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

by John Salter

  He waited for the horsemen and the boats to come within slinger range and then gave the signal to open fire. Men and horses were now hit by both arrows and stones as the noise of battle grew louder. Unable to buck and run the horses were easy and large fairly immobile targets for both slingers and archers and they whinnied and snorted as their flesh was bruised and pierced. As he watched he didn’t know if his counter attack would be enough to stop them. He called his spearmen forward as the enemy got to within range and they now joined the fight hurling their javelins down at multiple targets. Men fell from horses and boats and the dead and injured were caught in the water current, taken away from the bedlam downstream. Screams rang out across the river of death as the water ran red with blood but the tide of men, horses and boats kept coming.

  He was aware of his warriors on foot running past him as the first wave of the Romans reached their side of the river. They threw themselves at them hacking and slicing as missiles now from both sides hit where they landed indiscriminately all around. His warriors fought with ferocity and bravery as always and didn’t give any ground but the enemy were getting into their stride and were beginning to methodically stab out from behind their shields as men leapt from their rafts. More men and horses entered the water from the other side and in time the sheer weight of numbers on the front line of the Britons began to tell. His people were now being pushed back and less Roman dead were being taken by the waters flow.

  Looking at the devastating scene just below him he knew something would give and it wasn’t long before his warriors started to retreat as the enemy got a foothold on their side of the riverbank. He looked on helplessly almost frozen as time seemed to slow and stop. A young man’s body broke away from the battle and floated downstream and Caratacus recognised Cunilis, the same man he had tried to encourage earlier was now dead.

  “Retreat.” He shouted and gave the signal with his arm. He didn’t look back as he left the mound and walked to his horse. He briefly saw the shock on the faces of some of his warrior’s men and women alike as he admitted defeat so quickly. He knew he could either watch them fight and die or retreat and survive, he chose the latter.

  “To Camulodunum, retreat.” He bayed once more and didn’t look back.

  Varro was surrounded by men cheering and banging their swords against their shields as the Britons began their retreat. He didn’t feel like a celebration was in order looking at all the devastation around him. Most of the men were now stationary but a few still fought those few stragglers who had decided to stand and fight or who hadn’t realised the battle was over in the midst of the mayhem. The remaining Britons were routed and finished off quickly as they were vastly outnumbered. A trumpet sounded as the men of the legions walked ashore and gathered on the far bank and then pushed further onto firmer ground. The main force of the Britons were still retreating, they had clearly had enough and weren’t going to fight as they had at the Medway.

  Orders were quickly sent out around the different cohorts. They were not to pursue the enemy but were to stand firm and secure the area which meant digging defences. As the river water cleared of blood, dead bodies were dragged ashore and lined up separately a line of Britons and a line of their own. It was apparent that there were far more dead Britons than Romans, probably a ratio of four to one and their line stretched along the riverbank some way.

  Riders were sent east to try and recover other dead that had been taken by the current. Despite the retreat of the Britons, heavy infantry were now formed up and began to advance behind the cover of their shields. They were ordered to move to a distant spot designated by woodland and stop approximately a hundred paces short. This would enable the rest of the army to get across the Tamesa safely without fear of a counter attack. Engineers were already putting together a bridge that would allow more troops to cross.

  Defensive palisades would be dug and a base of operations established, this would ensure that they kept what they had gained. Varro saw Plautius cross the river on a small boat with Vespasian close behind on another with his senior officers their red cloaks billowing in the breeze. As some men took the opportunity to dress wounds others drank from water sacks and the more seriously injured were carried to an area where surgeons and doctors already waited.

  He saw one legionary being carried by four others with a spear through the trunk of his body. The tip of the weapon had somehow found its way through his segmented armour. He was screaming in agony with each jarring step, the invasion for him was over.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Caratacus and his army retreated all the way back to the safety of Camulodunum. Some of them were on war chariots that hadn’t even got involved in the fighting this time as the retreat had occurred so quickly, some were on horseback, others in carts but most were on foot. At first the inhabitants ran out of the enormous wooden walled settlement in celebration, great beaming smiles all over their faces, arms outstretched in greeting, until they saw the expressions and demeanour of the warriors coming towards them. Quickly their mood changed and they began to help those who had been injured in the battle and it became apparent that the river crossing by the enemy had turned into a rout.

  As the new King entered the great open gates, women wailed mourning the loss of so many of their people and significantly Togodumnus as word spread of his death. Caratacus suddenly realised that he had always associated the great gates with happiness, security, feelings of well-being and safety but today was different. Today he felt empty, devastated and devoid of anything normal, how had this come to pass? A great darkness had descended over him and the place he had called home as a child as he looked into the faces of those standing watching them return.

  People rushed to get the injured inside the many roundhouses and to get them treatment. Cries of agony from bleeding warriors and the wailing and screaming filled his ears from all around, his senses were bombarded with grief. He saw his wife Mott, for the first time since the battles and his eyes welled up with tears, he didn’t try to stop them.

  “Come with me quickly.” She said. “You can’t let the people see you like this.” She grabbed his hand before he could say anything and led him through the low houses and woods that made up part of the great settlement and to the home of his brother. Ducking down under the low door he walked inside and for a second couldn’t see anything as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

  “We have to go, leave.” He said turning to Mott.

  “Go? Go where husband, this is our home now. This is Camulodunum, where else are we supposed to go?” There is nowhere left. She looked into his eyes her face confused almost angry.

  “They….the Romans” he began, “won’t stay where they are you know that, they’ll come straight here and slaughter every living thing. What are we supposed to do, what else would you suggest, wait and be massacred, is that what you’re saying wife?” He paused, “I can’t stop them I’ve tried time and time again and look what happened. They’ve killed hundreds of our people maybe thousands.” He heard crying from somewhere outside as someone quickly walked passed with their own personal grief.

  “Our people can expect more of this when they get here,” he continued, “but it will be worse, they’ll raise this place to the ground if we try and defend it. They have machines that are unstoppable and the men are too well protected inside their body metal.” He looked at the smoke hole in the roof above and saw the blue sky above, it looked serene most unlike his reality below.

  “What do you suggest we do husband flee, run away from our homes, our lives, all of us? I would rather die where I stand.” Mott said rage now written over her pretty face.

  “And what of the people, their families, friends, our own children, we have generations of people here. What about the old, I can’t ask them to leave they wouldn’t last a few days and would slow us down with the Romans pursuing us.” He replied his frustration clear.

  She was silent for a while. “Then we have to go with those who can survive, move quickly a
nd fight. I will not stay here only to accept slavery or worse. I will not let that happen to our children, I’d rather take a blade to them and myself right now.” Mott said.

  “I would as well.” He sat on the straw packed bed with his head in his hands. “If we do leave there’s a chance that the Romans will leave our people alone,” he looked up at his wife, “not kill them or sell them into slavery I mean. If we stay and fight one thing is certain, they’ll wipe us out.” He stood pacing, “I’ll ask those who are able to join me,” he paused adding, “us. We can’t fight them as we have so I have to find another way. Even if we had the same weapons they would defeat us because they hide behind theirs shields, they fight without honour.”

  Mott stopped his pacing by placing her hands on his shoulders, he stared at her anger flaring in his eyes. She was considerably shorter than him with fair long brown hair tied in a ponytail at the back. They had known each other since they were children and had always been close even before their relationship blossomed as teenagers.

  “Caratacus that’s what they do, that’s why they have swept all other opponents aside. They don’t hide,” his stare hardened, “they are wise in their way of war whilst we throw our people onto their shields to die even when we outnumber them they are victorious.”

  He broke free of her and turned away, “At the fort we didn’t throw ourselves at them, we were close to achieving success but those fools of the Dobunni gave up too easily as soon as they began to take heavy injuries.” He ground his teeth and clenched his fists in frustration. “I will not submit or surrender to these Romans. Their Emperor has betrayed the trust of my father and the generations before him and I will hold him personally responsible for my brother’s death. I will now dedicate my life to fighting him and his legions and anyone who sides with them.” He still paced. “Go and tell the chieftains and elders to gather. I will outline my plans to them and the people, all able bodied warriors who wish to come with me can, anyone who wishes to stay here and put their fate in the hands of Rome can do as they wish, I will not hold it against them.” Mott smiled faintly and left leaving Caratacus to pace once more.

  A short time later many chieftains and warriors were gathered to hear his words as he surveyed the crowd from the settlement wall.

  “Loyal people of the Catuvellauni,” he began struggling to control his emotions, “a great dark menace has come to our land and now threatens to destroy all that we have come to know. Many of you will have seen the devastation wreaked upon our warriors in battle. At this moment the enemy will be massing ready to advance again.” He paused letting the words sink in, his audience silent.

  “This time it’s different, this time they advance on our home and if we chose to stand and fight…..we not only risk defeat but we risked total destruction. These people have no honour and they will utterly destroy our people if we stand and fight and if we chose to now, we will almost certainly lose.” Those gathered below muttered and mumbled amongst themselves at his words.

  “My family has always led the people of the Catuvellaunia as you know. I believe we have always had the interests of the people at heart. With that in mind I cannot risk this great place, the home of our forefathers being turned to dust and ash along with you and your families.”

  The audience had stopped mumbling to each other now and looks of confusion were exchanged, he continued, “I plan to leave and take as many warriors with me who want to continue to fight. The Trinovantes are a day’s march away and have said they will join us but only their young, the strong, those able to join the struggle. I will take those from here, those who wish to fight and get away from this place.”

  “What about those you leave behind?” An old woman shouted.

  “The Romans will kill every single living thing if we stay and fight here. If the warriors leave, those who are left will be at their mercy but even they will not kill just for the sake of killing. I will not abandon you I swear and I will return one day but I have to find another way to fight them. I have to gather more people for that fight and I cannot and will not witness the death of my entire people and place of birth, the place where I have so many memories.”

  A total silence now met his words.

  “Those who are able and those who are willing to follow me must now make a choice and that choice is this….leave and fight but leave behind what you have known or stay and await their Legions.” He looked around at the faces staring up at him and saw sadness, desperation and confusion.

  “I go now to prepare for the journey. Any who wish to join me are welcome but I warn you it will be hard and difficult and I cannot guarantee when you will return. I can only guarantee you this……” His vice raised as he shouted, “I will not rest and I will give my last breath to fight these invaders and so must those who choose to join me.” He punched his fist into the air. “I will go to the end of the land but will never give up, never, never, never.”

  Cheers rose up from the crowds as he turned and walked quickly away to prepare for the journey ahead.

  It was a full six weeks later when the massed Roman army approached Camulodunum. The advance had surprised both sides involved in the war but not Plautius as he had decided to inform the Emperor of his progress after the battle of the Tamesa. It gave him and his troops the opportunity to secure their territorial gains and to ensure that harbours were properly established for re-enforcements and supplies. The wounded were treated and men rested, whilst the defences were made more substantial during the pause in fighting.

  Claudius himself had sent word back to his headquarters that he would personally take the surrender of Camulodunum, it was something he thought would never actually happen. The intervening weeks had guaranteed that his army was at its strongest and in the best possible condition for the Emperor’s arrival and in order to continue the conflict against the Britons. He made good use of his time and had negotiated the peaceful surrender of the enemy’s capital. Local chieftains had assured him of their compliance after the battles they had already witnessed and so now waited to be subdued under the terms of the treaty and peace was promised.

  Claudius with a taste for the dramatic had brought with him eleven elephants in order to demonstrate to the Britons, Rome’s power. He now rode the largest of the great beasts at the centre of a long line of the huge animals that were ridden by members of his elite Praetorian guard with columns of heavy infantry behind, flanked by cavalry. The watching faces of Britons could be seen peering out from the settlements walls as the vast army approached.

  Despite assurances that the Britons would not resist, Claudius had decided it wise not to take the chance and believe their words. If the Britons attacked the leading formations, which included him and his beloved elephants, the plan was for him to fall back and allow the battle hardened veterans to assault the vast settlement, which in turn would be reduced to smouldering ash along with every inhabitant.

  With the large animals waving their long trunks around and walking slowly, the army got to within bow range and sharp eyes watched the walls but nothing changed from the people standing on them, they just watched eyes wide. As it turned out, the Britons were true to their word and Claudius, Emperor of Rome, entered the gates of Camulodunum without a drop of blood being spilt.

  He had expected a hero’s welcome from the people that he believed he was freeing from the tyranny of their barbaric ruler but instead of cheers and waving, the people of Camulodunum just stood and stared. A few ran at the sight of the huge animals but most simply watched as he entered their great settlement. Flanked by members of the Praetorian Guard with cavalry and heavy infantry close by he rode beyond the gates and then stopped to take in his victory, silence greeted him.

  Over the coming days he took the surrender of the regional tribal Kings, eleven in total and various lower chieftains and pronounced that Britannia was now a part of the Roman Empire. He gave little thought to other regions or territories and believed that they would fall in line now that Caratacus had been
defeated and Camulodunum was his. He ordered the construction of a temple in his honour and a triumphant arch. A great Roman City would grow on the grounds that had once been Camulodunum and he kept his previous promise that the people would be spared.

  In preparation of the work to be completed some roundhouses were levelled and cleared with word that the Romans would build the Britons concrete houses of brick and stone. Great tents were erected in the meantime in which the Roman leaders and elite lived. Outside the settlement the vast army camped in their regulation patterns covering vast swathes of land with guards patrolling the living quarters inside. On the eighth day, after the celebrations, parades and a few days of hunting, Claudius left and started his journey home satisfied that his work was done taking his elephants with him. Almost immediately work began to transform the barbarian settlement into the islands first city.

  Adminius breathed in as scented oils were rubbed onto his skin. They were blended with a mixture of spices and herbs from all over the empire; the current concoction was a spiced rose scent and mint. He was in one of the many luxury command tents now sited near the centre of what had been Camulodunum as it was transformed. After the lavish parades of Claudius’ triumph over the rebels, small on a scale to those in Rome, he had been given his own tent. As the King in waiting, his scheduled coronation the next day, he suddenly found his status had been elevated by the Romans, if not by his new subjects.

  He lay naked face down on a raised bed enjoying the touch of Asiria, a sign of things to come he thought, as she massaged his shoulders and upper back. Tomorrow he would be crowned King and rightfully take up his place as the leader of the Catuvellauni. Claudius had also taken the surrender of other Kings and leaders, lesser Kings obviously than he would become and the people would see that it was he who now ruled the province of Britannia on behalf of the great Roman Empire. He knew he would face hostility from a minority but didn’t care, he had achieved his aim his ambition and that was all that mattered, they would grow to respect him one way or another.