by Ralph Harvey
The merchant wiped his hands on a piece of cloth and then answered, “Londinium is now ashes and Camulodunum is rubble. Now she heads for Lindum they say.”
The man was puzzled, “Then why the sudden activity here? For the last two days they tell us nothing yet make all preparations as if we were about to be attacked.”
“Precautions,” said the merchant, “the Iceni cow could change her mind and chance her arm here, but my guess is she will choose a soft target, or make for the ports. Lindum like here has high walls and a ditch, Londinium and Camulodunum had neither.”
The man persisted, “Lindum is less fortified than here, and has fewer soldiers. Here we have a full garrison, and sustenance to hold out for several months if necessary.”
The merchant acquiesced, “That is why I made for here, the Catuvellauni are allied with us, and are blood enemies of the Iceni as you know. They may despise us Romans and our ways, but they have a deeper hatred of Boudicca. We are the devil they know.”
The woman joined in the conversation, “Catuvellauni! I don’t trust them they are all Celts. They run with the hare and hunt with the hounds.”
The man turned upon her, “Still your tongue you stupid woman” he cried angrily.
They turned to leave, the woman visibly agitated.
“Stupid female! If the Gods had meant women to think he would have given them brains.” He turned to the merchant, “Don’t listen to her prattle, the woman’s paranoid, she will not even have a Celtic servant in the house.”
Angrily he paid for the cloth observing her closely while she walked away muttering under her breath,“It’s you that is the fool husband, for I shall leave here tonight at midnight by barge while there is still time, then we shall see who has the brains, or better still who has the intuition.”
Chapter 25
The Last Day
Verulamium was a hive of activity, with the slaughter of the Ninth Hispana, the massacres at Camulodunum and Londinium uppermost in everyone’s mind. The city was preparing to defend itself in what could be a long siege. Scouting parties scoured the surrounding countryside for provender, looting flour and livestock, together with oil and dried vegetables.
When Boudicca arrived she would find a parched land and a well-provisioned garrison at the ready. While the food stocks rose, the soldiers dug ever-deeper ditches and continued to raise the walls even higher, also placing sharpened stakes in rows both protruding from the earth banks, and on the ground.
On the outskirts of the city fall pits were being dug and covered with rushes and twigs, their bottoms also lined with sharpened stakes designed to kill the unwary that fell into them. More stakes were being set far outside the ramparts and on the plain while every stone or boulder that could be used as a missile to be hurled from the rampart was being gathered up stacked at the top of each watchtower.
All this was carefully observed and supervised under the watchful eye of Tacitus and two generals. Continually, they perambulated the walls, making notes of every weakness that they felt should be strengthened.
Tacitus gazed upon the rows of stakes set out in the fields around them, “These are my dragons teeth, and between them I have placed the deep pits. What say you Lucinus?”
Lucinus looked out across the plain. He was an experienced officer and knew well the Celtic pattern of warfare: breach the lines with the chariots and hurl your men into the midst of the enemy, attack from behind, seek out every flaw and weakness, then race your chariots and men to that spot. The Celtic way of war was a good one. Light, fast moving warfare had kept the invaders out of their country for centuries.
Coastal raiding could not be prevented, but on the plains they were the masters; that was until the Romans came. They found their new adversaries did not break their lines easily, and the iron discipline of the legions, coupled with their armour and battle tactics had proved their undoing.
Each Roman would hold his position and would stand and throw the dreaded pilas time and again into the enemies midst, while the skill of their archers was legendary as volley after volley of death would descend upon their enemies.
Only in the heat of battle could the Celts hold their own, for in close combat the well-armoured auxiliaries and their discipline, although formidable, were no match for the lithe Iceni. The skill of their fighting was legendary.
Lucinus mused to himself inwardly, and then he turned to Tacitus, “The tactics you are employing are right commander. If the Celts should attack, which is unlikely, you must stop them on the plains. If they get to close combat it’s the sheer numbers of them that will present the greatest danger. They swarm around you like a nest of wasps seeking a crevice to sting you. They must not be allowed make it to the walls under any circumstances.”
Tacitus turned, “You speak the truth Lucinus, as always.”
“I saw the Huns thrown back and slaughtered from far lesser defences in Germania by our legions.”
Caltrus, the second general agreed, “Aye Tacitus, if you can stop a Hun barbarian then you can stop anyone, for I swear I have not seen the like of them in war … until I came here.”
Tacitus looked at the bastions, “I would give a years pay for a thousand archers and a supply of arrows to match though.” Lucinus had now joined his comrade, “I am satisfied with the defences sir, they should hold until Poenius Postumus reaches here with the second Augusta from Siluria, or until Caesar sends reinforcements.”
Tacitus looked grave, “Regretfully Lucinus, I have to inform you that Caesar has said no to our request for reinforcements, he has no legions to spare, Suetonius has been commanded to hold.”
Caltrus grimaced, “But surely, when news of Camulodunum and Londinium is relayed to him he will relent. The very future of Britannia as our colony depends upon it.”
The garrison commander shrugged, “Who can predict Nero? Or read what is in his mind? There are many in Rome who say he grows madder each day. He is young yet the madness is developing with ever-greater momentum. The Senate tires of his posturing and terrible poems, but in truth, and I have heard it,” he added with a laugh, “it is his unmelodious voice and even worse his lute playing, I can’t stand. It is like a cat being strangled!”
Everyone present gave a chuckle in agreement. Nero’s eccentricities were the talk of the Senate, though never to his face, for his vindictiveness was legendary.
Tacitus was deep in thought, “Tell me Caltrus, Lucinus is the master of defence, as you Caltrus have long been, how would you attack Verulamium?”
Caltrus gasped, “Well first commander,” he looked down at all the activity, “I would seek out where the sun would be in the enemies eyes and make that my point of attack, then under a tortoise or shield wall for protection I would start to fill the ditches and make the biggest onslaught on the dark moon when the archers cannot see their targets.”
Tacitus was pleased, “Well spoken Caltrus — and then?”
Caltrus continued, “And then having made a causeway across ditch, I would start to tunnel under the earth wall until the first rainfall — then it would collapse. With the ditch filled in and the earth wall breached I would attack with Greek fire and battering rams at the walls under cover of darkness.”
Tacitus looked at Lucinus, “Enough. We must stop her on the plains.” Then he softened and added, “That is of course if she comes — which I doubt.”
Dawn the next day saw a rider on the plains riding hard. Tacitus was summoned and arrived sleepily, rubbing the granules from his eyes. They waited until the man came into view from the tower. Tacitus peered down at him.
“It’s Hadrian,” he exclaimed. “Send him straight to me.”
Minutes later Hadrian stood before Tacitus.
“Our worst fears have been confirmed commander. The Celtic army under Boudicca has swung away from Lindum and marches fast for here.”
“Here? Verulamium?” Tacitus looked at the man inquiringly, “Then the woman is a fool and so are her advisors. Tell me … how long?”
�
��Two days away sir, but they say many uncommitted tribes are flocking to her, even the Durotriges and Dobunni ride with her now” he answered.
Tacitus drummed his fingers, “And the Cantiaci?”
Hadrian shook his head, “Neutral so far, they and the Regnenses are at war with each other yet again.”
“Good” Tacitus exclaimed, “the Catuvellauni are with us, they’ve had a blood feud with Prasutagus and the Iceni for many years, so now I have no worries on that front. It was the Cantiaci on my flank I feared, but not so now. With the Catuvellauni and their bowmen I can defeat the greatest army in the world. I will make my final round of the defences. Send word to Caliages of the Catuvellauni to be ready and await the coming of the she-bear and her whelps.”
He paced agitatedly up and down, “I will place the Catuvellauni archers alternatively with my legionnaires on the ramparts as reinforcements, and command Caliages to send his cavalry and main army to hold her in the open as planned. That way she should not be able to break through, and if by chance she should then she will find a hornet’s nest awaiting her here.”
He punched the palm of his hand, “She will perish on the walls of the city, and afterwards I will hang her body from the highest point for all to see.”
Escape
As the city of Verulamium faded into the distance, a lone raft made its way silently downstream on the river Ver that ran alongside the city. Although narrow, its waters were deep enough for rafting but impossible for boats to navigate, unlike Londinium with its deep harbours. On the raft itself a small group of women and children huddled together for warmth.
The first light appeared as a red glow in the heavens, the river mist started to clear and the golden rays of the sun started to filter through, heralding for them, and them only, what was to be a fine day.
The woman from the market, who had been so severely scolded the night before, looked back wistfully as she placed her arms around the shoulders of her daughters.
“Farewell Verulamium and farewell dear husband. For my daughters’ sake I had to leave there.” Her eyes moistened. “And farewell to the home I built and nurtured.”
One of the women on the deck came over to her.
“My husband drank to excess, and often beat me, yet even so, when I think of what will befall them my heart is heavy.”
The woman sat down, “My mother had the sight, and I inherited the gift from her, which is why I had to leave.”
By now the city was out of sight, and a lone youth paddled the makeshift contraption quietly downstream to safety, accompanied by the dawn chorus of birdsong, while the tinkling waters of the stream rendered their own musical accompaniment.
A group of legionaries were about their chores in the primitive billet. They sat, grumbling amongst themselves as was ever the wont of soldiers the world over, cleaning brass and washing linen, cursing all that was British from the people to the inhospitable climate.
Four soldiers sat on the edge of the hard beds inside bemoaning the fate of the slaughtered patrol.
“Sent to their deaths they were, half armoured and no cavalry, straight into the jaws of Hades. A blind man could see it coming.”
The second soldier joined in, “Lissus knew he wouldn’t come back. He gave away his Phoenician dagger, and the statue of Jove he took in Carthage, plus his new sandals, cloak — everything. He knew, he did: I swear it.”
The third man now entered into the conversation, “It’s always the poor bloody infantry, ain’t it. It’ll be the same in a thousand bleedin’ years from now. What pisses me off is that they were sending bleedin’ white horses to her. Jewels, gold … and do you know what?” He peered at the other three, “They say they found Jovian strangled by a silver torc. Probus, Lissus, and Diodorus all died there — five years I served with them.”
The first soldier wiped his gladius, “I knew Galba well, twenty-two years in the legion he’d done, he was a good man. Why the fuck couldn’t they have sent Suetonius and the rest of the fuckin’ officers, plus centurions and legates, and got rid of all those bastards instead?”
Another man dissented, “Suetonius is a good commander, two campaigns I did with him, he don’t normally make mistakes.”
“No,” shouted the second soldier, “but when he does he fucks up real good don’t he?”
While the argument raged one of the four had remained silent, but listening. Now he spoke, “Sorry, but Suetonius is a fool. I did two campaigns with him — may the bastard rot in Hades. I swear he’s been the death of more of his own men, than he has of the enemy.”
The first soldier was getting mournful, “Commodes and Senator Seneca both died at their villas, only been retired a year they had. What in hell’s name does Nero want with this bloody country anyway? What’s in the wind for where we’re going tomorrow?”
“Lindum,” one replied, “We’re marching to Lindum at dawn.”
His companion interrupted, “No way, I heard it direct from the decurion, and he should know! Get the men ready to march to Verulamium he was told — sharp! First light.”
A man across the room was soaking his feet in a bowl of warm scented water. As they watched he lifted a badly blistered foot out, the heel rubbed raw.
“Wherever you go I ain’t going to be with you. I’m reporting sick to the capsarius tomorrow.”
One of the parties looked across to him incredulously, “What? To Piso that butcher? Me, I’d sooner face the enemy than our own quacks.”
His companion grimaced, “Piso? He’s shed more Roman blood than any man I know, may he rot in Hades too. Too fond of the lancing knife, or leeches he is, thinks letting blood is the cure for everything.”
With that remark they all fell silent as they prepared for the next day and whatever the dawn would bring.
It was mid-morning when the first activity was seen. Two days had passed since they had gone on full alert, the Roman hierarchy in their wisdom had chosen not to inform the inhabitants of the impending battle fearing a mass exodus, and Tacitus, ever the thinker, knew full well they would be slaughtered long before they reached their destination. If it came to the crunch, every able man, woman or even child could well be needed to man the barricades, for even the young can keep the defenders supplied and if necessary hurl a missile.
Such subterfuge had little effect; the city of Verulamium was jittery. All the activity, the strengthening of the defences made it clear that it was siege time and Tacitus was preparing to defend the coming onslaught of the Celtic hordes, despite their assurances that Boudicca had struck north towards Lindum and that Suetonius was heading to intercept her.
The first signs of the coming conflict came the following day. At first it was just a lone Iceni horseman racing around the perimeter just out of arrow range. Shouting defiance he performed acrobatics in the saddle, then standing on the charging steed he made obscene gestures. A lone bowman pulled his drawstring to maximum and loosed it at the gesturing figure but it fell pathetically short. Tacitus saw a decurion running over to the archer, and sent a centurion to intercept.
“Tell him not to punish him, it was well intended, but say there may come a time when every arrow counts, as Proctor found to his cost at the temple siege in Camulodunum.”
By midday they saw the first of the chariots preceding the main army. Two units carefully trotted around the city walls making notes of the defences, then having appraised Tacitus’ strength they withdrew.
Tacitus with his advisors and Lucinus, Caltrus, and Gaius watched every movement. From their high vantage point they were the first to see the dust cloud on the horizon signalling the advance of the main Celtic force.
It was a hot summers day, and the Celtic army had used the new Roman road to get to the edge of the town, the sweep of the chariots sending up clouds of dry clay dust. When they got just out of weapons range they calmly sat at the edge of the war zone and took refreshment, unhurried, obviously relishing the combat to come … and it was not long in coming.
At
the beginning it was just a few mock attacks, racing forward with loud yells and cries, loosing a few arrows and retiring; then banging drums they attacked again, this time sending a volley of arrows at the fortress town. At the end of half an hour not a single casualty on either side had been suffered.
Lucinus was observing closely. As he gazed out one of the observers spoke to him.
“What are they up to Lucinus? They make much noise but that is all.”
Tacitus answered the man, “A ploy. They are testing the distance for their arrows, and working out how to overcome the stakes. It’s my guess they will try to wrench them of the ground with their chariots and ropes making a shield wall as a cover.”
He addressed the remainder of his party,“But first they need to know how deeply set they are. They’ll be back,” he added, “and we’ll be ready for them.”
“Shall we give them a show of strength?” spoke Gaius, “Let them know what they’re up against?”
“Why not Gaius? It will do no harm and could well be off-putting. Next time they draw close loose everything that we have that is long range upon them, catapultas, javelinas, onagers, plus bowmen if they are close enough. I also want every man commanded to shout defiance, every horn to blow and every drum to beat.”
Gaius added, “And every man to beat his shield to them in the Iceni style.”
Tacitus started to climb the ladder to the observation tower, “I intend to keep watch from here and chart their position, keep me informed on each development below.”
The Celts returned. A strong unit of Parisi started a build up at the eastern wall while a massive Atrebate attack was launched on the western one. Steadfastly the Romans settled in to defend, as a vast army encircled them from behind, as Treva and Trinovantes joined in the onslaught, attacking in the south. But it was on the city front at the main gate the Iceni repeatedly attacked the bastions, feinting and withdrawing.
Caltrus stood to the left of Tacitus, “They grow more bold. Each time they charge they draw closer …”