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

all his weapons but then he realised that they would respect him more if he had a sword. If he had had more time he would have waited until the morning but he had only one day to make the rendezvous with the others. He had to secure a boat and, in the darkening twilight this was his best chance.
    There were ten families who eked a living from the sea. They would never have money but they were well fed and they traded enough to ensure that they could buy those items they could not make.  The stranger who rode into their village looked strange.  He was not a Novontae and the old man spat into the fire and said, “Roman!” It had been many years since the Romans had passed through on their way to Caledonia and few of the villagers had seen them let alone met them.  The men took out their spears although they needed them not for just one man but, as the old man said, “Romans rarely travel alone.”
    “Welcome Roman what brings you to our little village?”
    “I have not been here for some years, friends but when I came through here with my ala of cavalry I was welcomed and I thought to spend the night here.”
    His eyes scanned the men looking for fingers easing towards weapons. The old man stepped forward. “I remember a sword Roman; a sword of legend carried by a Roman warrior.”
    Marcus nodded, a smile playing on his lips at the remembrance, “Yes the Sword of Cartimandua, it is no longer mine for I passed it on to the heir of Cartimandua as was right and proper.”
    The old man nodded. “It is as I remembered. You are welcome Roman and you shall spend the night here.”
    Marcus dismounted and, taking a small bag of silver from his belt said, “I am not here as a thief, I will pay for my food and my roof.”
    The old man smiled, “You are the man I remember and I will enjoy sharing tales of  times past.”
    After they had eaten well on a dish of shellfish and flatfish Marcus turned to the old man.  “I have money and I would like to buy a boat.”
    There was an exchange of looks between the men sipping the water of life. “Boats are expensive.”Marcus threw down an extravagant amount of gold which the men ignored. “And sailing them is even harder. “ Marcus threw down a second bag.
    “Friends, for I feel I may call you friends. I have no wish to own a boat, I merely wish to give you money to sail a boat and pick up some friends of mine and take them south. After that I have no need of the boat and I would give it as a gift to those who helped me.”
    “We will need to speak.” The men spoke in the language of the Novontae. Marcus picked up some words but not enough to discern the direction the conversation was taking.  It mattered not, they would either help him or not. After much arguing and gesticulation the old man said, “We will help you.  Where do you need the ship and when?”
    There was relief and consternation in Marcus’ mind. “As it will be my ship, for however short a time, I will need it where the Clota meets the sea.  When? Take me there tomorrow and then I will tell you when.” The men discussed, debated and argued a little more.  “My horse I will leave here for I shall not need it now that I own a boat.” Later when sailing north Marcus reflected that the horse, Marcus’ own horse raised by him from a foal was the deciding factor in the deal for it was a good horse which was probably worth as much as the boat itself.
    “It is agreed and now we drink!”
    As they sailed into the estuary Marcus was so impressed with the skills of the three men who sailed the boat. The old man had insisted on coming with them, Marcus felt it was a point of honour. Marcus scanned the shore but he could not see his companions.  “If you take me in shore I will await my companions.  Meet me again here, in seven days.” He paused, unsure of how to continue.
    “We will be here Roman. We have given our word.”
    “I know for you are a wise man and you will be rewarded.”
    “You have paid