by Ralph Harvey
He looked up at the Roman, who looked down on him in return contemptuously.
“Is there no room for my people in this land that was once ours?” he pleaded, “My wife and children are hungry for now we have no land to farm.”
The man looked up imploringly again. Aurelius signalled to a servant nearby, “Bring food for Gripina,” then added, “on a platter, you know the one — the one with the concave edge.”
The servant grinned and left.
Moments later he returned with a dish of offal. Then, placing it upon the ground he looked towards his master. Aurelius gestured to the merrymakers around him.
“Come,” he commanded, “and observe. I have a starving Celt. Bring wine that he may be refreshed for have we not brought food for him?” The drummers ceased their melodic beat and swiftly gathered around the kneeling Celt.
“Do not go away, Gripina, and say that the Romans are not generous. So get on all fours and eat like the dog you are.”
As he spoke, a soldier put his foot between the man's shoulders and pushed, his victim toppled forward, off balance, then he placed his foot on his neck, propelling his face into the dish of offal. The crowd roared their approval at the unexpected entertainment.
Aurelius raised his hand, “Give him drink as well friends!” he roared.
With one accord they poured their goblets of wine upon him.
“Be gone, Gripina,” he shouted, “and if ever I see you or your kin on my land again, I will have the flesh off your back and your children branded and made slaves.” Then as an afterthrought, “Your cow is forfeit!”
Turning to the crowd he addressed them to justify his action, “Has not the beast fed on my pasture, and fattened itself on my grass? So is not the meat mine I ask you?” He laughed,“Now leave!”
As Gripina left to the catcalls of the crowd he looked towards the distant hills.
“Roman dogs,” he muttered, his fist clenched in fury, “How little you know or suspect. Boudicca’s army gathers even as you feast.” He paused, “Our day will come, and I personally will hunt you down Aurelius and take your wife before your very eyes. It will be the last thing you see before I cut your throat.”
Fealty
In a large forest clearing they stood, their tartans strangely mingling in the patterns of light and shade as the sun attempted to penetrate the canopy of green. From the far points of the compass they had come — but not all, the Brigantes were noticeable by their absence.
Boudicca sat on her great oak throne at the centre of the rough circle, Corrianus ever vigilant stood by her side, his hand lightly resting on his sword pommel, for although the tribes were gathering to swear allegiance to Boudicca in the coming conflict to crush the Roman enemy, many old feuds and rivalries still smouldered. And an assassin could still strike.
This was the first time that the Celtic nation had unified in a common purpose, driven by a hatred of the Romans that overtook any tribal conflict, and there were many who had stayed away, and their absence was not lost on the Iceni Queen.
“I see not the Damnonii here,” she observed to Corrianus, “nor the Durotriges.”
Corrianus placed his hand on her shoulder in reassurance, “They have sent runners to assure you of their loyalty Boudicca, they are many days away from here and could not be present. Antilles of the Deciangli sends his greetings to you and places his warriors under your hand, but he himself is old and feeble,” he laughed, “a full moon at least will pass before he hunts again — for boar or Romans.”
A lookout ran to them and in a low voice said, so that only Boudicca could hear, “Brigantes approaching the camp. They will be here within five minutes.”
“I did not expect Catamandua to send either emissary or help. But we must take them at face value. At no point mention in front of the Brigantes, that the Catuvellauni are here to swear fealty to us. It may be of tactical advantage if the Romans believe the Catuvalauni are not part of the rebellion, and I don’t trust the Brigantes.” Turning to the lookout she ordered, “Tell Gallius to move his men into the long hut until they are gone.”
The lookout immediately obeyed the instruction and Gallius and his warriors disappeared from sight; and not before time.
A giant of a man with one eye enterd the camp, his face crossed from forehead to cheek with a red band where his nose had been. A picture of sheer evil, Uislui was a force to be reckoned with. He was paramount chief of the northern Brigantes under Queen Catamandua , and the survivor of countless battles.
As he drew close Corrianus stepped forward and each clasped the others wrist in the traditional Celtic greeting, symbolically to show that neither could draw the sword upon the other. Two of Uislui’s fingers were missing, yet another legacy from a previous war.
“My Queen sends greetings Corrianus, and places the whole Brigante nation on alert.”
He turned to the group of his warriors who had halted at the circles edge, “These warriors are all from the southern Brigante nation. When the floods that have riven our land subside, my Queen will send an order to the northern Brigantes to alert them also, for they know not of this conflict.”
Boudicca was puzzled.
“I knew your river broke its banks Uislui, but did not realise the magnitude of the disaster.”
Uislui avoided the issue, “When we get through they will be ready also great Queen.” He gave a slight bow and left to take his place in the gathering.
As he left Boudicca turned to Corrianus, “Did you note the ambiguity of his words loved one? He did not say the Brigante nation were following — but ‘on alert’.”
Corrianus reacted instantly, “His words were not lost upon me, wise one, the duplicity of Catamandua in this issue is clear. Uislui as an enemy I can take, his sudden friendship I cannot, for I swear Boudicca, I would sooner take sword and fight him, than take up an axe and die with him.”
Boudicca laughed and placed her hand on the back of his hand affectionately, “You are equally wise Corrianus — Catamandua is the only one I fear — but now let us relax as the tribes swear their allegiance. Where did Uislui go to I can not see him.”
Corrianus shrugged. “The dog rode out before he could be called — and his pack went with him.”
“Then call Gallius back, it is time to begin.”
At the circle’s edge, a horn sounded, its note reverberating through the forest glade, strangely mystical, gradually the sound died away and the great chiefs lined up one at a time, swords cupped in both hands and knelt before Boudicca. The homage was noted for as they did so the gathered onlookers chanted their approval, clapping and calling to their chosen favourites.
“Hail Ashanda the victorious, hail Gallius, destroyer of legions.”
Ashanda the first in line held his sword in outstretched arms before Boudicca.
“I, Ashanda, paramount chief of the Trinovantes do before all present swear fealty unto you Boudicca, as Queen supreme and swear to avenge the loss of my betrothed, Maeve, your eldest daughter, or so die in the attempt.”
Boudicca was clearly moved.
“Loyal Ashanda my heart weeps for your loss, even as Maeve mourns her lost purity and the union that can never be.”
As he bowed away a tall lanky man, his golden hair cascading to his shoulders approached.
“I Gallius, paramount chief of the Catuvellauni, swear fealty unto you as Queen over all.”
He looked towards Sequenna who together with her sister Maeve was stood either side of Boudicca and continued, “And I too swear to avenge Sequenna, my lost love. Or die so doing.”
Boudicca responded instantly as Sequenna half moved towards him, her eyes brimming with tears.
“My blessings to you, brave Gallius — my heart will ever be with you, I beseech you dear heart, carry my banner into battle where I can see it, for both Maeve and I will seek out the Romans wherever we find them, and our two banners will strike fear into the enemy.”
And so it continued until dusk when a great fire was
lit and all the warriors present celebrated the union.
Patrol Found
Back at the Roman camp Suetonius sat, grimly silent. At his side stood two of his most trusted tribunes intently listening to the man before them, caked in dirt and grime, who had just been ushered into their presence. Behind him, almost apologetically, a centurion spoke.
“As soon as I knew that Galarius had returned, I sent for him straight away and sent him to you commander, he has not had time to clean himself.”
“You did correctly centurion — thank you.”
Suetonius waved his hand casually towards the tent flap dismissing the centurion and looked up at the man from where he sat.
“You are the one known as Galarius are you not?”
The man affirmed, “Yes commander — they call me Galarius the tracker.”
“And it was you who was the finder of the remains of the patrol?”
Galarius spoke solemnly as he recounted his discovery of the missing men.
“I was sent by Lacarus, the garrison commander to track the patrol when they failed to return. For three days I followed them when I hit rocky terrain, I’d almost given up when I saw the death crows circling high in the sky, like the buzzards do around the crucifixions in Rome. I tethered my horse in a clearing and crawled to higher ground for a better view, checking for any movement, and confirmed the whole area was deserted. I went down and checked the spoor and how long it had been since anyone had trodden the paths.”
The man stood silent for a moment as he recalled the memory.
“Then I saw them all of them, tied to trees no ears, no nose,” he paused again, “no nothing. Everything had been cut off — many disembowelled as well. The demons had taken everything away, armour, weapons, and just left the naked bodies.”
As the man finished, Suetonius spoke softly, “All of them? Were there no survivors?”
Galarius shook his head, “I stayed there long enough to count them sir — they were all there.”
“And they were all dead? None lived long enough to speak?”
The messenger shifted from foot to foot, “None sir, Some I would think could have lingered for maybe two days, but they could not have spoken — they had no tongues and …”
Galarius went silent again, this time longer, until Suetonius slightly irritably spoke sharply, “What man, what?”
Galarius recovering his composure literally blurted it out.
“The crows sir, everywhere the valley was full of crows, they’d plucked the men’s eyes out, and they waited there on the trees just watching me. Hundreds of eyes and not even a bird calling, just silence. It was cold and dark and all these black devils, and then …” he hesitated “… they all flew off together, towards the Iceni hills, to Boudicca.”
Suetonius nodded his head in silent exasperation.
He turned to one of the tribunes, “Arrange for him to bathe and eat — and tell his unit commander he is excused from duty for seven days.”
He looked at Galarius. “If I could spare you I would allow you leave for Rome but,” he spoke now to all present in his tent, “I have a feeling that I shall need every single man I can get in the coming days, and a good tracker is worth his weight in gold.”
Chapter 10
Chariots
The chariots were lined up, their shafts devoid of the horses as wood workers and carpenters, wheelwrights and metal workers checked bearings and joints for strength. Boudicca was walking along watching silently. Egbert, an overseer, led her to a more highly ornamented vehicle, yoked to take two large horses. From its sides protruded deadly spikes to prevent an enemy from boarding.
Admiringly she surveyed it, and then turned to Egbert, “Set my standard on high Egbert. I wish these Roman dogs to know that I, Boudicca, Queen of the Iceni lead from the front.” She turned to him, “Let them know and recognise my ship of war and learn to fear its coming.”
The wheelwrights hastened to turn it round to reveal to her the series of looped ropes.
“Here O Queen. A full score of men can hold on and be released amongst the enemy when we break through their lines.”
Boudicca smiled, “I like that Egbert, have ropes fitted to all the others also. Thus we can hurl an army into the centre of them and destroy them from behind.” She looked triumphant. “When battle commences they shall find a wild cat in their midst.”
She approved the wagon once more, “The spikes are sharp indeed Egbert. I commend your ingenuity, I would certainly not like to try and prevail against its sides.”
She paused, “But tell me — It’s against all convention I know, but to make me more outstanding and even more fierce, could you fix blades to the wheels like Athian did in Eastern legend.”
Egbert hesitated, “It would not be possible to forge blades in time your majesty, but I could fix scythe blades to it.”
Boudicca almost danced for joy then taking a heavy gold bangle from her wrist, she threw it to him.
“Do it Egbert, do it.”
The next day saw Boudicca’s chariot resplendent with the scythes fitted into the oak and metal wheel hubs. Standing proudly in the foreground was Egbert, looking particularly pleased. He leaned towards Boudicca,
“They are honed and tempered like razors Boudicca.”
Boudicca strode round the chariot.
“Like razors Egbert? But our warriors have no need of such effeminate tools, but let smoothed faced Romans get an even closer shave when my war wagon rolls upon them!”
She stood, arms akimbo, “You have done well Egbert, now all who see me coming at them will know fear threefold, and you will have committed me to history and legend, and the bards will tell of this over the centuries.”
Egbert's hand ran lovingly over the gleaming blades as he wiped them with pig fat.
“And Valeria — what of her chariot?” queried Boudicca.
Egbert pointed to a vehicle at the end of the line, “I have fixed the royal standards in a base of iron so none shall take them.”
Boudicca jumped aboard her own chariot ecstatically, “Give me a target to go for Declan,” she commanded a man nearby. “And bring me a Roman prisoner — a fit one!”
Declan smiled and moments later a Roman prisoner stood before her flanked by two warriors. Astonishment and fear showed in his face. Boudicca looked down at the man, “Roman, you have been selected to die — but I will give you a chance. Go when I say Roman — If you make the hills yonder then you live.”
Her finger pointed to a distant rise.
“I cannot take the high ground for it is strewn with rocks, so the chase is in your favour, but fail and you die. I tell you this, run well and none shall pursue you. You shall have half the distance to your advantage. Now go! Or die here.”
As she spoke Egbert half drew his sword warningly. The petrified Roman needed no further encouragement, but ran full tilt towards the distant hill. Boudicca within the chariot slapped the sides with the reins impatiently, then taking the leathers in both hands she waited until the Roman was well over half way there. Then with a devilish cry she loosed the beasts forward.
Her war cry died away in the air alerting the Roman whilst in full flight for momentarily he looked back as his fear lent an even greater spurt into his efforts.
Whipping her horses to full gallop she bore down upon him. Inexorably the distance between them closed and the man started to zigzag desperately as the ponderous chariot veered left and right in close pursuit. And so the chase continued until the man, with less than 100 meters to go, made a last desperate effort to make it to the winding slopes ahead and safety.
Drawing her left rein completely to her left side she completed a ninety-degree turn and rushed at the man side on. As the warhorses bore down upon him he turned and faced the charging beasts, his legs bent in a stance ready to spring to one side. But then at the last moment Boudicca, her face set grimly, pulled hard upon the reins and checked the beasts, swiftly turning them away from him.
Hysteri
cally he leapt, in a last vainglorious attempt to save himself. Futilely, he threw his hands out before him, but the blades caught him above the waist as Boudicca had planned. In an explosion of blood and bone he disintegrated, sliced in two, his hideous mangled body halves lying grotesquely across each other.
Boudicca circumambulated triumphantly around him in her chariot, clearly pleased with the fearsome effect of her new acquisition. Then racing ecstatically back to Egbert, she pulled the snorting beasts up before him and untied a leather thong from her belt and threw a pouch of coins to him. Egbert caught the gift then glanced back towards Boudicca thankfully as she raised her targ and spear in the air.
“Now let the Romans tremble,” she cried, “I shall strike a fear into them that will speed through the ranks like wildfire. Let them shout as they dig their poop pits, Boudicca is coming! And death is her shadow.”
Triumphantly she shook her targ into the skies once more. A death crow, startled, flew from a nearby tree. With a squawk it circled her and then like a black omen flew towards the Roman lines.
Villa in the Cotswolds
At an isolated villa in the foot of the Cotswolds, Ophelia, the arrogant wife of Lucius, a retired senator, was castigating her servants, berating them for failing to reach the temperature she required in the pool, she lay about them viciously with a long stick screaming abuse.
Cranlach, who received most of the blows, was the unfortunate servant whose duty it was to regulate the new hypocaust system. Ever since it had been built it had been plagued with problems, but no matter what, it was always Cranlach’s fault and beatings were regularly administered.
While this took place Detronius, Ophelia’s son watched intently, gloating at the man's discomfort. He now held a senior position in the imperial Roman army and was thus entitled to keep a cohort of legionnaires with him at all times and had been about to dismiss them from duty that day.