Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 03] Invasion- Caledonia by Griff Hosker Read Free Book Online

his warriors who attempted to raise his knife. Shaking his head the leader pointed at Marcus’ tent. While one kept watch the other three slipped under the back wall of the leather tent. Inside it was pitch black but they could hear the heavy breathing and snuffling of the man who lay in the comfortable sleep of a man who believes himself to be safe. The decurion was soundly asleep. Gryffydd’s eyes gave the signal and the two men grabbed Marcus’ arms and covered his mouth while Gryffydd swung the club at the side of the Roman’s head. Unconsciousness arrived quickly. They bundled him under the tent and then, each man taking a leg or an arm they hurried to the wall.  Although they were quiet they could have made as much noise as they wished for the drinking parties amongst the officers were in full swing and masked all other noises. They also distracted the sentries who kept looking at the tent and laughing, speculating about their officer’s behaviour. When they arrived at the palisade they checked that the guard’s attention was elsewhere and they unceremoniously threw the unconscious decurion over and into the ditch.
    A few moments later, with extra arms to help them they had scurried over the small rocky mound, onto the beach and the waiting boat. While Gryffydd and four others began to row back to Porthdafarch, the rest made their way back silently along the beach. There was no alarm, there was no chase. Decurion Princeps Marcus Aurelius Maximunius was captured and would soon be in the clutches of the woman he hated most in the entire world. He would be in the hands of the Druidic priesthood and few Romans had ever survived such an encounter.
     
    When Marcus came to he found that not only did his head hurt as though a wall had fallen on it but his hands and legs were tightly bound and he was incapable of movement.  He thought he must be in some sort of hut for he could see wicker branches before him but how he had come to be there he had no idea.  He remembered going to sleep and then… nothing. He woke up to this. As his ears became attuned to the ambient sounds he could hear an argument.  He could not tell the direction for the sounds were not clear it was as though they were in a different room. The voices appeared muffled but as his head hurt it was difficult to tell.
    “Why did you not bring this soldier’s weapons? Do you not know that he is one who possesses the Sword of Cartimandua? If we had that sword then all the northern tribes would rise with us. You knew who it was you brought did you not?”
    “Yes!” The man’s voice was young and threatening. “I was told to bring a prisoner not his weapons. Do you know how difficult it was to capture him alive and with no alarm given? No. And why not?  Because you are a woman who just gives orders. You are the witch who commands. You are the witch who stays behind the safety of this isle while others do your bidding. You are Fainch! And unlike others around here I am not afraid of you.” The young angry warrior squared up to the diminutive witch who refused to back down.
    Although his mind took in that a door of some sort had been slammed it was immaterial. He had heard her name. His enemy, Fainch was here. The one, who had murdered the Queen of the Brigante, tried to murder Ulpius Felix and had murdered his sister in law, wife and son. She was here and he was tied like a helpless sacrifice. Suddenly a chill spread through his bones. Sacrifice! A wicker room! He saw now that was what he was in, a wicker coffin. And that meant he was to be burned alive. He had heard Decius talk of it but he had ignored it as a superstitious fantasy.  But it was true and that was the cruellest irony, he would burn to death within touching distance of the being in the entire world he most wanted to kill. He vowed to stay alive as long as possible in the hope that he might be revenged and prayed to the Allfather to help him.
     
    It was as the camp came to life before