Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 09] Hero of Rome by Griff Hosker Page A

nodded his approval as he rode through the gate. “Decurion make sure there are sentries and be alert; this may have been a scouting party or it could be a warband.  We will find out.  Lepidus, bring the barbarian here.”
    The warrior was dragged by two of the biggest men in the turma. His hands were tied but he kept trying to bite and kick them with his good leg.  Lepidus smacked the flat of his sword against the warrior’s teeth smashing them and making his mouth a bloody mess. Metellus gestured for him to be spread eagled on the wheel of the cart they had used to bring their tents. Once he was satisfied that the man could not move he took out his sword. “You are going to die, you know that already Selgovae.  It is the manner of your death which is in your hands. I can give you a swift warrior’s death if you cooperate but if not I will make sure that, in the after life, you have neither eyes to see nor hands to hold a weapon and your enemies will be able to pleasure themselves with you for all eternity. Will you answer my questions?”
    The answer was a bloody mouthful of teeth and gore spat at Metellus who, fortunately was out of range. Cicero had given the sentries their orders and was standing behind Metellus wondering how this experienced officer would deal with the prisoner. “Ah I see we have an honourable barbarian.” He walked over to the freshly stoked fire and brought out a brand which he held in his left hand.  Without preamble he walked up to the barbarian and hacked off the fingers and thumb of his left hand with a swift slash of his blade. He then thrust the burning brand to cauterize the wound. The barbarian was tough and did not utter a sound but the facial muscles showed the agony he was suffering.
    “Now you can still wield a sword but that will change unless I get an answer to my questions.” He waited while the prisoner sullenly stared at him. “Are you a scout or part of a warband?” There was no reply. “Before I slice off your whole right hand I will ask a different question.  How many men were with you?”
    The question seemed harmless to the troopers and they wondered if the decurion was losing it but the warrior coughed and said, “Three handfuls.”
    Cicero looked at Metellus with a confused expression.  “Fifteen men.” To Lepidus he said, “Find out how many bodies we left in the woods.” When Lepidus went to ask the men who had accompanied Metellus the decurion put the brand back into the fire and the barbarian seemed to sigh with relief. “So you were a scouting party and what were you to do once you had seen us?”
    The barbarian looked confused. The loss of blood was making him light headed and he had given them some information.  He could not work out if giving more information would make his crime worse. He did not want to wander the afterlife unable to defend himself.  He had killed many men and some of them were not killed in battle. He shrugged, “The king asked me to return to Caerlaverock when you were found.”
    Metellus had found out more than he had hoped. “The king knew we were here?”
    The barbarian laughed, “One of your little forts was found and destroyed by my brother.  He knows you are here and he is coming for you.”
    Metellus nodded and walked behind the barbarian.  He put the point of the sword to the neck of the wounded warrior and said, as he sank it into the jugular, “Go to the Allfather. Well it seems that we have not escaped notice for long.”
    “What did he mean little fort?”
    Metellus waved his arm around the camp.  “A little fort, one such as ours.  Some of our comrades have not been as lucky as we.” Putting his arm around Cicero he led him out of the camp through the gate. “Cicero you will be a good officer but today you got your men killed.  Your men trusted you and they followed you when they knew it was a mistake.  You have all of their lives in your hand. Why did you disobey my orders?”
    Cicero looked