by Jan Surasky
Chapter Thirteen
Dawn broke the ebon of the cold, dark sky with a burst of violet rays backed by an orange-red sun. A group of Silures warriors, covered by boughs, inched forward. Horn blowers, many of them the bards and vates of the palace, stood behind, the wood of their instruments turned with the reeds and the holes which would make the deepest and loudest sounds.
Chariots stood at the ready, hidden behind the stands of trees. Warriors, their shaved bodies glistening in the sun, many naked, many covered with the blue dye of the woad plant, stood hidden as well.
The chatter of birds was all that broke the silence. Caractacus, ready to lead his men into battle with the Romans, stood at the rear of a chariot, the reins of a horse decked out in enameled harness, its bridle and bit of the finest leather and bronze, in the hands of a long-trusted driver.
Caractacus wore the heavy torque of a chieftain, encircled with the gods of the Silures tribe. His helmet was topped with a likeness of the horns of the woodland stag. His tunic was closed with a girdle of gold embedded with Silures crests.
The noise of the advancing army's footsteps preceded its arrival at the foot of the hill which led to the narrow, grassy plain which passed between the river and the woodland. Quiet pervaded the woodland, save for the calls of the blackbirds and finches, and the scattering of the squirrels along its branches.
The Romans traveled in close formation, the armor which covered them identical. Helmets topped by a bright, red crest, a tooled, leather breastplate, and a shield sporting the crest of Rome. As they reached the crest of the hill, the Celtic warriors covered by boughs moved forward to charge their front lines. The bards and vates set up a blare with their horns. Chariots rushed from the woodland to rain javelins upon the legion, their clattering wheels adding to the din. Warriors dropped from the chariots to fight the Romans on foot, others emerging from the woodland as well.
As the chariots retired to the sidelines, chaos replaced the order of the Roman legions. Foot soldiers scattered in fear and in confusion. Weighed down by their armor and their traveling packs, the Romans were at a disadvantage in the hand-to-hand combat with the unencumbered Celtic warriors. But, the Celts, despite the superior length of their well-turned javelins and swords, the boost they got by the element of surprise, and the ferocity of their battle skills, were outnumbered. The Romans, recovered from their confusion, often fended off the blows of a single Celtic warrior with a line of shields placed side to side.
As the wounded Celts were carried off by the waiting chariots, and replaced by fresher warriors, the Romans were spurred in their combat by the lure of the beauty and strength of the glistening bodies of the naked, Celtic warriors, who they hoped to turn into slaves.
As the Celts drove the Romans, still weighted down by their traveling packs and armor, toward the river, the Roman's mounted units arrived, alerted by the sounds of battle. Bolstered by the confusion, Caractacus, standing tall in the rear of his chariot, rushed from the woodland, followed by the rest of the chariots holding many Celtic warriors. The Roman horsemen, recognizing the trappings of a chieftain, gave chase. The Celts, headed for the fens, with their superior skills of mount, and knowledge of the countryside, reached the bogs before the Romans, pulling their chariots to the side and bringing them to a halt. But, the Romans, caught up in the excitement of the chase, pulled too late upon the reins of their mounts, the hooves of their horses slipping and sinking in the unsure footing of the marshy bog.
The Celts jumped from their chariots to face the Roman horsemen, most thrown to the floating logs and reeds of the fen, many a victim of the hooves of a frightened, screeching mount. The rest had difficulty gaining a foothold themselves. Those who made it to the edge of the bog faced a waiting, Celtic sword.
Caractacus, who had remained in his chariot, gave orders to the driver to return to the grassy plain above the river. Battle raged along its banks. He rode back and forth above it, calling out, prodding and encouraging, occasionally fending off an enemy sword which sought to topple him from the height of his chariot.
He returned to the fens, where Roman soldiers had gained a footing on the solid ground around it. The Celts fought fiercely, but the sheer numbers of the Roman soldiers, who by now had remembered their tactical training, and had gathered their forces into a more cohesive group, wore down even the bravest warriors.
Caractacus returned to the river, where the Romans were driving the Celts up the hillside and onto the grassy plain for a more equal footing. The riverbank was littered with Roman soldiers and Celtic warriors who had failed to repel an enemy sword. Epidoris, his long, blond locks now matted with the mud of the hillside, was among them. Caractacus restrained himself from jumping into the fray to uncover the Roman soldier who took from the youth his hope of studying to become a Druid.
As the tide of battle turned in favor of the Romans, Caractacus charged the field to gather up two of his most trusted advisors, Belorix and Casivelanus, pulling them into his chariot, and ordering his driver to return to the depths of the woodland, where the enemy would take long to follow on foot. As they reached the middle of the forest, they disembarked, gathering about in a circle. Belorix spoke. "Caractacus," he said, leaning forward slightly toward the Silures chief, "you must flee. If you are taken captive, you will be dragged through the streets of Rome in chains, a trophy before the people, and then sent to the Roman gallows. Without a leader, our warriors will lose desire for battle.
"If you return to battle now, and are felled by the Roman sword, our warriors will be thrown into confusion. You must flee to the safety of the Brigantes palace and of Venutius. From there you will be able to send the orders and plans of battle."
Casivelanus spoke next. "Lucterius will take charge of the Silures and Ordoveces. Thoughts of your safety will settle our warriors and spur them on, giving them strength and courage to face the enemy sword.
"You must travel by the light of the stars, and make camp deep within the woodlands by day, for Roman units wander about the countryside, foraging for the ripened grain and corn."
Caractacus agreed, giving an assent with the raising of his arm. "I will travel alone," he said, as he shifted his stance upon the woodland floor, "lest I arouse suspicion and call attention to a traveling band."
The Silures king rose, giving a few last orders to tide over his warriors until the light of the moon replaced the fading sun. He bid the two advisors farewell, clasping them closely in his great embrace. Then, he gathered up a few supplies, a bow and a quiver of arrows to bring down small game, and several loaves of bread, laying them in his traveling pack, and waited for the first hint of a starlit night.
Chapter Fourteen
As the stars rose, and battle had ceased for the night, Caractacus had two young warriors create a diversion. A drunken brawl, backed by the aid of drunken friends to cheer them on, ensued. The Roman scouts, entranced by the outcome, were drawn to the contest staged upon the riverbank, peering from around the trees they had crept behind.
The moon, merely a sliver, and the cloudy sky, provided the cover Caractacus needed to steal softly away from out the other side of the woods. Familiar with the countryside, and clad only in a simple tunic and mantle, he led his mount slowly and quietly away, down the hillside that had brought the Romans to them, climbing his mount only after he reached a thicket several miles away.
From there, clear of the enemy camp, he rode as far and as hard as he could to put distance between them. Then, he rested his mount, leading it to a nearby stream. As he remounted the chestnut stallion, now refreshed, he checked the stars overhead. Through the cloudy sky, he saw barely the star he needed to follow, by Diviticus' calculations, which would lead him northward. He rode on in its direction.
As he went, he avoided the settlements which had once sheltered his people, lest there be stray bands of Romans roaming about for booty or ripening grain. He traveled until the sun came up, then made camp in the vastness of a woodland.
In this f
ashion, he traveled northeast, using the green twigs of a sapling to roast a fish he had caught in the moonlight over an open fire, or bringing down a woodland hare for his supper. As he reached the edge of Brigantes lands, he picked up his pace, traveling by day as well as night. The Brigantes peasants provided him with food and water, inviting him to sit around their evening campfires, or dine with them on the compact, dirt floors of their huts.
As they shared with him flagons of ale and the cheeses of their farmsteads, they also shared with him tales of the Roman invaders. Few Romans were seen about the Brigantes countryside, for Cartimandua had chosen to keep order and collect the taxes herself, eagerly turning them over to the Roman empire, leaving the Romans free to vanquish other tribes. Farmers still sowed their grain, for unlike the neighboring tribes who had resisted Roman domination, and had been decimated by the taking of slaves and booty, leaving no young hands to plow the furrows or lead a band of cattle to pasture, the Brigantes farmers were still able to raise their cattle, keep their farmstead goats, and turn their grain into ale.
But, woodland game no longer filled the cauldrons of their evening meals, for arms were forbidden, to be raised only in the aid of a Roman conflict. And, though the revelry of Beltane and Sanheim still marked the seasons of planting and of harvest, there were no contests of valor.
The white hare still ran free, but no longer was brought to the altar of religious woodland rites, for the Druids, long prey to the vagaries of the Roman empire, and annihilated in the conquest of the Continent's Celtic tribes a century before, had fled to the Isle of Mona. The rivers still flowed and the earth still stretched before them, but the Brigantes, toiling to produce the heavy taxes levied upon them, seldom worshiped the goddesses they once believed watched over them.
Caractacus, renewed by the fare and the respite of the Brigantes people, moved on to reach the palace city at Sanheim. As he identified himself, and the gates of the city were swung open, he rode down the narrow, winding streets toward the luxury of the sprawling palace. Refusing the hospitality of a bath or slumber, he asked to be taken directly to the Brigantes queen.
Announced by a servant, and led to the great hall where Cartimandua held court, he stepped before her. Cartimandua, meeting his gaze, showed no sign of recognition. Caractacus spoke. "I have come to see Venutius," he said, "and to take refuge within these gates. To command my warriors from the safety of great distance."
Cartimandua spoke, her steely gaze unmoving. "Venutius has ridden south to mediate a dispute between two landowners," she said. "Our Druids, unmindful of the tasks for which we have fed them and given them shelter, have fled to the Isle of Mona. Their cowardice has increased the duties of Venutius."
"I ask only for simple hospitality," returned Caractacus, "and messengers to carry my orders to the Silures warriors."
"How goes your quarrel with the Roman empire," asked Cartimandua.
"We have battled steadily for seven seasons," he answered. "We have driven back the Romans, but they advance, adding often fresh troops from the barracks of Rome."
Cartimandua spoke again. "As you know," she said, "I have aligned myself with the Roman empire."
"I have heard the news," he answered. "But, surely your heritage and the memory of your father disagrees."
At that, a sneer crept across Cartimandua's steely countenance. "My father," she returned, "has long been valiant in the Otherworld. I rest here, my palace well provided for, our city prosperous." She paused, then continued. "I have made a treaty with the Romans to keep order within the borders of Brigantes lands, and to harbor no enemy of the Roman empire."
"But, Cartimandua," said Caractacus, his gaze now fully upon her, "ours has been a friendship of childhood. We have wandered the woodlands together, bringing down game for an evening supper. You have taken as consort a prince raised as my brother under my father's roof."
"I have no sentiment for the days of yore," she answered.
"Then," he said, "I will have to wait for Venutius to return and deliver his opinion on the matter."
With a flick of her wrist, Cartimandua ordered two palace guards to seize him. Caractacus pulled free, but several more surrounded him as well.
"Throw him in chains," she commanded. "And, prepare him to be delivered to the Roman empire."
Chapter Fifteen
Caractacus, weighed down by the chains that bound him, sat tall in the carriage that brought up the rear of the procession that was winding down the streets of Rome. Cortitiana, in the carriage ahead, surrounded by their children, all bound, and pale and trembling, comforted them as she could.
Women and children lined the streets, as well as heads of households. Boys, let out by their Greek slave tutors from their lessons jostled for position, anxious to catch a glimpse of the Celtic chief whose deeds had been for seven years on the tongues of all their elders.
The spectacle, grand even by Roman standards, did not disappoint. The praetorian guard, decked out in full regalia, headed the procession, followed by carriages of booty vanquished from the Silures palace. Torques heavy with gold, drinking vessels and urns of bronze, and trinkets of every kind, many of them studded with the pink and red coral of the sea.
Next came the servants of the Silures palace, all bound and on foot, shuffling as best they could and occasionally prodded by guards, to keep up with the carriages before them. As the procession wound down, it stopped in front of a throne set for Claudius aside of the army's barracks, where the emperor sat surrounded by his tribunes. Agrippina, his wife, sat on a throne beside him.
As the carriages were brought to a halt, Caractacus was placed before the emperor's throne. But, unlike the captive kings before him, who had always bowed to the Roman victors, the Silures king remained erect.
Caractacus addressed Claudius. "Had I been as equal to you in wealth as in noble birth, I would have entered your city as friend instead of captive. I had warriors and horses, arms and wealth. What wonder if I parted with them reluctantly?
"If you Romans choose to lord it over the world, does it follow that the world is to accept slavery? Were I to have been at once delivered up as prisoner, neither my fall or your triumph would have become famous. My punishment would be followed by oblivion. But, if you save my life, I shall be an everlasting memorial of your clemency."
Claudius looked upon Caractacus, the chieftain's gaze unflinching, despite the weight of his shackles. The emperor spoke. "What you say is true. I shall spare your life." He paused, shifting his gaze slightly toward Agrippina, who nodded. "But," he continued, "you must live within the confines of Rome, a symbol of my great generosity toward your barbarian people."
At that, Claudius granted pardon to the Silures king, and to his wife and children. He motioned for them to be released from their bonds. As soon as they were free, they knelt before him, praising him for his generosity. Then, they bowed before Agrippina with similar words of praise.
Then, the senate put forth its finest orators, who agreed that the triumph matched the capture of the greatest enemy kings in the history of Rome. Special awards and privileges were granted to Ostorius, the general who had led the latest campaigns against the Silures tribe.
Caractacus was given a villa in Rome, and tutors for his sons, an education equal to the highest born. But, guards were posted to keep the family within the city's limits.
As he wandered the well-cobbled streets of Rome, his once sturdy frame turned soft, his days spent in the idleness of the daily tasks of the Roman citizens about him, the Silures chieftain wondered, often aloud, what Rome had ever wanted with the small huts of the British Celts.
Chapter Sixteen
Venutius, worn from his journeys about the southern countryside of Brigantes lands, handed the reins of his mount to a palace stable servant. Then, he headed across the courtyard, treading the stone pathways that led along the manicured gardens, toward a small, side door which opened onto a corridor that led to the sleeping chambers and the bathing chambers which held gr
eat iron footed tubs. But, as he passed the great hall, a shrill voice calling out his name kept him from pursuit of respite.
"Venutius, I see your return has remained unannounced," said Cartimandua, her loud, hoarse voice carrying to the hallway. "But do come in and tell me about your journey."
Venutius obliged, entering the great hall and handing his mantle to a waiting servant. Cartimandua spoke again. "Sit by my feet," she said, motioning to a nearby stool, "and tell me about the outcome of your travel."
Venutius pulled the stool toward the oaken chair where Cartimandua sat and settled himself upon it. "Order has been restored in the southern countryside," he began. "I have enlisted the help of Laertissmus, the noble who oversees the greatest amount of lands. He knows well the problems of the nobles who are his neighbors."
"The ban on arms has taken a toll on the farmers' morale," he continued. "Unable to quickly ward off raiders, they watch their fields at night but, though some have mounts equal to the chase, they are unable to stop all those who decide to pilfer."
"The heavy taxes have brought an increase in the amount of grain they are expected to yield," he continued. "The nobles, knowing the grain they must send on the ships to Rome, push the farmers harder, and fight among themselves over the land."
"What was your decision?" asked Cartimandua, maintaining an interest despite an icy countenance.
"We expanded the farmers' fields, bringing together the resources of every noble, and increased the nighttime guards, banding together the area farmers and the servants of the nobles. The duty has brought together the neighbors of the south, who now share gossip as well as flagons of ale."