The Wrath of Boudicca Read online

  ‘My views are not shared by the majority,’ said Boudicca, ‘and my people fall upon the Shamen’s words like geese on the corn. Better that I direct their ramblings than banish them, for that would only feed subversion.’ Both women looked toward the old crone as she arrived.

  ‘You summoned me, great Queen.’

  ‘I did. Have you partaken of the dream root.’

  ‘We have, Boudicca.’

  ‘And was this day revealed to you?’

  ‘It was, my Queen, but such things are for the enlightened. My pictures can be shared but they are yours to read.’

  ‘Then show me your dreams, Shaman, for the people of Britannia grow impatient.’

  ‘My Queen,’ said the Shaman, ‘I saw a sacred pond that fed a stream. Many children drank from the stream but it dried up and the children went thirsty. Together they looked to the pond and saw it was blocked by mud. A minnow tried to unblock the mud but a great pike scared it off and chased it around the pond. Finally the minnow grew tired and turned against the pike in a great fight, swallowing up the pike and allowing the stream to flow again, easing the thirst of the children.’

  ‘I knew it,’ gasped Boudicca, ‘the vision is clear.’

  ‘Is it?’ asked Rianna.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ asked Boudicca, ‘the children in the dream are our children of the future and the mighty Pike represents the Romans. The fact that it was defeated by a minnow shows that our cause is just.’ She turned to the Shaman. ‘Take your dream to the people and let them know the meaning. They will stand taller with such magic and look into the enemy’s eyes as equals, not vanquished.’ As the Shaman disappeared to her task Boudicca turned once more to Rianna. ‘My friend,’ she said, ‘there are great days before us and I am honoured that you will be at my side.’

  ‘And I am proud to stand alongside you, Boudicca. Many lives will be lost before we return to our lands but their sacrifice will strengthen every step of those who follow until not one Roman foot remains on Britannic soil.’

  ‘Then let us make it so, sister or die well in the trying.’ The two women embraced before Boudicca left to address the council, cheered on by thousands of warriors as she passed. The die was cast, the war had begun.

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  Chapter Seven

  The Lands of the Deceangli

  Three hundred miles away, Suetonius finalised his plans. The engineers had overseen the construction of a fleet of basic assault boats while every vessel for miles around had been seized to add to the makeshift fleet. Onagers and Ballistae, the siege artillery, were unloaded from the carts and assembled along the foreshore in anticipation of the assault.

  The command post was still located in the Cerrig and Suetonius held a briefing for his officers in the great hall which once held the warriors of Idwal. When all those summoned had arrived, Suetonius called them to silence.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Thank you for leaving your preparations at such short notice. I have summoned you here to relay disturbing news. Our spies tell us that one of the tribes in the east is busy raising an army to provide resistance against us. At this moment there is little information but our spies report their numbers are many and they pose a threat to our settlements in the area.’

  ‘Which tribe?’ asked a Tribune.

  ‘Iceni,’ said Suetonius, ‘though there are reports of others joining them.’

  ‘I thought the Iceni were subservient,’ said a voice.

  ‘They were,’ said Suetonius, ‘but the old King died and his widow is known to be a firebrand.’

  ‘A woman,’ said Tribune Attellus, ‘why is this of concern to us? Pass the information to the Evocati stationed at Camulodunum and be done with it. They may be reserves but every one of them is a veteran, they will scratch this itch without catching breath.’

  ‘You would think so,’ said Suetonius, ‘but apparently this itch has already burned dozens of client villages and is reported to be heading toward Camulodunum.’

  ‘Why go there?’ asked Attellus, ‘surely they don’t think they can have any effect. Villages are one thing but a walled city is another altogether. It is too well defended.’

  ‘This is why I summoned you,’ said Suetonius. ‘I have reports that this woman is becoming a serious threat and her army could breach the walls of Camulodunum. In normal circumstances I would despatch two Legions to swat this insect but the Victrix is spread thinly across the south of Britannia while the Augusta is tied down in the Khymru, keeping the cursed Silures and Cornovii quiet. That leaves us and the Ninth Hispana to deal with the threat. Camulodunum is at least fifteen days march from here and we would arrive too late to reinforce the defences. The Hispana, however are only a few days away from the settlement and are perfectly placed to defend their walls or better still, address the problem before it arises. To this end, I have sent a team of messengers on fresh horses to instruct Legatus Petillius to lead his Legion against the Iceni without delay. I have no doubt whatsoever that the threat, if there ever was one, will be extinct within ten days.’

  Heads nodded around the hall. Quintus Petillius Cerialis, Legatus of the Ninth Hispana Legion was a veteran of many conflicts and a respected leader of men.

  ‘However,’ continued Suetonius, ‘as the Ninth will be otherwise engaged it means we are alone in our task against the Druids. We could wait until Petillius has dealt with this annoyance and joins us here but I grow frustrated by the continued delay. Mona has long been a thorn in our side and while the Deceangli lick their wounds, I feel we will never have a better opportunity to silence these so called priests. Across that stretch of water lays the head of the snake. Remove that and the rest of the Britannic tribes will writhe in religious agony. My Tribunes tell me we have enough boats to carry half the Legion across the strait and if we go when the tide is lowest, we can land on the far slopes within minutes. Make no mistake, for though the enemy do not have a trained army, this is a task equal to that faced by Plautius at Medway. I believe our men have the mettle but let it never be said that my ego outshone the expertise of my commanders. I seek your guidance on this matter. Do we wait for the Ninth Hispana or do we do what Romans do best and take the battle to the enemy in the face of overwhelming odds?’

  As one the hall erupted in shouts from every man present.

  ‘Take the head,’ shouted some, ‘kill the snake,’ shouted others, ‘death to the Druids.’ Fists pounded on tables while men invoked their own gods in support of the action. As the commotion continued, Suetonius walked slowly through the throng of seasoned soldiers. He would fight alongside any one of them in a heartbeat but there was one man who’s opinion he sought above all others. The gathered officers and Centurions opened before him until he stood before the one man not on his feet. The soldier’s helmet lay on the ground and though he was entitled to wear the traverse scarlet crest of a Centurion, he rarely displayed such insignia, preferring to concentrate on the things that mattered most, soldiering.

  With any other man, the lack of response to the Governor’s rallying call could have been seen as insubordination but with this man it was different. He was the senior Centurion of the Legion and as such the leader of the double strength first Cohort and though he was a man of few words, he had earned the respect of every man there. All eyes turned toward the two men and silence fell once more, broken only by the sound of a whetstone being dragged slowly along the edge of the Centurion’s Gladius.

  Suetonius watched him with interest. This man had been there at the beginning and served under Plautius during the invasion seventeen years earlier. His skill with any weapon was legendary amongst the Legion and he was the complete soldier, totally committed to the service of Rome. It was an ill kept secret that he had also served in the Exploratores, the specialised unit that operated behind enemy lines and had played a major part in the downfall of Caratacus at the battle of Caer Caradog ten years earlier. Since then he had worked his way up through the ranks to where he was now. His name was Cassus Maecilius an
d he was the Primus Pilus, senior Centurion and fourth in line of command to the Fourteenth Gemina.

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  ‘What say you, Cassus?’ asked Suetonius. ‘What thoughts swirl around that mind of yours?’

  The soldier stopped sharpening his sword and got to his feet. Slowly his gaze swept across the room, meeting the eyes of all those who dared to look directly toward him.

  ‘Suetonius,’ he said eventually. ‘As you know I will follow you unto hell if that is your command. These so called Druids hold no fear for me and I will gladly lead my men across the strait to bathe my Gladius in religious blood. But there is doubt in my sword arm. Unlike others present, this woman you speak of worries me. I have had dealings with the Iceni in the past and know them to be one of the more stubborn tribes. If word is spreading that they raise an army then that is no small news and just the fact that they dare stand against us, screams a warning to me. We all know that if this island had the sense to unite, we would need five times as many Legions compared to the four now deployed and if this woman is as rabid as they proclaim, she may just be the catalyst to spur such unification. As word spreads about her gall, men will flock to her banner. Warriors from tribes who yet resist will join farmers crippled by taxes in a fight for liberty and there is no army that fights as well as one of liberation. You ask me my thoughts and they are these. The Druids see themselves as invincible and protected by their gods. They are going nowhere and will still be there later in the campaign season for us to pick off at whim. Destroying them will be a political victory only, while in the east a real threat raises its head. Leave the priests for a later time and double march to Camulodunum. Send fresh riders and have the Ninth wait for our arrival before they face the Iceni. With two Legions, I agree the battle will be one sided but alone I fear Petillius may come up against a Viper not a grass snake.’

  For a few moments the room remained silent as those present digested his words.

  ‘Utter horseshit,’ snapped Tribune Attellus and the men opened up again, leaving the young Tribune facing the Primus Pilus.

  ‘The idea that a thrown together army of ill prepared barbarians could present a threat to a Legion of the Ninth’s stature is not even worth a second thought. With respect, Cassus, I believe Petillius will swipe this Boudicca aside as he would a fly and then, if he is half the leader I know he is, continue to wipe the Iceni from the face of the earth for their impudence.’

  Cassus didn’t rise to the insult. The young Tribune was known as a hot head and didn’t mince his words, a trait that the more experienced soldier found quite refreshing.

  ‘You may be right, Attellus,’ he said, ‘but my opinion was sought and I gave it. I do not doubt our ability to overcome the Druids. I do however believe that Boudicca poses a greater threat.’

  Attellus turned to the Governor.

  ‘Sire,’ he said, ‘our men have campaigned long for a chance of glory. Stories abound that the island is full of treasures and our men have fought with the promise of gold their reward. Gladii sit in scabbards and sword arms grow lazy with the wait. Many before you have proclaimed the Druids the ultimate prize but all fell by the wayside, seduced by the politics of Governorship yet you have them at your feet.’

  Attellus turned to address the rest of the men.

  ‘Do not doubt the worth of Petillius,’ he continued, ‘his name resounds around the senate, such is his fame. Let him deal with the woman while we behead the snake. Like every man here I revere the word of the Primus Pilus but with respect, in this matter he is wrong. Take their holy island and Britannia will fold beneath them like a new-born calf’s legs. Surely this is an opportunity too great to miss.’

  Many voices raised in support until finally the Legatus raised his hand for silence.

  ‘Praefectus Castrorum, report on the task before us,’ he said.

  The third in command of the Legion stepped forward.

  ‘Sire, the strait separating Mona from the mainland ranges from a mile wide to less than a few hundred paces. It is open to the sea and as such is tidal. At low tide, the distance in places reduces to less than a hundred paces though locals report that the mud exposed can be lethal and will trap men in its grip as if in irons. Obviously this is a situation we cannot contemplate.’ He approached the map.

  ‘Our options are these,’ he continued. ‘If we are to assault Mona, we can do at only two possible times, high or low tide. The race of the water between those times is too great and our men and boats would be washed away. At high tide, we can launch assault boats here, here and here.’ He pointed a dagger at the map. ‘Other launch points are available but the far bank is not suitable for quick exits from the boats and they would become killing zones. In addition, our Ballistae and Onagers would be out of range as they would have to be brought back from the water’s edge. We would probably prevail but would lose many boats from the defenders’ arrows before we made landfall.’

  ‘However,’ he continued, ‘if we were to attack at low tide, we have observed the waters uncover accessible rocks further into the strait. This means our artillery becomes viable. In addition, the water flow is at a minimum and though the distance is still fifty paces across deep water, it is well within the capabilities of our men and indeed the cavalry.’

  ‘What about the exposed mud?’ asked a voice.

  ‘Again, at these points we have observed rocky outcrops at low tide,’ said the officer. All we would have to do is get across ten paces of mud to access solid footing. After that, it is down to the skills of our infantry.’

  ‘And how is that mud to be bettered?’

  ‘With reed mats,’ said the Praefectus Castrorum. ‘The locals use them to harvest shellfish at low tide. We have taken this knowledge and are having hundreds of such mats made as we speak. The first wave of boats will contain local fishermen who have been brought up on the straits and know the dangers. They will lay the mats needed to span the distance from boat to rocks, ready for the second wave containing our men.’

  ‘Why would the fishermen help us?’ asked another officer. ‘Surely as soon as they make the crossing they will defect to the enemy.’

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ said the Praefectus, ‘but trust me, we have arrangements in place to ensure that won’t happen.’

  ‘And the cavalry,’ asked another officer, ‘is there a role for us?’

  ‘There is, Quintus,’ answered the officer, ‘though in the second wave. We cannot risk the horses in the mud so once the landing has been secured, your cavalry will enter the water here and here. It is a longer swim but at least there is no mud and the far bank is a gentle sloping beach, ideal for easy exit. By then the far bank will be ours and you will ride to secure the forward edge of the assault while the rest of the Legion crosses behind you.’

  ‘Enemy strength?’ asked Attellus.

  ‘Unknown at the moment but we have observed movement in the trees on the far bank. Locals have informed us that the Druids have no formal army though there are a clan of Druid warriors that guard the holy men. We understand they are fanatics who will fight to the death to protect their island though only a few hundred strong. Nevertheless, the population of the island is many thousands and they will protect their priests to the death. We should assume at least equal numbers to our own.’

  The Governor stood forward once again.

  ‘Architecti, report on preparations,’ he ordered.

  The officer in charge of the Legion’s engineers pushed to the front of the gathered officers.

  ‘Sire, we have a hundred barges already constructed, each capable of carrying a Contubernium across the channel in a few minutes. On top of that we have commandeered another twenty fishing vessels as well as a cargo ship capable of carrying a century of archers on her decks. We also have a thousand rush mats completed with a thousand more due imminently. All Scorpios are serviced and are capable of reaching the far shore to provide covering fire. The Onagers have already been tensioned to increase the range and although most of t
he far bank is beyond their range there is a spur that sticks out where they can get closer, bringing a stretch of the bank within their range.’

  ‘Ballistae arrows?’

  ‘Over five thousand on standby in carts to the rear.’

  ‘Fire pots?’

  ‘A thousand, as well as five thousand boulders for Onagers.’

  ‘Tribune Attellus, you were tasked with tactics. Unveil your plan.’

  ‘Gentlemen,’ said Attellus, relishing the opportunity to demonstrate his tactical ability. ‘The arrangements already discussed should indicate our thinking. However, for clarity, the plan is this. In two days’ time, low tide is just before dawn. Before the sun rises, our engineers will drag the Ballistae onto the rocks and the Onagers onto the spur indicated by the Architecti. The lead boats with the fishermen will make the crossing under the cover of darkness and lay the mats across the mud. Hopefully they will be undetected but as soon as the subterfuge is revealed, our artillery will begin the bombardment with fire pots and Ballistae arrows. In the confusion, our Cohorts will follow up in boats here,’ he indicated the location on the map, ‘while the Batavian auxiliaries will swim the wider channels here and here. All first assault troops will be tasked with securing the shore for one hundred paces inland, enabling our cavalry to cross without fear of archers. The rest, gentlemen is standard operating procedure.’

  ‘It sounds straightforward,’ said one of the Centurions

  ‘It is,’ said Attellus, ‘as are all great plans.’

  Suetonius stepped forward once more and all heads turned to face the General.

  ‘A Legion is not one sword but many acting as one,’ he said, ‘and though such decisions fall on my shoulders, the same is often said about a good commander. I have listened to your council and though your concerns are heeded, I have made a decision. As suggested by the Primus Pilus, message will be sent to the Ninth to hold back from engagement with Boudicca unless pressed into self-defence. In the meantime in two days’ time the Fourteenth Gemina will assault Mona with all possible haste to wipe out the Druid’s influence once and for all. Gentlemen, you have forty eight hours to prepare your men for battle. The decision is made.’