by Ralph Harvey
Suetonius, from whose lips these sentiments had just echoed, hated his posting to Britannia. His once heavily tanned features had paled in the three years he had been Governor General. How long his sojourn there would be he did not know — the better he administered the country the more likely imperial Caesar would keep him here, only failures were recalled to the eternal city.
Marcus his erstwhile senior legate and close friend had weathered with him in the long campaigns together, and those years during which they had often fought side by side had created a close bond between them. Despite the large gap in their ages each had implicit faith in the other, and neither could do any wrong in the other's eyes.
Glancing up at the sky he saw the sun break through momentarily and took the opportunity to leave the tent. Seeing him leave Marcus hurried to him.
They casually turned into an avenue lined with statues of ancient Gods and Goddesses, together with busts of past emperors and heroes — as they passed one particularly ugly head cut in alabaster. Marcus pointed him out.
“Ganit, a gladiator, and a great favourite in his day of Claudius, he had this monstrosity made and placed here, one day it will end up at the bottom of a river that’s for sure. There is no place amongst Gods and Emperors for a common gladiator.”
Suetonius agreed, “We are forever subject to the whims of Caesar — Caligula once had a hundred statues beheaded on impulse — so not even our necks are safe Marcus.”
Marcus turned his head towards his companion, “I know it is a strange remark to make — I know you well Suetonius — but you are worried. What ails you?”
Suetonius cast his eyes to the ground while they walked on together, “How well you know me Marcus — but you speak truly — yes I am worried.”
He stopped and sat down on one of the carved stone benches beneath a tree. As he did so a thunderclap above announced a coming downpour.
“We are sheltered here until it passes” he announced, “so I will confide in you as always. The fact is I am under pressure from Rome to recall the loans made to the various tribes some years back, it was but a matter of time before like Etna itself it would erupt.” He kicked a stone idly away.
“The moneylenders were clearly cheating the tribes knowing full well that when the day of reckoning came, the legions would do their dirty work for them.”
“And?” Marcus queried.
“That day has come,” answered Suetonius, “and I know the tribes will not take it — we are now sitting on a volcano.” At that moment the lightning flashed across the sky illuminating the heavens.
“The Regnenses and Parisi will grumble and pay but it is the Iceni I fear, Mordicas of the Henge Druids keeps me informed of her plans, for his eyes are everywhere — but my heart tells me not to trust him.” Marcus looked out as lightning struck yet again followed ominously by a clap of thunder.
Marcus smiled as he looked up, “Even the Gods are angry. It is not safe to be beneath a tree in a storm friend, let us move out.”
Suetonius gently pushed him back on the seat. “And if we move our armour will provide an even better magnet for Jupiter’s bolts.”
Marcus grinned, “I did not think Suetonius. Do you recall that auxiliary on duty at Calleva last year? It struck his pila. He was fused into his armour when they found him. But tell me more while I disrobe myself of this metal.”
The two men divested themselves of their breastplates and placed them some distance away, then continued with the conversation.
“Mordicas states Boudicca plans to unite the tribes by marriage in preparation for war, certainly the marriages are planned I know. I see no signs of impending conflict, but Mordicas says she has confided in him and sought his blessing for the war.”
Marcus reacted instantly, “I have met this man Suetonius, and frankly would not believe him if he told me the sun will rise on the morrow. But the danger is there, he could be telling the truth this time. So what is the solution that clearly worries you so much?”
By now the storm had subsided and the two men gathered up their armour and left, “Nero has engineered for Catus Decianus to collect the dues, and he has instructed me to support him. In view of the impending marriages he is to collect tithes, and knowing the temperament of the Iceni, he is to foment a quarrel with them. The trouble is that one I heartily despise, Silentarius to whit, is to be his instrument in this matter. A bad choice.”
Marcus stopped in mid-stride.
“Silentarius?” he exclaimed, “Nero must be mad. He is overzealous as well as corrupt. I would fear his excesses.”
Suetonius whispered softly, “Even in jest refer not to our great Emperor as being mad, there are already rumours to this effect. His eccentricities grow daily, as does his temperament. It is said Caesar grows more unstable daily.”
“Have you not commanded Silentarius and Catus to obey you directly then?” Marcus asked.
“I have Marcus,” he replied, “I have indeed, when the man is sober he can be controlled, but on the march I cannot watch him, in his cups his temper is notorious and when he meets with Boudicca and the firebrand Corrianus, it will be like flint and tinder. Particularly with what is intended.”
Marcus was puzzled. “And what is that may I ask?”
His comrade turned towards him, “The raping of Boudicca’s daughters” he announced.
Marcus gasped. “Why?” he exclaimed.
“Because,” Suetonius informed him, “under Celtic law only a pure and untainted girl may marry within the royal households, or to anyone of eminence who by marriage comes under the protection of the king; or queen in this case.”
The full implications of his words were not lost on Marcus.
“And so.” He hesitated. “With the loss of their virginity, no matter how, the marriage contracts will be revoked and …”
“No union!”
“Exactly,” Suetonius exclaimed. “With the handfastings off, the amalgamation and unifying of the tribes by bloodline is off too.”
Marcus was thoughtful. “But how commander? Roman soldiers violating a queen’s offspring could well create the very situation we seek to deter. They could well rise and seek vengeance. In the names of the Old Ones it is a dangerous course to set.”
Suetonius interrupted. “True — and if we don’t we could well face a united Celtic nation, hence my instructions to Silentarius.”
“What instructions are they sir?” Marcus responded, “How can you achieve this and prevent the retribution that would undoubtedly follow, as sure as night follows day.”
Suetonius was clearly not happy. “I have my orders to machinate this as you know — so if it is to be done, then it will be done my way — and my way only.”
“Which is?” Marcus looked quizzical.
“Silentarius will collect the taxes forcibly, so there is bound to be an altercation knowing the hot blood of the Iceni, that is planned for dusk, Silentarius has two men in his unit, auxiliaries from the Germanii who were indentured into the legions some years ago. They are of the same stock as the Celts, and have distinctive features, short, stocky and dark haired, outwardly they could well be recognised as Silures, or Brigantes and the avaricious Queen Catamandua would be the major suspect, for she equally fears any union that could well challenge her own power.”
“The plan is clever,” returned Marcus.
“So,” Suetonius continued, “they have grown beards in the Celtic fashion and a woman tattooist who is much in demand for her art, will tattoo them with the Brigantian tribal markings. Except she is expert with skin dyes that will fade away within days.”
“Brilliant Suetonius — I commend you. And I take it they speak not while the act is carried out?”
“Precisely,” Suetonius slapped his thigh “Silentarius will be creating a diversion — a Brigantian ring or torc will be ‘accidentally’ left behind, and the die will be cast and the union wrecked, the menace to Rome destroyed, and within days the Iceni will be at war with the Brigantes and Cataman
dua once more — and we shall see dog eat dog.”
Marcus and Suetonius made their way together to eat now.
“Silentarius knows what is at stake — he has strict orders to contain the situation and then assist Boudicca in the search for the culprits, who by then shaved, and their markings covered, will be safely escorted back to the barracks for their rewards.”
Marcus looked at Suetonius wryly, “So they enjoy a maidens hymen — and get paid too, I swear I should have been an auxiliary.”
His friend looked at him grimly, “It is not a laughing matter Marcus — but there is no other way.”
Chapter 4
Rape
Within the village, sullen and brooding, Silentarius sat apprehensively watching the last vestiges of an hourglass run out. By his side Catus Decianus waited expectantly for his orders. As the last grain fell, a soldier dutifully turned it upside down again — as he did so Silentarius signalled to Catus.
“Take goods to the full value — now!” he commanded, “I will not wait.” Immediately Catus enthusiastically moved to obey. At the sudden incursion the camp suddenly exploded into activity, soldiers now started to race into the huts, taking everything of value, others rounded up horses and cattle, Catus Decianus urging them on. Everywhere cries for help plaintively echoed around the village.
Boudicca, alerted by the commotion appeared in the palace doorway.
“Stop! Stop at once,” she screamed, “I Queen Boudicca command it!”
Even as her words echoed away, a group of Roman soldiers attempted to enter the royal residence itself. Boudicca’s imperial bodyguards, the only Iceni tribesmen allowed to carry arms under Roman occupation, moved in to bar their entry. As they did so a volley of pilas thrown by the attacking legionnaires struck home, impaling the would-be defenders while they attempted to stop them.
Seeing their men fall, a great cry of anguish went up from the onlookers; no one had expected such a vicious response that was clearly premeditated. As the dead and injured men hit the floor the handful of survivors and those slightly injured raised their shields against the expected Roman charge. It was not long in coming, the Romans, having launched their spears now drew forth their gladiuses, the short stabbing sword, so beloved in close quarter combat. Shields raised the Romans charged at them like bulls.
Inside the royal dwelling more guards rushed to defend both their Queen and the imperial household, servants swarmed into the fray with kitchen knives and utensils in defence of their Queen, grabbing any weapons available that had fallen from friend and foe alike. Corrianus frantically grabbed Boudicca, who sword in hand stood poised ready to enter the fray herself.
“Do not risk yourself Boudicca,” he cried, “Your guards are doing their duty. Stay back — Silentarius is approaching and will call his dogs of war off.”
Suddenly Boudicca relented looking back with a tinge of regret that she was to be denied the fight. As the two sides met once more, swords rose and fell, clubs smashed into flesh and armour and knives flashed and sank deep into any unprotected area, the Romans paid dearly as the hand-picked warriors of the Queen’s own guard fought back with a ferocity that was unmatched while Roman and Celtic blood mingled in a coagulating mass at the house entrance, many dead and dying men gasped their last in a grim embrace before parting this life for ever.
Eventually sheer overwhelming weight of numbers won the day as the heavily armoured soldiers, watched approvingly in the background by Catus Decianus himself, cut down the last of Boudicca’s guards. Then, the Romans dismayed at their losses furiously rushed about killing any wounded and looting all in sight.
Boudicca who had been forced into a back room could no longer be constrained and with a demonic cry ran forward into the melee, Corrianus now brandishing a great war axe was by her side, as the Roman section leader, a scarred and weather-beaten decurion of enormous proportions rushed at him.
Skilfully, Corrianus swung the great axe high above his head and with a sweeping motion, struck home with all his might. The blade hit the man between neck and shoulder ripping through his body to the waist as flesh, bone, and pieces of armour plate disintegrated like a ripe apple.
Instantly Corrianus pulled to free his weapon lodged in the dead mans pelvis, then a group of Romans jumped upon him bringing him down by sheer weight of their numbers, Boudicca rushed to his rescue striking left and right with her mighty war sword, but in the close confines of the room the wall of Roman shields swiftly closed upon her preventing her from swinging the great blade in the baresarking style so beloved of her.
Now Roman hands had her around the throat and then she too was borne to the floor. While they tried to hold the screaming fury down, two Romans entered — bearing looped ropes clearly prepared in advance, in proof that the attack had been preconceived and that the seizure of the Iceni Queen was part of a plot, otherwise in the melee it would have been simple to kill them both, but clearly, this was not part of the Roman plan.
A Roman recoiled as her hands, weapons in themselves raked his face and a knee struck home into another's groin as she cast Roman bodies off her like chaff in the wind, now more Romans closed in on them, raining blow after blow down upon Corrianus as from a prone position his fists continually thudded into Roman faces. As the unequal struggle continued two soldiers burst into a side room.
“We’ve got them,” a voice cried.
“Bring them out,” shouted another, as the legionaries exited the room they were half dragging, half carrying two young girls, one about thirteen, the other fifteen.
“A bonus, commander,” a soldier shouted to Silentarius who had now entered.
“Unspoiled fruit — and luscious too!”
Catus Decianus gleefully approached Corrianus, now bound and helpless, and struck him across the face with the back of his hand, then turning to Boudicca did likewise. Throwing her head back, she spat straight into his face. Catus recoiled in disgust then struck her violently again, by now he was apoplectic with rage with a vicious gesture he yanked her head back by her hair so she now stared straight at her daughters.
“Now wild cat — to the victor the spoils.” Needing no second bidding, even as he spoke two leering louts, ran their hands over the distraught girls, then instantly started to undress them, within minutes the two hysterical maidens were standing there in their nakedness, with a cry of glee the soldiery surged forward, eagerly holding the nude girls aloft, displaying them to all.
Catus roared his approval. “The she-bitches are all yours — carry them in and do as you wish — but don’t kill them.” He laughed aloud, “I want them around to tell what happens to those who buck the might of Rome.” Screaming they were dragged back into the bedroom where they had been found.
Boudicca was now beside herself, her hands bound behind her, and Corrianus now only half conscious was also secured, but despite his dazed state started to instinctively struggle to free himself as the screams of Boudicca’s daughters reverberated from the outer room.
Boudicca herself now demented at the scenario she knew was being enacted just out of her sight. Catus Decianus and Silentarius were watching the tragedy being unfolded between them. Watching and waiting intently to choose the moment that the first girl lost her virginity, as her cry of pain rang out Catus wrathfully pointed to Boudicca.
“Strip the bitch,” he commanded, then looking towards Corrianus added “and him too — get the legion lictor to give them a Roman lesson. Galarius!” he shouted. “Assemble the villagers to witness what happens to those who dare to challenge the might of Rome — and let them tremble.”
“I am a Queen!” cried Boudicca, “How dare you touch me! Release me at once, I Boudicca, command you.” Her face alighted on Catus Decianus, full of hate and fury, and yet strangely pleading; but he stood there not speaking just shaking his head negatively savouring every moment of her agony.
Now further screams echoed from the room, and more hands held her back, then imploringly she went down on her knees. “I
submit Catus,” she sobbed, “I submit to you — free my daughters. I ask mercy for them only.” She looked up at him. “Do with me as you will.” Catus stood before her his hands on his hips.
“So bitch, it would appear only when the leash is on you that you choose to obey, but you have left it too late for clemency — for them or you.” He turned to the grinning soldiers. “Take her out,” he snapped, then looking down at the crestfallen Queen, announced “and let all who wish indulge themselves with the girls.” As the whooping mob rushed into the girls’ room, Boudicca, half fainting with shock, was dragged outside, Catus following.
“There are no queens in Britannia,” he jeered, “only Roman subjects, as you will learn.”
Next Corrianus was dragged out struggling, and placed beside her. Then they were both stripped and their arms slung to an overhead beam. Evilly, the lictor swung his dreaded flail menacingly as he approached, making it whistle in the wind, tormenting the pair of the pain to come. Then to the amusement of the Roman soldiers, and the execration of the horrified villagers, he ran his hands roughly over their Queen, pinching her nipples, and roughly fondling her secret parts. As Boudicca winced in pain, a great clamour erupted from the gathered Iceni who had been brought to watch the spectacle, as their protests reached a crescendo they reached down to gather stones, and anything to hand and renew the conflict.
Seeing their reaction the Romans troops drew back their bows, and instantly the militiamen raised their pilas other legionnaires stood rigid, their gladius at the ready. In a half-conscious state, Boudicca saw her people’s movement through bloodshot eyes.
“No my people, no” she shouted, “let no more blood be shed for me.”
Obediently the sullen crowd hung back, then Catus maliciously gave his final order for the humiliation of the Iceni leader.
Then, the last garment bar a small girdle was removed leaving Boudicca with a degree of modesty. In anticipation of further orders the lictor looked towards his commander enquiringly, Catus Decianus walked slowly around the half-naked Queen his eyes resting upon her breasts, then he barked a command,
