by James Mace
Alaric shook his head. “I don’t think so. He was completely unapologetic regarding the destruction of my people. He said his brother had been killed years before, during an ambush that the Marsi took part in. I don’t think he was trying to be provocative, though if he was, what could I have done about it? He was heavily armed, with a number of his men within earshot. But no, I think his words were simply a way of reinforcing to me just how cruel the world is. And those who think otherwise will be enslaved or killed by the strong.”
“And yet from the way you talk,” Landon said with his brow furrowed, “I cannot tell if you hate the Romans or not. I mean, I can certainly understand your mother’s abject fear of them. And yes, I think that perhaps it was a mercy that she passed on long before they came here.”
“I tried to hate them,” Alaric replied. “It’s hard to explain, but I have always felt more confusion than anything when it comes to Rome. During my travels, I ended up serving aboard one of their warships. It was there that I was taught both sailing and how to fight with a gladius.”
“So the story I heard about you fighting pirates alongside the Romans is true?”
“It is,” Alaric admitted. “Something else I am glad my mother never knew. I sometimes think she would have rather I died rather than draw a blade and fight for them. And when I was in the east, I met a man; a Judean teacher. His followers to this day claim he was the son of God.”
“Which god?” Landon asked.
“They have but one, so I assume he needs no other name. I cannot say for certain. I did not spend time learning about the Jewish beliefs, only what this brave and noble man taught us. He said that we should love not just our neighbors, but also our enemies. Though he didn’t call them by name, it was clear that he was referring to the Romans.”
“Well, was he the son of their god?” Landon persisted.
“I don’t know,” Alaric shrugged. “It’s possible. I mean, if we believe in the plethora of deities that we’ve been told live within the water, the earth, and the sky, then why not? But whether he was, that’s not what’s important. What matters is that he brought a message of something other than hatred. I’ve carried it with me, though I do not know if I can truly forgive the Romans for what they did to my people, and what they continue to subject others to who dare to stand against them.”
Artorius and Sempronius walked into the entrance of the principia tent the morning following their arrival in Gesoriacum. A pair of legionaries stood guard, and inside were gathered the men who would lead Rome in its first conquest in generations.
As commander-in-chief of the expeditionary force, Aulus Plautius would not directly command any of the legions, instead relying on his subordinate legates. Flavius Sabinus had recently assumed command of the Fourteenth Gemina, with his brother, Vespasian, leading the Second Augusta. The Ninth Hispania, which was at the time posted in North Africa, was led by the venerable Gnaeus Hosidius Geta. He was a battle-hardened veteran who, despite being barely thirty, had already completed two command tours. His reputation was particularly fierce following his victories in Mauretania. The only legate missing was Glabrio of the Twentieth Valeria.
The legates, chief tribunes, and master centurions all sat at a large oaken table in the center of the tent. Equite tribunes and other senior centurions sat on chairs along the outer walls of the tent. The only exception to this was Artorius’ old friend, Aulus Nautius Cursor, who being in command of the task force’s cavalry was seated at the head table. Artorius gave a nod of respect to his friend.
“Gentlemen,” Plautius said. He stood at the head of the table, a freedman clerk on either side and a stack of documents piled on the table in front of him. “Next spring the conquest begins!”
Though this was a commonly held consensus, the general’s words made it official. The term conquest also made this far different from the usual expedition, emphasizing that once the invasion force landed in Britannia, they were there to stay.
“As you well know,” Plautius continued, “this will be a massive undertaking. Given the volatility of Britannia, I suspect that the mission of conquest and pacification will continue long after we have passed the sword on to our sons and grandsons. This will not be a mere show of force with a mock attack on the sea, like what happened just a couple years ago. Nor will we make the same mistakes as Julius Caesar and invade with too few troops. The emperor’s father, Drusus Nero, once predicted that a successful conquest of Britannia would require four legions, with an even larger compliment of auxiliary forces. As we shift forces within the empire to compensate for uprooting the invasion force, you can see who will now be responsible for the regions your legions have covered for many years.”
The clerks then quickly passed around a series of parchments to each legion commander. The scroll handed to Sempronius and Artorius read:
Legio II, Augusta in Argentorate, Germania3 – Replaced by Legio VIII, Augusta
Legio IX, Hispania in Vindobona, Pannonia4 – Replaced by Legio X, Gemina
Legio XIV, Gemina in Carnuntum, Pannonia5 – Replaced by auxiliaries
Legio XX, Valeria in Cologne, Germania – Not replaced, Legio I, Germanica to remain in place
“Logistics stores of rations and construction equipment have been staged in Cologne,” Plautius continued. He then looked to Sempronius for confirmation.
“Yes, sir,” the chief tribune replied. “We have sufficient pre-cut lumber to build at least two full-sized wooden forts. Extra grain siloes have also been built just outside the fortress with several farms for growing vegetables and raising livestock acquired. I estimate that we currently have enough raw food stores to feed four legions for approximately six months; half that if we factor in the auxiliaries.”
“We’re building a large supply depot here as well,” Plautius added. “While we can certainly forage once we land in Britannia, the emperor wants to keep this to a minimum. Taking from those we intend to rule does not win us allies for Rome. And while a certain amount of plunder from those we forcibly subjugate is expected, our long term goal is to pacify the people, not turn them against us. After we’re established, it will take the strength of both diplomacy, as well as the sword to conquer Britannia.”
Scribes next handed each group a rudimentary map showing the southeast coastline of the isle. Their current location in Belgica was also marked. Three large arrows pointed towards various points on the coast, with subsequent markings showing a rough approach each group was to take towards a river that ran into the sea to the north.
“We will land in the Kingdom of the Cantiaci,” Plautius said. “They are closest to our lands, and we can establish a foothold and initial base of operations there with supply lines running across the channel to the continent. The Atrebates, whose king the emperor has promised to restore to power, are located to the west of Cantiaci. They were conquered about three years ago by a powerful kingdom known as the Catuvellauni. They, and their allies, will be our most significant threats.”
“What of the Cantiaci?” Geta asked. “Will they offer resistance?”
“I have the reassurance from a deputation sent by their king, Eppillus, that they will not,” Plautius replied. “Their lands are small and the number of warriors insubstantial. I suspect they will welcome us, as they live in fear of the Catuvellauni. Plus, Eppillus is the brother of King Verica of Atrebates. Our first test of diplomacy will be how we treat the Cantiaci. If we show temperance, then others will see the good will of Rome. If subjugate them with an iron fist, it will only unite the other tribes against us. We want to keep hostile and undecided peoples divided as much as possible.”
“That does not mean that our landing will go unopposed,” Vespasian noted. “The Catuvellauni and their allies will march right through the Cantiaci lands. Eppillus does not have the strength to oppose either them or us, and so he will simply have to wait and try to make amends with whoever the victors are.”
“We also cannot land our entire invasion force at a singl
e point,” Plautius said, drawing their attention back to the maps. “Therefore we will launch three divisions simultaneously. I will accompany the Ninth and Fourteenth Legions to the north. The Twentieth will land to the south of us, with the main corps of cavalry. The Second will be on the far left and will have the largest contingent of auxiliaries in support, scouting and covering the left flank of the army.”
“What of the Atrebates’ king?” Vespasian asked. “Our approach will run just parallel to their lands. Do you wish him to accompany me?”
“No,” Plautius replied. “He will be with me, as I will be first to encounter King Eppillus, who will announce the return of the Atrebates king to them. Once we land we will merge into two battle groups. Sabinus will command the right wing, Vespasian the left. Each legion will have a certain amount of autonomy, as long as they continue to advance while meeting my intent. Our main objective for the first phase of the invasion is this river here.” He then pointed to a spot on the map which showed two large bays on the east coast, each leading into a river. Plautius pointed to the smaller one to the south.
“This is the River Medway. The terrain of this land is heavily forested and hostile. Geta, your North African troops have the least amount of experience in these conditions, which is why I’m pairing you with Sabinus and the Ninth. Our cavalry and auxiliaries will be crucial in rooting out bands of raiders who, no doubt, will try and wear us down with hit-and-run tactics. However, by the time we reach this point, we hopefully will have goaded our enemies into facing us in open battle. Britannic warriors are very prideful, and the longer we remain in their lands, the greater the blow to their esteem and perceived valor amongst the people. While prudence may dictate holding onto initial gains and then engaging individual tribes one by one, after they’ve gone home for the harvest, I intend to run a highly aggressive campaign. If we brazenly engage a large coalition in open battle and smash them, it will help quell thoughts of further resistance.”
After a few logistical details, Plautius dismissed the men. As the assembled leaders stood and saluted, Artorius had hoped to have a moment to speak with his friend, Tribune Cursor. However, he was interrupted by Vespasian, who called he and Sempronius over to a secluded corner.
“I wanted to speak with both of you in private,” the legate said. “As you can guess, Plautius is furious with your commander for foregoing this meeting.”
“If I may speak plainly, sir,” Artorius said, “we are still speculating as to how Glabrio ever received command of the legion in the first place.”
Sempronius grimaced, thinking this would lead to a sharp rebuke from Vespasian.
The general simply snorted and gave a mirthless smile. “From what I gather, he was a favorite of Gaius Caligula,” he said. “And he is a personal friend of the emperor. I doubt that Legate Glabrio is any more enthusiastic about taking part in the invasion than you are having him with you. However, as he still will have a year left on his appointment, none of you have any choice in the matter.”
Both Sempronius and Artorius looked crestfallen by this.
“Sir, can’t Plautius have him removed?” the chief tribune asked, exasperated.
“Unfortunately, no,” Vespasian replied, shaking his head. “Only the emperor can fire him, and that’s not going to happen. However, Plautius did come up with a somewhat viable solution. Glabrio will come to Britannia, but not with the Twentieth Legion. He will accompany Plautius as part of his staff, though still holding the position as legate of the Twentieth Legion. I understand this puts an added burden on both of you, as you will be the ones having to actually lead the legion into battle.”
“And that is why Plautius placed us in a battle group under you,” Artorius conjectured.
“Correct, master centurion,” Vespasian confirmed. “Regardless of who holds what position officially, I will essentially be in command of both legions. Not to worry, my chief tribune has already completed one tour and is damn near ready to become a legate in his own right. And my master centurion has served in the ranks longer than I’ve been alive. You both know how to lead men into battle, so I’ll not interfere with the Twentieth directly. Just know that I will not be far away.”
Landon’s assessment was more accurate than he realized. Both the queen and her consort knew the reasons for Caratacus coming to their kingdom. Cartimandua surmised soon after Togodumnus’ departure for the continent that he and his brother would soon be attempting to rally every kingdom in the isle to their cause. And given the size of Brigantes, Caratacus had decided to pay his respects personally.
Twenty men accompanied the warrior king; three mounted, the rest on foot, and all heavily armed. Caratacus dismounted his horse, handing his great axe to one of his men before embracing Venutius.
“You are most welcome, noble friend and ally!” Venutius said enthusiastically.
The queen was more reserved, but still cordial in her remarks. “We do welcome you, Caratacus of the Catuvellauni,” she said. “A feast has been prepared in honor of your visit.”
“It is I who am honored,” Caratacus said with a formal bow before the three entered the queen’s great hall. The other men who had come on horseback were Catuvellauni nobles who Caratacus had installed as vassals within Atrebates, and they also accompanied their king into the great hall. The remaining warriors were sent to rallying square, where warriors gathered when summoned by the queen. Here they would enjoy their own feast with those who they hoped would soon join them in the coming fight.
“What news have you of the Romans?” Venutius asked, cutting to the chase as he and Caratacus sat across from each other at the longest table. Cartimandua sat at the head and listened to the two men while she ate and drank in silence. While her consort was very gruff and often times belligerent in his speech, she was far more measured and languid in her responses.
“They are coming,” Caratacus confirmed with a nod as he took a bite of roasted beef, quaffing it down with a long pull of ale. “Not this year, though. My brother guesses they will come either next spring or early summer.”
“I had heard of movements of large bodies of Roman troops on the mainland,” Venutius said. “Are we certain they will not invade our shores this season?”
“Togodumnus and a number of our best scouts have been scouring the landscape,” the Catuvellauni king replied. “There is a massive shift happening within their empire. And while there are Roman soldiers congregating around the settlements on the coast of Belgica, their numbers are too few to constitute an invasion force at this time. They did, however, spot the standards of four legions posted in a camp outside Gesoriacum.”
“A leaders’ reconnaissance,” Venutius observed.
Caratacus nodded in reply.
“As you know,” he continued, “Verica of the Atrebates fled to Rome like a whipped dog after we annexed his lands. I had even offered to make him my chief warlord for the region! He could have essentially kept his lands without a drop of blood being spilled, and all I asked for in return was a reasonable tribute and acknowledgment as his king. He refused, and I was forced to put down his warriors and burn his hall to the ground.”
“A senseless loss of life that he could have avoided,” Venutius asserted.
Cartimandua stared hard at him. She found her husband’s flattery nauseating, yet she still maintained her silence.
“And if successful, the Romans will demand far more of him than you, my noble friend.”
“And that is why I have come to you,” Caratacus said. “Your kingdom is large and the number of warriors you can call up vast. My brother is seeking out our worthiest friends and allies to stand with him against Rome. I decided to come to Brigantes personally.”
“Even if we joined you,” Cartimandua finally spoke up, “the combined numbers of your warriors and mine would not be enough to repel a full-scale invasion from the Romans.”
Venutius cringed at his wife’s emphasis on the fact that their nation’s warriors fell under her command and not
his.
“The kingdoms of this land are divided, with many bloody rivalries going back centuries. Who’s to say any of them will stand with you?”
“I can unite them,” Caratacus emphasized. “No doubt a few of the weaker nations will bow like frightened children before the invaders. Their numbers are so few that we can do without cowards who pose as warriors. I already have pledged an alliance with the Silures2, who have promised me every fighting man they have to expel the Romans.”
“A strong ally to have,” Venutius observed.
The Silures were indeed one of the most warlike and feared tribes in all of Britannia, with a reputation of being willing to fight to the death rather than capitulate.
“And they will willingly fall under yours or your brother’s command?” the queen asked, her tone implying a rhetorical question that did not need answering.
“They will fight,” Caratacus restated.
Cartimandua continued to eat in silence for most of the evening, listening intently as her husband and the king talked of smashing the Romans and driving them into the sea before they could even claim a single scrap of Britannia. But unlike Venutius, who was already overstepping his authority by all but promising to send warriors to Caratacus, she knew the political situation within the isle was far more complex. This Catuvellauni warrior was no doubt very charismatic and would most certainly forge a sizeable alliance from many of the kingdoms. However, she also knew that while warlike tribes such as the Silures would prove strong allies, others would offer only tepid support that would be unreliable at best. And there were others who would either attempt to remain neutral or, perhaps, even welcome the invaders. Certainly the conquered Atrebates would be amongst these, as well as the Cantiaci, whose lands were on the southeast coast. The channel of the sea was narrowest between their lands and the Roman Empire.