Legatus Legionis: Book Two in the Gaius Claudius Scaevola Trilogy (29 page)

He had just completed writing a reply to Vipsania when a message arrived from Plautius. At last the legions would march inland.

* * *

The forest tracks were narrow, and were going continually up and down, giving lots of vantage points for hit and run attacks. The cohorts would have to march independently, where possible using parallel tracks. If the enemy wanted to make an impression, this was the time to do it, however for the Roman army there was no alternative but to march.

The march commenced with bands of
exploratores
. Their job was to seek out ambushing Celts and they could be relied on to detect a large force, but small forces could hide some distance from the path and make an attack on the rear of the legion. A few Celtic scouts were seen occasionally by the
exploratores
, but apart from one ambush on a small group of
exploratores
these Celts soon melted away into the forest, or fled into the swamps. The
exploratores
could only follow so far without being lured away from their primary role, and on the occasion that
exploratores
did pursue into the swamps, they were never seen again. Refusing to pursue was quite unsatisfactory, but there was little alternative if they were to remain as scouts for the following cohorts.

Finally the time arrived for the legion itself to move, and the first cohort began its advance. The track allowed four abreast for most of the time, but there were choke points where it had been agreed a century would spread into the forest on each side and remain stationary to provide flanking protection for the cohort, then these two centuries would combine with their cohort, and the next cohort would use a similar procedure. The legion would take a long time to pass a given point, and it was anything but silent, particularly with all the swearing that accompanied the movement of the artillery over unsuitable terrain. Even though it was partially dismantled, the parts remained very large.

At first nothing happened as the cohorts advanced, but at the second choke point a raid was made on one of the flanking centuries. Five soldiers were killed before the raiders fled back into the forest. The soldiers gave chase, but soon found themselves traversing a bog, and many of the heavily armoured soldiers became virtually immobile. Celts emerged from seemingly nowhere, and their spears found easy targets with the half submerged Romans.

This scene was repeated several times on the first day, until the legion emerged into more open territory and made camp for the first day. Gaius reviewed the day's march, and gave orders thereafter that flanking centuries were there for protection of the main body of soldiers, and once in place they should fix what defensive fortifications they could, and thereafter simply defend. Pursuit into the forest was banned.

While this was not greeted with complete enthusiasm, Gaius was quite happy. There had been attacks, but they seemed to have been from very small groups, and while in their own way they had been effective, their lack of numbers meant that they were more an irritant than a significant effect. There was little doubt that the Celt's best strategy would be to launch a very large number of small, concentrated raids at given sections of the legion, particularly in the darker parts of the forest, but in the event nothing like that eventuated. Despite the Romans having been there for nearly two weeks, no serious opposition had been mounted. Seemingly the Britons did not care, or perhaps they had been away harvesting, as Gaius had predicted. If that were the case, Gaius noted wryly, Plautius' natural caution and his almost pathological aversion to rapid if risky action would have cost the Romans some very easy gains.

A further theory amongst the Tribunes was that the Britons assumed this was another invasion in the style of Julius, and sooner or later the Romans would tire of the local climate and return home. That would not happen this time, because the reason for the invasion was different. The stability of the Principate depended on success, so Rome would succeed or fail, but it would not withdraw the legions.

The next few days were very similar in nature. Progress was slow, the country a strange mixture of forest and swamp in which the enemy was the land itself. Nobody could keep dry or free of biting insects. The Celts continued with a number of hit and run raids, but the land was now more open, the tracks wider, the Roman forces more concentrated, and there was almost enough room to deploy cavalry. There was the odd Roman soldier wounded, but the Celts now found that fighting concentrated forces and cavalry with small squads was far from profitable. The raids tended to be brief, spears were thrown, and the Celts, whose raiding parties were so greatly outnumbered they could not continue an attack for more than a few minutes, disappeared. The Celts did not seem to have either a coordinated defence or any form of harassing strategy that involved numbers.

Chapter 24.

It was mid-afternoon when Gaius was called to a hilltop. He viewed the scene below with puzzlement as all he could see was a village protected by wooden palisades in the valley below. Why did this need two legions? He had been marching westwards when he had received Plautius' orders to wheel north and give assistance, but what was the problem? To the north, the fourteenth was already making camp, and a messenger from the fourteenth was riding towards him. It appeared that the fourteenth has arrived the previous morning, Plautius had demanded that the Celts in the town below surrender, and there had been no response other than that the gate remained closed. Plautius had ordered the legions to camp, and prepare for a siege, and then he called for the twentieth to act as reinforcements. Gaius could barely believe what he was hearing. Talk about cautious! This village should provide little or no problem for a few cohorts, and in principle a hole was opening between Plautius and the
Augusta
. Still, Plautius was the commander, so he acknowledged the order, and ordered the twentieth to form a defensive camp. Soon the soldiers were once again digging ditches, raising mounds, building protective enclosures, but most importantly, building ramps.

The town had been built more for access to water, and to be central to the more easily farmed land about it than for defence. Certainly the town walls would have offered adequate protection against other Celts, but they would offer no impediment to the two visible Roman legions. Gaius was quite convinced he could take this town eventually with the first cohort of his legion.

In the event, on the following morning the town offered little in the way of problems. Ramps were wheeled up and the Roman soldiers, shields locked into
testudo
formation, marched forward into a rather feeble shower of arrows. Before long the soldiers were at the top of the ramp, and soon they were inside. Within half an hour, the main gate was opened, and the senior officers rode in.

Celtic bodies were strewn here and there, women were wailing over them, ragged muddy children were running all over the place, crying. These children were poor right now, and things would get worse before they got better. For those whose fathers were lying against the wooden walls, their future would be bleak.

Gaius rode along the muddy street, watching the surly expressions on some, the downcast on others. This town had allied itself with Togodumnus; that had seemed a good idea a year ago, but now it was less so. Now they would be handed over to the control of whatever British prince they had asked Togodumnus to protect them from, and they knew what would happen next. They would be sold as slaves to the Romans, as part of that prince's tribute. At least they would eat better as slaves.

He rode another couple of paces, then paused as a thought struck him. He could almost hear Timothy's voice saying, "Suppose you were born here. Would you wish to be a slave?"

No, life was not fair, but that was hardly his fault. If you were lucky enough to be born a Claudian, you might as well take advantage. He jogged his horse.

'Go ahead! Take advantage of this miserable lot!" a voice said in the back of his head.

He stopped again. No. Life was not fair, but perhaps that was no reason not to be generous. Even the great Julius, one of the most self-centred leaders ever, a man who had started a decade of war, who had killed hundreds of thousands and pillaged Gaul and who had even ordered the decimation of one of his own legions, all for no other reason than to enhance his own political stature, had, besides eventually rescinding the order and merely executing a couple of dozen, been generous to the occupied when it suited his political aims.

His family had stood against dictators, and for what? Not for the political gains, because they had clearly missed out on those, but because they believed the poorer Roman deserved a better chance.

The least he could do was to offer these miserable people a chance. He nudged is horse's flanks and rode to the town centre. He paused in front of a small group of Celtic leaders, forced to stand against a wall of the largest building by a small group of Roman soldiers. Gaius looked around. There was no sign of Plautius. Gaius indicated to the soldiers they should step back. The soldiers, from the fourteenth, almost looked as if they wished to query Gaius, but one imperious frown sent them away.

"You!" Gaius said softly but firmly to a Celt who, judging by his clothing, seemed to have been of a higher status than most of the rest, "have a choice to make, and I suggest you make it very quickly."

Sullen, defiant looks came back.

"You can view yourselves as conquered or as liberated," Gaius continued. "If you view yourselves as conquered, Rome will take its tribute, take the troublesome ones away as slaves, take some others away as slaves, and you will feel conquered."

He paused to let this sink in, then he continued, "On the other hand, you can consider yourselves liberated. You can immediately pledge your loyalty to Rome, and offer to pay Roman taxes. Then you live as Roman subjects on your land, receiving the benefits of Roman taxes."

"Benefits?" one scowled.

"The presence of the Roman soldier," Gaius said dismissively, as if this attempt to assert independence bordered on the pathetic. "Now, get this into your heads quickly," Gaius continued. "The two scenarios are very similar. In both of them you pay Rome for the trouble of being here, and in both of them you get the Roman soldier. The difference is whether you live as free citizens in your own house, protected by the Roman soldier, or whether you are sold as slaves or killed by those very same soldiers. Choose quickly, because when the new governor gets here, you may not get to choose."

"How do we know he won't enslave us anyway?"

"You don't," Gaius said coldly, "except I say he won't."

"We haven't got any money. It was all taken by Togodumnus."

"Then pay in food. There're still good crops out there."

"You Romans will . . ."

"Protect them," Gaius said simply. He stared at them, then said, "Believe me, swear loyalty to Rome and I will see that whoever pillages your crops or your houses will get a
gladius
through the ribs, or if the pillaging involves more than theft, he'll get the three nails."

They stared at each other, then one man stepped forward, and said he would swear loyalty. Before long the others joined in.

"Excellent choice," Gaius smiled, "although strictly speaking, your future Governor has to formally accept. Now, if I can give you some advice, when Plautius comes, make sure you remember to thank him profusely for rescuing your tribe from the pillaging Togodumnus. The more you let him know about the pillage, the lower the taxes are likely to be, at least right away." He turned and signalled for a couple of messengers, to ensure that word of the offer of loyalty and allegiance to Rome was spread quickly. Then he rode to Plautius, who was still to enter the town.

"A straightforward victory," Plautius nodded towards him.

"Indeed it was, although perhaps the resistance was not exactly enthusiastic. I've been into the town. The chiefs wish to offer their allegiance to Rome. Since the
Princeps
himself has ordered that this be encouraged, I provisionally accepted, but of course informed them that only you can set the terms."

Plautius stared at him, then nodded and said, "Then I had better go and set them."

"If I can make a suggestion?"

Plautius stared distastefully at Gaius. Clearly, Plautius did not appreciate those below him usurping his authority. On the other hand, since his junior appeared to get on well with Claudius, it would not be a good idea to deliberately refuse to follow Claudius' orders. "Well?" he said at last.

"There're good crops in the fields," Gaius replied, "and the grain looks as if it should already be harvested. If you look at those clouds, I've got this feeling it may be raining tomorrow, in which case those crops'll be spoiled. Besides good will, the only taxes this miserable lot are likely to be able to pay is in food, and I think we should goad them into harvesting."

Plautius looked at him in surprise. This was an eminently practical suggestion, and he had to admit he knew so little about grain he could not have appreciated this. "You've had time to examine the fields?" he asked with a slight smile.

"It's the shade of the heads," Gaius replied, improvising as he went along. "I could be wrong, but if serious rain set in, I think black mould'll be a real problem."

"Then follow me," Plautius nodded. "We shall put the Celts to work."

When they reached the town centre the town leaders prostrated themselves, and swore on . . . Plautius sat there impassively, then when the pleadings and swearings finally ended, said, "A test of your professed loyalty! Last year, how much of your crops did you lose to theft, or tribute?"

There was a stunned silence, and across their faces were the signs of devious thoughts, the calculations of what they thought they could get away with, if they could work out why Plautius needed to know.