Caratacus

Chapter Sixteen

Caratacus and his army retreated all the way back to the safety of Camulodunum. Some of them were on war chariots that hadn’t even got involved in the fighting this time as the retreat had occurred so quickly, some were on horseback, others in carts but most were on foot. At first the inhabitants ran out of the enormous wooden walled settlement in celebration, great beaming smiles all over their faces, arms outstretched in greeting, until they saw the expressions and demeanour of the warriors coming towards them. Quickly their mood changed and they began to help those who had been injured in the battle and it became apparent that the river crossing by the enemy had turned into a rout.

As the new King entered the great open gates, women wailed mourning the loss of so many of their people and significantly Togodumnus as word spread of his death. Caratacus suddenly realised that he had always associated the great gates with happiness, security, feelings of well-being and safety but today was different. Today he felt empty, devastated and devoid of anything normal, how had this come to pass? A great darkness had descended over him and the place he had called home as a child as he looked into the faces of those standing watching them return.

People rushed to get the injured inside the many roundhouses and to get them treatment. Cries of agony from bleeding warriors and the wailing and screaming filled his ears from all around, his senses were bombarded with grief. He saw his wife Mott, for the first time since the battles and his eyes welled up with tears, he didn’t try to stop them.

“Come with me quickly.” She said. “You can’t let the people see you like this.” She grabbed his hand before he could say anything and led him through the low houses and woods that made up part of the great settlement and to the home of his brother. Ducking down under the low door he walked inside and for a second couldn’t see anything as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“We have to go, leave.” He said turning to Mott.

“Go? Go where husband, this is our home now. This is Camulodunum, where else are we supposed to go?” There is nowhere left. She looked into his eyes her face confused almost angry.

“They….the Romans” he began, “won’t stay where they are you know that, they’ll come straight here and slaughter every living thing. What are we supposed to do, what else would you suggest, wait and be massacred, is that what you’re saying wife?” He paused, “I can’t stop them I’ve tried time and time again and look what happened. They’ve killed hundreds of our people maybe thousands.” He heard crying from somewhere outside as someone quickly walked passed with their own personal grief.

“Our people can expect more of this when they get here,” he continued, “but it will be worse, they’ll raise this place to the ground if we try and defend it. They have machines that are unstoppable and the men are too well protected inside their body metal.” He looked at the smoke hole in the roof above and saw the blue sky above, it looked serene most unlike his reality below.

“What do you suggest we do husband flee, run away from our homes, our lives, all of us? I would rather die where I stand.” Mott said rage now written over her pretty face.

“And what of the people, their families, friends, our own children, we have generations of people here. What about the old, I can’t ask them to leave they wouldn’t last a few days and would slow us down with the Romans pursuing us.” He replied his frustration clear.

She was silent for a while. “Then we have to go with those who can survive, move quickly and fight. I will not stay here only to accept slavery or worse. I will not let that happen to our children, I’d rather take a blade to them and myself right now.” Mott said.

“I would as well.” He sat on the straw packed bed with his head in his hands. “If we do leave there’s a chance that the Romans will leave our people alone,” he looked up at his wife, “not kill them or sell them into slavery I mean. If we stay and fight one thing is certain, they’ll wipe us out.” He stood pacing, “I’ll ask those who are able to join me,” he paused adding, “us. We can’t fight them as we have so I have to find another way. Even if we had the same weapons they would defeat us because they hide behind theirs shields, they fight without honour.”

Mott stopped his pacing by placing her hands on his shoulders, he stared at her anger flaring in his eyes. She was considerably shorter than him with fair long brown hair tied in a ponytail at the back. They had known each other since they were children and had always been close even before their relationship blossomed as teenagers.

“Caratacus that’s what they do, that’s why they have swept all other opponents aside. They don’t hide,” his stare hardened, “they are wise in their way of war whilst we throw our people onto their shields to die even when we outnumber them they are victorious.”

He broke free of her and turned away, “At the fort we didn’t throw ourselves at them, we were close to achieving success but those fools of the Dobunni gave up too easily as soon as they began to take heavy injuries.” He ground his teeth and clenched his fists in frustration. “I will not submit or surrender to these Romans. Their Emperor has betrayed the trust of my father and the generations before him and I will hold him personally responsible for my brother’s death. I will now dedicate my life to fighting him and his legions and anyone who sides with them.” He still paced. “Go and tell the chieftains and elders to gather. I will outline my plans to them and the people, all able bodied warriors who wish to come with me can, anyone who wishes to stay here and put their fate in the hands of Rome can do as they wish, I will not hold it against them.” Mott smiled faintly and left leaving Caratacus to pace once more.

A short time later many chieftains and warriors were gathered to hear his words as he surveyed the crowd from the settlement wall.

“Loyal people of the Catuvellauni,” he began struggling to control his emotions, “a great dark menace has come to our land and now threatens to destroy all that we have come to know. Many of you will have seen the devastation wreaked upon our warriors in battle. At this moment the enemy will be massing ready to advance again.” He paused letting the words sink in, his audience silent.

“This time it’s different, this time they advance on our home and if we chose to stand and fight…..we not only risk defeat but we risked total destruction. These people have no honour and they will utterly destroy our people if we stand and fight and if we chose to now, we will almost certainly lose.” Those gathered below muttered and mumbled amongst themselves at his words.

“My family has always led the people of the Catuvellaunia as you know. I believe we have always had the interests of the people at heart. With that in mind I cannot risk this great place, the home of our forefathers being turned to dust and ash along with you and your families.”

The audience had stopped mumbling to each other now and looks of confusion were exchanged, he continued, “I plan to leave and take as many warriors with me who want to continue to fight. The Trinovantes are a day’s march away and have said they will join us but only their young, the strong, those able to join the struggle. I will take those from here, those who wish to fight and get away from this place.”

“What about those you leave behind?” An old woman shouted.

“The Romans will kill every single living thing if we stay and fight here. If the warriors leave, those who are left will be at their mercy but even they will not kill just for the sake of killing. I will not abandon you I swear and I will return one day but I have to find another way to fight them. I have to gather more people for that fight and I cannot and will not witness the death of my entire people and place of birth, the place where I have so many memories.”

A total silence now met his words.

“Those who are able and those who are willing to follow me must now make a choice and that choice is this….leave and fight but leave behind what you have known or stay and await their Legions.” He looked around at the faces staring up at him and saw sadness, desperation and confusion.

“I go now to prepare for the journey. Any who wish to join me are welcome but I warn you it will be hard and difficult and I cannot guarantee when you will return. I can only guarantee you this……” His vice raised as he shouted, “I will not rest and I will give my last breath to fight these invaders and so must those who choose to join me.” He punched his fist into the air. “I will go to the end of the land but will never give up, never, never, never.”

Cheers rose up from the crowds as he turned and walked quickly away to prepare for the journey ahead.

It was a full six weeks later when the massed Roman army approached Camulodunum. The advance had surprised both sides involved in the war but not Plautius as he had decided to inform the Emperor of his progress after the battle of the Tamesa. It gave him and his troops the opportunity to secure their territorial gains and to ensure that harbours were properly established for re-enforcements and supplies. The wounded were treated and men rested, whilst the defences were made more substantial during the pause in fighting.

Claudius himself had sent word back to his headquarters that he would personally take the surrender of Camulodunum, it was something he thought would never actually happen. The intervening weeks had guaranteed that his army was at its strongest and in the best possible condition for the Emperor’s arrival and in order to continue the conflict against the Britons. He made good use of his time and had negotiated the peaceful surrender of the enemy’s capital. Local chieftains had assured him of their compliance after the battles they had already witnessed and so now waited to be subdued under the terms of the treaty and peace was promised.

Claudius with a taste for the dramatic had brought with him eleven elephants in order to demonstrate to the Britons, Rome’s power. He now rode the largest of the great beasts at the centre of a long line of the huge animals that were ridden by members of his elite Praetorian guard with columns of heavy infantry behind, flanked by cavalry. The watching faces of Britons could be seen peering out from the settlements walls as the vast army approached.

Despite assurances that the Britons would not resist, Claudius had decided it wise not to take the chance and believe their words. If the Britons attacked the leading formations, which included him and his beloved elephants, the plan was for him to fall back and allow the battle hardened veterans to assault the vast settlement, which in turn would be reduced to smouldering ash along with every inhabitant.

With the large animals waving their long trunks around and walking slowly, the army got to within bow range and sharp eyes watched the walls but nothing changed from the people standing on them, they just watched eyes wide. As it turned out, the Britons were true to their word and Claudius, Emperor of Rome, entered the gates of Camulodunum without a drop of blood being spilt.

He had expected a hero’s welcome from the people that he believed he was freeing from the tyranny of their barbaric ruler but instead of cheers and waving, the people of Camulodunum just stood and stared. A few ran at the sight of the huge animals but most simply watched as he entered their great settlement. Flanked by members of the Praetorian Guard with cavalry and heavy infantry close by he rode beyond the gates and then stopped to take in his victory, silence greeted him.

Over the coming days he took the surrender of the regional tribal Kings, eleven in total and various lower chieftains and pronounced that Britannia was now a part of the Roman Empire. He gave little thought to other regions or territories and believed that they would fall in line now that Caratacus had been defeated and Camulodunum was his. He ordered the construction of a temple in his honour and a triumphant arch. A great Roman City would grow on the grounds that had once been Camulodunum and he kept his previous promise that the people would be spared.

In preparation of the work to be completed some roundhouses were levelled and cleared with word that the Romans would build the Britons concrete houses of brick and stone. Great tents were erected in the meantime in which the Roman leaders and elite lived. Outside the settlement the vast army camped in their regulation patterns covering vast swathes of land with guards patrolling the living quarters inside. On the eighth day, after the celebrations, parades and a few days of hunting, Claudius left and started his journey home satisfied that his work was done taking his elephants with him. Almost immediately work began to transform the barbarian settlement into the islands first city.

Adminius breathed in as scented oils were rubbed onto his skin. They were blended with a mixture of spices and herbs from all over the empire; the current concoction was a spiced rose scent and mint. He was in one of the many luxury command tents now sited near the centre of what had been Camulodunum as it was transformed. After the lavish parades of Claudius’ triumph over the rebels, small on a scale to those in Rome, he had been given his own tent. As the King in waiting, his scheduled coronation the next day, he suddenly found his status had been elevated by the Romans, if not by his new subjects.

He lay naked face down on a raised bed enjoying the touch of Asiria, a sign of things to come he thought, as she massaged his shoulders and upper back. Tomorrow he would be crowned King and rightfully take up his place as the leader of the Catuvellauni. Claudius had also taken the surrender of other Kings and leaders, lesser Kings obviously than he would become and the people would see that it was he who now ruled the province of Britannia on behalf of the great Roman Empire. He knew he would face hostility from a minority but didn’t care, he had achieved his aim his ambition and that was all that mattered, they would grow to respect him one way or another.

Client King in waiting he maybe but he reasoned it was better to be a client than a vagabond on the run, with no shelter, food or military force to defend him as he imagined his brother to be. Asiria motioned for him to turn over and he moved onto his back. He looked up at her features and dark skin. She spoke with heavy accented Latin and had come from a land called Parthia far to the east many weeks ride away. She was beautiful and he drank in her body with his eyes enjoying her hands as they caressed his skin. She wore her native clothes that showed her virtually flat stomach and it stirred something primeval inside him.

When he had first been introduced to her by one of the Praetorian Centurions he couldn’t believe his good fortune. She was to be his body slave from that point on, her life his to do with as he wished. She would ensure his bath was ready at the end of a hard day dealing with disputes and land issues concerning his people, she would massage, oil and scent his body and she would provide anything further he required. He had heard of body slaves when he was in Rome but had never expected to have one himself. It was no doubt a benefit of him now being a part of the upper class, a true nobleman. The nearest he had come to experiencing someone like her before was when visiting the many brothels of Rome.

It had always been his ambition above his brothers to rule but not as they had in their limited way. Whilst they were content to hunt and share their time with locals, he had studied. When he had learned all he could about his tribe and their customs and of those around them, he had sought new subjects and places and where better than Rome. His father had allowed him to travel to the great Capital aged just eight where he had seen things he would never have dreamed of before.

From an early age he had studied in their great libraries and read their scrolls and learned Latin unlike either Togodumnus or Caratacus giving him an advantage. So safe and comfortable was the young man in his new surroundings that he had stayed for five years, returning home aged thirteen to a land that had not grown or progressed since his departure. He had made friends in the world’s largest capital and he was now reaping the rewards of his earliest ambitions. He groaned as his new acquisition rubbed his lower stomach and Asiria giggled quietly.

“I’m sorry master,” she began, “I didn’t mean to arouse you.”

She looked down and saw that he was growing hard with pleasure as her hands moved lower still, she smiled. He had experienced many massages in Rome while in exile and knew that the slaves who performed them would do all they could to help their clients to relax. None however shared the beauty of this young woman taken by her homelands victor and chosen to be a body slave.

She turned and picked up the small oil bottle and poured a few drops onto his stiffening shaft. Rubbing it gently he groaned feeling her hands and the heat they generated together with the oils. You fool Adminius he thought to himself smiling more as Asiria parted his legs slightly and gently massaged his aching balls. Just when he thought it couldn’t feel any better she took his taught manhood in her hand and carefully gripped the shaft. He looked into her dark eyes and saw they were intrigued by his swollen member. Slowly at first she let her hand move up and down his shaft hearing him groan with pleasure. He arched his back closing his eyes as the tingling sensation within him grew and her hand moved faster, the oils reacting and warming, her other hand gently rubbing his balls.

“Taste it.” He instructed and she bent over him without hesitating and took his hardness into her mouth, her lips warm and soft. She moved along the length of his aching penis expertly, she clearly knew what she was doing. He knew he wouldn’t last long as her hands and mouth worked their magic. All the stress of the last few days and weeks were forgotten, nothing else mattered except this moment in time. He was right about his longevity and with a loud sigh he let go and almost as quickly fell back onto the bed sighing and smiling.

She smiled back down at him and asked, “Was that correct master?”

He lay back laughing, his shoulders shaking, “Yes Asiria you did very well, very well indeed. I think we will make great friends you and I.”

She asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you my lord?”

He smiled back totally relaxed. “Asiria you could do anything you wanted to do to me but for now I think I should get some sleep. I’ve got a very busy day ahead of me tomorrow but during the night we can have some more time together and I will help you relax.” He touched her between the legs and she giggled.

Turning she gave him a towel as he sat up and then walked to the door of the tent of his sleeping apartment. It may be a temporary structure but it was walled and covered with dyed animal skins it was far more luxurious than anything the locals had seen before. Coloured fresco’s even covered the walls interior here and there just as he had seen in the great buildings of their city. Lighted with candles on iron stands, warmed with a wood burner and guarded from the outside, he smiled hardly able to believe his good luck.

He considered what his own capital should look like. It would have to be something as imposing as the buildings he had lived in whilst in Rome but bigger. Great columns would greet visitors at the front, whilst huge corridors would welcome them inside. He would commission the best fresco artists to decorate the walls and would invite Senators from all over the Empire to witness the magnificence of the new province.

He had no regrets, well maybe one he mused, that he hadn’t gone to Rome and begged Claudius to help him take the crown earlier. Whilst his backward family would have lived in mud huts for an eternity, he had realised his vision and now he could begin work on bringing civilisation to the country of his birth. He could barely wait for the day to dawn in the morning and to see the faces of the people, his people. He would win them over he was sure and if he couldn’t they would rue the day they opposed him.

He tested the bed for firmness with his hand and found it sturdy but pliable. He drank from a goblet tasting the fresh wine he had enjoyed and finished it in one go. He dropped the towel and lay on the bed pulling the covers over him and within no time at all he was asleep. He dreamt of his future, of being a successful member of the Empire. He would recruit soldiers for Rome and make legions of British warriors turning them into auxiliaries. He would introduce farming methods and build villas, temples and worship the gods of Rome and one day he hoped, he would be accepted into the Senate itself. Anything was possible now that he had helped brush aside his backward brothers, the task now was to drag the people into the new world with him.

He didn’t know where he was when he opened his eyes sometime later and sat up suddenly with a start, something had disturbed his sleep. Had something fallen or had Asiria come to help him relax even more? The candles still burned and he realised quickly that he was still inside the massive tent and nothing was untoward, he relaxed and lay back down quickly drifting back to his dreams. Then in his sleepy state he remembered that something had woken him, something deliberate, he remembered what it was, a voice.

Immediately he sat up again blinking his eyes open and there stood at the end of the bed was his brother, Caratacus. He stared in disbelief blinking again, as if he was dreaming, was he dreaming he wondered, he must be surely? He had to be asleep still he thought, his wayward brother was running for his life or so he had been told.

“It’s me brother I’m here, you are not dreaming.” The voice was undeniable and the reality so vivid, it hit him like an axe. Adminius saw him clearly but how was this possible? Caratacus stood before him wearing a Roman toga which just added to his confusion. He spoke, “Don’t let these clothes fool you. I had to wear them in case someone saw me.” He smirked now, a disturbing smile his gaze fixed.

“I wouldn’t have been able to get to see you if I’d worn my own clothes would I?” He turned his head indicating something unseen, “Your friends outside, the large guards would have had my entrails cut out before I took a step further. You and your friends would have seen to that wouldn’t you? No real local is allowed to within a hundred paces of your grand tents.” He looked around. “So this is what it was all for was it?”

“How did you get in here? If they find you, you’ll be crucified.” He spat back in shock.

Caratacus said, “It’s still just leather and leather cuts quite easily or have you already forgotten?” He produced a dagger from under the toga. Adminius recognised it as their fathers.

“This can all be yours as well brother.” Adminius said trying desperately to change the subject to delay whatever Caratacus had planned. Maybe someone would hear them talking and come to investigate. “We can rule together like one. I’ve many plans and we can rebuild this place for the better. I told you it would happen but you wouldn’t listen. It’s alright though I forgive you, I always did.”

Caratacus could barely hide his hatred for his younger brother and ignored his words. “Do you know how Togodumnus died?” He said abruptly, he raised his eyebrows and walked to the side of the high bed.

“His body was punctured by their swords and spears whilst trying to defend his land, his people and he died in my arms, these arms you see before you.” He held his arms out but Adminius didn’t look at them, he stared at his eyes trying to determine what he intended. He held them out still as if to emphasise the point.

“I was covered in his blood, our father’s blood, blood he gave for his people.” He stared at Adminius his eyes looking right through him as if into his soul.

“I haven’t seen you for year’s brother but surely we can mend our differences now? I told you we couldn’t fight the strength of Rome and I was right see.” He waved his arm at the tented walls.

“Please now at least concede that and let us rejoice together and lead our people. With you at my side they too will see the error of their ways and stop resisting. It can be done, all you have to do is allow it for once in your life have the vision to see what is best.” The terror was evident in his eyes as he saw the cold expression on the face of Caratacus and he began to use his words to try and save himself. He was under no illusion, he barely recognised the barbarian stood over him but he had to play for time. One of the guards was bound to hear their conversation through the thin walls.

“I have no intention of being at your side Adminius. You betrayed our father, our brother and our people and you chose them over us.” He looked to the side of the tent to the unseen Romans elsewhere. “You have aided them and now you return to take a crown that wasn’t yours to take, in a land that is no longer yours to own. Our people know of your betrayal, how long do you think you will live? You killed my father as you killed my brother and there has to be a price to pay for your betrayal and indulgence. You even dress like them and even whore yourself as they do for instant gratification.”

Adminius looked shocked and blushed, “What do you mean by that?”

“I saw you with the Parthian whore.” He paused. “Is that how far you’ve fallen brother, you didn’t even know her did you?”

Adminius said, “Didn’t know her, what have you done, have you hurt her?”

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with such whores but think of your own people, the people you betrayed, the people who lay dead on the battlefields rotting even now as you lay here in a bed of betrayal. The people who tried to protect the capital from you and your kind now litter the plains, woods and forests. It’s too late to worry about her now anyway, her blood is exhausted and her throat open to the world, my world.”

Horror stricken at his brothers words Adminius tried to rise but Caratacus instantly thrust his knife forward in one quick movement before he could react, stabbing his brother in the middle of his chest where his heart lay, he froze, eyes wide as blood bled quickly from the wound.

“You fool, what have you done?” He gasped grabbing at the blade and looking down as the dagger was ripped wide and upwards into his chest cutting bone and internal organs alike. Blood gushed now, out and around the edges of the blade and onto his hands.

Caratacus stared at the man he had grown up with, he didn’t recognise him. He realised he felt nothing for what had just happened. He pulled the dagger free and wiped it and his red hands on the bed sheet and then put it away. He walked quickly and quietly from the room into the next and into the one beyond where the body of the Parthian female lay. He didn’t even look at her as he walked calmly by his movement reflected in her dead dark eyes. He found another toga and replaced the blood stained one he wore.

He went to the rear of the huge multi-roomed structure and found the cut in the leather panel where he had gained entry. He left as easily as he had entered and disappeared into the darkness of familiar pathways between the still standing roundhouses beyond.

Off duty Roman soldiers nodded acknowledging him as he walked calmly from the scene of the murder, he nodded and smiled in response. Finding his horse where he had left it he climbed aboard and looked around one last time. His capital was no longer his own and in no time he wouldn’t recognise it unless he could find enough warriors to follow him again and retake it one day. That however, would have to wait especially with the invaders leader still here on the island somewhere surrounded by his guards, it would be impossible for the time being.

As he took one last final look around he decided to return when Claudius had got back to Rome. For a second he contemplated sacrificing himself in what would be a suicidal attack on the Emperor who was probably asleep after whoring himself as Adminius had somewhere to the south. He thought about finding his column, waiting until the early hours when all but a few guards were asleep. He reasoned that he may even succeed with the help of the gods but would he survive to fight afterwards? In that moment he no longer cared for his own life but then he remembered his family and knew he could not abandon them.

In that instant he decided to leave quietly and vanish into the night westward. The Romans would no doubt blame the death of his brother on the people but they wouldn’t really care and probably wouldn’t even want retribution, they were bound to find another puppet to control as King. Caratacus knew the Romans cared nothing for his countrymen except those who they could sell, enslave and use. He clicked at his horse and walked forward looking around at the place he and his people had called home.

He felt tears well up in his eyes as visions in his head saw his father, mother and family when they were young and happy as the horse carried him along the tracks and towards freedom. Through blurred vision he passed three people and heard his name whispered, it brought him out of his memories. He wiped at his eyes and recognised them their faces not unknown but their names, two men and a woman, the woman amongst them spoke quietly.

“Go safely Caratacus son of Cunobelinus and never stop fighting. Gather our people and fight this disease that stains our land.” She smiled at him and he nodded in response not saying a word and kicked gently at his horse as it sped up into a trot. He would do as her words had said, not because she had recognised him as her rightful King but because that’s what his life was now, a fight against Rome. He rode out through the large gates and wondered if he would ever see them again.

It took a few days for the fallout from the Emperors visit to die down. Plautius and his senior officers were glad to see the back of him truth be told and his Praetorian Guard. They were never well regarded by the men of the legions who saw them as false and aloof second rate soldiers. Most had never actually served in the legions and their officers were all given their posts gratis as they were the sons of Senators. Legionaries were recruited from Rome and served their time there, deployments like the one with Claudius to Britannia were rare.

Gradually the men of Plautius’ army got down to the routine work of establishing a stable settlement and work began within days to transform what was once Camulodunum into a Roman fortress like city. The murder of Adminius went by almost unnoticed which surprised Plautius to a certain extent. They thought that the Britons would blame them for allowing the assassination to occur or would even say that they had done it in order to bring in their own or another governor. When the announcement was made some locals actually cheered, the Britons were a strange lot.

With work on the garrison being carried out, there was still a lot of exploring to be done and Plautius decided upon a three pronged advance into the interior of the country. One Legion he decided would go north, another north west and the final Legion, Vespasian’s Second Augusta, would travel west virtually parallel with the coast. When Varro heard the news he was pleased that he would remain with the Second Augusta as there had been a possibility he would be confined garrison duty. It was also rumoured that west was the direction that Caratacus had gone when he had left with what was left of his war bands.

Local members of the hierarchy were questioned at length about his departure but little was disclosed except to say that he had left to save Camulodunum and its inhabitants from destruction. There were rumours that he had cousins and other family members with the Silures, a tribe far to the west so it was presumed that their region would have been his ultimate destination. The Silures were a large tribe said to be similar to his own and very warlike so it would make sense for him and his remaining followers to go there. There were differing rumours as to how many had gone with him from four thousand to six thousand, one thing was certain and that was the Trinovantes had joined him swelling their numbers considerably.

Plautius issued orders to all the legions to engage Caratacus or any other hostile force wherever they were discovered and at the earliest possible opportunity. Caratacus had to be destroyed, that was the priority and anyone caught bearing arms with him. The population of Camulodunum had as Caratacus had believed, been spared as they had not resisted especially when confronted by the Emperor. Caratacus could expect no such mercy however, when the legions eventually caught up with him, they intended to bring about his bloody end. He was known to have taken the cream of the warriors from both the Catuvellauni and the Trinovantes with him, estimated to be some many thousands strong, possibly over ten thousand all told.

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.