by Miller, Ian
Visiting his men was always bittersweet. There was always joy visiting the groups of soldiers, primed with wine, telling the somewhat exaggerated stories of their exploits, but any such sweetness was always soured by knowing who had been killed, and by visiting the seriously injured. The doctors and their herbs seemed to be able to do miracles sometimes, but often the miracle simply did not happen. Only too often a good man descended into a stinking fever before dying, and it was particularly hurtful to see the man smell his own death before it visited him.
The victory was more or less complete. A high per centage of the committed Celtic force appeared to have been killed or captured, and large amounts of supplies, gold, and weapons had been confiscated. On the other hand, Roman losses were heavier than he would have liked. Any Roman death was one too many, but it was not practical to fight a war against a determined, ferocious and capable enemy without losing soldiers. As expected, Caratacus himself had escaped with some of his senior officers, and with some cavalry.
Since the enemy had been routed, opposition would now cease for a few weeks. Once this site was under control, the legion would advance, taking a good number of miles, villages, and prime land under control. The legion should be able to advance well into the land of the Dobunni before meeting further serious opposition. If he marched at the rate Julius did, all the clearly arable flattish land in southern Britain could be under Roman control by the summer solstice. At that point, Rome would control most of the food supply and the arable land. Most of the Celtic farmers would abandon Caratacus and head home, to try to avoid losing their farms.
He had heard that Vespasian was meeting strong opposition to the south. If he wanted to win his bet, he could wheel slightly south and head for the mouth of the large river.
Not that military strategy should be, nor in his case would be, influenced by a bet.
Chapter 31
Gaius stared first in disbelief, and then with increasing anger at the orders from Plautius. The twentieth was to cease its advance for the time being and instead consolidate its position. He must reign in his enthusiasm and cease wandering unsupported through enemy terrain, and he should wait until the other legions caught up and a rough line was formed. In the mean time he was ordered to travel south to meet with Vespasian to coordinate the southwestern push. What sort of orders were these? Orders from an overly cautious unimaginative bureaucrat!
There were two problems with these orders. The first was that the best part of a month would be lost, and besides the fact he could probably reach Aquae Sulis by then, which would cut the supply for and isolate the southern Celts, the time taken going to and fro would mean that the information on which the decision was reached would be out of date. The two legions were simply too far away from each other for meaningful coordinated operations.
Now was the time to advance, while the enemy was in disarray. Plautius seemed concerned that the twentieth might get isolated if it advanced too far, and be encircled. What cautious nonsense! If an enemy unit was to get between the twentieth and the second, the two legions would crush them , and if they did not, he would hardly be encircled. Plautius' strategy of slow and steady consolidation would work, in time, but lightning fast advances were the way to go about it. The objective was to secure as much territory as possible before those who were against Rome could form a coordinated resistance. If Plautius did not move fast, Caratacus could reunite tribes to him, and if he used them properly, by raiding relatively undefended centres, fighting brief battles, inflicting quick damage, then retreating into the forests and swamps, he might have a chance, or at the very least he would provide sustained resistance that would tie up many soldiers and would be expensive to put down.
On the other hand, if the twentieth advanced rapidly now he could make it as far as the western mountains almost unopposed, as the Celts would not have had time to regroup and reorganize a new army. Such a bold advance would cut off opposing tribes in the south from help from the north. Since there were no unified British tribes, those in the north would have to think about accommodating Rome, while those in the south, cut off from help, would have to think about making peace. But instead of the quick, bold move, he had to go south and talk, and when he had finished talking he would advance into territory the enemy had had time to fortify. Great strategy!
However, orders were orders.
He could hardly believe the second message either. Quintus and Lucilla were travelling to meet Vespasian, and he would meet them there. Vipsania had tagged on and had joined the party.
How could Quintus be so stupid! Had he no idea that he would be travelling through a recent war zone? The party had originally been invited to Britain by Cogidumnus; apparently Cogidumnus was under the impression that Quintus had influence with Vespasian and with the Princeps. Visiting Cogidumnus was safe enough, but heading west? Was Quintus acting as some envoy for Cogidumnus? Or, more likely, did he have his eyes on tin?
Or was Sabinus the problem? Vespasian would report that he had conquered and pacified the tribes, and Sabinus would advise that the land behind Vespasian was pacified. The problem with staff officers was they spent too much time in their tents. When Vespasian said he had pacified land, what he would mean was that opposing armies were removed from the region. That did not mean that law and order was fully imposed. In the chaos following war, there would always be the opportunist criminals, ready to rob and kill passers-by, and a determined enemy would always send raiding parties to harass supply lines.
Not that he could do anything about this. He had to obey Plautius' orders, so he would prepare to travel. And perhaps there was one good outcome possible. As Vipsania must go back to Rome, she could take his writings and his engine parts. The truth of the matter was, commanding a legion on rapid advance left little time for inventing, while the continual travel through marshes was likely to damage his writings. They should be kept in safety, and that meant being kept in Rome.
He would not be separated from these items for long, as Claudius had promised that he would return to Rome at the end of the campaigning season, by which time Caratacus should no longer be a military threat. And he would not, if only he could set off in pursuit instead of going on a talkfest with Vespasian. Not that he could do much about that. He, and a small party, would leave in the morning.
On the other hand, there was no need for the legion to be sitting on its hands. The general direction was westwards, and at the very least the control of Aquae Sulis was desirable. If the legion could make that in good time, the scission of supplies and troops between the north and the tin mines of the south would be at least reasonably achieved. It was impossible to prevent squads from traversing the heavily forested country, but large troop movements and large trains of carts would be easily seen and intercepted. He would call the Tribunes to his tent, and leave orders for a march to commence as soon as the local clean up was completed. Plautius would not be pleased, but so what?
In the meantime, he must prepare to travel. He would take a small squad of soldiers and horses, together with a couple of extra horses to carry the bags of his precious possessions. There was work to do.
Chapter 32
A further reason why these orders made little sense, Gaius realized, was the denseness of this forest and the general difficulty in making progress. In all probability, Plautius had no idea because he would never get out of Army Headquarters. However, this forest was so dense and the tracks so narrow that the rear of his thirty man party could not see the leader. A perfect spot for an ambush! His men were trying to be quiet, but . . .
There was a noise ahead. Celtic shouts! From a small party, judging by the number of voices. Gaius ordered some men to guard the horses, then he led the rest forward, as quietly as they could, to take cover outside a clearing. Gaius peered past a bush. On his right, four Celts were doing what they could to kill one solitary Roman soldier, and judging by the wounds already visible, they would soon succeed.
But on his left six other Celts we
re pursuing . . . what? A man? No! But whatever it was, it had two legs, two arms and a head, and it was dressed, although it was dressed in clothes the likes of which Gaius had never seen. The colour was something like a cross between olive-green and brown, and no dye like that was known to Rome. Then there was the cut: the cloth seemed to fit the body to give maximum freedom, but that must mean an enormous amount of sewing. Two straps ran over his shoulder, to connect with a large black bag, and this seemed to be made of something that Gaius had never seen before. Then there were the boots: quite different from anything he had ever seen. To start with they were jet black, and came half way up his legs, almost seamlessly. The creature was about three-quarters as big as a man, it had a strange leathery skin, a largish head totally devoid of hair, and its arms looked so thin that it would not be able to wield a sword. Apart from a strange silvery object in its right "hand", it had no visible weapon yet it was standing its ground, threatening the Celts.
The Celts were hardly likely to be afraid of that as a weapon! They were not. Four charged, waving swords. The silvery object flashed and a Celt fell to the ground, twitching slightly. The strange creature seemed to think this would warn off the remaining Celts, and then seemed almost frightened when it did not. The object flashed again, another Celt fell to the ground, but then the remaining Celts were almost onto it. It turned to flee, then suddenly disappeared, apparently falling into some sort of disguised pit. But as it fell, the silvery object flew to one side.
There was no alternative. Whatever that silvery thing was, it must not fall into the hands of the Celts. Gaius signalled for archers. Five arrows flew, and cut down the two chasing and the two remaining Celts. The remaining soldiers broke cover to deal with those who would have finished the soldier, but for their surprise at the strange weapon. There was a moment of indecision before they turned to flee, and that moment sealed their fate. The fight was one-sided and brief; they were neither fleeing nor facing properly, and while they were off-balance gladii thrust into their ribs.
Meanwhile, Gaius had sprinted across the clearing to where he had seen the silvery object disappear. It was easily found, and Gaius carefully picked it up.
It was exquisitely made, everything so smooth, so perfect. The main features were a tube-like rod that Gaius had noted had been pointed at the intended victim. Accordingly, he made certain that this was not pointed at himself. Below that was a broad part that the creature had used to hold the object, while near the top of it, on one side, there was a small cylinder that was glowing. At the same point on the other side of the handgrip was a small lever, while in front of the handgrip, a button. At the base of the handgrip there seemed to be a catch. Carefully pointing the object at a log, he pulled on the catch, to find the inside of the handle begin to fall out. He carefully pulled this out, and noticed that the cylinder had ceased glowing. He looked at this new object. This was quite complex, and he understood little or nothing about it, except it clearly had a top and a bottom, and a front and back. It presumably had to be put back in the right way. Since it should be the right way, he pushed it back in, and pushed over the catch.
The light was now back on in the cylinder. He looked very carefully at it, and saw there were notches. Twenty in all, and the light went up to number thirteen. He pointed the weapon at the log, and pushed the lever. Nothing happened, except that the light went out. He pressed the button. Nothing happened. He pulled the lever back to where it had been and pressed the button. There was a cloud of wood dust. He pressed the lever to what was presumably a way of making it safe, then, as an afterthought, looked at the cylinder. It was not glowing. He nodded to himself, pulled the lever back, and the cylinder began glowing. It glowed up to twelve notches. He pressed the lever again, and the glow went off. He could use this weapon twelve more times.
"What in the name of Hades is this?" Timothy's voice asked. Gaius looked up, to see him standing beside the pit.
"I have no idea," Gaius replied, "but it has a killing device we know nothing about." He stepped over to the pit and looked down. "You!" Gaius yelled, and pointed at the creature. "Keep your hands visible!"
The creature simply looked bemused.
"It doesn't understand," Timothy said.
"It'll understand this," Gaius said simply. "You!" he said, pointing to a soldier. "When I point this at you, spread your arms out, and show the palms of your hands."
"Yes sir."
"You!" he continued, pointing at the creature. He showed the weapon, then he flicked the switch, pointed to the green light, and showed it to the creature, then he pointed towards the soldier. The soldier spread the hands as ordered, then Gaius pointed the weapon at the creature. The message was clear. The creature showed the insides of its "hands".
"Get it out of the pit," Gaius nodded towards the soldiers, "but make sure it can't hide behind you, and don't let it reach for hidden weapons."
"It's a demon! I can't . . ."
"Yes you can. You saw what it did to the Celts? It used this, and I'm reasonably sure it'll work just as well on it as the Celts." Gaius saw that the man was undecided. He stared coldly at him, and ordered, "Do it!"
The fear on the soldier's face was obvious, but the Roman discipline came to the fore. "Yes sir."
The creature was pulled from the pit without incident.
"Hold its arms out," Gaius ordered, then he reached into the creatures clothes and searched. Before long, he had two further objects that clipped into the handle of the weapon he held, and a small number of other objects, the nature of which he did not understand.
Gaius then took the bag, and noticed it was quite heavy. He pulled on the flap, and was surprised to see it open, admittedly with a strange noise. He pushed the flap back down, and found that when he pressed it, it sealed. He then pulled it open again, and looked inside. Inside was a rather large metallic object, with a tube-like ending. He lifted it carefully, and saw a black ending. He pulled gently at that, and found it came off in his hands, whereupon he found himself looking at a round piece of the clearest glass he had ever seen. The glass had a perfectly uniform clear surface. He glanced back at he creature, and saw that it was a little concerned, as if it were willing him not to break this object. He had no idea what it was, but then he suddenly remembered seeing the silver light up the tree. He guessed that this was some sort of device for watching things from a distance, and since the device had done no harm, and the creature had made no effort to use it against the Celts, he guessed it was not a weapon. He would have to look into this at a later time, but in the meantime, the creature could carry it. He gave another glance at the black object. It and the bag were made of materials he had never seen before. And for that matter, the silvery object was made of a metal he had never seen before. He put the cap back over the glass, put the object back in the bag and handed it back to the creature.
The creature seemed surprised, but it nodded, as if in gratitude that Gaius had not damaged it.
"Sir!"
Gaius looked up to see one of the other soldiers looking as if he had something to say but was not very keen on saying it. "Yes?"
"The soldier, sir, was part of a party escorting a Quintus Flavius . . ."
"Escorting?" Gaius asked. "There weren't women in this party?"
"Yes sir. Two."
"What happened?" Gaius asked, his voice filled with the fear of someone who can guess the answer.
"Captured by Celts, sir. Some of them chased him, and . . ."
"We have prisoners?"
"Two, sir."
"Good. Ask them where their camp is, how many of them there are, find out what you can. Tell them if they wish to stay alive, they will tell me, now. No! Wait! Tell them if they don't tell me, they'll be brought over here one at a time and given to this demon here!"
The demon was stood up so the Celts could see it. Their superstition was clear, they cowered in fear, and the information flowed.
There was a party of twenty camped a couple of miles ahead, and they w
ere part of a far larger raiding party who had come down from the north. The twenty would rejoin the large party in two days. Gaius nodded. So this was Caratacus' new strategy. Send raiding parties in behind enemy lines, to disrupt communications, steal food, kill . . . Possibly, this was as good a strategy as was likely to be open to him. However, for Gaius the message was clear. If he were ever to see his wife again, he would have to do something fairly quickly.
"You," Gaius said to one of his most skilled exploratores, "will take the wounded man as quickly as you can to Vespasian. Stay out of sight, and bring help. Tell Vespasian I am going to try to rescue the Romans while it's still possible. I expect to succeed if all I have to deal with is the small band there, but if the larger party turns up, I will need whatever help I can get, as quickly as possible."
"Yes sir," the man nodded, and turned away.
"A Legate should not go off on silly expeditions," Timothy warned. "You're too important, and . . ."
"And they have my wife and my sister," Gaius countered coldly. "What sort of man would I be if . . ."
"I know," Timothy interrupted. "I just felt I should point out your duty."
"Timothy," Gaius said with a touch of despair, "I'm not indispensable. If I get killed, in six months time the twentieth will have forgotten I existed. If I do nothing now, I'll be dead for the rest of my life."