by John Salter
Varro cantered his horse forward and into the fort. The battle had been hard won and the Britons had pushed the legions back, a feat rarely seen. He respected their leader Caratacus for his tactics and knew that had he succeeded in isolating and taking thousands of troops, Plautius would have been put in an unenviable position. Had he made a treaty with the Briton and bargained for the soldiers’ lives he would have won the respect of all his army. However, in bargaining with such a foe he would have been replaced, returned to Rome in disgrace and punished most severely.
As it turned out Geta had saved the day and the fortunes of Plautius who now it was rumoured, was about to decorate Geta for his bravery and that of his men. Varro had eventually been involved in the battle that day but only in the last attempt to outflank the enemy. He returned now to discover what his orders were as the fleeing Britons were pursued. It was said their capital was within a day’s ride now with only one major obstacle in their way, another larger river.
Trotting through the gate after helping escort prisoners to a stockade he saw that Plautius was indeed already decorating his officers, centurions and legionaries after the battle. He turned aside and saw Varro approach.
“Ah Centurion Varro how good it is to see you young fellow. I trust you played your part in the today’s victory?” He asked smiling up at the centurion.
“Sir, yes sir.” Varro answered. “We attacked with the cavalry and took down many of their chariots, men and horse.” He pulled up and got down off Staro.
“Splendid work my boy, splendid work. I suggest you go and find Legate Vespasian and see what he’s got in store for you. We need to pursue the barbarians that didn’t fall to our swords and give them a damn good beating as well. If things keep going at this rate, we’ll have conquered their entire island within the year.” He laughed walking off in the direction of his command tent. Varro led his horse to one of the equestrian enclosures and handed him over to a legionary.
“Make sure he’s fed and watered will you? We’ll be out again soon enough I’m sure.” He said already walking away.
“Yes sir.” The soldier acknowledged as Varro followed Plautius to the command tent. Inside, it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dimness compared to the bright sunshine outside. The temperature was hot and stuffy, not helped by the large standing burners liberally placed to allow sufficient light. He saw that Vespasian and the other senior officers including Geta were heavily engaged in their plans for the follow up campaign.
He was ushered to a side room where other centurions and a few optio’s awaited their orders. Dirt covered most of the faces, arms and legs of those around him as they recounted their personal stories of the battle. He presumed that he was as filthy as them as none of them had time to wash as the General always insisted on debriefing his troops immediately.
Some laughed out loud as others were more serious as they told of narrow escapes or friends and comrades injured or killed and close escapes. The cavalry were in the minority of those waiting, the majority made up of the legions centurions who were well and truly in the middle of the fight. Auxiliaries were mocked at their near destruction but were able to give as good as they got in the well humoured banter. It was always at times like this that Varro thought the General and his staff should be present. He was certain that fewer men would die the next time and they would learn more than they did from the side lines watching as men were butchered, if only they spoke to those on the ground.
“Quiet.” A Tribune shouted at the men as he appeared from around a corner. “The General is ready for you now gentlemen.” He added smirking suddenly changing his demeanour at the standing officers. They entered the large briefing room where maps were laid on two tables.
“Good, good come in men.” Plautius said moving to the rear of the table. Only a few senior officers, Tribunes and Prefects were still present in case their input was required, others had already left and were preparing to carry out their orders.
“Right gentlemen,” he began, “come forward please, step forward so you can see.” He waved them closer as Varro and the others did as they were instructed. He looked down at the table and saw what lay beyond the fort and the trees beyond. He could see the large river which it was estimated was an hours ride north on the map, it was named Tamesa the name given to it by the locals. The General turned and introduced a man dressed in a white toga. He recognised him immediately his Latin was the same as Brenna’s and spoken with an unusual accent.
“This gentleman,” the General said pausing and indicating with an outstretched arm, “is Prince Adminius soon to be King Adminius of the Catuvellauni. He was cruelly exiled by his own people as I’m sure some of you will already know.”
The assembled officers looked at the man as he spoke, “Welcome to my country Centurions. I welcome you on behalf of those who do truly welcome you not the traitors that you have fought today.” He raised an eyebrow as if waiting for some kind of response from the men standing at the other side of the table, he got none.
“A few years ago,” he continued, “my father, then King of the Catuvellauni decided that it was better to distance his people from the great Empire of Rome.” Varro decided quickly his first assumptions were correct about this man and that he was a sycophant and no doubt a traitor and liar to his own kind, he continued.
“Although trading continued as it had for many decades he, my father decided that he would not under any circumstances become a client King to the Emperor. At the time of course that was Emperor Caligula.” The men bristled and he blushed slightly realising he had mentioned the lunatic who had ruled before Claudius but went on quickly. “My vision was to bring my land into the Empire and to work with it not against it.”
A centurion standing behind Varro broke in, “Excuse me Prince.” He said.
“By all means Centurion.”
The soldier continued, “Do you speak on behalf of all Britannia? I thought there were many tribal regions?” Someone coughed as if indicating the point was well made.
“My tribe is one of the largest in all Britannia and the most powerful and we have the greatest influence over lesser regions. With the Catuvellauni at your side, I can assure you that Britannia will be one of your greatest allies.” He smiled pausing, expecting applause maybe. He continued. “With us at your side the rest of Britannia will quickly fall in line and then we can all work together with common aims and goals.
“If what you say is correct Prince,” the centurion continued, “then we have a real fight on our hands because it seems that your Catuvellauni are not exactly welcoming.”
Quiet laughter broke an awkward silence as Adminius looked at the General clearly expecting him to come to his defence and offer support, he didn’t.
“The warriors that met you in battle today have been misled. Since my father’s death my own brothers, Togodumnus and Caratacus have ruled. Togodumnus to the north of the Tamesa,” he pointed at the river on the map, “and Caratacus to south. They were always jealous of my vision that saw Albion,” he stopped, “sorry Britannia as a part of the Empire.” He reddened slightly after referring to the island with the Britons name for it.
“Since I met the Emperor in Rome, they have clearly persuaded my people that their view was the right one to follow.” He looked at the faces watching him. “They were wrong and those who follow them are wrong and they will pay for their insolence and betrayal.” His face flushed again clearly angry at being embarrassed by the assembled soldiers.
The General expecting more of a history lesson that neither he, nor his men had time for, broke in before Adminius could say anymore. “I sincerely hope that those less powerful and less influential; share your vision Prince Adminius.” He stared at the prince. “I can assure you that if the Catevallauni continue to resist, I will be forced to destroy them. Thank you for your time.” The General said dismissing the Briton. He stared at the commander of the army in shock but bowed nonetheless and left the room.
“Gen
tlemen.” The General said turning to his centurions. “Right men come closer,” he said as if the Prince had not even been introduced to them as he began to outline his plans for the continuing campaign. Over the next hour Plautius told the centurions that the captured Dubonni were to be kept inside a newly constructed fort on the coast. It was to be manned by the Ninth Hispana who would also secure their landing area fully and build better harbours for their ships. Once hostilities had ended the tribesmen would be allowed to return to their lands, unarmed obviously. This brought a few raised eyebrows nevertheless but the General went onto explain that they didn’t intend to enslave or kill the entire population of the enormous island.
They all knew that taking the Britons weapons would be insult enough and would no doubt create its own problems but that was an issue for another day. By that time Plautius mused, a Roman governor would be appointed and the law of the land would prevail over the law of the sword. He reiterated his desire that he intended to pursue the Catuvellauni and destroy those who continued to resist them. Any who surrendered would be treated the same as the Dubonni and would eventually be released.
The capital at Camulodunum would be taken as soon as practically possible with the Emperor Claudius leading the advance. This surprise raised more eyebrows especially when he said that the Emperor had even intended to bring with him a team of elephants and ride, ‘Hannibal like’ in person into the enemy stronghold, thereby ensuring the complete and utter capitulation of any who thought of carrying a sword against the men of Rome again.
After the briefing the men were given various duties and assignments, some more rigorous than others as those assigned to work in the fort complained about later. The men fortunate enough to be told they were to pursue the Britons with all haste, laughed at those to be left behind and quickly went to their duties.
Varro went to find his men and found them at one of the forts stable enclosures tending to the horses. Decimus, Lucius and Marcus were all relieved when told they were to ride in advance of the main body of cavalry and would be leaving as soon as they were prepared. None had sustained any injuries in the battle nor had the horses, not even a scratch, which he considered was a miracle considering the ferocious attack by the enemy and thanked Mithras, the god of the legions.
After a light meal they tacked up their animals, re-armed with javelins, food and water supplies and were ready to ride. Soon after they trotted towards the northern gate. Soldiers shouted their good luck and good fortune seeing that they were fully armed and leaving the safety of the fort. Some shouted good humoured abuse about having all the women and leaving some for them as well as their gold.
The four men smiled in response and waved as their horses kicked up dust flashing their tails as they increased their speed. As they got to within fifty yards of the gate, the great wooden doors were pulled and then pushed open allowing them to continue. More shouts of encouragement greeted them from above as they trotted below the guards manning the towers. Varro waved in acknowledgement and kicked Staro into a canter as they left the fort behind.
***
As the last of his people crossed the river, Caratacus saw that the tide had already swollen the quick flowing water. A handful of carts had to be helped across as the level grew higher and the speed of the water increased. Most of the Catuvellauni were already safely over and had or were still setting up their tents well away from the water’s edge. He prayed that it was enough to form a big enough barrier between them and the Romans to keep them at bay. He didn’t have long to wait to find out.
After the Romans had crossed the river further downstream over the Medway, he had ordered some of his men to patrol the rivers length inland in the event that they did the same again. If they did this again at least he would be prepared this time and would send re-enforcements to engage them. As he was talking to some of his senior leaders a warrior ran towards them carrying just a spear shouting a warning.
“Romans” he cried, “The Romans are here already.”
Caratacus looked passed and beyond the young man and sure enough he saw four men of the legions looking at them sat on horses. He knew that the battle of the Medway and the surrounding area had to have taken a toll on their men, not as many lives as their own but surely enough to make them think again about mounting another attack so soon. He gestured for his horse to be brought forward as other men got their mounts. Together they rode towards the river’s edge.
The Romans didn’t move they just sat watching the group of Britons on horseback now numbering fifteen. They were too far away to be hit by a spear but an arrow could easily reach them. One of the Britons pulled his bow from over his shoulder but Caratacus signalled him to stop.
“Let’s just see what our friends are doing shall we?” He said. “There’s been enough blood shed for one day or so I would hope.”
“Is the Tamesa big enough to hold them?” One of his warriors asked. He turned to look at him an expression of puzzlement on his face.
“I really don’t know Cunilis. If you had asked me the same question of the Medway I would have answered yes but these men are good at getting around obstacles as well as fighting. They showed that and got to our war chariots and horses by crossing the river further south so I’m afraid I have little doubt they could do it again here given time.” The young man looked nervous, so he tried to calm him.
“If I were their General however, I would question whether I wanted to face so many brave warriors again so quickly.” He smiled trying to encourage Cunilis.
“Their great General lost a lot of men today and yesterday and if I were he, I would either try and make peace with the men on the other side of yet another river or at least have a rest and fill my belly.” He looked out to the Romans again. “After all, how many men does anyone want to see die in a day?”
He wasn’t sure if Cunilis felt any better or not but it made him quite certain that the enemy wouldn’t try and cross the river immediately. Like his people, the Romans had to be tired and in need of rest and food. He looked at the sky and realised that they were only half way through the day. The soldiers of the legions had a river that was wider, faster and deeper to cross, he was sure he had time. He was wrong.
Varro and his men watched quietly from the safety of the far shoreline as the Britons made their camp. He couldn’t believe that they were content to stop directly on the other side of the Tamesa especially after the battle at the Medway. He watched as a group of Britons rode towards them and stopped and stared, gauging them. They didn’t try to re-cross the water as he thought was their original intention but stood talking animatedly to each other.
He watched the water current and realised it was much quicker than that of the Medway and it was wider and no doubt deeper. He followed its current with his eyes and decided that it was still crossable even with the high tide but only by those trained for such a task. Did the Britons think they were safe where they camped he wondered but it was a question only they could answer.
As other mounted troops reached them, Varro spoke to an Optio and told him to send a runner back to Plautius and inform him of the situation. With the countryside clear of the enemy all the way up to the Tamesa, the General had no obstacles to hinder their advance. It was merely a question of when they crossed the river, not if.
Within hours Caratacus looked out at a totally different scene across the great stretch of water. Where previously there had been grass, scrub land and the occasional tree, there was now a vast army arrayed waiting to attack. He couldn’t believe the Romans were willing to enter into another conflict so quickly but they were here.
He watched as they drew up the flat small boats in a line that they had used so effectively to cross the Medway. Rows of soldiers covered their approach from the front carrying their large square shields as cover. Cavalry carrying oval shields waited behind them at a safe distance, out of arrow shot. The Romans had already set up their artillery pieces, some on carts and some standing alone but none had fired ye
t, he knew they must be in range at the river’s edge.
From his position on a slight rise about thirty paces from the water, he considered his options and realised there were few open to him. The men across the river were readying themselves for action and there was little he could do about it.
“Bring the archers and slingers forward.” He ordered. “And have the spear men advance beyond the tents. As soon as those dogs are in the river, I want the water to run red with their blood. If they reach our side I want the warriors to attack them straight away and push them back. If we let them get across there will be nothing to stop them reaching Camulodunum.”
As his orders were carried out he looked up at the sky praying for divine intervention. His people were tired and exhausted and now had to somehow summon the strength to fight again. He watched as the boats were carried to the far shore hidden behind a wall of shields. Men peered out from the rectangular defences clearly expecting incoming arrows.
A trumpet sounded and very soon after things started to happen very quickly. As soon as the boats were pushed into the water, some of their occupants unshielded because of their efforts, Caratacus gave the signal for his archers to open fire. The Romans now struggled with the fast current and the arrows as the airborne dots grew larger and began to fall. Seconds later they were landing and injuring men and taking the lives of those on-board the small craft.
He saw their cavalry advance to the water’s edge and the men dismount. They urged their horses forward clinging to the sides as they attempted to cross the river. Some riders bravely remained mounted and leaned back as their animals entered the water and began swimming. Caratacus was shocked as he watched the unbelievable sight before him, he had no idea that men and horses could swim together as if they were one, especially in such a dangerous current. Suddenly the large artillery pieces came to life and huge bolts were fired over the water indiscriminately punching into flesh as did their own arrows.