by John Salter
Caratacus although now a sworn enemy had at least gained some respect as a worthy opponent as the fallen shields of Rome would testify but he was an enemy nonetheless. He would be hunted down whatever the cost and however long it took, time was not a factor but patience was and one of Rome’s greatest virtues was her patience in this regard. Caratacus had highlighted himself as a man and a leader that Rome would not allow to flourish and grow. Important lessons had been learned by individuals who led armies against the might of their Emperor, some of whom had threatened to bring its very walls crumbling down. Caratacus would be pursued for a long as it took, it was said that his wife had fled with him and their children and so now they too would share his fate. Only a complete and utter surrender with no terms may guarantee all their lives and even then he would pay for it with his own in all probability. The Romans also knew that this knowledge now made him and his warriors an even more dangerous foe. He and they would fight to the death as that was what they expected but before that happened they would take as many Roman lives with them they could.
Far away to the west, Caratacus led his large army through the forests of the Durotriges. He had been unsure whether they would be treated as friends or enemies and so had sent riders ahead to speak to the local chieftains and elders. After talks they were to be given free passage through the territory. Word had already reached the people of the Durotriges that the tribes to the east had been defeated by the invaders and they were unsure whether to resist and risk losing everything or to make a treaty with the advancing men of the legions.
Food and shelter was given where possible but no alliances were made, some viewed the army of Caratacus with suspicion as they crossed their lands, rivers and passed the hill forts and settlements along the way. He had warned them of their fate if they chose to lay down their arms which the Romans would demand but still they were undecided, better to rule as an ally of Rome than die as an enemy some had said. They behaved like cowards as far as he was concerned and continued west leaving them to the mercy of Vespasian who he knew was leading the Second Augusta behind him.
As the days began to shorten he knew that if he could stay ahead of Vespasian’s Legion they would be relatively safe as the enemy campaigned in accordance with the seasons. At some point he knew their march would be halted and they would make camp, not for a night but for the entire winter until the first days of spring and then they would begin to march west again. It was when that happened, that major halt, that he intended to start making counter attacks. The Britons did not stop fighting because the rains came or the snow fell and he intended to show them what could be achieved when that happened.
As the weeks passed and the march west continued he had more than enough time to think about what had gone before, the battles, the loss of life and the tactics he had used, things that had to change. He had to find other ways to fight, facing this trained and well-armed foe face to face had not and would not work. Every battle had turned into a defeat, something he wasn’t used to experiencing. He considered every option available to him but also knew that once he got to the lands of the Silures and the mountains, the advantage of the terrain would be his. These were the things he reminded his people of constantly when he looked into their eyes and saw their hurt and frustration. They were not used to being beaten or retreating, they were not used to being displaced and it was a harsh reality and fate for all of them to endure.
With local tribe’s undecided as to whether they would fight the men of the eagles as they crossed their territories, he knew they themselves couldn’t risk stopping for any length of time. He had considered sending warriors back to flank the marching columns of Vespasian and attack those who found themselves at the rear. He knew full well that the legions marched with their supplies and baggage at the end of their columns and they would literally stretch for miles, where they were not well guarded and were vulnerable. The men who rode the carts in the supply line would give little resistance as they were paid men, mercenaries. Even if they did fight, they wouldn’t be competent and would be quickly killed. He also knew that if he could hit their supply lines hard enough it would cripple their advance and no doubt stop it and they would eventually be forced to retreat. If he could make that happen, his warriors wouldn’t stop attacking until they pushed them into the sea.
The subject was a matter that consumed his thoughts throughout the days, nights and weeks and of those ahead but he had finally decided that he wouldn’t divide his force. After many discussions with his chieftains it was concluded that for any flanking force to be effective it would have to be many thousands strong and they couldn’t afford to be without that many people. It was also argued that if their flanking force was discovered by the Romans scouts, Vespasian would simply change direction and wipe them out.
Word was bound to reach the enemy of any counter attacking force and if that happened there was a possibility they would themselves be attacked and destroyed. It was a hard decision but one that had to be made, he believed their strength lay in their numbers and was content for them to stay as one until they could join with the Silures, who he knew, would fight on their side. The only thing that would stop that would be if the chasing enemy made camp for the winter and before they entered the territory of the Silures, in which event he would reconsider his options.
However, as the weather got gradually colder and the leaves started to fall and turn brown, the ground hardened and by that time the army of Caratacus was well inside the boundary lines of the Silures lands and safe, for the time being. As it turned out it was said that Vespasian’s own army had not walked freely through southern Britannia but had been fought all the way and had captured many settlements. He had also taken many casualties but he had eventually won every battle and there had been many at both settlements and hill forts. Some estimated that forty settlements had fallen to his swords, it seemed that they were unstoppable but were experiencing fierce resistance.
Vespasian’s advance had finally got as far as the River Exe where he turned the capital of the Dumnonii into a major fortification which he named Isca Dumnoniorium. On the east side of the river the march was halted and preparations made for the winter break. With casualties to be tended and replacements needed for those who were permanently removed from their numbers, the winter couldn’t come soon enough. The Second Augusta, were as far west as any Roman army had ever been and so had to consolidate and re-enforce and make preparations for the next campaigning season.
Chapter Seventeen
The days had turned cold, very cold and frost covered the ground as Caratacus looked out over the land and down across the valley to the River Exe. He and those around him were wrapped in thick heavy skins with hoods over their heads against the inclement weather.
Vespasian had been busy and so had his men, where once stood hundreds of roundhouses, an enormous wooden fortress now broke the landscape in the middle of those that still existed. Large boats were moored in the ice of the water close by, frozen in place until the thaw of spring. His scouts had informed him that they were still bringing in supplies from the sea route to the south, the last part of the journey on the back of wagons.
The enemy were camped for the winter but the structure looked like something more than that, it had a distinct look of permanence to it and was the largest single structure Caratacus had ever seen. Building and construction was still taking place beyond its walls where stone buildings were beginning to take shape, he knew that wouldn’t be happening if they intended to abandon it when the spring came.
He could see the helmeted figures of sentries their bodies covered in fur on the walls where they obviously thought they were safe, they looked out surveying the scene below. Traditionally they didn’t commit to combat during the winter months it was a weakness that Caratacus hoped to use to his advantage. Encased behind the high walls they may have been relatively safe but they were also a huge stationary target. With his cousin from the Silures at his side, his numbers had swollen in
recent months to over fifteen thousand. Ardwen had not hesitated when he had heard of the threat coming from the east. He had sworn to avenge his brothers and Togodumnus.
The Silures were not merely happy to be involved in the campaign, they were eager as they lived for war when the opportunity arose and more importantly, were good at it. A few weeks before a small group of Silures warriors had literally stumbled over an advance force of the enemy who had crossed onto their land. They too were few in number and were found recording measurements and information for maps and had become an easy target for their warriors who had wiped them out to a man. There was no doubt that Vespasian would guess his soldiers fate but he would never know for sure, vanishing in the hills of Silures territory wouldn’t do his legions moral any good and that could only be of benefit to the Britons.
As they looked upon the recently constructed fortress, smoke rose from various chimneys although hardly any movement could be seen from within. A few sentries were posted along its walls and in its towers that were positioned at every corner and above the entrances at the front and rear. Row upon row of tents, were lined up inside the fort as well as some ancillary wooden buildings. Towards the rear near the centre were the foundations of the stone buildings which had quickly taken shape. Ardwin and Caratacus decided to take a closer look, they had told the rest of the army to stay hidden and to move behind the rolling hills to the north where they wouldn’t be seen.
They believed that they could go unnoticed amongst the Britons of the area and would try to gather information about the movements, if any of the enemy within the fort. Although they were camped for the winter, patrols would still be sent out to reconnoitre the countryside and they would make for easy targets. Small numbers they maybe but the thought of men not returning from patrols would do enormous damage to the men camped inside.
Warm breath billowed from their horse’s mouths as they began their descent to lower ground careful not to slip as steam rose from their shining bodies. Hooves hit the crisp frosty grass as powdered frost puffed up into the air as they made their way closer to the settlement at the side of the fort.
“If we don’t stop them, everywhere will soon look like this.” Ardwin said. Caratacus looked over but couldn’t see his face properly as it was hidden inside his hood. From the outskirts the place looked like most others in Britannia except for the tall fort now dominating the roundhouses. It was an alien site to them and one that brought shivers to both warriors’ spines, it was an altogether different shiver than that of the cold.
“If we can take one of these fortresses, just one,” Caratacus said, “others will see that they are not invincible and can be beaten.”
“That’s all it would take,” Ardwen replied, “one decisive victory and maybe even the cowards who don’t fight will realise that we can win this war and remove the blight from the land.”
“We’re not all warriors cousin, that’s the problem.” Caratacus said as they continued to move slowly along. “Some don’t fight because they’re cowards but I know what you mean, I would rather be dust than live amongst them. Some of them have had the fight knocked out of them, some are terrified for their loved ones and a few just want to live in peace, to work the land and tend their crops. Life is a struggle with that alone.”
Ardwen didn’t reply but grunted in response as they got to a wide track worn by previous travellers. An old man with a mule and cart was slowly rumbling coming the other way over the bumpy ground.
“Good day to you,” Caratacus said as they got closer, “how are things?” He asked. The old man squinted up at them with the winter sun now high in the sky behind them, “Who are you?” He said without any pleasantries, clear and direct.
“We are of the Dobunni.” Caratacus replied lying. They had already decided to say, they were from the tribal lands to the north of where they were now and hoped it would avoid any suspicion.
“Are you?” The old man said challenging the response, “You don’t sound like you are!”
Ardwen pushed his hood back and looked at Caratacus concern on his face, he turned his attention back to the old man, a harsh stern look on his face. “How are things with the Romans old man?” He asked.
The man stopped, pulling gently on the reins of the mule and looked at them more closely, studying their swords. “You will have them taken from you if they see them,” he said nodding at their weapons, “they don’t like to see Britons carrying arms, the only thing with a blade we can use is for crops or butchery. Anyone with a long sword will be taken in and questioned.” He covered his eyes against the sun. “What business do you have here?”
“We have grain to trade and were thinking that the people here may want some in exchange for goods.” Caratacus said.
“So why do you have concern for the Romans?” The old man asked.
The two warriors halted their mounts properly and climbed down. “We expect them to move into our own lands when the spring comes, it’s only natural that we are curious as to how you find them.” Caratacus replied. The old man turned to look at the fort.
“Well?” Ardwen said, “We are fellow Britons old man are we not and I expect an answer when we ask a question of another about the men who have moved into our lands and taken what is rightfully ours.”
“Mm well we didn’t actually welcome them as you are probably aware.” He got down off the cart and walked forward and patted his mule on the rump. “They take our crops to feed their soldiers, grain mostly, they use our women and they try to persuade our young men to join their legions. Our leaders have been told they are to pay annual tributes to them, in exchange they say they will protect the people and show us things, how to build from stone and how to make life better. They say they will bring civilisation to us, whatever that means, things we are not aware of.”
“And how are the people taking to them?” Ardwen said.
“They are different from others who have been in charge before, that’s certain.” He said, “They keep order and control of what goes on, some say that things are better under them, some say they want them gone and some don’t care because life is hard enough. No man likes to be told how to live his life but it always happens, the difference here is that these men come from a different land and speak with a different tongue.”
“Do they stay behind their walls?” Caratacus asked.
“For the main they do but not always, once in a while they come out in groups of at least eight. Our leaders go inside sometimes to discuss matters but we normal folk don’t really get to hear about what they talk about unless it affects us. I suppose it will be different once the spring comes but that’s not for a while. I see mounted patrols go out quite often but where they ride to I couldn’t say. They’re always back by dark and don’t stay out overnight.”
Caratacus and Ardwen looked at each other and then back at the old man, Caratacus asked, “Where can we find your leader and what do you call him?”
“He is named Wilmarn and you will find him in the large roundhouse near to the forts entrance.” He pointed. “He took over after the Romans came as the old leader and his family were put to death after they resisted, you will see their heads on spikes as a warning to others.” He looked back to the fort again. “They’re along the bank of the river, their children as well.”
“Go safely old man,” Caratacus said, “we will look for this Wilmarn and see about trading.” They led their horses.
“Remember those swords,” the old man said pointing at their hilts, “I would cover them or hide them before you go any further, you can always collect them on the way home.”
They nodded in response and continued leading their horses. “It sounds like the locals have accepted them already.” Ardwen said.
“Accepted? I wouldn’t say that cousin, I don’t think they had much choice. We know they tried to fight as did my own people. It makes me wonder how my own fair, are some still resisting or have they settled to their enforced way of life. I wonder what the land looks
like now, has it changed? There are so many things that run through my mind especially when I try to sleep at night.”
“We could always go and see,” Ardwen said, “it would probably take a few days ride to get there though and I’m sure there would be check points along the way.”
“Maybe in the weeks to come but we have work to do here first. Come on let’s see what’s happening. We’ll put our weapons here under the edge of this bush. I don’t want to risk them getting found.” Caratacus said as he halted his horse and lifted the leafy branches from which frost fell, Ardwen put his own sword next to his cousins and then climbed aboard his horse, together they continued down the track. It wasn’t long before the first of the roundhouses came fully into sight with smoke climbing high out of the thatched roof. They rode past fields with rows of crops, they had obviously been there long before the invaders came. Fish were set up drying on wooden rails waiting to be smoked, some children came out shouting hello at the strangers as they went by.
“Amazing how normal everything looks isn’t it?” Caratacus asked.
Ardwen smiled, “They are living day by day as the old man said. I think we should stay clear of this Wilmarn.”
“I was thinking the same thing, it’s probably better to keep a low profile and just have a look around, maybe talk to a few of the locals and see what there is to see and if there’s anything that would prove an effective target.” Caratacus said.
They rode their horses around the bend fully and Ardwen said nodding, “How about that?” The fort came into view, its external walls constructed of long straight tall tree trunks cut from the local forest. The builders had filled in the gaps between the logs with some hardened substance that prevented them from seeing inside. A deep trench had been dug near the track below the wall they now followed. Inside it, were branches and sticks that looked to be covering something below but they couldn’t see what. Sharpened spiked timbers stuck out at low angles from the wall, they would make climbing difficult, virtually impossible especially if they were under fire. The wood glistened even with the frost as if it had been coated with some dark substance, Caratacus couldn’t make out if it was something oily, slippery or both. They saw that they were being watched from above as they walked slowly past and tried to act normally. One of the soldiers looked out at them his breath apparent in the cold air.
