not begin to imagine. “He is right Macro.  Let us go.”
    Gaelwyn left the two younger men.  Perhaps this would be his last ride, perhaps he would die in this quest but it would be an honourable death. He would be serving, as he had always served, the Brigante royal family and Ailis and Gaius were as much his children as any. He was resigned to his fate. The Allfather had been kind to him; the past few years had been the happiest of his life.  He had loved every minute he had spent with the extended family.  The three boys had been a joy to the old man, listening to his every word watching him, even copying him. If he could return them to their happy life south of the Dunum then any price was worth paying, even his life.
     
    Far to the west Marcus approached the small settlement carefully. He remembered that the Novontae had welcomed the ala in the past but things changed and people moved on. The raids by the Caledonii and Irish may have turned them from allies to foes. He felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders more than at any other time; even when he had been Tribune he had not held so many lives in his hand. He was under no illusions, if they could not acquire a boat then they would not escape; three children and a woman would not escape the horde that was Lulach’s warband. They were deep in enemy territory and so far from home that the journey did not bear thinking about.  Winter was bad enough in the rest of the province, up here it was lethal. So far he had seen no sign of the Classis Britannica. He had almost given up hope of finding any boat Roman or Novontae.  This small settlement with the tiny boats drawn up like crabs upon the beach was his only chance.
    He dismounted and dug a shallow hole. In the hole he buried two thirds of his gold and his spare sword.  He had thought he would bury