by K. M. Ashman
‘But Erwyn is dead,’ she said. ‘He cannot return.’
‘But his daughter still lives,’ interrupted Gwydion, ‘and will one day take her place as leader of the Blaidd.’
‘Me?’ asked Gwenno incredulously, ‘But…’
‘But nothing,’ said Gwydion, ‘it is your birth right. Erwyn had no sons, so you are his rightful successor. One day I will place this Torc around your neck as a sign of your authority.’
‘What do I know about leadership?’ she asked.
‘Nothing that I cannot teach you,’ he said, ‘but the time for such things is later. Until then, there is unfinished business to be addressed here.’
‘What business?’
He swept her up into his arms and kissed her deeply.
Gwenno returned the kiss until she finally broke away to catch her breath.
‘I suppose,’ she said, ‘that within the very near future, I will not be such an attraction to the Druids.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Gwydion.
‘Well, all their sacrifices need to be pure of body,’ she said with a mischievous smile. ‘Am I right in assuming that label will be denied me very soon?’
‘Your assumption is correct,’ he said with a smile and carried her over to the stream, laying her gently on a patch of lush grass lit by the sun’s rays as it shone between the ancient oaks.
‘Make it special, Gwydion,’ whispered Gwenno as he disrobed before her. ‘We will remember this moment forever.’
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Chapter 47
The twelve surviving leaders of the Catuvellauni clans lined up outside the gates of Camulodunum. They were dressed in their finest armour and flanked by five hundred horsemen as they awaited the arrival of the Romans. Behind them, two thousand infantry warriors stood in disciplined ranks, each bearing their tribal shields and standards. Behind them, the entire population of the city had gathered to watch the ceremony.
Rebellon looked around at the remainder of the mighty Catuvellauni tribe and realised that it was still an awesome sight.
‘Who knows?’ he thought. ‘When they see this show of strength, the Romans may even realise that they are out of their depth and retreat to the safety of their boats.’
Whatever happened, the tribal leaders had decided that they would not accept any terms that disadvantaged the Catuvellauni, and if necessary, would take them on in battle before the gates of the city. Rebellion’s reverie was suddenly shattered by the long drawn out sound of a horn as it blasted across the valley from a lone rider high on a hill, and the gathering of over ten thousand Britons fell quiet. For a few seconds, nothing changed until someone shouted out from the gathered people.
‘Over there, look, horses are coming.’
At first Rebellon was unimpressed, but as events unfolded, his jaw dropped in awe.
First, were the Batavian cavalry, galloping from the trees and lining the vale on either side. They formed a perimeter three deep and as soon as they were settled, the auxiliary Cohorts, dressed in their armour, ran into position, resplendent in their finery.
A deep rhythm echoed around the open expanse and the heavy infantry of the legions marched into the centre, to the beat of a thousand drums. Ten thousand men formed a half-mile long honour guard, every inch of their uniform spotlessly clean and gleaming in the sun.
Again, the sound of horns rang out, though this time magnified a hundred fold, as the combined horns of three legions trumpeted their fanfare.
Rebellon stared, expecting to see the Roman leader approach, but was confused when he saw only a dozen men emerge from the tree line, running toward the Catuvellauni, each with a large dog on the end of a leash. He looked in interest, but suddenly realised they were not dogs, but giant cats.
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The leopard handlers ran the full length of the escort and spread out along the front of the Catuvellauni leaders. Rebellon and his fellow tribesmen were astonished. The snarling beasts wore collars of gleaming gold while the jet-black skin of every handler was draped in the brilliant white furs of animals unknown to the Celts. Every member of the watching tribe was in awe of the display, but what came next blew their minds.
A cacophony of sound erupted from the trees causing every Briton to stare in fright at the unseen terror. Even the leopards pulled nervously at their gilded chains, as the unearthly bellowing reached a crescendo, and when it seemed that, there could be no more surprises, the source of the bellowing revealed itself.
From beneath the canopy of the surrounding woods emerged the most terrifying beast Rebellon had ever seen. The enormous animal plodded forward into the clearing, his tusks swooping low to the floor as he swung his head from side to side. Draped in a chain mail coat, the male tusker had lethal, multi pointed tips attached to his tusks and within a walled platform high on the animals back, four African warriors brandished their spears and bows in a display of awesome might, the Britons could never have dreamed of. If this was not enough, a further thirty African elephants followed behind, each as magnificent as the first and adding their trumpeting calls to the cacophony.
A Cohort of Praetorian Guard followed and lined the avenue of soldiers, their bronze ceremonial armour, almost blinding in the morning sunlight, and as the noise finally died down a column of young girls dressed in pure white robes followed them in, scattering rose petals along the path.
At last came the moment they had been waiting for, and to a final fanfare of trumpets, one more elephant entered the field, but this was unlike any that had come previously. Though it was smaller, it was twice as striking, and even though the blanket that hung from the platform was royal purple, it could not take away the effect of the pure white skin of the albino elephant.
One man sat alone within the canopied platform upon the elephants back, and the awe inspiring display of strength, designed to install shock and awe into any that witnessed it, served its purpose, as the leaders of the Catuvellauni finally realised that resistance of any sort was futile.
The man descended from the kneeling elephant via a gilded stairway, carried by a dozen slaves especially for this purpose and settled himself on an ornately carved chair surrounded by a unit of Praetorian Guard. At a signal from an accompanying senator, the Catuvellauni leaders were summoned forward one by one to bend their knee before the most powerful man in the world, Claudius, Emperor of Rome.
Within the hour, the ceremony had ended, the Catuvellauni subjugated and the country absorbed into the mighty Roman Empire.
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Contents
The year was 43 AD, and to all intents and purposes, Britannia had fallen, but despite the celebrations, General Plautius was subdued. Already he was hearing of other tribes right across this strange country, gathering their warriors and sharpening their weapons to confront his four legions.
Claudius could crow all he liked, and no doubt would soak up the plaudits back in Rome for conquering a complete country in her name, but Plautius knew different. He knew that a lot more Roman blood would stain this country’s soil before they could even begin to believe they were the victors. There were no doubt, treasures to be uncovered, the tribute already paid was evidence of that, but he knew that they would not be surrendered easily. The barbarians were ill disciplined, but they were also fearless, and should anyone take the initiative to forge them into a united army, then Rome’s occupation of Britannia could be very short lived.
He knew it was his job to ensure that did not happen and was impatient for Claudius to leave so he could start his campaign in earnest. He needed to find the missing Caratacus and kill him if necessary and there was the matter of those troublesome Druids that he had been hearing about. They seemed to have an influence over everything and everyone in this cold and misty land and could provide a dangerous focal point for barbarian resistance given the chance. Both threats had to be dealt with and he would make it his personal mission to deal with them once and for all, but despite his focus there were two other facts unknown to him at
that time.
One was that a little known tribe called the Silures in a strange area of Britannia called the Khymru had just slaughtered a complete Cohort. The second fact, and one he could never have imagined, was that less than a hundred miles to the north was a far greater threat than Caratacus had ever been.
This was no six-foot battle hardened warrior; this was an unassuming mother of two with no intention of opposing the Romans. On the contrary, she wanted a quiet life in which to bring up her two beautiful daughters and as wife to Prasatagus, chief of one of the smaller tribes was happy, along with her husband to accept the presence of the Romans.
However, unbeknownst to her or indeed anyone else, fate would intervene and make this woman a pivotal figure around which the entire Roman occupation of Britannia would revolve. Her name was Boudicca, queen of the Iceni.
This was not an end for Plautius, but just the beginning.
****
The End
Author’s Notes
The Roman Invasion of Britain
Rome did indeed successfully invade Britain in 43 AD after two previously unsuccessful attempts by Julius Caesar.
The battles
Though there were many, many battles, two of the most famous and strategically important were the battles of the river Medway and the battle of the river Thames. Caratacus’s and his army were taken by surprise when the Batavian auxiliaries fell on them from the rear, having swum the river with full weapons and equipment, a skill they were famed for. Eventually, after winning both battles, the Romans took Colchester (Camulodunum) the capital of Britannia at the time.
The defending tribes
It is believed that the Romans initially fought the Catuvellauni. It is thought that Togodumnus may have been killed at the battle of Medway, while his brother, King Caratacus, escaped westward into Wales where he travelled south to join the Silures tribe.
Roman Life
All training methods, weapons and tactics depicted in this book are typical for the time.
Claudius
Claudius himself came to Britannia to ceremoniously accept the surrender of Britannia and there is evidence that war elephants were present on British soil, either in battle or possibly for ceremonial duties.
More Books by K. M. Ashman
The India Sommers Mysteries
The Dead Virgins
The Treasures of Suleiman
The Mummies of the Reich
The Roman Trilogy
Roman I – The Fall of Britannia
Roman II – The Rise of Caratacus
Roman III – The Wrath of Boudicca
Novels
Savage Eden
The Last Citadel
Vampire
The Medieval Trilogy
Medieval I – Blood of the Cross
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