by K. M. Ashman
‘You mean we will run,’ said the officer in amazement.
‘If that’s the way you want to see it, then yes, we will run.’
‘Since when has any Legion done so before a sword is drawn,’ shouted a Tribune. ‘It is a shame no Legionary will bear.’
‘It is but a tactic toward a greater goal,’ said Suetonnius, ‘victory.’
‘You can dress it as you will,’ said the Tribune, ‘but they will still see our backs running before them. My father served in the Gemina as did his father before him and never have they turned their backs on an undefeated enemy. I see no reason why such an illustrious Legion should do so now.’
‘The Gemina will do as I say’, shouted the General and the room fell silent at the unexpected outburst. ‘This woman is a greater threat than we have realised. Already she has laid waste to a city and slaughtered an entire Legion. The Ninth Hispana have battle honours as great as the Gemina and Petillius is a war hardened Legate yet she swatted them aside as if they were horse flies. What makes you think the Gemina will fare any better?’
Another gasp rippled around the command tent. It was unheard of for a Commander to publicly doubt the abilities of his Legion.
‘So what do you propose we do?’ asked the Tribune.
‘First of all we will go firm here,’ said the Legate. ‘We will lick our wounds and rebuild our strength. At the same time we will send our spies amongst them and learn how her mind works. When I think we have enough information, then and only then will we formulate our plans. I have no intention of letting this woman drive us from Britannia but at the moment we are in her lands fighting on her terms and that has to change. We will send immediate messages to the Augusta and Victrix Legions requesting support and by the time we are ready to face her, we will have almost twenty thousand men at arms.’
‘What about Londinium?’ asked a voice.
‘Londinium is already lost to us,’ said Suetonius, ‘but it is no more than a trading town. Camulodunum was a far greater loss.’
‘What are our orders?’ asked a Tribune.
‘Keep the perimeter guard refreshed at a distance of one days’ march,’ said Suetonius. ‘Make sure they have fresh horses and if Boudicca’s army turn this way, I want to know about it within hours. Allow the wounded men to heal but instigate battle training immediately for those who are fit. I want every able man ready for the battle to come, whether that be next month or three months from now.’
For the next half hour Suetonius outlined his defensive requirements until finally the tent emptied and the Legate was left alone with Cassus.
‘You disapprove?’ said Suetonnius pouring a goblet of wine.
‘On the contrary, I support your strategy,’ replied Cassus.
‘Really? You surprise me. I thought an out and out soldier like you would want to plough in with Gladius drawn.’
‘The time will come for such action but now is not that time.’
‘Wine?’ asked Suetonius, offering an empty goblet.
‘Thank you. No. I remained behind as I have a proposition.’
‘A proposition? I am intrigued.’
‘Sire, the location you have chosen here is excellent and affords adequate measures for defence. The extra training you have requested is well within the abilities of the other Centurions and as you have mentioned on more than one occasion, I am no parade ground soldier.’
‘That you certainly are not,’ said Suetonnius. ‘So what are you proposing, Cassus.’
‘Sire, as you know I spent six years in the Exploratores. I propose you allow me to ride out and infiltrate the ranks of Boudicca. I speak their language as well as a native and with a good disguise, I reckon I can breach her outer ranks.’
‘To what end,’ asked Suetonnius, ‘assassination?’
‘I fear there is no time to gain the trust to get that near,’ said Cassus, ‘besides, I think assassination will only rally her troops. We need to inflict a crushing victory on her army if we are to put down this rebellion effectively.’
‘I agree,’ said Suetonius, ‘but I fail to see what you hope to gain. There are already Exploratores within her ranks and I am briefed regularly’
‘I realise that, Sire,’ said Cassus, ‘but they see with detached eyes and have no knowledge of our needs. I have lived with these people and understand how they think. I also know the strengths and weaknesses of our own men. If I can see this army’s tactics for myself, then it gives us an advantage in any future conflict.’
‘But if you are found out, I lose a Primus Pilus.’
‘I will not be found out,’ said Cassus.
Suetonius paused and drank from the goblet while he considered his response.
‘How long do you need?’ he asked.
‘One month,’ answered Cassus.
Again Suetonius considered carefully before answering.
‘You can have ten days, no more.’
‘But…’
‘I need you here, Cassus. The men look up to you. Within ten days, most will be fighting fit again and I want you to lead their training by example. Ten days or nothing.’
‘Ten days it is,’ said Cassus and turned to leave the tent.
‘Don’t you go and do something stupid like getting yourself killed,’ said the Legate. ‘It has been five years since you were an Exploratore.’
‘It’s the last thing on my mind,’ said Cassus, ‘and besides, Exploratore training stays with you forever.’
----
Fourty miles away, Petillius was sleeping under a cover of furs when a commotion dragged him from his slumber. Quickly he jumped up and grabbing his Gladius, ducked out of his tent. Ten riders had been let through the gates and the soldier in charge was talking to Tribune Dellus. Petillius recognised the insignia on the saddle blanket.
‘Let him through,’ he said, ‘he is from the Gemina.’
The men moved aside and the cavalry man rode forward, dismounting before the Legate.
‘Hail, Petillius,’ said the rider, ‘I am Decurion Conatus of the Gemina scouts. Suetonius will be relieved to learn you still live.’
‘The Governor knows of our plight?’ asked Petillius.
‘Only the outcome of the battle,’ said the rider, ‘not of your survival. The Gemina marched as fast as we could from the lands of the Deceangli but were too late to offer help.’
‘Come inside,’ said Petillius and led the way into the tent. ‘What news of the campaign against the Druids?’
‘The campaign went well,’ said Conatus, ‘and the island has been laid waste. The battle was an overwhelming victory.’
‘An outcome not shared here,’ said Petillius.
‘I hear the enemy were tenfold your number,’ said the scout.
‘Even so,’ said the Legate, ‘the taste is sour in my mouth. Tell me, how you are here? Is Gemina camped close by?’
‘No Sire. The Legion has gone to ground in the west. The situation with Boudicca changes by the day and Suetonnius garners his strength before facing the hoard.’
‘So why are you here?’
‘My unit was sent to find any survivors,’ said Conatus, ‘and we saw your camp smoke from the hills. We thought the fort may be overrun but decided to check anyway.’
‘Thanks to the gods that you did,’ said Petillius, ‘but how did you get through the enemy lines.’
‘There are no enemy lines in the forest,’ said Conatus. ‘Yes there are pockets of barbarians dotted throughout the area but the main army is camped on the outside of Londinium.’
‘That explains it,’ said Petillius.
‘Explains what, Sire.’
‘Why we haven’t been overrun,’ said the Legate. ‘This devil Queen eyes the greater prize and sees us as a minor distraction. Tell me, how strong are the enemy in the woods?’
‘Hard to say, Sire. A few thousand I suppose but they are well spread out.’
‘Good,’ said Petillius, his eyes wide with excitement. ‘This is exactly the oppo
rtunity we were hoping for. Get your command fed and rested, Decurion. Before the sun rises, they will need every ounce of strength they have.’
----
Deep in the forest, Lannosea spun around in fright and stared at the boy who had pulled her back from the edge.
‘Who are you?’ she asked.
‘I am Taliesin of the Deceangli,’ he answered. ‘Who are you?’
Lannosea looked around nervously.
‘I am Lannosea of the Iceni,’ she said. ‘Daughter of Boudicca.’
Taliesin’s eyes widened in shock. For a moment he didn’t answer but looked at the bedraggled girl for a few moments before smiling.
‘If you say so,’ he said. ‘Now why not step away from that cliff before you fall.’
‘What do you mean, if I say so?’ asked Lannosea with a frown. ‘I am who I say I am and will have you whipped for not believing me.’
‘Well, you don’t look like the daughter of a Warrior Queen,’ said Taliesin.
Lannosea looked down at herself. Her dress was torn and covered in mud and she knew her hair was a tangled mess.
‘I am Lannosea,’ she repeated quietly, ‘and I am the daughter of Boudicca.’
Before Taliesin could answer, the girl collapsed and fell headlong into the current. Taliesin realised the danger and jumped in to grab her before the water carried her over the edge. With one hand holding a tree root, he pulled the girl to the water’s edge but was unable to drag her up the bank.
‘Wake up,’ he shouted, trying to rouse the girl from her stupor. ‘Lannosea, I can’t do this by myself, you have to help me.’
Lannosea slowly responded and placed her feet against the stream bed, pushing hard as Taliesin pulled her out. Finally they both lay on the bank, the girl crying in pain as Taliesin gasped for breath. After a few moments he sat up and looked at the girl.
‘Seriously,’ he said, ‘who are you?’
‘I spoke the truth,’ said Lannosea, ‘Boudicca is my mother.’
‘If that is the truth,’ said Taliesin, ‘why were you about to throw yourself from the falls?’
Lannosea looked up at him and shook her head.
‘I can’t tell you,’ she murmured, ‘it hurts too much.’
‘Does the Queen know you are here?’
Lannosea shook her head.
‘I have wandered this forest for days,’ she said, ‘and have no idea how to get back.’
‘You are lost?’
Lannosea nodded.
‘When was the last time you ate?’ asked Taliesin.
The girl shrugged her shoulders.
‘I don’t remember.’
Taliesin stood and wandered down the bank until he found the fish he had caught earlier. He returned to Lannosea and sat beside her before using the knife to cut slices from the fish.
‘Here,’ he said, passing her some of the pink flesh. ‘I know it’s not cooked but it is food.’
‘I can’t,’ said Lannosea.
‘You must,’ said Taliesin. ‘Take small chunks and swallow them whole.’
Lannosea did as she was told and though she gagged, she managed to keep it down. Taliesin took a slice for himself and chewed on the fibrous flesh as he watched the girl.
‘Are you truly the daughter of Boudicca?’ he asked.
Lannosea nodded.
‘I am,’ she said.
‘She must be worried if you have been lost all this time.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Lannosea, ‘but she has other things on her mind.’
‘Like what?’
‘The attack on Londinium?’ said Lannosea.
Taliesin swallowed the piece of fish in his mouth before staring at her again.
‘Boudicca is going to attack Londinium?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘Because we have been looking for her but had no idea where she was, but if she is going toward Londinium, we should be able to find her.’
‘How?’
‘A while ago we were being held in a Roman fort…’
‘We?’
‘A friend of mine,’ explained Taliesin. ‘Anyway, we were prisoners there and I overheard a rider saying he had ridden half a day from Londinium in the east. That means if we walk south east we could be there in less than two days.’
‘But why would you do that?’ asked Lannosea.
‘I left the Khymru to seek Boudicca,’ said Taliesin. ‘If what you say is true, then she is no more than a few days away. Find her and I can help rid this country of the Roman filth.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely, but first we have to get you dry and look after that arm. Come on, Finian will know what to do.’
----
Chapter Nineteen
The Outskirts of Londinium
Boudicca left her tent and looked around the gathered warlords waiting for her. Together they stood in silence until two warriors led a white bull into the clearing, holding it still while the Shamen anointed its head with oils and flowers. Boudicca stepped forward and stood in front of the bull. More men helped hold the animal still while yet another pulled the harness, forcing it to extend its neck. Boudicca lifted her head to face the heavens.
‘Andraste,’ she called, ‘I offer this bull in sacrifice to your name. Drink deeply of its pure liquid for surely this day, the rivers will be soiled with Roman blood.’
Another warrior with an enormous sword stepped forward and lifted the weapon high above his head.
‘Andraste, lead us to victory in your name,’ shouted Boudicca and the warrior swung the sword downward cutting cleanly through the neck of the young bull.
The strike was true and the animal’s head rolled away in the dust but the body remained upright, held in place by the warriors on either side. Fountains of blood from the severed arteries sprayed over Boudicca, and she opened her arms in supplication, welcoming the sign from her God.
The surrounding warlords shouted their appreciation at the clean kill and when the warriors finally let the animal fall, the Shamen fell upon the still twitching corpse, desperate to examine the entrails for divination. Above the cheering Boudicca heard the sound of horses and watched Rianna ride the war chariot into the clearing.
‘Ready, my Queen,’ she said, when the chariot came to a stop.
Boudicca looked around at her warlords, every one of them cheering their leader. Finally her gaze fell on Heanua watching from the edge of the clearing. For a second Boudicca thought she saw a hint of disapproval in the girl’s eyes but finally, Heanua drew her sword and lifted it to her mouth before raising it high.
‘In Andraste’s name,’ shouted the girl and Boudicca’s heart leapt. She had failed one daughter but this one was behind her. She climbed aboard the chariot and turned to face Rianna.
‘It is time, friend,’ she said, ‘let them go.’
Rianna cracked a whip and the spirited horses leapt forward. Within moments they were clear of the treeline and galloping out onto the plains. A deafening roar rose from the massed ranks of the Britannic warriors and though she knew her army was large, seeing its sheer size for the first time astonished her. Rianna pulled hard on the reins and sent the chariot flying along the front of the cheering army and as she passed the massed ranks of warriors, Boudicca held up a spear in recognition of their strength. Surely no army on earth, Roman or otherwise could withstand such a force.
Behind her rode a hundred warlords, each carrying the banners of their tribes and the cheers increased as factions of the army recognised their own colours. Finally Boudicca’s chariot topped a small rise and Rianna reined in the four lathered horses. Though Boudicca knew her words wouldn’t reach the majority of the army, she knew the warlords would pass them on. She climbed up onto the edge of the chariot, using one of the spears for balance as she addressed the cavalry and chariots before her.
‘People of Britannia,’ she called. ‘For almost twenty years we have been downtrodden by the invaders from across the seas. They have raped our wom
en and enslaved our men. They have killed our priests and burned our temples. They have grown fat while our children have starved but today we say, no more. We have already laid waste to their false city and slaughtered the Legion sent to destroy us. Those men witnessed at first hand the strength of our resolve but that was just a lover’s caress compared to the wrath we are about to unleash. Even as I speak, Nero’s best hides from us, trembling in fear at the sound of our marching feet. They cower like scared dogs behind palisades of puny timber in fear of our ire. Make no mistake, in the days to come there will be a reckoning but until then, we will send them a message they will never forget. Look to your front for before us is a symbol of everything they stand for. Do not hold back this day for the only thing Britannic about Londinium is the soil upon which it sits. Harden your hearts and send it the way of Camulodunum. Spare nobody for everyone within that forsaken town are tainted by Roman hands.’
She lifted her spear high and aimed it toward the sprawling town before her. Her hair blew in the wind and bulls blood dripped from her chin.
‘For Andraste and Britannia,’ she screamed.
‘For Andraste and Britannia,’ answered those in earshot and the roar spread down the ranks of chariots like a wave.
Rianna cracked the whip again and the horses bolted forward, closely followed by hundreds of war chariots, each bearing scythe-like blades on the hubs of their wheels. Behind them the roar was taken up by the foot soldiers and fifty thousand warriors raced down the hill toward the Roman trading town. The assault on Londinium had begun.
----
A mile away, hundreds of people stood before the tented village that made up the outer edges of Londinium. Families with children huddled together to stare at the black masses in the distance, not sure what to do. They had heard Boudicca was coming but hadn’t quite believed it, besides, they were also Britons and Boudicca wouldn’t kill her own people…would she?
At first they wandered toward the hoard as it started moving, keen to greet their fellow Britons but as the impetus became clear, realisation dawned and they started to retreat back toward the town. Within moments the intention of the approaching army became clear as the chariots thundered toward them. All doubt of Boudicca’s intentions disappeared and the people turned in panic, seeking the safety of the wooden houses and narrow streets of the town.
