Caratacus

Chapter Twelve

Caratacus saw the danger instantly, even though his men and women were hacking down the Romans around him. He saw that the small victories would be short lived as their enemies reinforcements advanced. In the chaos all around he also saw that beyond the thrashing and clash of iron, more Romans were landing on his side of the river using rafts made of wood. There was little that he could do about it because the warriors were already struggling to cope with those already there. He looked to the side of the battleground and saw enemy horsemen rapidly outflanking those converged in the main fight, he had to do something or he and his people would be destroyed.

He looked around desperately looking for Togodumnus and briefly recognised his brother in the middle of one fight that was merely one part of many surrounded by other Britons fighting for their very lives. Large swords and axes were whipping up and down and from left to right as weapons clashed against the enemy shields and armour, men screamed and sprays of blood discoloured the air for the brief seconds they were airborne. The combined smell of blood and excrement from released bowels was vile, that mixed with the noise, made this place hell. He didn’t know what was worse, the sight of the battle, the sound or the stench of blood and shit. Behind the Roman lines in the distance he saw a shining gold eagle held high like a nemesis advancing towards him.

“Retreat brother, retreat!” He shouted as loud as he was able but his voice was already hoarse and was swallowed up, drowned out by the noise all around him. He realised that in no time at all Togodumnus would be surrounded again but on this occasion by the enemy. The advancing armour and men hidden behind their shields were like huge waves now and nothing it seemed could stop them.

“Retreat, retreat.” He shouted again.

The enemy wall of shields steadily advanced, spears were thrust out at his warriors and they began to take more injuries. All along the line the same thing was happening, there were small pockets where the chariots had punctured holes but they were being sealed again by the invaders like some natural vacuum. Britons who engaged the Romans at arms lengths were stabbed with short swords, those behind them were stabbed at with javelins from the men in the enemies second or third rows, as others received hurled javelins and those on the flanks were now engaged by the cavalry as they were slowly enveloped.

Caratacus ran forward still shouting trying to warn the men and women desperately fighting, only those directly in front of him heard the warning and began to back away. He realised he wasn’t going to get to Togodumnus in time and for a brief moment decided to run forward, he would die here with his brother or somehow get him free. He saw a female warrior her lithe beautiful form staggering towards him, deep puncture wounds bled from her stomach and breasts, her face white with shock except for the woad colouring her features.

He grabbed hold of an arm and dragged her behind him and pushed the image from his head because he had to find his brother. As soon as the thought rushed through his mind another told him that he had to stay alive, retreat, stay alive and keep fighting if Togodumnus was killed. He paused watching as his brother and King was engulfed by stabbing blades, he staggered backwards overcome with shock and grief, his body shook. One of his men grabbed his arm and pulled him backwards away from the fight. He tried to resist planting his feet but another set of strong hands pulled him clear shouting at him not to resist and onto a stationary chariot, he stopped struggling.

“Ride, ride, get Caratacus clear.” The man was bleeding from a head wound but Caratacus saw the determination in his clear eyes and stopped resisting altogether. From the height of the chariot he saw that his brother, King of the Catuvellauni was still fighting, swinging his sword at the moving shield wall now all around him he and his small band who were surrounded entirely. He could see the sword rise and come down onto the top of a shield and stop, it was stuck, he saw as his brother tried to prise it free. It was the last time he would see him as the chariot was quickly turned and the driver struggled to retreat through the still advancing men and women.

Togodumnus saw that those around him were being whittled down and knew he wouldn’t survive this battle. He looked around for his brother but couldn’t see him anywhere. He gripped his sword with two hands with all his strength to lose it now would mean instant death.

“No surrender.” He shouted at the top of his voice as he hammered his sword down on the nearest shield. The double bladed sword sliced down into the top of the scutum a few blade widths and stopped. He immediately tried to pull his weapon free but found that it was lodged tight.

Men and women fell all around him struck down as iron cut through their bodies as other shields closed in. He saw one female warrior’s blue painted flesh turned red with blood as a spear sliced through her throat. She didn’t stop or hesitate but fought on impaled on the point of the weapon sticking through her flesh, hacking at the man responsible. He let go of his sword and pulled his dagger free of its scabbard and ran at her attacker. He wrenched another shield down and reached forward trying to stab at the man holding it who jerked his head back, his knife too short.

He suddenly felt an instant white hot pain from somewhere under his ribcage, in the centre of his stomach, it was crippling and instantly disabled any further movement. He dropped his weapon so paralysing was the pain. He looked down and saw a wooden shaft tipped with iron protruding from his stomach. Before another thought came to him, it was ripped free. Blood came with it and the pain was now such that he began to black out, the noise around him faded. Falling backwards he was aware of being struck by another blow somewhere to the side of his chest and then the world went black.

Caratacus was carried back to the rallying point of his chariots, he felt empty, cold and devastated. He staggered from the wooden chariot, sweating and shaking, white with shock. Men and women around him saw his expression but most were running and didn’t register fully what had occurred. Warriors were still advancing towards the enemy, he watched as they ran but knew their bravery was in vain.

“Have them pull back.” He said to the men who had saved him. “Get into the marshland, we can’t beat them like this, they are too heavily armoured and protected.”

“But lord your brother, the King what of him?” He asked.

“He was surrounded the last time I saw him.” He pointed towards the battle, “Get them pulled back.” He walked to his horse mounted it and then rode towards the marshes. Those who could, retreated, men and women on foot and chariots moved back to the rallying point and beyond into the marshes. The battle had gone on until midday and both sides had won some encounters but the first major blow had been struck by the enemy. They’re unceasing shield wall supported by rapidly moving cavalry had forced the defenders back and into certain defeat. For hours the battle had raged on as they were out flanked, their warriors with their horsemen and so their chariots tried to outflank them but they simply did not have enough to stop the seemingly endless tide of men and armour.

Vespasian had called a halt to their advance when the Britons were seen to be finally retreating in larger numbers. Disciplined the soldiers had held their position as they were ordered. They even allowed their opponents to drag away the injured as they consolidated the position having won the strategic advantage over the river. Supplies were brought forward and artillery was set up in a defensive perimeter. The Britons had lost hundreds, maybe thousands their dead bodies littered the ground but Varro saw that his own force had lost men as well although not nearly as many as the enemy.

Word in the fast growing camp was that they were to pursue and destroy all those who had stood before them but it had to be done in a manner that reduced the cost in lives and injuries to their own. Things were moving rapidly, it could only be a matter of time before the Britons were defeated or forced to surrender.

“Lord, lord!” Caratacus was sat drinking water from a wooden cup, he turned to the shouting behind him somewhere in the trees. He had eventually retreated into the marshland with a large force intending to ambush the advancing army but they had paused for breath and much needed rest. Scouts informed him that the Legion of Vespasian were now reinforcing their position. He knew that the scene of the battle was lost to him and his people and for the time being there was nothing he could do. Their enemy although brutal, had allowed them to retrieve their injured and many were now being tended in areas nearby. Wails and cries from relatives of those struck down sounded from all around him as well as those of the injured. He had sent skirmishers and archers back through the trees to watch for when the Romans advanced again knowing they wouldn’t have to wait long. They were ordered to engage them and then withdraw, engage and withdraw as fast as possible.

“What is it?” He asked of the man panting before him.

“The King he lives.” The man pointed as Caratacus jumped to his feet dropping the cup. He saw his brother’s body seemingly lifeless being carried on a war chariot towards him the horses were reigned in and brought to a halt. He heard a feint sigh from Togodumnus as the two horses pulling the chariot breathed heavily from their exertion. Caratacus ran over to him, he was appalled by what he saw. His brother had sustained multiple injuries to his upper chest and stomach. Almost black blood bubbled up out of two larger blood black holes in his chest. Most of the other injuries were wedge shaped and could have only come from short swords.

“Togodumnus.” He said his voice almost breaking with emotion. His brother didn’t respond, he was laid out on his back unmoving his eyes barely open, spittle and blood coming from his mouth. Caratacus tried to stop the blood flow from his body with his hands but it was useless.

“Bring cloth.” He shouted not taking his eyes from his brother. “I thought you were dead.” He said almost to himself as he surveyed the injuries again. “I knew in my heart you wouldn’t fall, that they couldn’t kill you.” Even as he spoke, he knew his words were lies.

“We managed to get him free of the attack,” said one of the men from the chariot, “if they had known he was the King they would have taken him. At first I thought he was dead there was so much blood but as I crouched I saw his eyes flicker and pulled him free of the bodies around where he lay.” The chariot driver told him now staring down at his King.

“You did well my friend but I fear it may be too late to help him. He has received many injuries and whilst my brother will fight to the last, I fear the worst and think he maybe mortally wounded.” He looked at his brother and watched as short shallow breaths escaped his racked and ruined body. He leant over him and whispered in his ear.

“Can you hear me brother?” He turned and looked at his face looking for any signs of consciousness there were none, no signs of life except for the breaths escaping his open mouth. He saw that even the top row of his teeth had been shattered and at least four were missing presumably knocked out as he had fought for his life. He was pained to see his brother this way, they had grown up together, laughed, cried and fought with each other.

“Brother, hear me.” Tears welled up in his eyes, he didn’t try to stop them. He looked up and realised that there were others gathered around him, their faces reflected his own, shock, sadness, fear and hate.

“Prepare for the enemy.” He ordered looking at them. “They will pay dearly for this.” The men and women around him picked up and gathered their weapons some of which had been dropped at the surprise of seeing their King so badly injured. None spoke, they didn’t have to and with determined features they ran into the marshes.

Togodumnus’ body shook and trembled as more blood pumped from his pierced and penetrated skin. The two wounds that had previously spewed dark black blood now emitted pinkish bubbling frothing fluid and Caratacus knew that his brother’s lungs were damaged, he had seen this before. His breaths shortened, rasping with every effort, he didn’t have long. Caratacus leaned over him again he knew he didn’t have much time. He heard shouts from the men sent to watch for movement from the enemy.

“I swear by the gods I will avenge you brother, I will live to fight these invaders and become a thorn in their sides. I will give my all to take from them as they taken from us. I will have no other reason for being and if I am forced to give my life I will give it gladly, for my people, my land and our family. They will live to regret their greed and betrayal by invading our lands. This I swear on our fathers name, I will make it my life’s work to avenge you.” Tears dropped freely onto his brother’s dirty blood stained face, the droplets smearing blood and dirt.

After a few quiet moments Caratacus looked up and saw that there were still five of his warriors stood solemnly watching him. He looked at them all in turn and saw the sorrow in their eyes.

“Car……..” He looked back and saw that Togodumnus had opened his eyes, barely but they were open and he was trying to speak. Blood ran from the side of his mouth freely.

“I’m here brother.” Caratacus said as he leant forward again trying to block everything else out.

“Admin….” His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

“Togodumnus.” He reached down and took his brother’s head in his hands raising it slightly.

“Adminius is that what you’re saying, Adminius?” He felt the head rock slightly in his hands.

“I will ensure that bastard pays for what he has done, his treachery won’t go unpunished. He is worse than the men behind those shields, at least they have not betrayed their own. At least they are brave enough to face us without cowering somewhere in the background beyond our reach. I promise you brother I swear it on our fathers soul.”

Togodumnus closed his eyes as if the pain was too much and he sighed. Caratacus looked down at him tears rolling freely down his face. The King who was his brother opened his eyes once more and managed the briefest of smiles. He gasped once more, eyes looking heavenward and then his brother felt the weight of his head grow heavy and saw his arms go limp as life left his body. Togodumnus was dead.

“Arrrrrrggggggghhhhhhh!” Caratacus let out an almost inhuman howl, the men around him took a step back as the animalistic sound made them jump. It went on for some seconds before Caratacus fell forward over his dead brother cradling him in his arms. He let the grief and hatred combine through his veins, coursing as blood pumped from his still strong and beating heart.

After a few minutes he looked up staring ahead, “Take the King,” he ordered not even lifting his head to look at the men, “I will not leave him here as a trophy for them.”

They moved forward and carefully picked up the body of their former King as if he were still alive and carried him to the chariot where they placed his body.

“We will honour my brother as he deserves but not here, be sure to be careful with him.” The men nodded and climbed aboard the chariot, two squatted down and held the Kings body gently and while one drove, the other two stood guard. Caratacus watched as he was slowly driven away.

“I’ll see you soon my brother and we’ll talk and laugh again.” He said wiping his eyes. Picking up his sword he ran into the marshes.

The Roman advance was still halted as they dealt with the dead, dying or injured and brought forward more equipment, men and horses. Their own wounded, those unable to walk were taken to the rear where doctors and physicians tended to their injuries. The Legion as a whole had paused whilst readying themselves for the next step. War was a steady business Vespasian knew, it wasn’t to be rushed or mistakes would be made and valuable lives lost.

Some dead Britons still littered the battlefield in dense patches where intense amounts of fighting and killing had taken place. Twisted pale limbs were bent at horrific angles and poked out from under legs and bodies, faces contorted in shock, anger and pain stared, dead eyes not seeing the world around them. Hundreds had gone to their gods that day but all bravely and without question or hesitation, the General realised he admired them for that.

It was midday before the army was formed up and ready to advance again. Scouts were sent forward to survey the tree line and beyond where the majority of Britons had been seen retreating towards. It was however, impossible for the main battle formation to enter the wooded area and even more so to enter the marshland beyond, the hazard the scouts had already found.

Vespasian had eventually decided to send a Batavian cohort forward after the scouts had reported their findings, marshland, water and bog dispersed amongst small patches of dry land. It was no place for the ranks of the Legion and so a different kind of advance was decided upon. He had learned harsh lessons from entering such places in their battle formations before, entire legions had been destroyed by Germanic tribes in the past. Vespasian didn’t intend to make the same mistake of Varus who nearly forty years before had led over twenty thousand men to their deaths, wiped out in the forests of Teutoburg.

The temperature was cooler under the trees as they slowly moved forward on their horses taking in their surroundings. The ground had been solid enough under the branches when they had first entered the marshy woodland but was now it was getting damper and wetter. Squelching noises sounded as the horses pulled their hooves up from the muddy water as their riders tried to find firmer ground but it was becoming increasingly impossible.

An eerie quiet covered the woods and marshland elsewhere like a blanket, there were no birds singing or hares running wild here which the mounted men found disheartening. They knew something wasn’t right. The men of the cohort knew that an attack would come but from where and when they didn’t know, the pressure was like a physical force. Eventually the Decurion leading them, Arturius Valius found some more favourable footing where the ground was almost dry, it stretched out before them as far as he could see which wasn’t very far under the circumstances because of the twines from the other trees but at least it was a better surface.

He didn’t like this country, there were too many areas like this where an ambush could come from anywhere. The entire land it seemed was covered in trees from what he had seen of it so far and couldn’t understand what use the Emperor could find for all this wood, marsh and bog. He had served in Rome’s legions for twelve years and wanted nothing more than to be able to return home to his wife and family but he knew it wouldn’t happen for a number of years yet so he had to concentrate on surviving.

He stopped momentarily and raised his right arm indicating that the men behind him halt while he paused and listened. Looking through the vines he scanned the terrain but there was nothing to hear or see. He strained his eyes trying to look beyond the trees and branches but could see nothing, nothing at all, no movement that may give away an ambush but he knew they were there, waiting, watching. He turned to his men but all he got in response was shrugs, they saw or sensed nothing also.

It went on like that for some time until he saw more watery marshland ahead. He waved his second in command forward, whispering he said to Aquilus, “There’s more fucking water and mud ahead, pass the word, tell the men we’ll take a break and get some water down us before we go further.” The soldier did as he was ordered and the men dismounted quietly and took their water skins from the horses as the animals started to chew on the lush green grass around them.

After a while just as Valius felt as if he could fall asleep sat on the ground where he had stopped propped against the trunk of a tree, he decided it was time to move on. He beckoned for Aquilus and told him to tell the men. As he turned and went to carry out the order Valius was aware of something flying passed him at speed barely missing his eye in a blur, he even felt its passing. He heard a dull thump and saw that an arrow had hit his second in command and was embedded between the chain-link armour covering his back and the bronze of his helmet in the back of his neck. He stood still for a second and then just fell face forward onto the grass like a dead weight. The Decurion turned and couldn’t believe what he saw.