As he lay there looking out on the enemy before him, he knew he had no choice. In his mind’s eye he saw his father, his brothers, his children and his people. He had a duty to protect them and their way of life and knew that he wouldn’t be doing that if he walked forward and gave himself up. With the death of Togodumnus, he was King and with that came responsibility. He would fight and live as a free man or fight and die for his land and his people. His future decided, he thought through his battle plan.
The fight the day before had taught him many valuable lessons, lessons that he had paid for with the blood of his people, today would be different. If his tactics worked, they would smash the enemy but he believed that there may be a possibility that even if they didn’t, they may be able to force the Romans into a truce and to leave their lands.
Varro was shaken awake by Decimus on the mound where they had tried to rest the night before. He had watched through clenched teeth as another group of his countrymen had been wiped out some distance away. He knew that it could have been him and the men around him and also knew that they could have tried to save those who were butchered but he had decided against it for good reasons. The attack had happened without warning, seemingly coming from nowhere and with speed, so even if they had tried to go to the aid of the other isolated group, they wouldn’t have got there in time and would have died as well, outnumbered as they were. He had made the correct decision but that didn’t give him any conciliation as he thought about the men who had found themselves in the same position as himself and his own men.
Almost whispering he instructed Decimus to wake the others and to prepare to move. He stood up stiff and cold from the nights chill and looked to where they had tethered their horses who at least had eaten well on the long grass. He surveyed their surroundings looking for any sign of the enemy but nothing moved. Before leaving the mound they ate their meagre rations sharing what they could with the two auxiliaries.
The direction they travelled in took them towards the hillock where the brief fight had taken place the night before. He knew there was very little chance that any of them had survived but he felt that he had to go and check, maybe one of them had managed to hide or had been left injured. He called Decimus forward as they approached leaving the others where they were, telling them to keep their eyes open for any movement nearby.
It was slightly higher than where they had camped at their own resting place but narrower at the brow. As soon as they got to the top they saw the corpses of the auxiliaries, they had been decapitated their heads left on crude sticks in the ground. Varro looked at the expressions of the men who had given their lives. One head had a large slash wound either from an axe or sword that split his skull from the top of the forehead to the bridge of his nose. Another caught the moment of battle and death, his features contorted in agony his mouth still screaming but silently now.
He considered burning what was left of the men, they didn’t deserve this end but knew to do so would risk attracting unwanted attention and being found. Burying them would mean losing time and while they were stationery they would be vulnerable. The Britons had stripped the bodies of their weapons, water and food and taken the horses. There was nothing he could do for them now, as hard as the decision was, they would be left, their own priority now was to get back to the Second.
They trotted down the hill and headed in a southerly direction, all the time scanning the countryside around them, expecting to see the enemy. He hoped that they would be concentrating on the main army and not looking for stragglers as the new day got under way. They passed more Britons in family groups in time all of whom stared at them but not saying a word or lifting a weapon in anger. Varro assumed they were farmers or just people from the local area, he couldn’t determine that they were part of the war band and so ignored them.
By midday just as he was beginning to think they would never find the army, they ran into Quintus and his men from the other scouting party. They exchanged information and Quintus gave them the route back to the Legion through a valley, they found they were not too far away.
Varro was relieved to see the sight of the encampment as they approached the pickets on sentry duty. It was a welcome sight seeing familiar structures even if they were newly constructed and hadn’t been there the day before. He kicked his horse eager to get behind the barricade and the relative safety of the new fort and its palisades. He instructed Valius to report to the Adjutant and to give him his report as he sought out the command tent in order to report his own findings.
Arriving at the large tent Varro had his identity verified by the guards and was allowed access. Senior officers and various commanders were on the verge of leaving, when Vespasian saw him he called Varro over to give his report.
“The Batavian’s were routed sir, destroyed virtually to a man, we managed to bring back two survivors.” Vespasian stared at him shocked but not surprised by his words. Nothing had been seen of the cohort from the day before.
“But there were four hundred men that went into the marsh. Are you telling me that we lost nearly all of them?” Another officer a Prefect asked Varro. Vespasian turned and introduced Varro to his brother Sabinus. “It was he who masterminded the idea of crossing the river yesterday, Vespasian said.
“Yes sir,” Varro reported, “we found the bodies of many auxiliaries in the marshland and then in the forest beyond. We eventually caught up with Valius their commander and one soldier but by that time we were far behind their lines. They were the only men we found alive.” He decided to leave out the information about the other group that were killed during the night.
A voice from the rear said, “We’ve had some men coming in throughout the night and still some this morning but their number is less than thirty. Over twenty of those are wounded and not fit for duty.” It was the force commander Aulus Plautius, everyone stiffened coming to attention when they realised he had slipped into the briefing.
“Relax gentlemen.” He said as they came to attention, he walked directly to the table where various maps were laid out.
“It seems our friendly Britons underestimated the Catuvellauni resistance and their ability to fight.” He looked at the faces around him. “We were assured that Togodumnus and Caratacus were backward thugs who relied merely on brute strength to dominate other tribes, it seems we were ill informed.” He turned to Sabinus, “Bring Adminius to me would you Prefect?”
Sabinus acknowledged the order, “Sir.”
“Now that we have established ourselves here on this side of the river,” the commander continued studying the map, “we will push forward today, even if we have to circumnavigate this marsh and the forest beyond. If necessary we’ll encircle the Catuvellauni and starve them out and then destroy them. Centurion,” he turned to Varro, “from the foray into their territory would you show us on the map what we’re facing if you would please.”
Varro stepped forward surprised that he had even remembered his name and began to explain the details and formation of the ground they would have to cover. A few moments later whilst they were discussing the details of the proposed advancement, Sabinus returned with a man wearing a toga. He looked like a civilian dignitary but Varro was surprised to hear his accent when he was introduced.