‘What torment is this?’ asked Rianna with confusion in her eyes.
‘The torment of a mother who failed her daughters,’ said Boudicca and without another word rode her chariot forward before turning to face her people. A seemingly never-ending sea of faces lay before her, men and women alike each desperate to spill the blood of the invaders. Sunlight reflected from thousands of weapons and behind them in the distance, the slopes were alive with the families and carts of the camp followers, each jostling for position to see the slaughter of the Romans. It seemed to Boudicca that every citizen of Britannia was present on those slopes and she knew that the gods had favoured her with an unbeatable advantage.
The cheering was deafening and finally she held up her hands for silence. For an age nothing happened but finally the noise died and the army strained to hear her words.
‘People of Britannia,’ she shouted. ‘Today, we are not Iceni or Trinovantes. We are not Brigantes, Dobunii or Catuvellauni. We are one people, fighting for one country. Durotriges fight alongside the Belgae and Coritani call the Deceangli brother. Today our traditional enemies are friends and scores are put aside to face the one true enemy we all share, the Romans.’
A cheer ripped the air apart before she continued.
‘For too long they have raped our women and killed our men and our children have been taken to far off shores, a never ending life of slavery before them. Our gods have been ridiculed and our temples burned. We have all heard tell of the fate befallen Mona where our holy people perished at the hands of the invaders. Our healers and holy men, the seers, the poets and the bards, all were slaughtered by the blood thirsty actions of Rome and the man responsible stands before you.’ She pointed toward the Roman lines. ‘There lies the one called Suetonnius, the one who calls himself Governor. Before this day is over, I will bathe in his blood and these lands will return to our ancestors. Today we rid our lands of this pestilence and never again will we allow them or any other to step foot on our shores. From today onward we are no longer an island of tribes but one people, fighting as one, the Britons.’
Once more the crowd cheered and Boudicca knew the time was almost upon them when she would unleash her overwhelming ferocity upon the Romans.
----
A few hundred yards away, Lannosea was forcing herself between the massed ranks of the warriors, desperate to get to her mother’s side before the battle started, knowing full well that her presence would add strength to Boudicca’s resolve.
‘Let me through,’ she shouted over and over but to no avail, the deafening cheering and almost rabid desperation for battle to be joined meant that most ignored her, each eager to enter the fray. Behind her, Taliesin and Finian also fought their way through the throng, trying as hard as they could to stay near the girl but within moments her frail figure was lost amongst the crowd.
‘Where is she?’ shouted Taliesin, ‘I can’t see her.’
‘Nor can I,’ replied Finian. ‘Just keep going forward and look for Boudicca’s chariot. She will try to reach her mother.’
With renewed energy Taliesin forged forward between the screaming crowd but gradually the noise lessened once more as Boudicca called for silence. Taliesin stretched upward and could just see the Queens red hair above the sea of heads. In one hand she held aloft a sword while in the other was a round shield.
‘What’s happening?’ asked a voice.
‘Boudicca has just released a hare from beneath her cape,’ shouted another, ‘and it ran toward the enemy. It is a sign from Andraste herself, the way has been shown.’
----
Across the valley, Suetonnius was also addressing his men though he did so from horse back.
‘Men of Rome,’ he called. ‘Before us stands a barbarian army the like of which has never been seen before, but do not let this weaken our spirit. They have numbers only and that is not enough. They do not have the training we have, nor do they have the discipline instilled into each and every one of us since the day we took the Sacramentum. Each one of us is worth ten of them and it is this that will win us this day, discipline and controlled aggression. Every moment of our military lives have led toward this battle, for here we prove to these islands once and for all that resistance is not an option. Today we will send a message to every corner of these lands that Rome is all powerful and they resist at their peril.’
‘Our plans are clear,’ he continued, ‘and if you follow the commands of your leaders, this barbarian hoard will spear themselves on our waiting swords. Our culture is with us, our ancestors are with us and our gods are with us. Do not fight for yourself this day, fight for the man alongside you and his family for they are what we stand for, a brotherhood of strength and glory. He drew his Gladius and stood up in his stirrups.’
‘Men of Rome,’ he shouted, ‘Legionaries of the fourteenth Gemina Martia Victrix, fellow soldiers. Stiffen resolve and do your duty for today we create history.’
----
Even Boudicca’s horses knew that something was about to happen and they strained against their reins, desperate to gallop across the plain before them. The barbarian army was already inching forward and Boudicca knew it was time to unleash them.
‘Warriors of Britannia,’ she shouted, ‘behold the last of the invaders. Spill their blood and we can once again be free. Our fight is just and Andraste herself champions our cause. She held up her spear so the whole army could see it above their heads.
‘For Andraste,’ she screamed, ‘for Britannia and for freedom.’
‘For freedom,’ roared the army and as one, a line of war chariots raced forward, leading over a hundred thousand warriors surging toward the Roman lines.
----
‘Here they come,’ shouted Cassus. ‘General, step into the line.’
Suetonnius dismounted and gave the reins to another cavalry man to take it back up to safety. The front rank shuffled sideways to allow the General to stand amongst them.
‘Sire, you should go to the rear,’ said a Decurion.
‘You are wrong, soldier,’ said the General as someone gave him a Scutum, ‘today my place is amongst my men. The rest is in the hands of the gods.’
----
Chapter Twenty Six
The Battle of Wattling Street
Boudicca raced her chariots headlong toward the Roman lines, determined to use their weight to smash holes in the Roman; defences. Painted warriors, both male and female screamed from the platforms brandishing spears they would release as soon as they were in range. The massed ranks of the Britannic tribes raced in their wake, wielding their own weapons of death. Behind them Prydain and his comrades crested the hill and looked down into the valley in astonishment.
‘What’s happening?’ gasped Gildas catching up with the fitter men.
‘The battle is about to start,’ shouted Cullen. ‘Boudicca’s chariots race free from her army.’
‘The Roman force is tiny in comparison,’ said Heulwen, ‘Boudicca’s warriors will smash them with ease.’
Prydain took in the scene in an instant, remembering the constant training he had undertaken in his days with the Legions.
‘No,’ he shouted in alarm, ‘what is she doing? Chariots are pointless in these circumstances.’
‘How so?’ asked Cullen.
‘The Romans are in a defensive formation,’ said Prydain. ‘They expect this attack and will have taken steps to guard the approach from any sort of cavalry.’
‘How?’ asked Cullen, ‘they have had no time to build defensive palisades.’
‘They have endless means,’ said Prydain, ‘at the very least the approach will be covered by archers.’
‘Well we will soon see,’ said Gildas. ‘The first blows are about to be dealt.’
----
The chariots hurtled toward the Romans and for a few seconds it seemed they would crash into the enemy lines with devastating effect but suddenly and without warning, the horses started to crash to the floor, screaming in agony and causing the char
iots to smash into smithereens, killing or injuring the riders within.
Boudicca watched in horror as her chariots disintegrated around her but before she could realise what was happening, one of her own horses screamed in pain and crashed to the floor, dragging the other three down behind it. Boudicca and Rianna were flung from the chariot and landed face first in the dust of the valley.
----
Back up on the hill, Prydain witnessed the destruction of Boudicca’s chariots.
‘What’s happening?’ shouted Heulwen, ‘they are falling like autumn leaves.’
Prydain scanned the field furiously. He could see no defences of timber spikes or ditches and there were certainly no lines of spear throwers in range.
‘The archers hold their cords,’ said Prydain. ‘They are confident the attack will fail. That means there must be a hidden threat, one that will bring down any horse-borne warrior.’
‘What sort of threat?’ asked Heulwen.
‘Unless I am mistaken,’ said Prydain, ‘I suspect they use the Tribulus.’
‘What’s a Tribulus?’ asked Heulwen.
‘A set of four spikes arranged in such a way that when they are strewn across the ground, one spike always faces upward while the other three provide a solid base. It is no more than the size of a fist and difficult to see amongst the grass so when a galloping horse steps on one, it pierces its hoof and brings the beast crashing down. They are lethal against cavalry and chariots alike.’
‘But surely Boudicca would have expected such a weapon?’
Don’t forget, Heulwen,’ said Prydain, ‘this is a peoples uprising and perhaps she has not yet encountered such things.’
‘The army slows,’ shouted Gildas. ‘They have seen the threat and pick their way amongst the dead.’
‘And that is exactly what Suetonnius wants,’ said Prydain and looked over to the treeline on the flanking slopes. Almost as if summoned, lines of archers appeared from the trees and aimed their arrows high into the sky.
‘By the gods,’ shouted Cullen, ‘they will be picked off like fish in a pool.’
The skies above Boudicca’s army darkened with the flights of Roman arrows and within seconds, hundreds of men dropped to the floor, their bodies pierced with lethal barbed arrows.
Volley after volley followed and the killing zone filled with the dead and dying. Behind them the main army faltered but within moment’s thousands of fresh warriors pushed through the throng to take the place of those already fallen. These men were heavily bearded and carried longer shields similar to those used by the Romans. Their leaders screamed their commands and the fresh warriors broke into a run, clambering over their fallen comrades and negotiating their way between the thousands of lethal spikes strewn across the valley floor. Again the skies darkened but this time they were expected and every time a volley was fired, the Celtic warriors dropped to their knees to take shelter behind their shields and although some arrows got through, only a few men fell as a result of the onslaught.
‘Boudicca, are you alright?’ shouted Rianna. ‘Boudicca, wake up.’
Boudicca’s eyes opened slowly, unsure of where she was. The taste of blood and dust in her mouth soon brought reality flooding back and she gasped in pain as all feeling returned.
‘Rianna,’ she gasped. ‘We live still.’
‘We do,’ said Rianna, ‘and are sheltered from the Roman archers by the bodies of the horses.’
Boudicca could feel the rapidly cooling corpse of one of the magnificent beasts behind her, its body now riddled with arrow shafts.
‘Loyal unto death,’ muttered Boudicca and tried to sit up.
‘Stay down,’ ordered Rianna. ‘We are within range of their archers and that red hair of yours would present too rich a target.’
‘We can’t stay here,’ argued Boudicca.
‘Our people will be here any second,’ said Rianna. ‘The first wave fell around us but the Trinovantes send their shield bearers.’
As she spoke, the first of the men passed their position and made their way slowly toward the Roman lines. One of the men threw the women a spare shield from a fallen comrade before carrying on behind his comrades. Rianna picked up the shield and helped Boudicca to her feet.
‘Come,’ she said, ‘we need to get you back.’
‘I am not going back,’ said Boudicca, ‘my place is with these people.’
‘I know,’ said Rianna, ‘but you won’t go far like this.’
Boudicca looked down and saw an arrow sticking out of her side. She grimaced at the sight, realising that though it probably wasn’t fatal, it had to be removed and to do that safely, she needed a Shaman.
‘Alright,’ she said, ‘but only to sort this out, then we will return.’
Rianna nodded and helped the Queen back toward the main army. Behind them, the Roman archers had exhausted their supply of arrows and were running back toward the defensive lines. In the meantime, hundreds of women and children from the Celtic army spread across the valley, picking up the metal spikes that had caused so much carnage and stacking them into easily visible piles. Before long the way was clear and the main body of the army advanced once more.
----
‘Open the lines,’ shouted Cassus and the ranks parted for the running archers to slip through and take up positions in the rear with swords and small shields. They would now make up the remainder of the rear guard as the battle evolved, unless required as a reaction force to guard the flanks.
‘The advance has slowed,’ said Suetonnius.
‘A momentary respite, I fear,’ said Cassus.
‘I agree,’ said Suetonnius before turning his head to shout over his shoulder.
‘Ready the fire,’ he shouted and a flag bearer waved the signal to those on the slopes behind the legion. The Tribune in charge of the artillery saw the signal and passed the message down the lines.
‘Ready Onagers,’ he roared and every trigger man held a little tighter on the rope that when pulled, would release a ball of fire high into the morning sky.
----
The enemy were now only a hundred strides away and had formed up into lines that spread from slope to slope across the valley. A large warrior stepped forward and raising an axe high, gave the command to charge. Right across the valley, thousands of screaming warriors started running toward the Roman lines, knowing that at last, the battle would be joined.
----
‘The false fight ends, Cassus,’ shouted Suetonnius. ‘Make peace with your gods for the enemy are upon us.’ He raised his Gladius high into the air.
‘Onagers,’ he shouted, ‘time to show these heathen the real meaning of war. Release fireballs.’
His sword arm dropped sharply and seconds later the thud of dozens of wooden catapults echoed across the valley, closely followed by the whoosh of air as fireballs left trails of black smoke in their wake, before falling amongst the massed ranks of the enemy.
----
‘Fireballs,’ shouted one of the warriors seeing the approaching threat. ‘Take cover.’
Almost as one the attackers took cover behind their shields, not realising they would offer scant protection from the fiery death. Clay pots of burning oil smashed amongst them and those not hit directly were splashed with the sticky substance, screaming in pain as they struggled frantically to extinguish the flames on their skin and clothes.
Each fireball caused dozens of deaths and many more were severely burned as the blazing oil stripped skin from flesh. Hair and beards burst into flame and eyeballs burst from the searing heat, causing the bravest of warriors to scream in agony as they clutched at their faces in terror. Yet despite the numbers of dead and wounded, the attack continued unabated and the gap between the armies closed rapidly.
----
‘Front rank, prepare Pilae,’ roared Cassus and the first line of soldiers hoisted their spears to shoulder height.
‘On my command,’ roared Cassus, ‘ten paces and release. Advaaance.’
> The men ran forward and launched the spears high into the sky, sending the lethal weapons amongst the front lines of the rapidly approaching barbarians. Almost every spear found a target and the impetus of the attack slowed.
‘Re-join,’ screamed Cassus and the legionaries raced back to the lines.
The barbarians dropped to their knees, revealing massed ranks of archers a hundred paces to the rear. Within seconds, the skies darkened again as they seized the opportunity to aim their own arrows at the Romans.
‘Testudo,’ screamed Suetonnius and legionary shields lifted to provide a cover impenetrable to enemy arrows. Beneath the shields, Romans sweated in fear as arrows thudded into their wooden shields like a hailstorm. Many arrow heads smashed through the wooden shields and some reached the neck or faces of the men beneath.
‘Lift them higher,’ screamed another centurion and the shields were hoisted to arm’s length.
For several minutes the deadly rain continued but as it eased, the noise was replaced with something far more deadly, the deafening roar of ten thousand men as they raced to combat.
‘Lower shields,’ shouted Cassus. ‘Third and rear ranks only, launch Pilae.
Thousands of spears flew above his head, striking deep into the front lines of the warriors and though thousands more warriors fell, this time their impetus hardly faltered.
‘Front rank present Scutum,’ shouted Cassus, ‘second rank present Pilae. Brace for impact.’
Each Legionary in the front line lapped his shield over the one to his right and braced his shoulder into the concave face of his shield. The second rank placed their remaining spears over the shoulders of the front rank and leaned against the men before them. Each man knew the first impact was crucial and it was essential not to give ground, the whole battle could depend on it.
‘Ready,’ screamed Cassus from behind his own shield, ‘Braaace.’
----
‘There is no way we will find Taliesin amongst that lot,’ said Gildas, ‘the valley is crowded.’
‘We have to try,’ said Heulwen. ‘We need to go down there.’
‘No,’ snapped Prydain. ‘The sheer numbers are a threat in themselves. They allow no room for manoeuvre.’ He looked around the valley edge. ‘Come, he said, we will follow the ridgeline around and get closer to the battle. At least we will have a better view.’
Roman III - The Wrath of Boudicca Page 26