by Griff Hosker
Wolf did not care if Cresens fell now; he had served his purpose but a desperate desire for life made the portly officer lash his horse. Cava had seen their return and the three turmae were trotting back to the Roman trap. They allowed the two men to ride between them and then they closed ranks and galloped after them. Horse kept glancing over his shoulder. The Iceni were slowly falling behind. “Slow up. We are losing them.” It was important that they report the Roman army and its, apparent, foolish deployment. Soon the exultant Iceni had closed to within sixty paces of the turmae. As they turned off the road towards the gorge the Decurion noticed just how wide the plain was. When the scouts reported back to Boudicca she would seize the chance to defeat the last Roman army in Britannia.
As soon as the warriors saw the Roman army they returned to the Iceni camp. “Majesty not only have we found the man who violated you and your daughters we have found the Roman army. They are just a couple of miles up the road.”
Screaming like a primeval creature she grabbed the warrior. “Well done. Break the camp and we shall have them before they escape.”
The Iceni moved quickly and the plain filled with the warriors. The wagons were placed behind in a semi circle enabling the camp followers to observe the battle, much as a Roman crowd would enjoy the arena. The Queen and her daughters mounted her chariot and paraded before them. "But now," she said, "it is not as a woman descended from noble ancestry, but as one of the people that I am avenging lost freedom, my scourged body, the outraged chastity of my daughters. Roman lust has gone so far that not our very persons, nor even age or virginity, are left unpolluted. But heaven is on the side of a righteous vengeance; a legion which dared to fight has perished; the rest are hiding themselves in their camp, or are thinking anxiously of flight. They will not sustain even the din and the shout of so many thousands, much less our charge and our blows. If you weigh well the strength of the armies, and the causes of the war, you will see that in this battle you must conquer or die. This is a woman's resolve; as for men, they may live and be slaves." There was a huge roar and the warriors began banging their shields and their swords.
At the Roman lines the Governor was checking the deployment when he heard the roar. The two legions were in the centre and on their flanks the auxiliary foot. The few cavalry available to him, both regular and auxiliary were on the two wings to deter a flanking movement. Paulinus knew that the Ninth had lost their best troops and would be less confident and the noise of the enemy appeared to enhance their numbers. He saw some nervous looks. His Twentieth were still enjoying the euphoria of having defeated the druids but the legate needed to make his men fight and he turned to address them. "Ignore the racket made by these savages. There are more women than men in their ranks. They are not soldiers - they're not even properly equipped. We've beaten them before and when they see our weapons and feel our spirit, they'll crack. Stick together. Throw the javelins, then push forward: knock them down with your shields and finish them off with your swords. Forget about plunder. Just win and you'll have everything."
Wolf was with Flavius on the right of the battlefield. They would be observers at first for the Iceni would have to narrow their front the closer they came to the legions. Every legionary had his two pila; they had a shorter range than the javelins used by the ala but they were heavier. When they struck a shield or a man they broke and could not be thrown back and, more importantly, they made shields impossible to wield. Each cohort was in a three deep line and the skill and training of the legions meant that they could rotate easily to place the freshest men at the front. It was a tried and tested method. The whole line looked like small wedges upon which the Iceni would be spiked.
Although the noise continued unabated the whole Iceni line, led by the Queen in her chariot raced forwards. Every one of the fifty thousand warriors desperate to be the first to claim first blood. The Twentieth stood calmly to receive the charge. Wolf clearly heard First Spear above the cacophony of noise. “Loose!” A thousand pila flew into the air followed a heartbeat later by another thousand. Wolf watched in awe as the second line moved to the front and threw their two pila and finally the third rotated and their spears did their damage. The whole of the front line of the Iceni lay like a macabre dying sculpture of broken men, horses and chariots. The Iceni in the other ranks roared forwards to get at the Romans. First Spear calmly brought up the next cohorts and they too hurled their spears into the packed ranks. The Iceni were very obliging and they ran over the bodies of the dead and the dying to try to kill the pathetically small Roman army which faced them. If they thought that the legions had thrown their mightiest weapon they were in for a shock as the cohorts used the gladii to stab and hack at the bare bodies which seemed to want to die. At the rear the women were screaming for their men to kill the Romans and the brave warriors tried to do as their women wished. Boudicca, now unhorsed, looked in horror at the bodies of her dead daughters. One lay awkwardly her neck and back broken by the crashing chariot while the other lay with a pilum in her young chest, the red stain spreading over her white tunic. Boudicca drew her sword and exhorted her men to greater deeds of valour. “Iceni! This is our time! One last push and we will have them!”
Paulinus was mounted a little way up the gorge and was pleased with what he could see. The Iceni had lost thousands already and the warriors at the front were being chopped to pieces by the relentless lines of gladii. He noted, with satisfaction the rotating of the lines so that the exhausted Iceni kept meeting fresh legionaries and even their greatest Iceni, Atrebate and Catevellauni warriors could not defeat them. He judged that the time was right and said to the buccinator next to him. “Sound the advance!”
Slowly at first the lines moved and the warriors at the front found themselves pushed back into the warriors behind. Whereas the legions could punch with their shields and stab with their gladii, the longer weapons of the barbarians were useless and they could not bring them to bear. There was nowhere for them to retreat and they were slaughtered where they stood. As they moved back into the plain there was less pressure but the Roman lines spread out to extend their front and bring even fresher warriors into action.
“Sound the cavalry charge!”
Wolf and the ala had been waiting for just such an order. The Iceni and their allies were being pushed back and their escape route was blocked by the wagons filled with women and children. “Form line!” With such a small battlefield Flavius just used a one turma line. The twenty turmae could carve a line through the flanks of the Iceni and, hopefully, meet with the regular cavalry turmae in the middle. Cava was behind the Decurion Princeps and Wolf behind him. They had no javelins and would have to use their long swords but they would avenge their dead comrades. They struck the lines like a hammer striking an anvil. They sliced a huge chunk out of the side of the army but then the warriors on the side milled around the horses hacking at the animals and the legs of the troopers. Flavius just kept on going. If he could cut through the heart of the army then the cohorts could destroy them. Cava saw the warriors trying to get at their leader and he urged his horse on, slicing through the arm which wielded the axe aimed at Flavius’ mount. A tattooed warrior punched his shield at Cava’s horse which tumbled to the ground and he fell he relaxed and rolled but the warrior had followed up and before Cava could react the warrior’s sword took off the Decurion’s arm at the elbow. Before he could finish off the Pannonian Wolf rode his horse directly at the man. Blackie’s hooves thundered through his skull and he died with his brains oozing out.
“Titus, take the Decurion back to the capsarius. The rest of you, reform on me. Wedge!”
Riding at the front the three turmae began to cut and hack their way through the Iceni lines. Behind him Wolf heard Marcus, Drusus and the others desperately trying to keep up with him and protect him. He felt as he had done all those years ago when he had first led his friends. They were not individuals, they were one weapon and a mighty weapon it was.
The tide changed quickly in the battle and the warri
ors of Boudicca’s army now knew that they had lost. The braver ones remembered the words of the Queen and fought on but some of the less brave souls began to retreat and a retreat is infectious. Soon the bulk of the army was trying to escape but their families and their wagons prevented that. The cavalry found unprotected backs rather than swords and the slaughter began in earnest. None showed mercy. They hade seen the bodies of the women with the breasts removed, the babies spiked on spears. They remembered their dead comrades and they killed.
Boudicca could not believe what she was witnessing. Her bodyguard threw themselves at the legionaries advancing to capture her. Her lover Caractacus had surrendered and was now an object of scorn in Rome. Boudicca would not suffer that indignity. She went to the wagons were the once screaming women now stood silent and shocked. She took out the vial of poison. She had intended it for her children and she would have died with a sword in her hand. She now knew that was not meant to be and raising her eyes to the skies and murmuring a prayer for her children the Queen of the Iceni swallowed down the poison. It was painful but it was swift and the red haired Boudicca fell before her people as the cohorts continued to massacre everyone in their way.
The slaughter went on into the dusk. A few escaped but it was only a few and the message they took back to the villages in the south of the land was, do not fight the Romans. It is like trying to hold back the sea, you will lose. It was the end of rebellion and dissension in the south of the province and the end of the warriors who lived there.
The ala scoured the field looking for wounded and dead comrades. There were fewer than they had expected. As they finally went into a camp for the night Flavius Bellatoris was summoned to the tent of the Governor. There were the Tribunes and Prefects of the other forces. “Well done. We have done what I hoped we would do, we have destroyed this threat. I have men counting the bodies of their dead but it seems to be in the thousands.” He nodded his satisfaction. “We have suffered less than four hundred dead.” He looked darkly towards the west. “Had the Legate of the Second Augusta brought his legion it might have been even less but this is a time for celebration. Flavius Bellatoris. You have led your men well and all speak highly of you as a warrior. I can confirm that you are the new Prefect of the First Pannonian Ala.”
Tribune Celsus came and put his arm around him. “Marius would have been pleased. He thought highly of you.”
“Make a list of those warriors who deserve phalera and give it to my clerk. Tomorrow we will return to Camulodunum and begin the process of burying and then rebuilding.”
Wolf went to the sick bay to seek Cava. He saw his friend, looking paler and with a bandaged and bloody stump.
“I don’t think you will be riding again old friend.”
“No. Me neither but they saved my life and the capsarius says that the stump should heal well.”
“What will you do? Return to Pannonia?”
Horse shook his head vigorously. “What would I do there? No. The capsarius says that I will get a small pension. I have saved a little and I have an idea to open an alehouse in Eboracum. You and the lads will be based up there and the last time we visited there was o tavern. I will clean up.”
Wolf nodded. “I think you will.”
“Do you have a name for it?”
He gave a wan smile. “My horse died but I still have the saddle. I thought I would hang the saddle outside and call it The Saddle.”
“Good name. We will frequent it old friend.” Wolf looked sad. “I am the last of the original Decurion now. All my friends I led are dead and now my oldest friend is leaving.”
“You will have new friends Wolf, the men you lead.”
“No Cava, we both know that you cannot be friends with those you lead. I have learned that now. A leader is lonely. Like a lone wolf it has to rely on its own wits.”
“I am still your friend. When you come to Eboracum then you can share your pain with one who knows.”
Wolf was delighted when Flavius gave him the news of his promotion. “Well done sir. You deserve it.” He suddenly caught a glimpse of a pudgy hand. “That still leaves us with Cresens as Decurion Princeps.”
“Don’t worry about that Wolf. I am now his master not the Legate. We will watch this one.”
“Horse lost his hand sir. He is going to open an alehouse in Eboracum. I thought we might use some of the ala fund to help him. He deserves it.”
“Of course. See to it.”
Chapter 16
Prefect Bellatoris summoned the officers to his tent soon after dawn. “The Governor has ordered us to secure Camulodunum. There may still be rebels there. Once the army has joined us and the area made safe then we will return north to stop the raids from across the frontier. We will also have to begin recruiting again.”
As Wolf led his depleted turma east he suddenly felt old. When he had joined he had been but a young boy now, even though he not yet twenty eight he felt much older than the young men like Marcus and Lucius whom he now led. He had already told the prefect that he intended to inter and honour his dead comrades when they reached the scene of their deaths. Flavius was in full agreement. It was not their way to forget their dead and they needed to finish the business of the dead and then get on with the duties of the living.
They knew when they were close to the scene of the massacre for there were crows, magpies and ravens squawking screaming and fighting over the remains of the dead Romans. It was even more gruesome than they had anticipated for the bodies had been despoiled. The bodies had been stripped and emasculated. The turmae looked in horror and wondered how they would manage to piece together the dead to give them the dignity of burial. They laid the dead of the ala in one row and the other cohorts and the legion in two others. They would be buried by their own but the Pannonians would bury their own. Eventually they managed to find the bodies of their dead and, while half the ala dug their grave the rest placed them with swords. It was a long grave for there were many dead. They placed the prefect in the middle with Gerjen, Panyvadi, Darvas and Kadarcs. Each had a sword laid on their body and Wolf found the wolf standard. It had been hacked and cut but it was still recognisable as their standard. He placed it reverently next to Gerjen, his oldest friend. Finally he took the wolf symbol from round his neck and laid it on Gerjen.
“Gerjen, my brother, I owed you a life. I could not give you that life here on earth but I give you the wolf to guard you and my friends in the next life. Today I am Wolf no longer, I am Lupus no longer. Wolf died with Gerjen and the friends of my youth. From this day I am Decurion Ulpius Felix and Wolf is but a memory.”
He stepped back and Prefect Flavius spoke. “Today we honour our dead. We will remember your bravery always. Sleep brothers beneath the soil of Britannia, far from your home.” The soil was placed over the bodies which were soon hidden. Then they replaced the turf and the whole ala rode reverently across the grave so that by the time they had crossed there was no sing of the monument to the dead. No grave robbers could spoil it and the ala knew to the uncia where their friends lay.
There was far more destruction at Camulodunum but it was less distressing; these were not their comrades. They began the gruesome task of laying the bodies out. The women and girls that they had caught had been raped and their breasts cut off but there were mercifully few of them. The veterans had had the same treatment and, when they found the head and body of Publius they could see that he had fought valiantly for there were many wounds on his corpse. As with the ala, they buried him apart and left the rest for the legions. The Temple of Claudius had the smell of burnt meat and, when they went inside they saw that the ones inside had all been burned alive. Prefect Flavius Bellatoris ordered his young troopers outside. That was not a task for them. “Build a camp and secure the area. The Governor will have his work cut out here.”
When the Governor arrived he was appalled. “Where is the procurator? Have you found his body?”
“He could be in there sir but they are almost unrecognisable.”
“No Prefect. If he had stayed here his body would have been outside defending the walls.”
“We laid all of the bodies over there sir. We buried Decurion Publius Tullus for he was one of ours.”
Governor Paulinus could see the strain on the face of the Prefect. “I am sorry prefect. I can see that you have done all that you could. Tomorrow take your men north. Use Eboracum as a base. When we have finished here I will send the Ninth north and find you some recruits.” He glanced up at the remains of the ala. “You have taken many casualties but at least now you can begin to build your ala with fresh new men and an experienced ala of troopers.”
Flavius took the praise as it was intended but he did not see experience he saw pain and distress at the losses they had taken. When he caught sight of Gaius Cresens he became angry. If it were not for Legate Cerialis foisting him upon them the Ulpius Felix would be the Decurion Princeps and he would have someone on whom he could rely. He could not rely on his deputy. At least he still had Sextus back at Cataractonium. He would give them some stability. Tribune Celsus joined him. “There were no survivors then?”
“Not so far but who knows, there may be some. You will have to find them we are to return north tomorrow.”
“We shall follow you soon Flavius and I will be glad not to have the smell of burnt flesh in my nostrils.”
The task of visiting the other settlements was given to Tribune Celsus. His turma was too small for anything else and he was pleased to be away from the charnel house. Verulamium was the same as Camulodunum had been save that there they had not sought refuge in a temple but they had been slaughtered and mutilated where they fell. Tribune Celsus found the old hard man of his turma Aulus Murgus; decapitated and emasculated he still had the same serious face. “Well Aulus you proved me wrong. You were a fine Decurion and you served the ala well. Be at peace.”
Depression was sitting heavily on his shoulders as he headed down Via Claudia. So much death and no survivors. Decurion Spurius Ocella was a born survivor and he lived still; as he said to his Tribune, “I am too stubborn to die.” He did, indeed, show a great desire to live and so it was fitting that he should find the only survivors from the great slaughter. As they headed towards Londinium he caught sight of something moving, something which was not an animal. They had seen no one living since the battle and his senses were alerted. He said quietly, “I have just seen something sir; over to the east of the road. I’ll take a couple of the boys and investigate.” The Tribune did not take offence that the Decurion appeared to be giving commands. He had learned to respect the veteran and his hunches. “First four, follow me at the gallop!” As they left the road Spurius waved first right and then left. The four troopers split up and the Decurion headed for the place he had seen the movement. He drew his sword; the odds were that it was a barbarian and he had not lived this long without learning caution.
