Despite this, Petillius knew it was only a matter of time before the assault came. Already, small groups of barbarians were testing the perimeter with feints, seeking the weaker points of the palisade and drawing the attention of the defenders.
The few bows that were left in the fort were handed out amongst the troops but as stocks of arrows were small, each man was instructed to keep their firepower for when the attack came.
Dellus approached him carrying a wooden platter.
‘Sire, I have some hot food,’ he said.
Petillius looked at the thick slab of meat and his mouth watered at the aroma.
‘Have the men eaten?’ he asked.
‘We killed a lame horse, Sire. The beast has made a hearty broth but I saved this cut for you.’
‘An unnecessary luxury, yet welcome all the same,’ said Petillius drawing his knife. ‘Thank you.’ He took the platter from the young Tribune and cut slices of the horse steak.
‘Share this with me,’ said Petillius, offering the plate.
Dellus speared a slice with his own knife and both men fell silent, chewing thoughtfully as they stared at the wood line a hundred paces away. Finally Dellus spoke again.
‘Sire, can I ask you a question.’
‘Of course.’
‘What are the chances of us getting out of this alive? I’m not afraid of dying, but I was thinking about writing a letter to my parents in case I fall. Perhaps those who follow behind may find my body and send the letter back home.’
‘First of all,’ said Petillius, ‘I would write the letter for nothing is guaranteed. Also I would make peace with your gods, Dellus. There may not be time later. However, saying that, this fight is not yet done and the outcome is uncertain. If Boudicca turns her attention on this fort, it will fall within the hour and our fate is sealed. However, I hope that she sees us as a distraction only and has eyes on a bigger prize. Yes she may send a smaller unit to deal with us but man for man we are far better than the Celts in any battle.’
‘Do you think we have a chance?’
‘It is not their swords that worry me, Dellus but our lack of resources. We have enough for a few days maximum and cannot get out of here to seek fresh supplies. Even now I see shadows amongst the trees but have no idea how many are out there. There may be a hundred, there may be a thousand. Time will tell but it is the one resource we lack most of all. Unless something happens in the next two days, my arm will be forced.’
‘You have a plan?’
‘I do, but it is dangerous and possibly suicide.’
‘I assume it is the best one you have?’
‘It is the only one I have,’ said Petillius and handed back the platter. The conversation was over.
----
Chapter Seventeen
Londinium
Suetonius rode through the narrow streets of the vast trading town, ignoring the beggars that pestered him from either side. Ordinarily his personal guard would clear the way but with most of his Legion spread out over the previous twenty miles, most of the men with him had other things on their mind.
As he passed the dirtier outskirts, the standards of the area changed and the influence of Rome was easily seen. Women in bright colours walked arm in arm enjoying the all too rare Britannic sunshine, while retired Evocati strode in groups of similarly minded men, reliving past battles during their service in the armies of Rome.
All around traders bartered their wares from carts or open doorways and Suetonius recognise many items catering for those with Roman tastes. Bowls of green and black olives joined amphorae of wine making tables groan under their weight and coloured linens competed with rich silks for space on wooden racks. Exotic fruits added a rainbow of colours and the smell of spices wafted through the air reminding him of the markets of home. Overall it was a sign of a thriving market town and the people went about their business without a care in the world.
Suetonius made his way to the site of an old fortress on the banks of the Tamesas. The riverside fortress had long been dismantled and replaced with a villa that would not have been out of place back on the outskirts of Rome and was the residence of the Procurator, Catus Decianus.
Suetonius and his party pulled up outside the gates of the villa and looked up at the guards in the gate towers.
‘Open the gates,’ he called.
‘On whose orders?’ asked the civilian in charge.
‘Do you not recognise the banner of the Governor?’ roared a Centurion at Suetonius’ side. ‘Open the gates immediately or suffer the consequences.’
The man’s face fell and he disappeared from view. A few minutes later the giant gates creaked open and the impatient riders galloped into a courtyard. Servants were running everywhere in panic at the unannounced arrival of the Governor of Britannia. Suetonius dismounted and grabbed the nearest servant.
‘Where is Catus Decianus?’ he growled.
‘There.’ stuttered the man, pointing toward an outside terrace surrounded with carefully cultivated fruit trees.
The Legate threw the servant to the floor before striding toward the terrace. Behind him he could hear the cries of the gate guard as the Centurion beat him mercilessly with his Vitis. On the terrace, various minor officials stood in groups making small talk as they sipped from ornate wine glasses and several beautiful women sat upon silk covered dias’ each draped in the finery only the wealthy could afford. Catus Decianus was standing next to an elaborate pool with his own goblet of wine in his hand, obviously being briefed by a stressed servant about the unexpected arrival.
The Procurator looked up at the sound of the Governors hobnailed boots on the flagstones and his look of concern instantly changed to one of contrived delight.
‘Governor,’ he said warmly. ‘How wonderful to see you. If you had let me know of your impending arrival I would have laid on a suitable celebration.’
The false smile fell slightly as Suetonius continued his purposeful stride and before he could react, the Governor smashed the Procurator across the face with the back of his fist, sending the fat man sprawling on the floor.
Screams echoed around the walls as the women jumped to their feet and the officials shouted their disapproval
‘Silence,’ roared Suetonnius. ‘I am Gaius Suetonius Paullinus, Governor of Britannia. Get out of my sight or suffer the same disgrace, woman or man.’
The news took a few seconds to sink in but as one they all picked up their belongings and left the terrace as quickly as they could. When they had gone, Suetonius turned his attention back to the Procurator sprawled at his feet.
‘Get up,’ he snarled.
‘I will have you hauled before the senate for this,’ growled Decianus.
‘I look forward to it,’ said Suetonius and reached down to grab the collar of the Procurator’s toga.
‘Unhand me,’ shouted Decianus as he was hauled upward.
Suetonnius threw him onto a nearby chair before reaching for the small amphorae of wine on the table. Without taking his eyes off the Procurator, he filled his mouth with wine, before spitting it out across the terrace.
‘Road dust,’ he said before lifting the amphorae again, though this time drinking deeply.
‘What do you want, Suetonnius?’ asked the Procurator quietly.
‘I will tell you what I want in good time,’ said Suetonius. ‘First of all, tell me about Camulodunum.’
Decianus shrugged.
‘What of it?’
Suetonnius stared in disbelief.
‘You don’t know do you?’
‘Know of what? If you are referring to an uprising from some petty tribal Queen, then of course I know and I am awaiting word from Petillius about his retribution. I would imagine the body of that crucified Queen surveys her slaughtered army even as we speak.’
‘Oh there are certainly dead bodies, Decianus, thousands of them. Though you would struggle to find a barbarian amongst them, for most are of Roman descent. I would send a unit to count them f
or you but as this petty Queen, as you call her, has razed the city to the ground it would be difficult to find them all, don’t you think? Besides, the Legions are short of manpower at the moment, as the bodies of five thousand Legionaries rot in some cursed field. Five thousand of our countrymen who will never see the seven hills of Rome again.’
‘But I don’t understand,’ stuttered Decianus. ‘I know nothing of this.’
‘How can you not know, Decianus. I was in the Khymru fighting the Druids yet I knew.’
‘To be fair, you have a network of messengers throughout Britannia,’ said Decianus.
‘As should you,’ shouted Suetonius. ‘You are the Procurator, Decianus. It is your duty to know of such things before they happen and to act accordingly. Our Evocati, our citizens, hell even our client tribes look to you for protection yet while they are slaughtered like cattle you surround yourself with wine and food like pigs at a trough.’
‘I never knew,’ repeated Decianus, struggling to take in the implications. ‘I thought they were nothing but an irritation to be scratched.’
‘They are more than an irritation,’ said Suetonius, ‘they are a gaping wound and while my men die to protect you, you and your kind frolic with whores.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ asked Decianus.
‘Tell me of your defences here,’ said Suetonius. ‘Brief me about your strengths and weaknesses. What defensive walls do you have? The armouries, the units, any artillery you have in store. Anything you think may be of value. I need to know if we are to protect this town.’
‘I’m not sure,’ started Decianus, ‘I think there are some private units along the Tamesas and of course there are the Evocati but…’
Suetonius shook his head in amazement.
‘You don’t know,’ he said.
‘Suetonnius, you have to understand this is a trading town and we have little need of such things.’
‘You have every need of such things,’ shouted Suetonius. ‘We are invaders in a lawless country and you live in an insignificant trading post surrounded by barbarians who would behead you as soon as look at you. How can you not be prepared? Even as we speak there is an army tens of thousands strong on your doorstep. They have already slaughtered a Legion and will be here within days.’
‘I am sorry,’ grovelled Decianus, ‘I never dreamed…’
‘You are unbelievable,’ interrupted Suetonius before pacing around the courtyard, his face creased with concern. Finally he returned and faced the Procurator once more.
‘You and I have unfinished business, Decianus,’ he said ‘and there will be a day of reckoning. Until then, I need you alive to limit the amount of blood that is yet to be spilt. This is what I want you to do.’
For the next ten minutes Suetonius instructed the Procurator on what to do. As he did, the fat man’s face fell as the implications sank in. Finally Suetonius sat back down and stared at Decianus.
‘Is there no other way?’ asked Decianus.
‘Not that I can see,’ said Suetonius. ‘My men are the best Legion in Rome’s army but they are tired from a demanding march across country and would be no match for Boudicca at the moment.’
‘The people won’t like it,’ said Decianus.
‘They can do as I say, or take their chances. Either way, the choice is theirs. I do not have time to play at politics anymore, there is a war to be won.’
Decianus nodded.
‘I will make the arrangements,’ he said. ‘The heralds will travel the town first thing in the morning.’
‘See that they do,’ said Suetonius and stood up. ‘Do this well, Decianus and you may still keep your position in the equestrian order. Make a mess of it and I will personally see you stripped of your titles.’
Decianus watched Suetonius leave before calling a slave to bring a bowl of warm, scented water. He needed to summon the heralds but before he did, the cut mouth he had received as a result of the Legate’s back hander needed bathing.
‘I don’t know who he thinks he is,’ said Decianus to the few friends who had returned. ‘My father is high in the senate and will know of this outrage within days. Nobody strikes me and gets away with it.’
----
The following day Suetonius rode back down to the edge of Londinium and waited for one of the heralds to arrive. He was accompanied by two of his bodyguard but this time he was draped in a cape of nondescript brown covering his uniform. He wanted to be as invisible as possible amongst the crowd. Within an hour of the dawn the gathered crowd made way for a herald who walked up to the platform and withdrew a parchment. He waited for the noise to die down before making the announcement.
‘Citizens of Londinium,’ he started. ‘This is a proclamation from Gaius Suetonius Paullinus, Legate of the Fourteenth Gemina Martia Victrix and Rome’s Governor of these islands of Britannia. Let it be known that Camulodunum has fallen to the swords of a heathen hoard to the north. Despite a heroic action by the Legio Nona Hispana, the defeat was total and there are no survivors.’
The crowd talked amongst themselves, unsure how to take the news.
‘Furthermore,’ continued the herald, ‘it is known that these murderers are headed for Londinium and will be here within days.’
This time the disturbance was greater as the crowd realised their safety was at risk.
‘Let it also be known,’ shouted the herald above the din,’ the Legions of Rome are otherwise engaged and are unable to defend Londinium. Rome advises that all who are able should leave the town immediately and seek shelter amongst the forests and hills.’
This time the unease turned to shouting and people started calling out.
‘Where is Suetonnius?’ called one, ‘he is the Governor. Where are the troops our taxes pay for?’
‘Where are we to go?’ called another, ‘the forests are full of brigands. We will be surely killed.’
‘I have no more information save this,’ said the herald.’ Rome’s Legions will not defend you here. Leave this place now or risk the consequences at the hands of Boudicca.’ Despite the continued questions, the herald was finished and descended from the platform. Across the square the hooded General turned to the similarly disguised Centurion by his side.
‘It is done,’ he said. ‘Decianus has done his job. Similar announcements are being made as we speak across Londinium.’
‘Do you think they will leave?’ asked the Centurion.
‘Some will,’ said Suetonnius, ‘others will think they are safe and the worst will never happen.’
‘Perhaps they are right,’ said the Centurion. ‘Most of those who dwell within the town are of Britannic descent.’
‘They are,’ said Suetonius, ‘but when an army as big as this is mobilised it is very difficult to reign them in. Especially as they have tasted blood. We cannot face this Boudicca yet and need time to form a strategy. Londinium is just a jumble of huts and can be rebuilt.’
‘And the people?’ asked the Centurion.
‘They have been warned,’ said Suetonius, ‘and their fate is in their own hands. Come, we have a Legion to tend and a battle plan to make.’
The two men returned to the forest edge where riders were holding their horses and without further ado, galloped back to join their Legion.
----
Chapter Eighteen
Fifty miles North West of Londinium
Cassus approached the tent of the Governor. The Legion had reformed in an open valley and they had established a secure fort on a nearby hilltop. The steep slopes and clear fields of view meant there was no chance of any surprise attack but even so, the auxiliary cavalry had been deployed to form a circular perimeter over a mile away and roving scouts roamed further afield, keeping abreast of any developments in the local villages. The men within the fort walls took full advantage of the enforced break and tended to the injuries received from the battle on Mona and during the enforced march. Suetonnius had summoned his officers to his command tent to discuss the military si
tuation.
‘Gentlemen,’ he said when everyone was present. ‘As you know Boudicca is on the outskirts of Londinium with an army the size of which this island has never seen before. Many residents have left Londinium but many more have decided to stay in the mistaken belief they would be safe.’
‘How do we know they are not?’ asked an officer.
‘We have Exploratores amongst Boudicca’s ranks,’ answered Suetonius, ‘and their intelligence tells us the mood is one of retribution, but even if we had the numbers, it does not make sense to risk Roman lives on what is a mere trading town. This Boudicca is a wounded animal and there is no greater risk in my eyes.’
‘So what do we do?’ asked another officer.
‘First of all we wait,’ said Suetonnius, ‘and watch how this woman operates. Our scouts will learn her tactics and along with the intelligence from the Exploratores, we will build a picture of her methods. Hopefully the fire in their bellies will burn itself out with the destruction of Londinium and her army will disperse back to whence they came, however, whether she leaves or not, our knowledge will grow by the day.’
‘And if she attacks here?’
‘If she attacks this fort she will find nothing but a burning palisade and horse shit,’ said Suetonius.’
A gasp rippled around the room as they realised what he was proposing.
‘You mean we will run,’ said the officer in amazement.
‘If that’s the way you want to see it, then yes, we will run.’
Roman III - The Wrath of Boudicca Page 18
