Roman - The Fall of Britannia (30 page)

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Authors: K. M. Ashman

Tags: #adventure, #battle, #historical, #rome, #roman, #roman empire, #druids, #roman battles, #roman history, #celts, #roman army, #boudica, #gladiators, #legions, #celtic britain, #roman conquest

BOOK: Roman - The Fall of Britannia
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First, there is the river,’ he said, ‘the flow is fast at low
tide and too deep when the tide is high. The boats will take only
ten men each, a total force of just a thousand and with the bank
being covered by enemy spears, our men would be sitting ducks as
they founder in the mire. Even if we succeed, the ground then opens
up to perfect chariot country and they have over a thousand waiting
to fall on our exhausted men!’ He straightened up, and for the next
hour, the officers discussed the assault options. Finally, Plautius
called for quiet.

‘Silence,’ he
ordered. ‘I have heard enough. Vespasian, I believe your Batavian
Cohorts have a particular skill when it comes to river
crossings.’


Yes, Sire,’ said Vespasian beginning to realise the essence
of the plan. ‘They are well rested and eager to enter the
fray.’


Good,’ said Plautius. ‘They will have their day, as will the
rest of the Augusta.’ He turned to the other legion commander.
‘Geta, bring up your boats but send them five miles upstream.
Ensure they are not seen until needed.’ He turned to the remaining
officers. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘at dawn tomorrow, I want both of
your legions formed up on this side of the river in full battle
kit. We will drill the men and give Caratacus a show of strength he
will never forget. Assemble the Onagers and send over a constant
hail of missiles to keep them on their toes. Let them think that
our armies are going to assault them head on.’ He turned to
Vespasian. ‘In the meantime, this is what I want you and the
Augusta to do.’

For the rest of
the evening they made their plans until every officer knew their
role in detail and each left to brief his men. The battle of the
Medway was about to begin.

----

Caratacus and
Togodumnus stood high on their vantage point overlooking the
legions formed up on the other side of the river. Rank after rank
of heavily armed men stared back across the water and had done so
since first light. Troops of cavalry galloped around the edges and
dozens of lighter armed units were strategically placed at the
edges of the legion. The King and his brother were particularly
fascinated at the giant wooden machines that catapulted stones
across the river, and though they were easily dodged and landed
harmlessly in the marshland, their potential was obviously
huge.

Below the two
brothers, their own warriors were formed up in their separate
clans, waiting on the hard ground to meet any force crossing the
river. The King knew that any Romans managing to reach the harder
surface would be mercilessly cut down by his men. Should his front
line be taken, his chariots would sweep down and wipe the invaders
from the field. The bulk of his forces were deployed across the
wooded slopes between the Medway and the Tamesas, while most of the
women and children had already crossed the second river and were
well on their way to Camulodunum.

Caratacus had
expected better from the Romans. Their reputation was formidable
but he could see nothing to worry him here and was impatient for
the assault to start. He did not have the slightest idea that the
manoeuvres to his front were a diversion, and the actual assault
had started many hours earlier.

----

In the darkness
of the early hours, over four thousand Batavian auxiliaries,
experts in river crossings back in their native Gemina, had already
swum across the river five miles downstream and taken up positions
in the bracken and undergrowth of the enemy hills. Similarly, five
miles upstream, the engineers had floated the assault boats in the
darkness and tied them side by side until they stretched across the
river from bank to bank. Under normal circumstances, the boats
would have been boarded out with planks to make a solid bridge, but
as the noise would have alerted any nearby sentries, over five
thousand men crossed barefoot from boat to bobbing boat, until
eventually, the entire Augustan legion lay hidden on the
northernmost bank of the Medway. When Plautius received the runners
telling him the crossings had been successful, he sent the message
to start and eight Cohorts of Batavian light infantry arose
silently from their positions to start the advance on the enemy
positions deep in the forests.

The outer
positions of Caratacus’s warriors were taken completely by
surprise, and as the silent attackers picked up momentum; their
overwhelming force carried them deep into the enemy positions. They
fell on the sentries and rampaged throughout the lines of chariots,
targeting the horse’s legs as they passed, hamstringing the
panicking animals to prevent them from being of any use in the
harnesses. Man and beast fell beneath the initial onslaught and
they decimated over half of Caratacus’s animals before the
defending warriors realised the danger. Caratacus heard the news
from a runner and though he was initially shocked, refused to
panic. He turned to Togodumnus.


Take the northern clans and wipe them out,’ he said. ‘I will
face the frontal assault when it comes.’

Togodumnus
turned his horse and galloped to the council of northern leaders
gathered half a mile away. Twenty minutes later, two thousand
warriors were storming through the woods to confront the threat
from the Batavians.

Within the hour,
the Roman offensive faltered and the Batavians, having achieved
their mission, retreated eastwards along the river before forming a
defensive line across the valley. They strung their bows and waited
patiently as the counter offensive drew closer. Within minutes, the
expected throng of warriors emerged screaming from the forest and
descended on the Batavian lines. The first few hundred fell beneath
the hail of arrows, but such was the impetus of the assault, the
Batavians only managed to get three volleys off before the
barbarians were upon them, man against man in a straightforward
battle to the death.

To the west, the
waiting Vespasian received the order to advance and led his legion
down-stream to assault Caratacus’s west flank, but due to the delay
in communication, this time found the barbarian army ready and
waiting. With over half of his chariots out of use, Caratacus
deployed the centre bulk of his forces to meet Vespasian’s legion,
outnumbering them two to one. With little time, the Romans formed
up into classic battle lines and Centurions raced amongst their
forces barking their orders and encouraging their nervous
men.


At
fifty metres,’ screamed the Primus Pilus, ‘launch all remaining
Pilae, they will be no use to you at close range. At ten metres, we
will charge. Do not falter; strike with as much aggression as you
can muster. This will be a battle like no other. If the man to your
front falls, then step over him. There will be no relief, each man
will fight until we prevail or fall.’

A roar from
above threatened to drown out his voice as their opponents streamed
from the wooded hill.


Look to your Gods, men,’ shouted Vespasian drawing his
Gladius, ‘for today we make history.’

Again, two
massive and ferocious forces smashed into each other on the banks
of the Medway and though he had sent seasoned warriors to face
Vespasian, Caratacus knew he had been out-thought by the Roman
General. Across the river he could see his opposite number on a
hill and realised the display had been a diversion.


Very clever, Roman,’ he said to himself, ‘but your forces are
still outnumbered. By the time you ford the river, your men will be
nothing but meat for the wolves.’ Even though he was aware that the
Batavians to the east had been contained, he knew that the legion
attacking him from the west had to be repelled to stand any chance
of victory. He gave the order for the remainder of his force to be
deployed westward, to back up those already confronting Vespasian’s
legion, leaving only a thousand men to repel any frontal assault
from Plautius.

----

Plautius watched
what he could of the battles across the river and received runner
after runner bringing news from the two fronts. Throughout the day,
dozens of separate conflicts took place between the rivers, with
both forces equally matched and the battles ebbed and flowed as
each side took the initiative, only to be beaten back by their
opponents.

To the east, the
Batavians had repelled the first onslaught of the barbarians and
were holding their own in their defensive positions, benefiting
from the advantage of having hundreds of archers, a luxury
Togodumnus did not enjoy.

To the west,
Vespasian was in trouble, and though his legion fought bravely, by
the time nightfall came they had lost the ground previously gained
throughout the bloody battles of the day. Caratacus had managed to
deploy some of his remaining chariots and though Pila had brought
many of the horses down, they inflicted terrible casualties on the
legion before they fell.

At last,
darkness fell and as the legion was so close to the enemy, there
was no possibility of building a camp. Instead, they formed
defensive lines, ten men deep with every other man allowed to sleep
for an hour at a time.

A few hundred
yards away, the barbarians also slept with their weapons and though
they were unwilling to fight in the dark, Caratacus knew that with
a final push, they would overwhelm the legion the following
morning. The barbarians were by far the happier force throughout
the night and the taunts of their warriors echoed across the
battlefield, ringing in the ears of the silent Romans, unaware that
even as they celebrated, Plautius had taken steps to ensure the
following day went better than the first.

Caratacus had
left his position above the ford, knowing that he had another
twelve hours before the tidal river would be low enough for
Plautius to bring his legion across. He joined the tribes facing
the threat to the west and reinforced their numbers with even more
men, determined to shatter Vespasian’s numbers with overwhelming
force. He held a war council with the clan leaders and his tribes
moved onto the slope above Vespasian’s position, waiting for the
dawn to light his historic victory. As the darkness eased, the
chanting started and Caratacus was joined by Togodumnus to stare
over the battlefield, fully expecting to see lines of terrified
Romans facing certain death.

What he saw
chilled him to the bone. Vespasian’s legion had already mustered in
the darkness and stood in their Cohorts, impatient for the conflict
to begin. They had reorganised after the battle the day before and
though their numbers were somewhat smaller, they had managed to
reform into recognisable units. Banners and standards flew from
each Cohort, and in the centre, Caratacus could see the famed Roman
eagle he had heard so much about. However, it was not the
reorganised legion that caused his doubt, but what lay
beyond.

Behind
Vespasian, stood thousands of extra troops sent by Plautius to
reinforce the beleaguered legion. Heavy infantry, archers and spear
throwers stood in their units and detachments of cavalry lurked on
the fringes like predators at a killing, waiting for their swift
and lethal skills to be called upon. A unit of over five hundred
men littered the forward slope of a small hill, their leather
slings hanging from their muscular right arms, while their left
hands played with the lethal lead shot stored in their
pouches.

Geta had brought
his legion across the same pontoon bridge during the night and not
only had they managed to form up in support of Vespasian in time
for the dawn, but behind their lines, Caratacus could see something
else, a line of wooden structures that filled him with
dread.

----


Ready!’ roared Geta and over fifty artillery pieces were
loaded with an assortment of ammunition. Some of the Onagers were
loaded with limestone rocks, their fragile structure designed to
shatter on impact with the hard ground to send flint sharp shards
amongst the enemy, whilst others were loaded with oil filled clay
pots, their narrow necks plugged with wax around a protruding wick.
When the pots smashed amongst an enemy force, the burning wicks
would ignite the oil, and spread flaming death amongst flesh and
bone.

Teams of
operators loaded Ballistae with iron tipped arrows, standing ready
to re-arm the crossbows as fast as they could be fired, and rank
upon rank of Scorpio operators loaded their smaller tripod based
crossbows with their own heavy bolts. Every legionary in the front
two ranks drew their swords, and the spear throwers ran forward to
form up before the lines, each armed with a dozen Pilae.

It was an
awesome sight and Caratacus couldn’t fail to be impressed. He
looked around his army and though he realised the risk, his forces
were now almost frantic with blood lust and impatient to attack the
Romans. He knew the outcome was now far from certain, but there was
no way he could stop his forces from engaging the enemy, for even
if he had given the order to withdraw, he would be ignored.
Realising he had no choice; he drew his longsword and held it above
his head. All around, his forces stared up at the King, awaiting
the final order.


Catuvellauni!’ he roared. ‘They have raped our women and
killed our children. Now is the time for revenge. Before the sun
sets, your belts will be heavy with Roman heads.’

Those within
earshot cheered their King and the roar was taken up all the way
along the lines of warriors.

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