Boudicca - Queen of Death

by Ralph Harvey

  “May we grow old together Corrianus, when all this is done.”

  Corrianus cradled her gently, “I shall be with you throughout this life, and the lives to come, forever side by side throughout eternity.”

  It was a prediction that was to come uncannily true.

  Proctor Summons the Council

  Proctor, forewarned of the impending assault upon his city was perturbed. Even though he had received ample warning, he was worried. Suetonius had been alerted and even as he waited he knew that two separate legions were already racing to his rescue from two separate directions. Clearly he was safe if he could hold; it was only a matter of time, but even a few hours could be crucial with such weak defences as existed.

  By his side were the only centurions in Camulodunum, each a master of a hundred only, they commanded the scant garrison of six hundred soldiers that were stationed there.

  “How strong is Boudicca and her so-called hordes?” asked Proctor. “Just how effective a force are these barbarians? They murder by stealth and cunning as I see it, but it would be a different matter altogether in pitched and open battle, where tried and tested Roman battle tactics would confront them.”

  The centurions looked at each other.

  “We don’t know. Suetonius is gathering information even as we speak. It started quite small with a few score attacking a wood gathering party, which is where Marcus captured the Queen’s niece.”

  The second centurion grimaced, “They should have put the bitch to the sword there and then.”

  Proctor hesitated, “It is easy to be wise after the event soldier, but how do we know that Boudicca would not have been even further inflamed at the death of her niece? However we are debating numbers and tactics so pray continue.”

  “Well, like I was saying,” the legionary continued, “it started with a few score then, but when the baggage train was massacred, there were several hundred involved, and at Calleva — maybe the numbers had grown to some six or seven thousand, maybe more.”

  “And Quintus?” asked Proctor.

  The second centurion now spoke, “They were full strength — maybe some two thousand legionaries, so they must have been heavily outnumbered, she probably had some ten or fifteen thousand under her command by then.”

  Proctor started to pace the room talking aloud as he did so.

  “Maybe, but Quintus was caught off guard they say, in a dawn raid as they were changing over the guard. What happened?”

  “He broke the rules Proctor — the men were tired and he felt safe so he failed to dig the standard ditch and throw up any earth walls as is required when a legion makes camp. Also they had destroyed the only activity in the area when they slaughtered all at Glevum; the Iceni must have followed them. One survivor who was found said they had seen crows in the sky that day.”

  “Crows!” exclaimed Proctor, “Boudicca’s secret warriors on wings! Superstitious fools. So what is the conclusion? That they will be some 15,000 strong or more?” He ceased pacing the room, “They say the tribes are flocking to her call for revenge. Only the Gods know what numbers we face.”

  He addressed the gathered men, “Summon the town council, and I wish you all to attend me there and be ready to carry put my orders. We may have problems, but it is my opinion that the outer perimeter of the town cannot be saved and so we must concentrate our defences at the centre, around the great Temple of Claudius, until Aristicus or Siculus break through. I do not anticipate having to hold for long, but I intend to prepare for a protracted siege, maybe lasting days. All it would take is a swollen river or rock fall to delay a legion and we would be in trouble.”

  “Sound thinking Proctor,” one of the soldiers commented admiringly, “I personally am fearful having such a small force here, but in seven days the situation could alter. We can arm the men folk, recruit old soldiers, and present a formidable force to her if she does come, as they say she will, for we have less than a week to prepare.”

  “The council will meet at two hours past midday, about four hours from now. Send for them all, I want everyone here and no excuses. You understand? Everyone!”

  Siculus’ Camp

  Back at Siculus’ camp a hastily erected canopy had been put up. Inside it, away from the light drizzle, which had started to fall Siculus, three of his field commanders and the cartographer pored over the vellum map. The cartographer produced a charcoal stick and after a series of calculations marked a cross upon it.

  “We are here commander, some fifty miles or so from Camulodunum. You are on schedule and should reach the city by late afternoon the day after tomorrow.”

  Siculus was thoughtful, “And Boudicca? If she is on schedule will she attack that same day? Morning? Afternoon? Evening? What time?”

  Lutonius interjected, “Proctor is expecting to be attacked, and by now will have fortified the city. He has only to hold for a few hours and then we will be there. So if she attacks midday or later then we will be but two hours away.”

  The commander seems satisfied, “And if she knows that two legions are advancing on her and her intended target she may well call off the assault,” he remarked. “Very well give the men two hours rest, see that each man’s feet are bathed and let the capsarius bandage any that are blistered. Tell him to issue salves and unguents where required and the ostler to check the horses. A quick meal and we continue, see to it.”

  The three field officers bowed and exited, the cartographer stayed just long enough to roll his precious maps up and gather his instruments, and then he also left.

  As the swirl of the smoke from the hastily lit campfires rose up, an Iceni scout spotted the series of spirals emanating from the forest.

  “So you rest Romans do you?” he spoke aloud, then turned to Salinas his companion, “Inform Boudicca at once, Siculus has made camp.” He glanced upwards at the heavens, marking the position of the sun in the light rain that was falling. “He will take only a light meal for sure, tell her Majesty that I expect them to stay no more that two hours at the most. If she moves her men further down to there,” he pointed to a bend in the hills from his observation post, “they will only just have started off, and will be reforming the column. By the time they reach the bend they will be strung out, men can only traverse it in single file. Tell Boudicca the fates have played into her hands today.”

  Ambush

  Siculus, now remounted, led the column out at the head of his cavalry, pacing out the path; they stayed several hundred yards ahead as they reconnoitred the territory. Approaching the bend in the hills, he noted that the path narrowed sharply.

  “Single file!” Siculus commanded and led the way.

  Either side the warriors waited in a ruse so well known to them, did this Roman scum never learn? Boudicca’s instructions were quite specific — let the horsemen through — they were only a small percentage of the main force and would be no match for Boudicca’s horsemen and charioteers if they should choose to fight.

  One by one the cavalry filed past. They were completely unaware of the watching eyes in the dense undergrowth around them. Eventually the last remnants of the horse column approached the exit and were now on the open plain. All the front units were now on the path following the narrow terrain in single file.

  The trap was set. As the strung out column rounded the first contours of the bend, the war horn sounded. Men leaped into action; a giant trunk of a rotting oak was levered over the edge, cutting off the tail of the cavalry from the main body, while far behind in the valley entrance a great elm, almost hollowed out, yielded at the roots and fell as a team of horses pulled it onto the path. Both ends of the canyon were now sealed. In perfect formation the tribesmen surged forward, for as with the baggage train earlier, the legionaries were unable to form their shield walls, plus in facing the enemy in front of you their back was exposed to a rear or side attack, a man could only face one way on a narrow path and the Celts had been waiting both sides in readiness.

  A human wave rolled over them, e
ach legionary fought, bravely, but despairingly, for they knew they were dead men, they had been caught like rats in a trap.

  Arrows thudded and smashed through armour, sling shots were loosed with unerring accuracy, spears stabbed at bare legs and swords and clubs rose and fell, in the first two minutes over half the infantry died on the spot as a result of missiles and long range fighting, then another horn blast and the second wave of Iceni charged full tilt at the survivors, caught on all sides, the remainder now swiftly succumbed.

  The score or so horsemen trapped, charged up and down the path, seeking vainly for an avenue of escape, but deep undergrowth and timber prevented any manoeuvrability, while on the plain the main force of cavalry raced helplessly up and down unable to reach their comrades whose dying screams could be heard rending the air.

  Celts leaped from tree branches bringing the raiders to the ground, ropes suddenly appeared at shoulder height, sweeping men from their saddles, preserving their fine horses, a prized trophy for any Celts who could capture one.

  While he watched from beneath Siculus could see his riders being systematically decimated. Siculus turned to his main cavalry force, and swept back to the valley entrance but within minutes he realised the terrain was impossible to mount a rescue. His infantry and the tail of his cavalry were doomed. Pulling up at the giant oak now blocking the path, he gave a quick order.

  “Twenty men dismount and clear the tree fast.”

  Instantly the first man dismounted and ran to obey, followed by two decurions and their units, reaching the tree they turned to see hordes of warriors rising from their previously concealed positions. Siculus’ face displayed sheer horror.

  “Retreat! Retreat!” he screamed.

  Men desperately attempted to remount but the Celts had started up a cacophony of sound as drums beat, horns sounded, and trumpets blew. Panic-stricken the beasts bolted as their previous riders were half dragged by the animals, then as the brutes broke free the men were one by one cut down

  Everywhere tribesmen were pouring out of the hillsides, throwing themselves eagerly at the mounted cavalrymen, within seconds a second full scale battle had commenced, but the sheer numbers of the enemy decided the issue. Again Siculus raised his hand and called for the force to retreat, but as he did so a Celt swung at him slicing his thigh through.

  Short reining his steed Siculus turned and galloped to safety leaving a trail of blood behind him and the saddle and flank of his horse a sea of scarlet. Seeing him flee he was followed by the main body of his surviving horsemen.

  Half a mile away Siculus halted and regrouped while the capsarius bandaged and tourniqueted the ghastly injury he had received. Forlornly he gazed back down the path listening intently but there was no sound except the exultant cries of the celebrating Celts. Tannus, a decurion passed him, racing to the rear of the column, then as he watched, the man fell from the saddle, an arrow haft just protruding from the leather join of his armour, his Achilles heel.

  With scarcely a sound he keeled over in the saddle and fell to the side of the path, his horse bolting into the distance. Two comrades dismounted to assist him, but instantly they realised he was beyond help. Siculus’ heart sank.

  “Where is Romulus?” he enquired agitatedly of a trooper nearby. The man, who was also wounded, urged his horse forward while attempting to staunch the blood from a hideous wound in his arm at the same time.

  “Fallen sir. He was killed in the first rush of the heathens. He had no chance.”

  He nodded his head, “The fates had decided he shall die, either here or at Camulodunum. You cannot escape fate.”

  “And what of us?” shouted one, “Mars must smile upon us for we have lived yet again.”

  Siculus smiled wryly, “Mars? Do you think Romans, that you owe it to the benevolence of the almighty, or the swiftness of your steeds?”

  He looked back from the safety of his mount, as a movement down the track drew his attention. An icy feeling gripped his stomach, Boudicca, with Corrianus at her side had left the forest.

  On all sides countless tribesmen exited the woodlands, swiftly gathering in numbers until several thousand started to walk towards them, gesticulating and challenging the Romans to attack. A number of Iceni horse soldiers joined Boudicca and engaged in a number of mock charges at Siculus. Then the masses started to close the gap in a flanking movement. They suddenly stopped and began their catcalling again, only this time they started to produce hundreds of severed and bleeding heads of the newly slain infantry.

  As Siculus’ men looked at the sightless eyes of their comrades, they looked at their leader for guidance. Many longed to charge and avenge them in battle while others knew such an action would be suicidal. It was the very action the heathen hordes wanted of them.

  Siculus hesitated only a moment. “Ride on,” he commanded, “there is nothing more we can do here. We will cut across country and join the 14th at Camulodunum instead.” Then Siculus turned in his saddle and vomited.

  Chapter 16

  Hare

  The gathering of the tribes was an awesome sight. As far as the eye could see they had gathered in their tens of thousands. To the fore the charioteers lined up, each of the plain wooden sides laced with raw hide ropes whereby the warriors could take hold and be flung behind the enemies lines when the chariot had broken through.

  From the Parisi of the north to the Damnonii of the west they had come, but dominating the scene the ferocious Iceni strutted, proud to be acknowledged as the first of the tribes to have thrown off the Roman yoke and rebel.

  Inside Camulodunum the atmosphere was oppressive, news of the gathering had reached them and even now their spies lay concealed watching Boudicca’s every move, to report back to Proctor.

  Back at the gathering a ripple of excitement broke out as Boudicca raced her chariot up and down the line, in salutation, her hair flowing like waves behind her. The tribesmen gasped with wonderment and adulation as they looked upon the machine with its great blades flashing in the sunlight. This was a new weapon of war and fearsome. None could approach it in battle and live to tell the tale. Their leader was impregnable.

  As the assembly cheered she pulled up the vehicle at the centre point, where her ostler stood ready to lead her steed and chariot. With dignity she dismounted, then a priest and priestess walked forward carrying a wickerwork basket, which they carefully set down in the grass. A ritual was about to be enacted that had been preserved for years amongst the old ones of the tribes and one that was a thorn in the side of the Druid priesthood as it rankled with them that they, the hierarchy, were excluded from such magic.

  Boudicca turned towards the throng and called, “Now let the war council attend.”

  As she did, instantaneously a number of warriors moved forward and gathered around her, then symbolically, before the priest and priestess, she raised her arms to the rising sun.

  “Lord of light, O raiser of storm and tempest, great Lord of fire,” she threw her red mane back violently catching the sunrays in the strands, “O great orb of the universe, I Boudicca do hereby beseech you, that you will guide us to victory this day. O’ golden Andraste, I invoke you in your animal form to give good portent for the coming conflict, lead us into battle great Goddess, and we shall follow you.”

  She finished the oratory and the box was opened. With great aplomb the high priestess removed a sack from within, then before the tribes she produced a full-grown doe hare from inside it.

  With great ceremony she handed the wild animal to the priest, who then reverently handed it to the great Queen, upholding the old tradition that a man could not serve a man, nor a woman a woman in a ritual.

  Boudicca now raised the hare and saluted the four quarters of the universe, north, east south, and west, then gently placing the animal on the ground she slowly stepped back.

  The hare sat still where it had been placed, bemused and muddled at its sudden release from darkness to light. Dazzled by the sun’s rays it just remained still, appa
rently unaware of the throng of eyes upon it.

  The stillness of the gathered army was so profound it could almost be heard, not even a bird twittered. The silence dragged on as the animal remained still, custom demanded that nothing should startle or frighten the animal, what it would do of its own accord would be the will of the Gods.

  Seconds continued to tick away, then acustomising itself to its surroundings it started to move, cautiously at first, then seeing the open ground before it, it ran in a straight line towards the Roman capital of Camulodunum. As it disappeared into the distance a great cry went up as Boudicca ecstatically cried aloud,

  “The omens are favourable — where the hare runs we follow.”

  Moments later her chariot was brought to the fore again then she mounted and gave rein to her steeds. With ear-splitting war cries the whole line of chariots moved out in a great curve, behind her followed the Celtic army, racing in a jog trot towards the despised enemy.

  The moment of truth was now at hand.

  The Conflict Starts

  Aristicus, the tribune of the Fourteenth Gemina had also paused to give his men respite, they too were weary and footsore, but were now well ahead of schedule, and but a days march from the capital. Nearing the city he was proceeding with even greater caution, for now they were deep in enemy territory.

  Taking no chances he had camped on a high hilltop from where he could observe for miles around should there be any enemy activity in the area. Now anxiously he paced up and down.

  “What news Flaccus?” he asked of a centurion who was carefully observing a flashing light on a remote hilltop.

  As the transmitter on high flashed the polished brass plate to the distant unit, Flaccus dictated the message word by word to a scribe as the message was received, then abruptly the flashing stopped

  Flaccus was perturbed as he reported to Aristicus, “Apparently, Boudicca’s forces are but hours away from Camulodunum. Also the report says the city prepares for her. Proctor is erecting barriers and has men working day and night to seal the centre.”