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

by John Salter

  “Now that we have established ourselves here on this side of the river,” the commander continued studying the map, “we will push forward today, even if we have to circumnavigate this marsh and the forest beyond. If necessary we’ll encircle the Catuvellauni and starve them out and then destroy them. Centurion,” he turned to Varro, “from the foray into their territory would you show us on the map what we’re facing if you would please.”

  Varro stepped forward surprised that he had even remembered his name and began to explain the details and formation of the ground they would have to cover. A few moments later whilst they were discussing the details of the proposed advancement, Sabinus returned with a man wearing a toga. He looked like a civilian dignitary but Varro was surprised to hear his accent when he was introduced.

  “Gentlemen,” Plautius said, “I would like to introduce you to Adminius exiled brother of Togodumnus and Caratacus, the two men who are leading the fight against us.” The man coloured as if embarrassed by his introduction and the fact that his brothers were fighting against Plautius and his army. He was taller than all the Romans gathered in the tent. He held himself proudly and spoke fluent Latin although heavily accented. He could have been Roman except for the large gold torc around his neck showing that he was in fact a Briton of high status.

  “How can I be of service sir?” He asked, his eyes confidently fixed on Plautius. The commander looked around at his officers, “We were just discussing our options and it would seem that your brothers have wiped out an entire cohort of my Batavian auxiliaries.”

  Adminius looked as if he had been struck by the words, his confident manner evaporated.

  “I don’t know what to say general, for many years I had told them of the benefits of allying themselves with Rome. As you know I was exiled for my thoughts and beliefs that they and my father believed were treasonous. They cast me out because I had the vision to believe that living with the Empire and not fighting against it would benefit all our peoples. They would never listen and I lost everything I had but it was nothing to what I have gained.” He looked at the men around him almost sneering pathetically.

  “Do you think that you would be able to talk to your brothers again under a flag of truce?” Vespasian asked, the other officers gathered around the table exchanged looks of surprise.

  Vespasian continued. “They may have won a small victory in the marshes but that is all. The casualty figures they sustained from yesterday must far outweigh our own and we have re-enforcements landing as we speak. We estimate that they lost over a thousand yesterday and those numbers will only rise when you take into account injuries. They cannot hope to defeat us so surely they can be made to see that?”

  Adminius looked at Vespasian, “These conversations I had many times with them and my father when he was alive. They saw the advantages of living in harmony with Rome, trade and a better way of life but they rejected it and now it has come to this. If you wish me to try and talk to them again I will. I now serve the Emperor and will in any capacity he chooses. It is I and not them who should be the rightful heir to the Catuvellauni throne, they have shown they are not worthy of leading the people. The Emperor knows that I will serve him once they are defeated.” He looked around at the assembled officers. “I will however attempt to persuade them once more if that is your wish. Perhaps they will see the error of their decisions now that they have lost so many souls.”

  Varro studied the man as he spoke and wondered how he could betray his own blood in such a manner but then he also considered his alternatives. Was it better to live as a free man and fight, or to live a life of servitude as a puppet to another man or even to another tribe? Was Adminius really a traitor to his people if his own leadership could afford them a better way of life? It was a difficult question and only one he himself could answer. He had clearly lived in conflict with his family and their way of life all of his own and had paid dearly for that by being exiled. Varro was glad he wasn’t the man that stood before him. He wondered if the Emperor had actually promised him power if his brothers failed, the problem was more complicated than at first it seemed. Once thing was certain, Adminius was a man who would follow where others led whatever the cost as long as it was to his own benefit.

  “My brothers are warriors and proud and they will not yield, they would rather die than live under the yoke of another. They would see it as shame to live that way but maybe after yesterday they have seen the error of their ways although I doubt it.”

  Plautius considered his words. “If I can save the lives of my men I will Adminius. I am not a bloodthirsty barbarian who wishes to wipe out all those who stand before me if there is a real alternative for peace and to save lives on both sides. My mandate is clear in this matter, it is to help you return to what you and others are entitled too however that occurs and by any means. If ultimately that means the destruction of some of your people then so be it.”

  “I want to avoid that as you do but my brothers are different individuals when it comes to politics. I will do whatever it takes and will speak to them if there’s even a small chance it will help and to save the lives of my people.” Varro was impressed by the reply given by Adminius but felt that he would rather see his brothers dead and out of the way.

  “Very well then, we shall attempt to talk your brothers out of their foolish stance and to see if we can garner peace even at this late hour. Be clear about this though Adminius,” the commander paused fixing his gaze on the Briton, “if your brothers chose to fight, we will wipe them out, all of them.” Just as the General finished his sentence an alarm sounded from somewhere outside, it was quickly followed by another and then a third. Trumpeters sounded the general alarm the Britons were attacking in force.

  From the safety of the forts defences beyond the palisades, Plautius surveyed the scene before him whilst inside men ran to their positions to join with their cohorts and maniples as the cavalry mounted their horses and infantry formed up. The guards on the walls had been re-enforced and the artillery teams looked alert stood at their ballista as they watched the terrain. Outside the area had been cleared for many hundreds of feet all around the position. To the north beyond the cleared ground, stood beneath the trees a wall of blue warriors, their hair white with lime. There were thousands of them. As senior officers organised their troops, forming up in pre-arranged columns Plautius gazed out at the wall of blue.

  “I don’t know sir. Maybe they’re waiting for reinforcements from the rear, who knows with these people maybe they’re just trying to goad us into reacting.” A senior Tribune remarked as he stared at the silent mass before him. He turned to the inside of the fort and shouted down to the Cornicen, the man holding the large curling trumpet was waiting for orders. He was standing in front of the Legion that was forming up with a Centurion at his side who was bellowing orders. Dust was thrown up from the feet of the men as they ran and quickly got into position.

  “Cornicen, as soon as the century and cavalry are formed up, sound the advance.” The Centurion ordered as he ran forward waving his vine stick at men to hurry them along.

  Plautius turned and shouted to the senior centurion waiting for the columns to be filled. “Centurion, I want you and the Legion formed up outside at the centre flanked by the auxiliary infantry with the cavalry on the flanks. As soon as you are in position I will join you, understood?”

  “Yes sir.” Shouted the centurion still urging his men to get formed up, saluting he turned to them and gave the order to his subordinate centurions to move and form up outside, his order was repeated by the Cornicen blowing into the large trumpet, his cheeks reddening from the effort. The men of the legion turned to the right and moved off whilst the centurions screamed orders.

  The large doors to the fort at the front and rear were opened at the same time. The cavalry exited from the rear whilst the infantry hurriedly left through the front gate at the double in clear view of the Britons. Twenty paces behind the legionaries were the auxiliary infantry jogging t
o keep up, their equipment rattling as they moved as men fastened buckles and made sure equipment was secure. They had further to travel than the regulars and positioned themselves either side of them. As soon as they were in position the cavalry took up their place on the outer flanks bringing with them a cloud of dust. Plautius watched on with pride as Vespasian broke his concentration. “With your permission sir, I will join the men?”

  Plautius turned and looked at his officer, “Good luck,” he reached out and grasped Vespasian’s arm, “you shouldn’t need it because our men are more than a match for that rabble but I don’t want too many casualties.” He turned to survey the scene below but then turned again and added. “Just think Titus in the years to come people will still know of this day decades, maybe even centuries into the future, just like we talk of Caesar today, on the edge of the Empire defeating all those who stood before us. Remember this day of all days and take care of my Legion.” He said smiling.

  Vespasian smiled, “Don’t worry sir I’ll look after the men, you can count on it. You can also count on them.” Without another word he turned and almost ran to the ladder that would take him to ground level. Adminius joined Plautius on the wall.

  “It looks as if your brothers have signalled their response without your intervention young Adminius and now they will pay for their stupidity.” Plautius said staring at the warriors under the trees.

  Adminius looked out at the two vast armies now facing each other as the dust settled from the cavalry. From this position it was impossible to tell if his brothers were there but he knew they would be somewhere in the midst of the Catuvellauni. He said, “I pity their naivety sir and their stupidity, they could have maintained their lands and power but they chose a long time ago for this day to happen.”

  “Naïve and stupid they maybe Adminius but brave as well, they are fighting for what they believe in, their land, their families and their pride. Could you say such a thing?” The General gave him a look of disgust that shocked the former prince.

  “I made my decision also a long time ago General and that choice was for the benefit of my people to ally them with Rome not to deny that and fight, in order to get wiped out. My brothers will see the error of their ways by paying with their lives and so will thousands of my people, my subjects.” He turned and began to walk away.

  “Pride comes in many guises Adminius and so does bravery.” The Briton stopped and turned but Plautius continued. “If I were out there as I used to be and I was given a choice of who I was to stand beside, your brothers or you hiding behind these walls, my choice would be simple. You see Adminius some of us were born soldiers, it’s not something we choose it’s actually in our blood. It doesn’t matter what the odds are, it doesn’t matter if we wear fine uniforms or nearly nothing at all as your brothers do. We are all brothers, brothers of battle undivided, it is enough to stand and fight, it is a bond that you will never know. Now get out of my sight.”

  Adminius blushed hurt and embarrassed by the commander’s words but he knew he was right but it didn’t matter, he headed towards the ladder. His words had convinced even the Emperor of his loyalty and Claudius himself had thanked him but this underling presumed that he could talk to him as he would a peasant, a coward. Adminius swore to himself that he would make Plautius pay for his contempt.

  Plautius returned his gaze to the front and saw that the Britons had begun to slowly advance. He felt his stomach knot not at the coming battle but at the contempt he felt for Adminius. Clearing his head he asked one of the centurions from his command group how many Britons they faced.

  “It’s hard to calculate sir because of their extended line and many of them are still hidden under the trees. They’re front is far longer than our own and I can’t see any of their chariots. I would estimate that we can see at least ten thousand now.”

  Plautius didn’t answer but could see the Britons line did extend well beyond the width of his own formations and it was an unbroken line unlike the disciplined ranks of his squares. Trumpets sounded from below ordering his men forward and virtually as one the vast columns moved toward the Britons, the cavalry maintaining their position waiting for orders and to see what the enemy did.

  Loud jeers rose above the noise of the marching boots from the blue and white line of the slowly advancing Britons as more emerged from the tree’s thickening their line and swelling their number. The sight of them made a shiver quiver down the spine of Plautius. Most of them he could see carried spears or swords, some swung axes above their freshly limed stark white hair that stuck out from their blue painted heads and torso’s. Had Plautius been a Briton he thought, he had no doubt that today he would have been among their number, not hiding below as Adminius was now.

  Varro watched from the wall of the fort further along from the Generals position. Rumours were spreading through the troops that the Britons had received reinforcements during the night, chariots included. Without their own army dominating the ground to the south it was impossible to tell if these rumours were true or just wild stories. Nevertheless as he watched he now saw chariots appear on the flanks of the enemy. Although a lot of the chariots had been put out of action the day before and their horses hamstrung or butchered some had probably lived but they couldn’t have accounted for the mass that emerged to face them now, these must be re-enforcements.

  “Over one hundred chariots on each flank and counting sir.” He heard an observer shout to the General. Varro swallowed hard, the rumours were true then, they had swelled their numbers considerably.

  Caratacus peeled off from the chariots and drove slowly along the front line of his warriors demonstrating that he was willing to face this threat with his people. In his right hand he held his sword and encouraged the warriors he had assembled by waving it in the air and pointing at the Roman lines facing them. He had seen that as he had predicted, they had concentrated their heavy infantry in the middle with cavalry on the flanks. The wall of helmets and shields from the regular infantry shone in the morning sunlight as they silently advanced. He had seen them first-hand the day before with a red stripe running through the middle from top to bottom and depicting two animals either side of the shield boss at the centre. A flying horse, Pegasus and a leaping Stag painted in bright white against a background of gold. Soon he would have them dripping in blood.

  As he had considered his options for battle earlier that day whilst eating warm mutton, envoys from the Dobunni tribe had arrived with encouraging news. Their King had heard of the invasion and had marched his own army to fight and swell the ranks of his own bringing with them chariots. He now had now swollen his command with over thirty thousand more men and women with the help of his westerly neighbours. Although they were not as skilled in battle as the Catuvellauni, the Dobunni were a welcome addition to the force that now faced the Roman threat.

  Caratacus surveyed the scene before him again and knew that if he advanced too far they would be within range of the mighty machines that hurled huge arrows and bolts across the battlefield. He could see that the enemy had placed a number of them on the walls. He would have to avoid getting too close and was intent on drawing the soldiers out and beyond their range. He could hear trumpets sounding from across the bare land where they had laid waste to everything in order to create a killing field clear of obstructions. He would use that to his own advantage now as it gave the chariots room to manoeuvre and harass the wall of shields and the men behind them.

  He ordered his chariot driver to move forward of his battle line fifty paces to where he could be seen clearly, the chariot rumbled forward and stopped as instructed. He looked at the Roman shields once more and marvelled at their form but knew that he must do his best to destroy them. The ground was virtually clear of dust now as was the sky and the sun shone warming his exposed upper body, only small wispy clouds drifted across the sky above. On another day it would have been pleasant but not today. Today was a day that he knew could well determine the life, death or enslavement of him and hi
s entire people.

  The abuse the warriors shouted at their foe changed when they saw him and began to chant his name as he stood facing them. He calculated that the first of the advancing disciplined rows were now well beyond the effective range of their own machines and bolt throwers, the chances of success had just grown but only marginally. He waited for them to take another fifty paces and heard then saw that the soldiers were now banging their swords against the sides of their shields. He gave the signal for the chariots on the right to advance and they rumbled forward slowly at first building momentum.

  As the chariots built up speed, the warriors cheered watching as they began to race forward arching in at an angle towards the middle of the approaching shield wall. A trumpet sounded from somewhere to their rear and the soldiers stopped as one bringing their shields up. The chariots now at full speed bounced along their drivers skilfully avoiding the tree stumps left in the ground. Each carried at least two others warriors, some three who were armed with spears. As they got to within range they hurled their weapons skyward to great cheers of approval of their kinsmen watching as the first volley of battle was launched.

  The Roman front lines threw their javelins in return but most missed the fast moving chariots or were out of range as they raced past the ranks landing harmlessly. The Romans packed in their tight lines began to take casualties as the men covered up the best they could behind their large four foot shields, looking out from beneath their helmets. Caratacus had known the chariots would prove difficult targets and he was right.

  As the first wave of chariots had nearly cleared the enemy front line he waved for the left side to advance sweeping his sword forward. These chariots gained speed quickly keen to show what they could achieve and by the time they were within range of the front line of shields their passengers, armed with bows unleashed their arrows, not at the front row of legionaries but at those behind. Caratacus could see from his elevated position that helmets fell backward as men died or were injured by the success of the arrows finding flesh and bone through narrow gaps as victims unexpectedly received missiles. Another trumpet sounded and all the squares moved covering themselves from above with their large shields except those at the front. The enemy were now wrapped in shields to the front, side and above and were stationary as the chariots stormed by firing arrows into them.