by K. M. Ashman
‘In peacetime we are peaceful,’ said Prydain, ‘in times of war we are warlike. The time in between is often but a heartbeat and we will always be ready. Don’t forget, although the Romans are only focussed on the eastern coast, it takes but a moment to cast their eye this way and their Legions are only ten day’s march from here. We will not be caught unawares.’
For the next hour they were kept waiting outside the giant gate, until eventually it creaked inward and a warrior stepped out to face them.
‘Prydain, you are not expected,’ he said, ‘and you bring a stranger.’
‘I do, and I would present him to my grandfather.’
‘You know our ways, what reason is there to push them aside?’
‘For this man is no normal man – he saved my life when we fought alongside Caratacus. I believe my grandfather would share bread with him.’
The warrior paused before nodding in agreement.
‘It is acceptable,’ he said and turned to lead the way.
Prydain and Gwydion walked behind him, leading their horses by the reins. Within moments Gwydion realised that the giant oaken door was one of three, each equally as thick as the others. Finally the hill levelled out and Gwydion paused to stare around at the hill fort of Llanmelin, capital of the Silures.
Chatper 7
The Lands of the Durotriges
47AD
Vespasian sat in his tent warmed by the fire prepared by his servants. In his hand he held a mug of warm watered wine and he leant back in the sheepskin armchair, allowing himself the luxury of resting his eyes after hours of boring administration that came with the role of Legatus. It had been a year since he had led the Augusta south through Britannia and though they had encountered some resistance, overall it had been a fairly painless campaign. However, the movement of so many men at arms across unknown territory was a drawn out and complicated process. The Legion was currently encamped in a temporary fort, forced to take shelter from the autumn storms that ravaged the country. Usually the marching camps were only used for a few days at a time but they had become bogged down for almost a month, while they took stock of their situation. He knew he would have to find somewhere more permanent before the winter snows came and needed to ensure they had adequate stores to last them through the winter, until the campaigning season started again.
Vespasian’s command consisted of almost five thousand Legionaries, two cohorts of Batavian infantry, two more of Thracian Sagittaria, the expert bowmen from the western coast of the Black sea, another of Cretan slingers and four centuries of Gallic cavalry. Added to this, there were almost half as many camp followers and though he wasn’t directly responsible for their welfare, it was in his interests for them to flourish. Overall that meant a total force of almost ten thousand men and a civilian following of five thousand more that needed feeding and shelter.
Despite his annoyance with the followers, their presence was accepted as a part of modern warfare. Their numbers included bakers, blacksmiths, leather workers and butchers. Prostitutes were never short of customers from the ranks and temporary ale houses were always full of those soldiers lucky enough to get leave. Much of the Legion’s needs were met by the camp followers as though there were permanent supply lines reaching back as far as Londinium and the coastal ports; the followers traded and hunted locally to acquire fresh meat and vegetables. In turn these were often sold to the Legion’s camps and along with any stores taken forcibly by the Roman patrols from the smaller villages en-route, supplies were usually adequate.
In addition, due to the time it took for ox drawn carts to travel from Rutupiae, the main port formed during the initial invasion three years previously, the Legion were often shadowed offshore by the Roman fleet, always on the lookout for native fishing villages suitable for the landing of store direct from the mainland. Those villages that resisted were dealt with mercilessly and it was always in their interests to comply rather than being wiped out and their ports used anyway.
Vespasian had junior officers and civilian clerks to deal with most administrative tasks, yet Roman efficiency demanded he still had to be involved at a higher level, when authorisation was required to spend huge amounts of money from the imperial coffers. These were the tasks that tired him the most and though he relished the weeks when he had to strategize any potential conflict with the local tribes, recently he had even handed this control over to his second in command, as the limited imagination of his enemies failed to tax his military mind.
‘Oh for a foe worth fighting,’ he sighed to himself, and though he didn’t know it, his desire was about to be met.
* * *
On the outskirts of the camp, a guard peered through the rain toward the commotion on the road to his front. Though the Legion always had patrols out for miles around, there was no real expectation of trouble, so when a group of ten horse mounted scouts galloped out of the darkness and shouted up to open the gates immediately, he and the other guards reacted cautiously.
‘Watchword?’ demanded the guard.
‘I have no idea,’ snapped the voice from below. ‘I am Lucius, centurion of Vespian’s second scout unit. We have been on patrol for the last ten days and have wounded who need tending. Open the gates. That is an order.’
‘My lord, I cannot until I have someone verify your identity,’ said the guard, ‘you know that.’
‘Soldier,’ shouted the centurion, ‘if you don’t open this gate right now and any of my men die for your actions, I will hold you personally responsible and trust me, you don’t want that.’
‘But my lord…’ started the guard.
‘Let him in,’ said a voice behind him.
The Decurion turned to look at the Tessarius in charge of the guard.
‘It is indeed Lucius,’ said the Tessarius, ‘I served with him in Gaul. I will vouch for him.’
‘Guards to arms,’ shouted the Decurion, relieved that the decision had been taken out of his hands, ‘open the gates.’
Within moments the scout unit came through the gates, obviously the worse for wear after days on patrol in awful weather. Two of the riders were slouched over their saddles nursing wounds of some description.
‘Get them to the Medicus,’ ordered the centurion as soon as they were within the boundary and as the rest of the patrol cantered into the centre of the camp, he turned to face the guard commander who had descended from the temporary defences to greet him.
‘Hail, Lucius,’ said the Tessarius, ‘what events cause your unexpected arrival?’
‘I have little time to explain,’ said Lucius. ‘Suffice to say the fort may be in imminent danger. Stand-to the garrison and prepare for battle, I have to speak to Vespasian.’ Without another word, he continued deeper into the fort, leaving the guard commander behind him.
‘Your orders, my lord?’ asked the Decurion.
‘I don’t know what’s going on,’ said the Tessarius, ‘but it doesn’t look good. Sound the alarm.’
* * *
Vespasian was already halfway into his armour when his personal guard entered his tent to announce the arrival of Lucius.
‘My lord, centurion Lucius begs audience.’
‘Granted,’ said Vespasian.
Lucius ducked into the tent and saluted the Legatus.
‘Hail Vespasian,’ he said.
‘Lucius,’ said Vespasian, ‘I trust you are behind the call to arms?’
‘I am, my lord, and have made haste to give meaning.’
‘Then make it good, Lucius, for this unit has not been called to defensive stations since we left Medway.’
‘My lord, as you know, ten days ago my unit patrolled south to select suitable camp sites for the Legion’s advance. The route was clear and we found many such locations, but as we went, we found most villages deserted. This did not worry us unduly as many flee at the sound of the Legion’s feet. On the sixth day, we spied a well-armed party from the Durotriges making their way eastward with purpose. Their numbers were ten time
s ours so we watched from a distance. At first their threat was minimal but within hours their number was swollen by many more such patrols joining them and within a day, their number were several thousand.’
‘Did they see you?’
‘No my lord, at least not at first. We followed from a distance and their purpose soon became clear. Less than six day’s ride from here there is a Durotriges hill fort and it seems that a vast force is assembling at this place. At first, we kept hidden but were spied by one of their patrols. We fled to raise the alarm but they were relentless in their pursuit and we were forced to turn and fight. Many felt the steel of our arrows though their aim was just as keen.’
‘You suffered casualties?’
‘We did, my lord. Four dead and two wounded. It was all we could do to get away with our lives and we have ridden two days without rest.’
‘And your pursuers?’
‘I know not, my lord, they could be on our heels, that’s why I raised the alarm.’
‘You did right,’ said Vespasian. ‘Can you put meaning to their actions?’
‘I saw nothing that suggests they will bend their knee,’ said Lucius, ‘they are forming their forces as we speak. They seem well armed and are certainly warlike. I believe they intend to face us in battle and try to achieve what the Catuvellauni failed to do.’
‘You think they want a fight?’
‘I do.’
‘Then a fight they shall have,’ said Vespasian. ‘How many units of scouts are still within the camp?’
‘Another six, my lord.’
‘Then instruct them to deploy around the fort at a distance of one day’s march. If as much as a leaf falls out of place, I want to know about it.’ He turned to the young man standing to one side. ‘Send word to the Camp Prefect, the Primus Pilus and the Tribunes. There will be a war council in my tent at first light. In the meantime, place the men on alert and double the guard.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ said the young man and disappeared out of the tent.
‘An eager man,’ said Vespasian after he left, ‘but so much to learn.’
Lucius nodded. The position of Tribunus Laticlavius was a strange one within the Legions. On paper they were second in command of the whole unit but in practise they were fresh faced and inexperienced. Their family influences back in Rome often bought their position, as active duty stood them in good stead for a future life in politics. Shadowing a Legatus gave them a unique insight into the workings of the Roman military. In reality, they acted as clerks to the Legatus and though they enjoyed the trappings of military privilege, in times of battle they retreated to the shadows to watch and learn.
‘Lucius,’ said Vespasian, ‘you have done well. I will organise the defences, you see to your men and get some sleep.’
‘But my lord…’
‘But nothing,’ said Vespasian, ‘you need the rest. If what you say is accurate, the pursuers are no more than a few hundred strong and provide no serious threat to a Legion. Report back here in the morning and join the war council. I will expect accurate report as to the enemy locations so ensure you are well rested. You have done well, centurion, now go and see to your command.’
‘Yes my lord,’ said Lucius and left the tent before making his way over to the barrack lines where he knew his men would be located.
* * *
The rain had long stopped as the new day dawned and hundreds of men peered over the ramparts into the cold mist beyond. Despite their numbers, the silence was absolute as every man strained to hear any noise from the surrounding forests, for it was well known the Celts favoured the dawn attack.
Down on the floor of the camp, units of archers with extra quivers of arrows waited to be deployed to any area of the fortifications should an attack come and behind them, row after row of Legionaries stood in reserve.
In the centre of the camp, all the remaining cohorts were on parade, again waiting for deployment should the need arise. Every man was wet through from the dawn mist, but the nearness of potential battle meant every heart beat faster, pumping the hot blood through their veins in expectation. In the headquarters tent, a group of men stood around the planning table, waiting for the arrival of their commanding officer to lead the war council.
The flap opened and every man turned to salute the Legatus.
‘As you were,’ he said and looked around the room as he removed his cloak. ‘Report readiness.’
The camp prefect stepped forward.
‘My lord, the fort is battle ready. All scout units are in the field and report no threat.’
‘Cavalry?’ asked Vespasian.
‘Already patrolling the hills, my lord, with more at the followers’ camp along with a cohort of Batavians as you requested.’
‘Good,’ said Vespasian, ‘the last thing we need are those civilians panicking and clouding our judgement. Right, Lucius, show us what you found on patrol.’
For the next hour, Lucius leaned over the animal skin map of the land of the Durotriges, drawn from the accounts of prisoners and informers. Calmly and clearly, he described the country he had followed over the previous ten days, pointing out safe routes, places of potential danger and any obstacles they had encountered. Where something was mentioned that was not already represented on the map, a junior officer sketched it in with chalk, knowing the cartographer would draw the detail later with inks.
Questions came thick and fast as each officer probed the centurion for details that affected their own forces and Lucius answered each the best he could. His role as a scout centurion meant he was used to taking in detail and his concise answers meant everyone soon had the information they needed. Eventually Vespasian was happy; he had gleaned as much information as he could and he called for quiet around the tent.
‘Lucius,’ he said, ‘as usual your information is excellent and you have our gratitude.’ He turned to face the rest of his officers. ‘Overnight I have sent men into the follower’s camp and dug out a couple of local traders. At first, they were reluctant to talk but were soon convinced otherwise. The fort to our front is the base for a clan leader called Eadric, a minor chief but one with big ambition. He is known as being arrogant but a good war leader and has designs on the leadership of the entire Durotriges. I fear he may see the encroachment of an invading army as opportunity to show his worth in battle. Defeat us, and the other clans will come running to join him. It is an irritating itch but one that needs scratching.
‘There is no way we can continue south leaving an aggressive tribe in our wake,’ he continued, ‘so we will send a message into the heart of these people demanding their surrender. Lucius, you will lead the cavalry back to the area of the hill fort. Take the prisoners with you and make sure they are well versed in our demands. When you are a day’s ride away, send them in with my message. Tell them we are willing to accept their surrender on favourable terms, but we will ask only once. Failure to accept or even respond will result in their annihilation.’
One of the Tribunes stepped forward.
‘My lord,’ he said, ‘I applaud your decision but would ask if we shouldn’t wait until we know their strength?’
‘You are right,’ said Vespasian, ‘the decision has wings but we cannot afford to wait. The Catuvellauni were the strongest tribe by far yet were no match for our fist. The Durotriges are not well known to us but their numbers will be smaller, at least at the moment. If we give them time, who knows who else will rally to this man’s call. No, we will mobilise the Legion and take advantage of the moment. Tribune Natta, you will take three cohorts in the main column as well as the slingers and a cohort of archers.’ He pointed at a series of valleys on the map weaving their way toward the enemy fort. ‘Your route lies here, heading as an arrow straight to the heart of them. Your role is to form a defensive line here on the plain between these hills. Tribune Lanatus will lead another three cohorts and the rest of the Batavians, shadowing your movements two miles west. Maintain close contact and be prepared to offer support if
required. I will take the remainder south before wheeling east and approach their hill fort from behind. Unless you are challenged on the approach, we will time our arrival for seven days from now. Send word to the engineers to prepare all siege engines, I have a feeling we will need them before the next full moon. You are all good men and I know I need not outline your tactics should you come under attack.’ He paused and looked at the faces of every man around the table. ‘Gentlemen, this is our first time to confront the enemy without the back up of Plautius so let’s get this right. Are there any questions?’
Silence fell in the tent.
‘Good,’ said Vespasian, ‘then strike camp and prepare to march.’
* * *
Four days later, centurion Lucius stood high on a hill awaiting the return of the prisoners with the answer to his demands of surrender. Beside him was his trusted second in command, Optio Vetus, a veteran of many a campaign in several countries. The sun was setting and in the far distance they could make out the campfire smoke of the Durotriges hill fort.
‘What do you think?’ asked Lucius. ‘Will they return?’
‘I fear not,’ said the Optio, ‘they faced the wrath of a Roman Legatus and were released with their lives. Would you return?’
‘Probably not,’ said Lucius, ‘but we will give them until daybreak tomorrow.’ He looked around the landscape before settling his gaze on a nearby hill covered with a tangled willow forest on the opposite side of the valley.
‘Are the men fed?’ he asked.
‘They are,’ said Vetus. ‘I will instruct them to smother their cooking fires before dark.’
‘No,’ said Lucius, ‘let the flames burn themselves out.’
‘But their glow will attract unwelcome eyes.’
‘If the prisoners reach the fort, they will tell them of our position anyway. I want our fires to add credibility to their words. Build up the fires but as soon as it is dark, retrace our steps and circle to that hill beyond the river. It has good all-round vision but enough undergrowth to conceal our mounts. If they send word of response, we will see them coming yet if they sneak upon us like assassins in the night, they will find nothing but embers and horseshit.’
