Blood of Rome: Caratacus (The Blood of Rome Chronicles Book 1)

by John Salter

  “It makes you wonder why we don’t use them still if they’re so valuable.” Quintus said still admiring the artwork on the side of the chariot.

  “We don’t use them because we don’t need them.” Varro said. “But that’s only because we have the manpower to get round it. Our cavalry make up the speed in battle, our columns make up the numbers tenfold on the battlefield and our wagons and horses, mules and oxen carry the other equipment needed. It comes down to what you have I suppose and what you’re used to having, I can see advantages to both. Besides I trust Staro here,” he said giving his horse a pat on the nose, “if he was rigged up to another horse, I don’t know how he would behave.”

  Tevelgus said, “Our horses are trained from an early age to pull the chariots. Children are given small versions to break them in when they are young so they are used to them at a very early age.” He saw Quintus admiring the art work on the wood of the chariot. He pointed to the swirling patterns carved into the wood. “They are never-ending circles that represent life, a very important symbol for us.”

  As the group settled down to rest, Varro and Quintus decided on a plan of action. Varro and Decimus had to get new equipment and they could only find that with the Legion and hopefully at the same time they would find Marcus and Lucius. Quintus and his men would scout forward and try to find a good ambush point for Caratacus.

  Brenna brought them food and together the two groups rested while the horses paddled in the stream and fed on the lush, rich grass at the side of the water.

  “Caratacus was still heading west when we last saw him and his army. In another two or three day’s he will be at the Regini land far to the west.” Brenna began, “I cannot say how the Regini will react. They may try to repel Caratacus or they may join with him. He could double his strength in a matter of days and I’m sure he will have already sent riders ahead to talk to them. You could be facing far more warriors than you or your General ever expected very soon.”

  “That maybe the case but I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. In Gaul we faced five to one enemies, sometimes six and still we were victorious. It maybe that Vespasian would actually welcome an alliance between Caratacus and other tribal leaders. They would be bolder with greater numbers and throw themselves at the shields and spears of the Legions with greater abandon. Your warriors have the bravery of any we have ever faced in battle but their bravery is also their downfall, their tactics are old and not well thought out. Hurling the bravest man at a pointed sharpened blade is foolhardy at best and stupid at worst and a tragic waste of life. I wish I had ten Legions of Britons, trained and schooled in our ways, with them I could conquer the entire world.”

  Brenna regarded him with an expression approaching disdain, it was the first time he had experienced such a feeling, “Why war Varro, why killing? Is there not a different way for such an enlightened people like yours to exist and co-exist with others? Can’t there be another way for those who have taken so much from the Greeks?”

  Varro regarded her with an expression she had never seen before and responded angrily, “The Greeks are nothing more than subservient boy fuckers Brenna. They like nothing more than to shag twelve year olds and then stare at the night sky. The only true warriors that place ever spawned were Spartans and look what Greece did to them after they had saved them from invading Saracens.”

  She stared at him, “Whilst I’m not sure of their sexual preferences Varro and nor do I know what their country did to them eventually, I did not mean anything detrimental to you or yours. I merely wish to exist in peace and for those around me to do so.”

  “Your naivety surprises me sometimes Brenna. With so many warring tribes even in your own country I’m amazed that you’re still alive.” He checked the war axe that Tevelgus had given him. He continued, “I’m sorry too it’s hard to have a different opinion of others when all you have known is war. There are people out there that will slit your throat without even blinking and take your animals and children and use them as they choose. I would love to live in this world you see believe me, we all would but that’s another reason why we do what we do. One day our children or our children’s children will live in that world and all this death will have been worthwhile.”

  She smiled, “When that day comes, we will have all reached a level where we deserve to live in peace. I just hope your right and that the day you speak of comes soon.”

  The group rested and ate together before moving off in separate directions, Quintus to the west with his men scouting for Caratacus and a possible ambush site and Varro towards the safety of the second Legion and replacement weapons and armour. Varro realised that it had actually been tranquil near the stream with the relaxing trickle of the water and the sound of birds in the trees and surrounding area and wondered when he would feel like that again.

  Chapter Eight

  The sun was descending in the sky by the time Varro and his small party reached the outer defences and sentries of the Second Augusta. After a difficult approach made almost deadly by their local clothing an Optio had them escorted into the inner defences and past the palisades. Now the rest of the group were fed and watered as Varro briefed the senior officers and introduced Brenna and Tevelgus. They briefed them about their recent experiences and the Britons were questioned about the local lands and people. As they returned to the others he saw that Marcus and Lucius had found them.

  “Marcus, Lucius,” the smile on his face unable to hide his relief that they were safe. He clasped they’re arms but sensed something from them, “What, what is it?”

  Lucius replied, “We got the bitch that killed Veranius.” He looked at Marcus, “Marcus made sure that she will never hold a knife to another soldier ever again.”

  Marcus made no comment, there was merely a cold look of satisfaction in his eyes that meant that he didn’t have to say a word. Varro knew that she would have been made to suffer as she went to the next life and that was all he could ask. He looked at Brenna her expression also requiring no words. There wasn’t any sign of sympathy for the dead woman, she turned and saw to the horses

  They shared some watered wine and food, fresh bread and olives and sat watching the flames of the fire one of the men had started. Varro had known that the invasion of Britannia would prove hard but it was only now that he was beginning to realise just what price they were going to have to pay to conquer this land. They had only been on the shores a few days and already hundreds of dead heroic citizens were fertilising the soil beneath their boots. It was going to be a long campaign as the months stretched into years and maybe even decades but it was the way of things for a centurion and all the Legions who had come here, it was their life, it was how he and they lived.

  Brenna saw the worry and concern in his eyes but knew that words alone wouldn’t help. She realised that she wanted to wrap herself around him, remove his clothing, wash his body and lose herself in their combined sensuality but now was not the time or the place. As dawn broke, the smell and crackle of the much reduced fire woke Varro. He was surprised to find Brenna lying next to him, her big brother still sleeping nearby. He sat up looking around as the Legion began to come to life all around.

  Soldiers were returning from guard duty or swapping over duties laughing and joking with their counterparts. Breakfast was being cooked as the smell of cooking meat and bread wafted over to him. Horses were being fed and shod, blacksmiths hammers sounded and the more lively horses were whinnying in the distance. Weapons were being sharpened and oiled, men were briefed in small groups and patrols mounted and the sun wasn’t even properly above the horizon.

  An hour later wearing new armour and carrying replacement weapons Varro and his small group rode out of camp. He gently kicked at his horse whilst acknowledging a guard who saluted as he rode passed. The guard watched as they cantered away wondering where they were going in this hostile land away from the safety of the Legion and said a silent prayer to the gods in thanks that it wasn’t him going into the wilderness and
for their protection.

  Some hours later they began to see familiar land marks.

  “I suggest we go to my settlement. We can get some help and bolster our numbers and then go and find Caratacus.” Brenna said. Varro nodded in agreement as they trotted forward to an area where visibility was being to beginning to fade.

  Eerily through the mist and fog, very slowly, high manmade embankments began to emerge. Further up, high up there on the hill, the upper parts of trees could be made out. The soldiers stood in their columns staring up at the emplacement some three hundred feet above them. It was the first such fortified encampment the Second Augusta had found since crossing the sea and it filled some of the less experienced with dread. The builders of this settlement had used the natural isolated hill as it dominated the land around and it made a perfect home for its inhabitants.

  The Britons had obviously constructed this hill fort sometime in the past, probably to fend off neighbouring tribes. They had made the best use of natural resources and defences building it so high using height, trees and the earth itself, that had been dug out from the surrounding hillside and then built up to make high steep walls. Large trenches had been dug out of the hillside circling around the large prominence and the excess material had been used to build up the large mud packed walls slightly further up. It made the fortification easily defendable and an extremely hard emplacement to attack. That thought was now going through the minds of thousands of assembled soldiers gathered below its slopes.

  Only two entrances or exits had been found at opposite sides of the hill fort with clearly defined tracks leading to both. Wagons had worn paths down the hill and in through the woods below. It would prove a difficult target where the defenders had every advantage. The Romans could choose to siege the fort and go round and continue their advance west but that wasn’t their way and so the army began to dig in and make preparations to assault the site. Early reconnaissance had suggested that there were over fifty dwelling houses inside which could mean over five hundred warriors armed and prepared to fight to the death to defend their families and land.

  Once in a while a horse could be heard from inside the fort along with other animals as smoke from various fires reached for the blue skies from within, so far it had been the only evidence of habitation. The mist now barley clung to the trees as it had since the area was first discovered three days before by Varro and his small group. Brenna had gone forward and had tried to persuade the inhabitants to talk to the Romans but they had refused and threatened to hang her from the nearest tree, her influence had no sway this far west. She watched now some hundreds of feet away and wondered at the hill forts fate. The Legions strength could not be denied but the natural advantage here was with her fellow country men and women.

  As tactics of the attack were finalised by Vespasian and his officers, an iron fist enclosed the huge hillside. Roman forces had now encircled the area completely and the defiant Britons were alone, cut off from any help or rescue. Vespasian knew the chance of anyone coming to their aid was remote because of their tribal nature and had taken his time preparing for the inevitable attack. Neighbouring areas were at best lived with side by side at worst bitter enemies although some alliances were not to be ruled out entirely. He thought they were too primitive to organise themselves properly but hill forts like the one towering above them, proved a different threat.

  All around him the instruments of war were dragged, towed and pulled into place as men and horses toiled. Varro stood nearby and saw the gathered officers talking and pointing up to the hill. He felt his stomach lurch as he contemplated the days ahead and looked around him wondering who of those he saw would still be breathing in two or three days’ time. In comparison to recent battles in Gaul this would be a minor skirmish but it was like a boil and it had to be lanced.

  Heavy infantry troops were briefed in their columns, as were the light, archers and artillery crews and even the equestrian, the Britons surely didn’t stand a chance he concluded so why fight and die, would he if he were on the opposite side? He thought that he probably would if men from a foreign land had come and threatened his way of life. Men, women, children and livestock were about to die and be erased from the earth because their leaders had chosen to fight. The encased Britons had been given three opportunities to surrender and had turned all of them down and so now the butchers prepared their tools before the bill could be paid.

  The enemy’s leader a tribal chieftain called Cavaltergex had spat in the face of Brenna as she begged him to leave the fort to speak to Vespasian. He had called her a diseased whore and vessel of the invader who would pay dearly for her treachery. These Britons were stubborn but proud and now it was time to start beginning to test their determination to resist.

  Brenna had still tried everything from begging and pleading to giving calm reassurance that Cavaltergex and his people would be treated well and allowed to live their lives as they had always done but it had all failed and fallen on deaf ears. He would not submit to the men below in their gleaming metal armour and so had sealed his own fate and that of all he knew. The assault would begin as soon as the sun was high in the sky the next day. Cavaltergex was breathing his last breaths and was already dead, he just didn’t know it. To defy Rome was to die and be obliterated and join others who had fallen before them, these Britons would enjoy the same end.

  The following morning the sky was clear, remnants of fog clung to the trees above the soldiers but it was the clearest day since they had arrived. With the defences more distinct Varro could see that the Britons had used tree trunks bound together with vines and some other material beyond the mud banks. Rows of spiked walls could be seen as the upper lengths of trees could be observed clearly now. Dark shaded bodies moved between the small gaps in between the wooden walls indistinct from this distance, the defenders waiting for the attack to begin. Several billows of smoke rose into the air from somewhere above and a dog started to bark as if sensing what was to come.

  A trumpet sounded, it was followed almost immediately by the vicious sound of the gathered ballista releasing their huge bolts. Like a row of giant graceful sleek birds they rose towards the hill fort hurtling with startling speed to their target and within seconds found their mark. Most embedded themselves into the wooden fortifications, some falling short and vanishing into the mud embankments buried deep, a few hit flesh as they seared through the gaps in the wood as screams were heard from within. Frantic cries followed and shouting as the Britons experienced something even their wildest nightmares couldn’t have foreseen, Roman warfare. Chunks of wood and giant splinters were thrown into the air exploding as the large arrows found targets a few of the forts walled logs were cleaved in two and gaps began to appear in their ranks.

  Vespasian had ordered that the ballista continue firing until clear entry points were visible in the forts defences. After a time archers were brought forward about one hundred and fifty paces and joined in the murderous hail of fire, raining arrows up into the air to fall down on the inhabitants inside. More cries and screams of pain escaped the large compound above, the Britons were learning and learning well their mistake of defiance.

  Varro watched on from the side lines as the ballista bolts took their toll. He and his party had found the hill fort a few days before and Brenna had tried her best to persuade her countrymen to yield to the advancing army. Two days from now they would ride out again after a well-deserved rest while Quintus and his men rode ahead. In the meantime he watched as the artillery teams toiled to launch their missiles, cranking tight their torsion machines, metal scraped against metal, men heaved and the large arrows loosed and whined as they sped into the air. They were making short work of the wooden walls.

  Heavy infantry now took up their shields and began to move slowly forwards, a centurion signalling for his men to form a testudo, tortoise formation. The men lofted their big shields, those at the front hoisting them to cover their bodies at the front, those inside the column, raised them above
their heads and those on the sides covered any attacks from ground level. As the shields overlapped the centurion vanished into a gap left open in the wall facing Varro and disappeared to give orders on the march, his red converse plume he saw intermittently amongst the shields and was distinct amongst the other helmets.

  They didn’t have to wait long for a response from inside the fort as arrows began to fall, first into the attacking archers and ballista crews, who retreated backwards out of range and then onto the advancing column. Vespasian mounted on his horse ordered another column of heavy infantry forward pointing and waving with his sword to a trumpeter who sounded the advance. The arrows of the defenders landed heavily thumping into the shields of the advancing column assisted by gravity as they swiftly returned to earth. No obvious injuries were visible yet but any screams were drowned out by the rising sound of battle. As the first heavy infantry formed into the testudo and began to pass the area where their archers had been positioned, the shower of arrows became heavier. A horn suddenly broke the sounds of battle as a length of the hill forts defensive wall fell inward. Dust was thrown up as a result from the surface masking exactly what had happened but the infantry continued slowly forward now fully on the steep slope, small steps eating the up the ground between them and the enemy.