Pathways of the Druids

by Christopher J. Pine

  Brennus took the skein of water and leaned forward as he poured the water over his head, washing some of the mud off his face. Then he drank deeply again, spitting a mouthful out onto the ground before he continued speaking.

  “I wanted to take him prisoner, or take his head! But he must’ve had a god watching over him. Aah, he was lucky they arrived when they did. They roughed him up a bit for the trouble that he’d caused them, then took him back to their camp.”

  “You’re always too hasty in your actions,” warned Gliesten. “It’s just as well you were disturbed, because we’re here on a scouting mission. We mustn’t leave any tracks or signs behind to show that we were even here - and that includes dead, headless enemies! Now, if you’ve finished drinking, we’ll go back to our horses for some food and rest. Then we’ll try to stay a little in front of the Roman cavalry patrols when they move towards our hill fort, which I fear will be soon.”

  The tribal chief looked around the room. Seated on piles of animal pelts in a large circle, he had gathered together the senior druids and his most trusted warriors for a counsel of elders, to help him decide the future of the tribe. Raising his hand, he pointed towards two guards who were standing just outside the doorway of the large circular hut.

  “Bring in the Roman,” he called out.

  Tibullus was guided into the centre of the room where he stood before the tribal chief. Chief Cestrathax signalled to the guard, who cut through the ropes around the prisoner’s wrists. His hair was matted with dried blood from his head wound, his clothes were dishevelled and dirty and he was unwashed. His wrists were showing deep red weals where they’d been tightly bound.

  “Well, Roman,” began Cestrathax, “I see that you are still alive and well. I do owe you a blood debt for my son’s life and for that reason you will not be harmed by me.”

  “I thank you for my good treatment and my continued life,” replied Tibullus.

  “Don’t thank me, Roman,” observed the chief drily, “for it’s only by the will of the gods that I keep you alive, not mine. We don’t yet know why the gods want you alive, but they arrange many of the events of our lives for reasons of their own. We have far too many hungry people of our own in this camp to have to find extra food for you as well.

  “Roman, you have been brought here before me because I require you to tell us of the battle in which the Iceni perished, and how the Romans managed to do this so completely. No harm will come to you if you don’t hold back from us and are frank with the truth. Now, sit down there and tell us your story,” said Cestrathax, pointing to a pile of animal pelts that was vacant in the circle, next to Gwydion and placed opposite the tribal chief.

  Tibullus looked puzzled for a moment as he looked at them all. Then as his confidence slowly began to return to him, he sat down on the pile of furs. The two armed guards with swords drawn then took position standing just behind him.

  “Yes, I was there,” he began, “and I’ll tell you about the battle. There are no secrets in this, there’s nothing I need to hide from you. Our legions had arrived at the place we had chosen for the battle the previous day. This meant that we were able to build a temporary camp, so that we could rest and eat a decent meal before...”

  “Tell me, Roman,” interrupted Gwydion, “how did your commander positioned his army for battle?”

  Tibullus looked Gwydion in the eye before replying.

  “Give me a little time, Celt, and I’ll tell you all you want to hear - and maybe many things that you don’t want to know.”

  “That’s fine, so tell me your story! And for now call me Gwydion, and I shall call you Tibullus.” With a fake smile he lightly tapped Tibullus on the back. Cestrathax looked behind him and called out loudly.

  “Iseult, where are you? Our manners are lacking us. We need wine and food for our guests, for this tale to be told properly.” He gestured towards Tibullus. “First, you must have some wine and then carry on with your tale. I won’t have it said about me that I’m a bad host, even to Romans.”

  Laughter rang around the hut as the chief’s wife Iseult and her son Rynax then started to busy themselves by laying out a cloth on the low table, and assorted foods and wine were placed there. Rynax placed a gold beaker on the table in front of the Roman, looked into his face and smiled. This was the man who had saved his life, and yet he also knew that this man was his most deadly enemy. The young lad then turned and ran back to help his mother, who was busy pouring wine from a heavy clay amphora into a gold flagon.

  Tibullus ignored the pain in his wrists, as the blood flowed into them again.

  “Our scouts were aware of the general position of Boudicca’s forces. Our general sent out four turnae of cavalry to find them, and I was included with this force. The orders were specific. They stated that we had to locate Boudicca’s forces and encourage them to follow us back to where our main army was waiting for them. This would then allow us to fight a decisive battle in a place of our choosing. My commander, Seutonius Paulinus, had taken time to pick a site at the top of a hill. In order to attack us the enemy would have to advance up a steep hill towards us. I remember that my horse didn’t like the ground. The grass was long and it was muddy underfoot, and the hill seemed to be infested with small flies.

  “There was dense woodland to our rear and on our flanks, so we couldn’t be attacked that way. But nor could we retreat, so we either had to conquer there or die...”

  Tibullus had been given very little food to eat that day and he thirstily took several swallows of the wine from the gold beaker that Rynax had placed before him and that Iseult had now filled with a dark red, sweet-smelling wine. Mestrathax the druid smiled to himself as he looked on. Just as he had planned, the drugged potion that had been put into the gold beaker would soon begin to loosen the Roman’s tongue.

  “As I said, I was in the force that was sent out to find the enemy. This didn’t take us long as Boudicca’s army wasn’t hiding and was already searching for us. A few arrows were exchanged with the Iceni - it was just a small skirmish with some of their cavalry, and only one of my comrades was wounded. We withdrew, hoping that the Iceni believed we were scared of them. It was now starting to get dark and we retreated just as we had been ordered to. We made sure that we left a trail behind us, and overnight the Iceni cavalry scouts had eagerly tracked us back to where our legions were rested and waiting for them.

  “We’d had time to dig some pits and place a row of stakes across the hill. Some fires had also been lit so that the smoke would mask them when we were ready. When the main force of their army began to arrive the next morning, they appeared to have little discipline. It was just a vast horde of people. Warriors, women and children, carts and horses, some of them carrying no weapons at all - just hatred. They were acting not like an army, but like a large, angry swarm of bees looking for a hive.

  “On seeing their army, although it was huge, and even though one of our legions - the Eleventh Augusta - hadn’t yet arrived, we still believed we could beat them. They had no discipline in them, and we are Romans!

  “Our cavalry was split into two halves. I was in the section placed on the left flank of our legions and the rest of the cavalry was on our right flank. This was to counter-attack any charge made by chariots or horsemen of the Iceni. Our two legions then formed a continuous front of shields four soldiers deep, stretched right across the battlefield. To add depth behind them, we placed our auxiliaries. And behind these we positioned our archers. Finally, two cohorts from each legion were held further back in reserve.” He paused and shrugged. “But anyone glancing at the battle site would be able to tell that this was to going be a butcher’s battle, mainly fought by the infantry.”

  Shosterax leaned forward. Picking up the wine flagon that was on the floor in front of them, he refilled his own and the Roman’s beaker.

  “Tibullus, telling us this tale you sound like a
brave man. But can you honestly tell me that you weren’t at all scared by what faced you?”

  “Ah, druid, I can assure you that all soldiers, including me, are always a little scared before a battle. You Celts are always bragging that the only thing you fear is the sky falling on your heads! But I don’t believe it. Such bragging is a tale for children. Let your own warriors deny that they’re scared! Only a total fool could not be.”

  “Carry on with your tale, Tibullus,” urged Shosterax. “There will be time for idle chatter another day.” Tibullus took another gulp of the wine and looked up, staring at the druid before answering him.

  “I shall. In the legions there were some men who had settled all their personal debts, to clear their consciences. To please the gods, that day some of them even gave away money that they’d won by gambling with dice. To carry too much money might tempt the gods into thinking that you wanted to pay the tribute, to pass over to the other world. Most of us worshipped our gods that night and then just tried to get some sleep. I admit that I prayed that night. As a follower of Mithras, I knew that with his help I could fight bravely and stay alive.

  “As the bucinator sounded the alarm, we formed up to face the Iceni, with our officers and priests moving up and down the ranks. They were telling us to be brave and giving us grand assurances that the gods were with us. And for the glory of Rome and our gods, we were destined to be victorious.” Shosterax passed a short stave to Tibullus.

  “Draw us a picture of the battlefield on the floor in front of you, as best you can remember it.”

  Tibullus thought quietly for a moment, and then stood up and scratched a rough semblance of a picture on the hard earthen floor of the hut of how he remembered the battlefield. As soon as he had finished drawing the picture, a guard from behind him quickly leaned forward and took the stave from his hand. The guard’s other hand was placed on his shoulder to make him sit down again. Iseult began walking around the gathering, quietly refilling the men’s beakers with wine.

  “Where was I? Oh yes, that’s how I remember it. Yes, there was a small shallow stream at the bottom of the hill, and the Iceni in their arrogance placed their carts and wagons close together in a line on the far side. They probably did this so their families could sit and watch the battle. But they’d blocked the only exit route from the valley. If it went badly for them, there was no way out for them to escape. They were so confident of winning, they didn’t think it possible they could lose. Indeed, they out-numbered us by eight times. That alone should have been enough to guarantee them victory.”

  “Roman, at any time did you see the wife of Prasutages?” asked Cestrathax. “The one we call the Queen of the Iceni, Boudicca?”

  “Yes, I believe I did see her,” answered Tibullus. “I mean, it had to be her. It was just after the Iceni army had formed up on this side of the river to face us, when all the Iceni had fallen totally silent. Next we saw a team of horses pulling a chariot. It splashed across the small stream as it passed through the ranks of the army. The chariot stopped for a moment in front of the army, and the woman released a hare from the chariot. I think this must have been an offering to one of her gods. The hare then turned and ran from the battlefield. It was too far away to hear what she was saying, and I could only see two people in the chariot, a driver and a woman. We’d been told that Boudicca had long red hair, and this woman did have long red hair, flowing in the wind behind her. She was carrying a spear and a shield, and I remember she was wearing a long, reddish tartan shawl. The Iceni were excited. As she paraded along the entire front of her army, they all began cheering wildly. That was all I saw of her. After the battle we searched widely but we never found her body.”

  “Tibullus, my name is Mestrathax. You make the Iceni army sound like a rabble. Was there no strength to be seen anywhere amongst them?”

  “Well, Mestrathax, I see that you’re a druid. The only discipline they had amongst them that I could make out was that they were grouping together around the totem animal standards they worshipped. They carried these animal standards into battle with them, but apart from that they had no real thought or discipline that I could see.

  “The Celtic army began at a steady walk and started to move up the hill towards us. The morning sun was rising behind us, causing the light to glisten off the enemies’ weapons. The noise of their carnyx was bellowing at us. You could hear their taunts as they hurled their insults at us. The druids were directing their angry curses, working their tribe up into a battle frenzy. You could feel the air becoming thick with hate. But then you could tell they had no real plan for the battle, just a fanatical hatred, and that was what blindly drove them on to fight us.

  “Suddenly, a large flock of crows flew out of the woods all around us. They continued flying downwards to where the Iceni families were watching and began to circle above their wagons. I took this as a sign that some dark Celtic god was just biding her time until she could feed off them.

  “The first attack was by their cavalry - they hit us on our left flank and their chariots then attacked us on our right flank. The hill was no place for chariots or cavalry and we fended them off without much difficulty, but I’ll admit they were brave men. Their Iceni warriors were now closing the distance between us. Some of them had no sandals, and were slipping on the wet, muddy ground as they came up the hill towards us. Then the command was issued for the first two lines of our infantry to move forward and throw both of their pila into the front ranks of the Iceni army. This caused them considerable injury, but it didn’t slow them down. Our archers had begun firing volleys of arrows over the heads of our men, and they were falling into the Iceni, killing many. Except for a few captured Roman shields, they had very little protection from this, and the shields they did have weren’t used properly. They suffered great losses from this. But the Iceni numbers were so great it didn’t matter to them and they just stepped over their own dead and kept coming at us. Some of them managed to throw a few javelins as they ran at us.

  “Our third and fourth lines quickly moved up to close ranks and make a solid wall of shields to strengthen the defence. These troops hadn’t yet thrown their javelins - they were kept back, just for this purpose. The tactics we used were good, but the Iceni had kept nothing back in reserve so when they hit us it was with everything, all at once. They were all screaming their vile curses as they ran at us. When they did hit us, it was like a powerful blow along the entire front. But our line managed to hold together.

  “The fighting became very close and bloody. The druids must have given their men some potion to take away their pain and fear. It seemed that they cared nothing for their wounds and even less for their own lives. I remember that in the noise and screams of the crush, they came at us with wild eyes like madmen, and there was hardly any room to swing or plunge a blade. The battle was so closely packed that any dead or injured, Iceni or Romans, were just trampled underfoot by either side.”

  He took another drink. There was silence in the hut for several moments as the terrible images passed through each man’s mind.

  “As the battle continued on into the later morning, our tribunes were encouraging us as best they could. But you could feel that the superior numbers of the Iceni were starting to tell, and they’d now managed to gain a position at the top of the hill. Then our front line started to buckle and we were slowly being pushed backwards towards the woods. But suddenly the pressure was lessened as the centre of our line pushed forward in a big wedge formation, forcing the Celts backwards. Now we began to push them back and reclaim some of the ground we’d lost.

  “The turning point came when our ally, Tiberius Claudius Togodumnus, the King of the Regni, finally arrived and the Iceni were now completely surrounded. His army was positioned behind the Iceni forces and were now attacking the baggage train, slaughtering all who were there. The Iceni saw this and lost heart, and what little discipline they had died then. A wave of pa
nic started to set in. When the warriors heard the cries, they ran back down the hill to escape us and help save their families lives. So we called forward our reserve cohorts to take over the position of the front line. Then the bucinator sounded the general advance and we followed the Iceni down the hill to settle the matter.

  “It went very badly for them. Togodumnus and his southern tribes did their job viciously. The Iceni tribe was broken, and after the battle I remember the cries of the dying as they tried to crawl towards the stream to get some water for their wounds.” He paused, his voice quieter now. “The wounded were later killed. There were only a few hundred left uninjured to keep alive, to be sold later as slaves. Yes indeed, the gods were truly with us that day, and they had turned their faces far away from the Iceni.”

  The atmosphere had become very heavy in the chief’s hut and Tibullus began to feel nervous as he looked around at the grim faces of the Celts. The drugged wine had done its job well. His head felt thick and befuddled; the wine had been too strong on his empty stomach. His mouth had betrayed him, and he had told them far more than he intended to. They all just sat there with icy, stern faces, quietly staring at him. Chief Cestrathax was the first to speak.

  “Tibullus, you have told us your story as we asked you to. Now you will leave us, because we have much to discuss. Guards, escort him back to his cage.” The guards helped Tibullus stagger to his feet. As they led him away, Cestrathax turned to the Arch Druid.

  “Your potion worked well, it made him arrogant, boasting of the strength of the Roman arms. I believe he told us everything he knew. It’s even worse than I feared possible. Boudicca and her army have been destroyed. Even the gift of a hare to their battle goddess Andraste was not enough to help them.

  “We were ill-prepared for this war! With Togodumnus rising against us with the southern tribes, everything really is lost. And now we know there’s another legion, the Eleventh Augusta, available to reinforce Seutonius. I feel there’s no chance left for us to beat them. We have lost this war, and now we must sue for peace or die. The question is, will he wait for the arrival of the Eleventh Augusta Legion, or will he come straight at us?” The chief shook his head sadly. Another thought came to his mind.