by John Salter
Copyright John Salter 2013
Second Edition
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For my son and daughter
BLOOD OF ROME: CARATACUS
John Salter
Preface
In 55 BC Rome’s greatest General, Julius Caesar, landed two full legions of soldiers and a regiment of cavalry from three hundred ships onto the shores of the land known by them as Britannia. He had claimed that this was in response to an ally of Rome, King Commius of the Atrebates tribe in the southern lands, being ousted and forced to flee the enormous island by another King, Cunobelin, of the Catuvellauni.
Caesar intended to return Commius to his throne but was met with resistance from warrior Britons, a fierce and hostile people. Realising that the expedition had been badly prepared against such a dangerous foe and as bad weather hindered further progress, he and his army were forced to retreat to Gaul.
The following year he tried again, this time accompanied by a fleet of over eight hundred ships, five legions and four regiments of cavalry, an invasion force of virtually thirty thousand trained men. Although he succeeded in returning the exiled Commius to his throne, his forces were attacked by local tribes led by Cunobelin, who harassed his columns, destroyed his supply lines and eventually forced him to retreat back to Gaul once more.
Nearly a hundred years later, Roman legions returned to Britannia, this time another member of the Catuvellauni and descendant of Cunobelin, Caratacus resisted their every step.
This is his story
BLOOD OF ROME
CARATACUS
Chapter One
It was almost the middle of summer AD 43, when a vast fleet set sail from Gesoriacum in Gaul for the distant shores of Britannia. The Emperor Claudius had spent the last two years planning for this enterprise to finally conquer the land that had not once but twice repelled the great General Julius Caesar and his own legions. Claudius’s predecessor, the insane and unpredictable Caligula, had also embarked on an invasion but had been killed by his own Praetorian guard before his plans were allowed to come to fruition.
The Senate and the legions had been humiliated when instead of setting sail across the channel, Caligula had briefed his army on the shoreline of Gaul and ordered them to collect pebbles, shells and stones and to launch them as missiles into the sea. He then claimed victory over Britannia but before redeploying his forces elsewhere, instructed them to build a lighthouse from the pebbles on the beach. This was his monument to celebrate the victory over the Britons after which, his legions were dispersed around the Empire to the astonishment of the Senate.
The Praetorian Guard knew that if Rome’s fortunes were to grow and her full potential was to be realised, Caligula would have to die and a more astute and clear minded leader take his place. Now a little over two years after his death, the huge fleet of nearly one thousand vessels blanketed the water as they slowly made their way across the channel to the distant island. A land where it’s warriors were known to use chariots for war, make human sacrifice to their gods and fight almost naked in battle, men and women alike.
Despite the conflicts with Caesar previously, an uneasy peace had settled between the Empire and some regions of Britannia, trading eventually grew with tribes willing to exchange goods, materials and livestock. However, nearly a hundred years later after Caesar, Claudius saw that he had an ideal opportunity to gain favour with the masses of Rome, the Senate and the army and knew that a victory over Britannia would boost his popularity.
He had finally decided that it was time that the primitive barbarians known as Britons, were brought to heel under the boots of the Empire. Some tribes had already received promises of neutrality and peace; the agreement not to resist was rewarded with gold and further pledges of wealth and client Kingdoms in what would be the next Province.
Unhappy with the dominance of the most powerful tribal regions controlled by the Catuvellauni in the south and east of the country, a few lesser chieftains even pledged to fight alongside Roman forces, Briton against Briton. A few nobles also saw an opportunity to elevate themselves and swore their loyalty to the Emperor after defecting completely or after being exiled. Most notably Adminius, son of the King of the Catuvellauni, Cunobelinus and brother to Caratacus, changed his allegiance to Rome after being exiled by his own father.
Cunobelinus had ruled these lands all his life as had his father and grandfather before him. His ancestors had even fought Caesars great armies and helped send them home but as time went by treaties were drawn up and trading was established. The power hungry Adminius had broken treaties by raiding other lands and had argued that his father should ally himself fully with Rome against other Britons. His father had refused exiling him to Gaul naming Togodumnus, another son, his successor. Adminius completed his defection fully by seeking the assistance of the Emperor, with his aid he intended to return to his rightful land where he would cooperate with Rome’s wishes as a client King, after the death of his brother Togodumnus and all others who stood against him.
The vessels of the fleet now moved like a giant shadow covering the sea before them. Hundreds of dots from a distance seemed to merge into one enormous entity, appearing to change the colour of the blue water, black and white, the colours of the dark wood of their hulls and white of their sails. All was not well aboard the vessels however, as rumours had spread throughout the army that the campaign ahead was cursed and likely to be the most difficult the soldiers had ever encountered. They were told that death and destruction awaited them in the lands that lay across the water.
To the common soldier, the inhabitants who were to be their enemy were barbarians, said to infest the enormous island, living in tribal conditions in little more than mud huts and fighting against each other as they had for decades and centuries before. Since Roman explorers and envoys had first set foot on the land, it had always been a target on the Empire’s north western frontier. Britannia had lay waiting, unconquered and divided by warring chieftains for a ruler who would unify the tribes.
Near rebellion had spread like disease through the ranks of the men aboard the ships and a mutiny had narrowly been averted right up until the last few days before departure. The soldiers knowing that even the great Caesar had failed to capture the land were superstitious enough to believe that Britannia could not be conquered. Stories were rife in the legions that the inhabitants had used demons and magic to destroy Caesars army, many of whom were drowned at sea by serpents during vicious storms. It was after all an island at the edge of the known world, where all manner of strange creatures and magic were said to exist.
Mysticism was rife throughout the Empire and in the streets of its pagan cities where soothsayers could be found in back streets plying their trade and divining the future. Animal entrails from sacrificed animals were studied to identify a person’s future fortunes as well as pledges to all manner of gods. Pagans were very superstitious and if any sign was deemed to be a bad omen, word of its existence would spread like fire and it would be avoided at all costs.
Long before the invasion, the Britons had been told of the large force gathering in Gaul and u
nder the leadership of Togodumnus, had amassed a huge army of over one hundred thousand warriors to greet them on their shores. Chieftains and their war bands had been recruited from all over the south from all those regions willing to fight. They had waited for weeks whilst their families tended crops and cared for their livestock at home.
However, just as Spring had begun that year when the fleet was originally due to set sail, superstition took hold of the campaigning legions and despite all the efficient organisation and planning of General Aulus Plautius Silvanus, the overall commander, his men were now reluctant to take part in the war. Stories were repeated from one soldier to the next of the unimaginable horrors that awaited them and they refused to board the ships.
Plautius sent word to Rome of the delay and Claudius dispatched his own chief of staff, Narcissus to deal with the matter. He travelled to the port to resolve the problem with promises of riches for all those who took part in the campaign. Upon his arrival at the camp Plautius called an assembly where he and Narcissus stood on a raised dais, he began to address the assembled legions. However, before Narcissus could repeat the Emperor’s promise of wealth, he was shouted down and ridiculed as the men knew he was a former slave and now merely a freedman and therefore not a true Roman in their eyes.
Narcissus was jeered and began to quickly leave the platform to laughter and cheers from the gathered men who shouted insults, “Hooray for the Saturnalia”, referring to when slaves could actually wear the same clothes as their masters in late December every year. Narcissus reddened clearly embarrassed and humiliated by their words, turned to the General, rage building in his face. Plautius also angered by his men’s behaviour, furiously shouted for order and demanded quiet from those assembled.
“Will you follow me then? A true Roman and receive rewards?” He began. “The Emperor himself has promised every single man a bonus and land, for all those who take part in the forthcoming campaign.”
Those listening went quiet.
“Together we will conquer all those who stand before us,” he paused, “I guarantee success and fortune.” He waved his arms at the assembled equipment waiting to be loaded on the docks and at the ships in the harbour, “We will not be bested and defeated by druids and fools who live on butchered meat and milk like animals, we are Rome, we are soldiers of the Empire.”
Men began to cheer, at first single odd voices in the masses.
“Are we the legions of Rome, afraid of men who live lives in little more than mud huts, who rely on their women to fight for them and paint their skin to hide their sallow weak flesh?” He surveyed the men before him and saw that some individuals were excitedly talking to others and encouraging them. The General drew his gladius from its sheath and pointed it to the heavens.
“The gods are with us and Mars God of war himself looks down on you now, with him at our side victory is assured. Join me,” he looked up, “join us and your commanders and together we will conquer that barbarian place called Britannia. With four full legions, thousands of auxiliaries, cavalry and artillery we will smash all those who stand before us.”
He lowered his sword and then pointed it out into the channel and quickly the attitude of the men began to alter. They exchanged looks and stopped their sarcastic calls and started to shout the name of Plautius now agreeing to go to war. Thousands of voices chanted, “Plautius, Plautius.” He turned to Narcissus, who fumed and left the platform to cat calls from the men nearby, his journey not entirely wasted.
Subsequently that night the ships had begun their journey carrying their deadly cargo westward. The refusal to board the ships and the subsequent delay however, had taken many weeks all told and the usual campaigning season was already well underway. The Britons in the meantime had heard through traders of the legions refusal to take part in the invasion and had dispersed from the southern shores back to their settlements and families believing that like Caligula’s invasion of a few years before, this one wouldn’t happen either.
Although Britannia was to be the furthest point west these men had journeyed, their boots would be on the beaches of foreign soil the next day. Almost to a soldier they where captivated by their own thoughts wondering who amongst them would survive to see the sun rise again in the days ahead. The fleet slowly moved across the water, oars aiding sails, drums beat rhythmically like the mighty heartbeat of the gods, timing the strokes and propelling them to the land that would be the next Province of the most powerful country and Empire in the known world.
Druids were said to be all powerful, pagan religions ruled the lands where the tribes still performed human sacrifice to their gods. Warriors were known to cover their skin with a substance called woad, a plant extract, when they fought in battle, many had images tattooed onto their bodies. The hair was spiked outward in lime to make them look more ferocious, their body hair shaven except for their heads. Britannia was indeed a primitive and barbaric place where the soldiers expected to sustain heavy casualties and the loss of many of Rome’s sons.
The land would be dominated, decimated if necessary and brought to book. Client Kingdoms would be established and the mineral wealth distributed throughout the Empire. Emissaries had travelled to the rich green country the year before in the knowledge that some of the inhabitants had aided Gallic allies in Gaul. They had met with two of the brothers of Adminius who ruled one of the larger tribes in the southern part of the islands, Togodumnus and Caratacus but they had refused to become just another Province and clients of Claudius. They were known to have unified some of the tribes under their banner and were now refusing to pay tributes in the form of taxes and had denied all attempts at persuading them to join the Empire. The men of the Second Augusta led by their Legate, Titus Flavius Vespasian were now determined to show them the error of their ways, along with the men of three other legions.
The soldiers were packed into the war galleys and supply ships with equipment and animals and now couldn’t wait to get to dry land. The smell and noise, together with the constant rolling waves of the sea had already made many sick much to the amusement of some of the crew and marines. They had waited in Gaul for months whilst their forces gathered, their refusal to board the ships had hindered their progress further but now they now wanted nothing more than to get to what was said to be the largest island in the known world and onto firm ground.
Preparations were already underway for farmers, their families, builders and merchants to follow the first wave of vessels in order that the island could be made into the next Province. It was intended that in a short time the indigenous population would soon see the benefits of joining the other cultures and countries that now enjoyed the benefits of the eternal City. Philosophy, wealth and education would follow as it had in other lands that profited from an alliance with their Roman masters. A much different destiny awaited those that resisted and they like others before them in Gaul would be crushed under the eagle standards that now approached their lands.
Although Centurion Tiberius Albinus Varro was from Rhegium, located on the southeast coastal tip of his homeland, a large sprawling port, he didn’t like the sea or anything to do with it. He didn’t previously believe that the naval crews were worthy of military recognition. Not just because they were not as highly trained and less paid than he and his colleagues but because he considered that they were on a lower level, on the military scale when all was considered. They went to war at sea, whereas the men of the Second Augusta waged their battles on land, where wars were actually won and victories secured. He now however, admitted a grudging respect for these sailors and marines whose weather beaten faces creased in grimaces as they worked the sails and strained to propel them forward.
It was common knowledge that the men who manned the military vessels were ranked below their legionary counterparts and even below the auxiliaries that were drawn up from many conquered lands. The navy was considered by most to be an inferior force altogether, it was younger than the infantry and had only come into being because of Car
thage and it’s seaborne threat.
However, Varro had now developed some admiration for the miles or manipularis marines, as they referred to themselves and not just as sailors. They were providing an invaluable service to the Empire as this journey and its preparation were proof of. The Emperor was spreading the eagle’s wings and men on foot alone could not achieve victory without the aid of their water borne comrades. His legion was at full strength and the five thousand infantry and nearly one thousand cavalry had trained and re-trained whilst waiting to board the ships for the short but uncomfortable journey across the channel. They were happy to be on the move at last and on their way after the dull routine of training and listening to superstition and rumours in their temporary garrison camp.
Varro was physically slightly shorter than most of the men in his company but only by an inch or two, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in breadth and pure physical strength. Naturally broader than most, he had built on that by training with large pots filled with water and logs cut from thick trees for years. He and his closest companions had pushed their bodies to the limit, training everyday to try and ensure that they were at their best when the time came to jump from the boats. His skin had a slight olive tint and his short wavy black hair was cut close to his head. A tight and neatly trimmed black beard made his features quite distinguished and almost uniquely Greek looking.
He and his men although mounted, were part of the Equites Legionis who were a form of cavalry attached to the legion but were actually regular legionaries taken from the ranks. Different legions had varying numbers of Equites Legionis from one hundred and twenty to one thousand troops, in addition to auxiliary cavalry. They generally worked independently as scouts or messengers and were employed in carrying out special duties on behalf of their Legate and were commanded by Centurions unlike the Decurion’s of the auxiliary units. Varro commanded the scouts of the Second Augusta and therefore liked to ride horses, what he didn’t like was boats.
