by Ralph Harvey
Verres looked towards him, “It would have worked commander but both Catus Decianus and Silentarius were drunk with power and with greed, and Corrianus swiftly drew his temper, then, when he saw the riches of Boudicca’s palace he tried to take all.” He shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “It was mainly Catus, Silentarius merely acquiesced.”
“Yes,” said Suetonius, “and how much would go into the pocket of Catus as well.” He looked at Verres’ report again. “Is all this accurate, have you told me all the facts? Your report makes no mention of casualties: why?”
Verres looked downcast, “There were Roman dead and injured of course, but we did not make a head count of the Iceni casualties, however they were greater than ours.”
Suetonius looked him straight in the face, his fist striking the document before him in anger. “Exactly how many legionnaires were hurt?”
Verres gulped, “Five Roman dead, another two so badly injured they may die yet, and nine so seriously injured they may never return to duty. Santos has lost an arm and lies close to death.”
He looked at Verres again. “Don’t play games with me Verres, how many Iceni? The truth man!”
Verres sprang to attention. “Fourteen dead, commander and many, many, injured. Silentarius had them killed afterwards on the direct orders of Catus Decianus, there was no count made — it could be some thirty or forty who died in all.”
Suetonius continued, “And the rape? How many?”
Verres was clearly even more uncomfortable now. “Ten, eleven, maybe twelve, or more. Nobody was counting sir.”
It was the final straw; Suetonius suddenly exploded, turned and kicked his footstool flying. “Right Verres, dispatch a messenger on horse at once. “Orderly!” he shouted.
A servant immediately appeared in the entrance.
“Bring me ink and parchment, now — fast!” With a wave of his hand he dismissed the man, then turned to Verres, “I will send an order. It is imperitive all her goods, chattels, gold, cattle, everything, are returned immediately, this must be resolved now, or surely we shall have an uprising on our hands. Verres, dispatch a messenger on horse at once with the written order.”
He looked at the inventory before him and studied it again.
“They have forty-two sheep I see, he cannot travel fast with those even with the wagons and reinforcements he called for. Catch up with them and turn them back at once. I want the whole unit back here, each soldier to be put under close arrest and the officers suspended from duty, I will deal with them later. And where is Catus Decianus now?”
“I have checked sir,” said Verres. “He has ridden ahead of the patrol and will be in Londinium by nightfall. He has taken six men with him as personal escort.”
Suetonius put his hand on his tribune’s shoulder. “Two men I said, two men only. It was intended to be an isolated instance of drunkenness to be recorded and dealt with later, but ten or more involved plus fourteen of our own dead at least, Iceni dead only the Gods know how many, and Boudicca flogged almost to the point of death — quo vadis?”
He picked up the stool he had kicked over in anger and sat down. He let out a deep sigh. “Will the Iceni tremble when they see us approach now, or will they stone us? Almighty Mars, unless we deal quick, only the Gods themselves will know what repercussions could come out of this.” He stood up and gazed out of the tent and the rolling hills beyond, “One thing is sure, certainly all trust has now been destroyed irrevocably.”
Raiding Party Returns
Boudicca, her face still contorted with pain at the whipping she had received was nevertheless recovering well, the wise woman’s unguents and salves had done their work, the physical scars were healing, but the mental ones festered like an open wound still.
Relaxing in the great chair of power that had been so beloved of her late husband, Prasutagus, her eagle eyes flashed with anger as the remnants of the Iceni raiding party lined up before her, men hardly able to stand, nursing hideous injuries, stood proud, and even before the spectacle of the smouldering Queen, defiant also. Corrianus, his face equally grim, sat at her side in both judgment and sorrow.
An older man, one eye closed and purple, stepped forward painfully.
“You know me Queen; I am Rasca, I was in charge;” he paused. “The strategy was mine.”
Boudicca’s face softened slightly.
“O noble Rasca, you would take the blame, but I know this raid was my niece’s idea. Had it been yours Rasca, I would have hanged you like a dog.”
The man bowed his head, but did not speak.
“But now Valeria lays dead,” continued Boudicca. She turned towards Corrianus who had been listening intently. “There has been enough sorrow, I do not wish your widow to weep for you also.”
Rasca looked up, squinting in the morning sun with his one good eye.
“Her motive was just. It was to avenge the wrong done to you Boudicca.”
Boudicca signalled the remnants of her guard forward.
“Bring stools, and send for the wise ones to dress their wounds. Summon the womenfolk to bathe them and bid them bring food and drink.”
Once they had left, she leaned forward in her chair almost confidentially to Corrianus.
“Revenge is like a sweetmeat, it needs to be savoured slowly.”
She leaned back in her chair as a manservant brought an oaken stool for Rasca to sit on.
“How many times have I led you into battle Rasca?” she asked.
Rasca shrugged, then answered hesitatingly, “Many times O Queen, more than the fingers on my hands or the toes on my feet.”
“And was not every raid planned as the Parisi and Regnenses know to their cost? Have we not always sent out patrols and scouts to survey the area, and choose our battle grounds carefully?” She shook her head sorrowfully, “We are the experts at ambushing — and here we were ambushed!” her eyes flashed “And by Romans … how?”
Rasca started to speak, but was cut short by Boudicca interrupting him.
“Do not say it Rasca, I know my niece Valeria, you could only follow where she chose to lead.”
As he watched the Queen’s eyes filled with tears. The regal and haughty Boudicca was crying.
Corrianus was swift to comfort her. As he consoled Boudicca, he looked at the shame-faced troupe before him.
“You are Iceni, and you fought well. As you see hot blood quickly turns cold when the headstrong lay dead.”
Rasca turned and dismissed his men, as they slowly moved away to be received by the wise women and also receive victuals, not a man was unmoved. Rasca swiftly turned and saluted Boudicca.
“I will give my life in battle O Queen.”
Boudicca looked up.
“Not yet Rasca, but I thank you, but that day may still come, in the meantime I have much thinking to do — and much planning — now leave us to mourn.”
Garrison Headquarters
At the Roman garrison headquarters, Suetonius and a tribune watched as the legionaries dug the defence ditch deeper and wider. As each section was finished, carpenters moved in and set sharpened stakes at the bottom, while behind them the customary earth wall rose even higher.
Suetonius said thoughtfully, “Do you think that Boudicca instigated the raiding party tribune?”
The tribune shook his head, “I doubt it sir, I hear that Boudicca lays in a fever, and for days has been incapable of any judgement. Such was the beating she received that she has laid close to death ever since and is now barely conscious.”
Suetonius nodded in agreement. “Aye, Valeria has long dreamed of being the Queen’s successor, my opinion is that she took the opportunity to show her ability to command the Iceni while the queen lay ill.”
The tribune interjected, “Whoever instigated it does not matter, I shall march on her village and crucify ten men as a deterrent and send for this Valeria as well, her fate will be a lesson that the Iceni will speak of for generations to come.”
“Nay, stay your hand tribune. I
have a bad feeling here. The Iceni are easily influenced; I have extinguished the first spark of rebellion before it started a blaze. If we humiliate them further we may well sow the wind and reap the whirlwind.”
“So be it Suetonius,” he replied, “it shall be as you command.”
Suetonius started to walk away as the soldiers working below made themselves even more industrious, aware of their officer watching them.
“If we stay here any longer they will work themselves to death,” he remarked.
He turned to the tribune, “Keep me informed tribune, on all fronts, just in case of further trouble. My instructions from Caesar are to settle this country, not make war.” He spoke intently, “I will make a gesture of peace to Boudicca, and let things cool.”
He watched the men raising the earth wall even higher, “But we will be vigilant,” he muttered, “the Iceni are as treacherous as timber wolves.”
Chapter 6
Marcus’ Tent
Valeria was being led in, flanked by two soldiers. One of them, Platus, kicked her before him with blows and slaps. Clothed in a beautiful white toga, she had been bathed and her hair arranged in the Greco-Roman bouffant style against her will, Disdainfully she bore the indignities inflicted on her by her guards, her head held high she bore the slaps with fortitude.
“He’ll enjoy you, lucky bastard,” said Platus, “officers get all the best perks. Always seconds for us, but he’ll pass you on to us when he is finished.”
He leered at her lasciviously, and then shoved her roughly through the tent flap before Marcus. Inside, Valeria faced Marcus proudly.
“So I’m saved for you, my conqueror,” she spat. Her back arched, “You can take me, but you will not enjoy me, I am powerless against you, but you shall derive no pleasure from me.”
Platus and his companion placed their hands upon each shoulder, and with a shove brought her down to her knees. Platus grabbed the toga, and with a single movement, ripped the top down, revealing delicate white shoulders. Her firm bust protruding, prevented the garment from cascading further to her waist, she knelt before Marcus, her head bowed, both her hands tied together with the heavy ropes behind her back; not daring to move lest the toga should fall further, revealing her breasts, and further shaming her. Two weals from Platus’ blows were clearly visible on one shoulder.
Marcus leapt to his feet, “Stay, how dare you anticipate an order, you have dishonoured a niece of the Iceni Queen — leave me, get out.” The soldiers looked astonished, then saluted and turned on their heels.
As they reached the tent flap, he gave a further command, “Halt!”
They turned with one movement towards him.
Shaking with rage, Marcus said, “What is your name soldier?”
The soldier sprang to attention, “Platus sir, 7th cohort of auxiliaries, attached to the14th Gemina.”
“And your commander?”
“Cato, sir.”
“Send him to me.” He gestured angrily, “Now leave.”
He saluted once more, and left.
Marcus approached Valeria from behind; laying his hands upon her toga he gently grasped the cloth. At his touch she shied violently away from him, in anticipation of what was to come.
To her surprise they lifted the material up gently covering the bareness of her exposed shoulders, his hands reached out raising her to her feet at the same time. Sullenly she accepted the overture but her body continued to stiffen still expecting the inevitable fate she was sure awaited her.
Marcus walked over to the small platform where he had been working and removed a small dagger from the top of it. Motionless Valeria stood there, unmoving as once more he approached her from behind, his hands holding each arm firmly; he gently kissed the nape of her neck. Trembling inwardly she stood there, her mind racing as to her fate. Seconds passed with no movement, and then she felt the blade severing her bonds.
As the ropes feel to the floor, he turned her around to face him, and placing his hand under her chin lifted it up, then gently kissed her on her lips. She reacted instantly, her head going back in defiance at this intrusion upon her privacy, but she did not resist him.
Aristocratic and royal she stood to attention, her arms to her sides. Marcus moved to a nearby couch, and sitting down upon it he gestured her to join him. Her eyes darted wildly around the tent, like a cornered animal seeking an avenue of escape. The silhouettes of the guards against the canvas could be clearly seen, the situation was helpless. Resigning herself, she stayed her ground, but made no move towards him.
“Stand then, if you wish,” said Marcus, “it makes no difference to me.”
He was interrupted by a voice calling to him from outside.
“Tribune Cato is here at your command, legate as ordered,” a guard called out.
“Send him in at once,” commanded Marcus.
The tribune entered, striking his chest in salutation, “Commander.”
Marcus rose, and took two steps forward, his hands clasped behind his back.
“One of your men, Platus by name. I believe he is with the 7th cohort.”
“Yes sir,” countered the tribune. “He is.”
“Have you any other man of that name in the unit?” He enquired.
“No sir, there is only one Platus; is he in trouble again?”
“None at all tribune, not at all, why, is he often in bother?”
“Yes sir, any incident. Platus is always at the centre of it. You can’t see the flesh on his back for welts and scars; he’s been with the 7th for two and a score years, he’s a survivor sir. Anyway,” he seemed relieved, “I gather he’s not in trouble this time?”
“No, not at all,” said Marcus, “I merely have a special duty for him.” He looked the man directly in the face and repeated, “A very ‘special’ duty.”
Valeria’s eyes flashed fire at his words; the whites of her knuckles could be seen as she clenched her hands in anger.
“I simply wish you to put him on point duty, until further notice, you understand. Long point in fact.”
“Long point sir?” The man was clearly querying,
“Yes long point.”
The tribune’s face was set impassively.
“Any particular area he is to observe sir?”
Marcus waved a hand, beckoning the man to the tent flap and then turning towards Valeria he beckoned her also. Obediently, she followed this time.
The threesome exited the tent, and stood outside looking up to the surrounding hills. Marcus’s eyes ranged it for a moment, and then lifting his arm, his finger pointed out a high peninsula on the far horizon.
“You want an observer there, sir?” Cato queried, “that’s rebel country, it’s infested with Iceni.”
“Yes, he’s to stay there observing their movements until I say otherwise, give him food and drink for a week initially.”
“It will be as you command sir,” he said ominously, “he is on his way.”
Marcus turned towards Valeria.
“Your people will undoubtedly find him, his fate is now with the Gods. Now niece of the Iceni monarch, come with me.”
He walked away beckoning her to follow. Four soldiers, their shields raised, flanked the pair protectively as guards.
They walked in silence until they arrived at an enclosure where the horses were stabled. “How many horses did we capture yesterday?” he asked.
“Only eleven, sir,” said the ostler, “they lost close on twenty cavalry yesterday, but many of the horses bolted for the hills riderless.”
“And their leader’s horse?” asked Marcus, “The grey we took?”
“Fevered sir,” he answered, “the other ostler and the capsarius attend it hourly and it will recover eventually, but it is not fit to ride now.”
Marcus looked at him, “Choose a horse then, that is fit for a Queen, and bring it to me.”
Valeria was perplexed but remained silent. Moments later the man returned with one of the captured war trophies, saddled
and ready. Marcus turned to the guards, “I have no further need of you, leave the beast and return to the tent, I wish to speak to the Queen’s niece alone.”
She looked him in the face, “How did you know that I was Queen Boudicca’s niece?”
Marcus paused, “I know of your people, and of your ways, woman, not only Boudicca, for I have made a close study of your nation, but I did not know it was a woman I fought that day.”
He looked at her intently, “You have no need of woad, Valeria.”
He gestured her to mount, then took her hand in his tenderly “Valeria, I want peace between us, between Roman and Celt. I did not ask for this war, for that is surely what will evolve unless we stop it. But I am here with the power of Rome behind me. We have to rule this province in the name of Rome, and it is to Rome that I personally have to account.”
He squeezed her hand tighter, taking the second one in his, and looking straight at her, “Speak with your tribesmen Valeria; you can help cease this conflict. Send my message to the Iceni, the Belgae, the Atrebates, and the Trinovantes. Tell them Valeria. that Rome is here to stay. We rule all the entire known world! The Roman Empire is the greatest force that has ever been known in history, every nation has fallen before our legions. We are masters of the world, Valeria. None can defy our power.”
He looked at her again, sternly now, “Tell Boudicca that if she bends the knee, you will all find your lives will be tolerable. There is no alternative. I am speaking as legate to the Governor of this province now, not as a friend.”
He released one hand, and helped her to mount. As she sat astride the saddle, he released her hand and placed his on the bridle, then slowly led the horse and its rider to the camp perimeter.
“My last words Valeria, I implore you to try and make peace, or your people will be destroyed. For their sake let there be no further enmity between us. I pardon your attack upon us.” He looked at her intently, “You know … we have much in common, Valeria, we could be as one, you and I. You would make a beautiful Roman. Here,” he reached inside his tunic, and produced a bound parchment which he handed to her. Valeria hesitated, then took it unsmiling.
