Iceni

Chapter 6-1

Chapter 6

CamulodunumThe horde that hurtled out of the forests which divided Iceni territory from the Trinovantes’, enveloped Camulodunum like a low black cloud during a sudden April shower. It swept over the levelled defences, left from the earlier use of the land as a fort, and scattered the few Romani farmers who were still toiling to ready the fields for sowing. Swarming into the tight ordered streets, it fanned out to destroy anything, or anyone, with the misfortune to come within its grasp.

Naked warriors danced upon the trestle tables lining the open shop entrances, kicking the various wares to the ground. Shop keepers were kept alive long enough to point out the amphorae holding wine, as opposed to those storing pungent olive oil or sharp fish sauce, then the sounds of their dying would be drowned out by the cracking of pottery and the guzzling of the contents. Children in a street school had been ordered to fold up their wax tablets and stylos neatly and were still doing so when a champion decapitated their Greek tutor’s head and held the grisly trophy up for them to see. Like so many lambs the children turned as one to look their own death in the eyes. Women were executed whilst at their baking or sewing; the old, weak and infirm were wounded or lamed and left to scream out their agonised death throes, increasing the cacophony of noise.

Everywhere was chaos, with the horde herding anyone who could still run — away from them, ahead, anywhere, just away from the terrors snapping at their heels. At the head of the host, amongst the very first out-runners, Boudicca rode her chariot, deftly steering her horses around spilt sacks of flour and piles of abandoned laundry. The harbinger of disorder herself, she drove her horses onwards through the cobbled roads, controlling the reins with one hand whilst spearing the exposed backs of civilians with the other. She rode with her bright tartan cloak flapping behind her like the wings of a massive raven and she shrieked as she seemed to fly at her fleeting enemy, urging her army to retribution. Her face was of one possessed, absorbed in the moment, yet glazed as if she’d not yet registered the horrific c*****e littering the town.

Life, it was apparent to Boudicca, had continued much as usual in Camulodunum. Despite being induced into a state of agitation and foreboding which had rendered the townsfolk of the Colonia somewhat nervous and jumpy, it was obvious, by the number of faces she saw die struck with a look of abject surprise, that the horde had come as if from nowhere. Certainly there were a few more troops than her intelligence had led her to believe, but even they were scattering before her champions, seeming to aim for some sanctuary which she knew could not exist. Resistance was negligible. Quite simply, she knew, the Romani had heard rumours, some had suspected something was wrong, but the vast majority had found the idea of an insurrection totally inconceivable.

What was even more vital to the painstakingly planned rebellion was that no Romani of importance or power had suspected anything was untoward until the blast of Celtoi war trumpets had sounded at the Colonia’s perimeter. The butchery was almost too easy. Boudicca felt confident the news of the attack would come as a revelation to jolt every Romani in the empire out of their complacency.

The chariot swung out wide as she rounded a corner and for a moment she thought she’d driven right through the town and out the other side, for suddenly the shops and terraced houses came to an abrupt end and before her opened a wide area of space. It took an instant for her to realise the town continued on the other side of the square, but as she cast her eyes about she found she had to look up — way, way, high up above — to see the gigantic building of stone which dominated her view and invaded the very sky.

Her horses came to an uncontrolled halt as she was overawed by the sheer scale of the Romani’s construction. Around her the other fearless warriors who’d chosen the danger and glory of the advanced troops, faltered, their onslaught also checked by the sight before them. Veterans and semi-armed Romani soldiers used the brief lull to scamper from their hiding places and scurry up the dozen or so steps of the massive building –joining their comrades who’d already survived the rout — to their chosen sanctuary. Transfixed by the monument, Boudicca, and the Iceni around her, let the Romani have their bolthole. Close behind, the Trinovantes rounded the corner and jolted the motionless Iceni back into renewed action. The Trinovantes were not so impressed by the steps and colonnades of the massive structure ahead, they’d become immune to its majesty since being forced to live in the shadow of its oppression. They saw the Romani escape into this hated symbol and their rage at their lost quarry sent them into a renewed passion.

‘Destroy the Temple of the Claudius god!’ They cursed and ran across the precinct, which soon became a killing ground as javelin after Romani javelin was hurled from the safety of the temple doors. A few Celtoi died, caught unprepared that the Romani might have been perceptive and organised enough to identify the one defendable structure in the whole Colonia and provision it.

It took Boudicca the first few Trinovantian deaths to comprehend the entire situation and appreciate the Romani achievement in erecting this edifice to the conqueror of Britannia. ‘Back!’ she commanded, ensuring that no other warrior charged into certain suicide. The Temple of Claudius was too soundly built and too defendable to take by storm, but it could at least be sealed off, guaranteeing that no other Romani reached the haven it offered.

Miraculously her troops obeyed. So close to their kill and the symbol of their subjugation, the hot-headed Celtic warriors would not normally have been so easily controlled. But there was an edge of authority in her voice now, trained by the events of the last lunar cycle and tempered by the fire of the Goddess, Andraste, which could not be resisted.

Her warriors edged themselves around the perimeter of the Temple precinct, out of range of any Romani missiles. Gradually their numbers swelled as those champions who tired of looting joined them, thirsty for more blood, aware that the majority of booty would keep. This was an area of relative peace, but around the town the sounds of destruction continued; occasional screams tore the air as concealed citizens were discovered, and fires roared as forges were upturned and hearths kicked. Chickens squawked and dogs whimpered as they too were caught in the m******e. Fabrics could be heard tearing as Celtoi wives argued over ownership of fine clothing, and metal c*****d as precious things were bundled up and stolen.

But around the Temple there was only the sound of shuffling restless Celtoi feet and faint coughing from the trapped Romani. Boudicca ordered fires to be built up around the sides of the Temple, out of sight of the doors. She set the Trinovantes to the task as they were the ones who chafed most openly to be upon the Romani. She might have the Goddess’ authority but she, especially, knew that a Celtoi warrior in battle frenzy was a volatile force to be handled with respect. There was plenty of scaffolding at the place she indicated; the Temple might appear magnificent now but it was still incomplete. The smoke would blow, she knew, directly through the doors and make the air inside insufferable. Then she called for Lovernios.

When he came, he followed her away from the Temple quietly and seemed sickened by the sight of so many dead, even though they were Romani. He shook his head as he walked, casting his gaze around about, and muttered to himself: ‘Even the little ones, even the children, babes.’

‘They’re the spawn of Romani, not children. They’re Romani in the making, in miniature. They’re already tainted by the deeds of their parents, look, even by the clothes they wear.’ Boudicca kicked a body as she justified what they had done.

‘Now, Lovernios, will you please spare a few moments from your misplaced grief to tell me why I have a more organised Romani resistance on my hands than I’d been led to believe was even possible? I thought everything had been so well planned. With the bulk of the Romani force being at Insula Mona with their Chief-governor, leaving little defence against our rebellion, right down to the little details like that hare you sneaked beneath my robes this morning for me to release before the horde. I should’ve known something would go wrong!’

Lovernios tried to calm her with a gentle caress but she was too agitated to respond. He sighed and led her into one of the little houses lining the street which hadn’t yet been reached by the plunderers. Once within he turned and Warded the doorway so no one would disturb them, then he gestured for her to follow him into the atrium which opened to the sky and sit with him in the teaching position.

She watched him wait for her breathing to still a little more, and for her to calm down; in such a state she wouldn’t even be open to reason. She knew what he was waiting for and gave in; she didn’t want to get into a battle of wills with someone who’d be a formidable enemy if she pushed him too far. Finally, he spoke.

‘Last night, as you know, we took Maeve out to the estuary for her final Scrying. You slept during this so you might be refreshed for today. The Scrying was again perfect and the images rendered upon the surface were clear for all who might come and see it. And come they did. This morning the shores and banks were filled with every veteran and townsperson who could hobble their way and stand to watch. Then as the sun rose, casting the water and its images into red relief, we learned from those who were the last to leave the Colonia and join our cause that our Glamours had been too good. Indeed the toppling of their Victory had been the last straw.’

He stopped her exclamation. ‘Yes, I know you warned us. Anyway, it became apparent that a few of the townsfolk, not many you understand and certainly no one of status, but enough, had contacted the Procurator, Catus Decianus — I believe you’ve already had the pleasure of meeting him? — and he hurriedly sent a small force to reassure the Colonia. It seems that a rider slipped out of here without our noticing, then the imperial messenger service would’ve swung into action, providing fresh men and horses all the way to Londinium and back to Othona with orders to release some of the garrison.’

Boudicca shut her eyes at this thwarting of their plans. ‘Madam, it’s not that bad. He sent two hundred legionaries, that’s all.’ Boudicca widened her eyes. ‘Two hundred legionaries who’re used to protecting Catus Decianus at his palace in Londinium and his clerical cronies. Men who’ve arrived here after a long river crossing and a forced march and who’re exhausted. Do you realise how weak and feeble those troops are? Do you realise how poorly armed they are? Hag herself, madam, those men — just! — have never needed to protect themselves, or anyone else, since they were first assigned to the Procurator’s Office. They haven’t seen active service in the last two years! The only reason they were at Othona was to protect Catus’ back should he need to retreat at speed from his dealings with you. They’ve grown fat awaiting their recall, and I suspect that, until extremely recently, they supposed this assignment required broadly similar duties to what they’re used to.’

She turned on him. ‘They seem to remember enough about shoring themselves up in a highly defendable position. That retreat didn’t look like a spur of the moment idea. That Temple looks like it’s been readied for a siege with a stock of weaponry. I suppose you’ll be telling me they’ve got supplies with them too?