“Charge. Forward!” Screamed the officer trying to encourage his own men leading their charge merely paces from the flanking chariots, seconds before the impact of the two sides. As the clash occurred some were lucky and ran through gaps in their opponents lines and lashed out with swords or spears. Others clashed head on with the enemy, tearing men from their horses, chariots were catapulted forward, tumbling into the dense mass of bodies and armour, weapons flew like missiles after being knocked from hands, horses ran into each other head on, the noise from the chaos was horrendous.
Varro was just behind this mass of madness and so survived unhurt as he pushed forward into the melee. Men on chariots hurled spears at the Roman horses, swords clashed and men and animals alike died, were mortally wounded or sustained injuries that would affect them for evermore. As the centre line of racing chariots including Togodumnus neared the Roman infantry of the Second Augusta the men were ordered to stand fast. The ground shook as the chariots got closer and closer. Centurion and legionary alike braced themselves for the shock of the impact about to hit them. They had already expended their own javelins but more had been passed forward from the rear and the men behind those at the front passed the weapons forward as quickly as possible. A centurion within the ranks had ordered that they hold them out towards the advancing horses like a giant porcupine. These pila now appeared, thrust through the shield wall by the men standing behind the front rank as they all waited for the crash.
Two independent battles broke out on the flanks as the Roman cavalry tried to stop the other chariots from getting to the sides and rear of their infantry, a few got through and raced off at angles speeding off elsewhere on the battlefield. Seconds from crashing the central chariots, helmets ducked behind shields. Spears were hurled from the charioteers and landed at random amongst the rows of legionaries.
Just before the crunching impact of animal and shield, horses saw the levelled spears and halted immediately digging their front hooves into the ground, their screaming occupants were hurled upwards over and into the square. Of the horses that didn’t stop some ran straight onto the spears, those that somehow avoided them smashed into the Roman shields causing chaos, piling into and over men. Some of the passengers aboard the chariots jumped clear and ran to the areas where holes had been punched into the shield wall and attacked.
“Hold the line” Screamed voices as some soldiers knocked to the floor by the charging horses struggled to their feet while others were still on the ground unconscious or too injured to move. Others had lost their shields and some their swords. The rampaging Britons took advantage of those dazed by the onslaught and instantly hacked them apart. Around them other infantry tried to tighten their part of the shield wall and advanced as best as they could in the mayhem closing in on the attackers.
Chapter Twelve
Caratacus saw the danger instantly, even though his men and women were hacking down the Romans around him. He saw that the small victories would be short lived as their enemies reinforcements advanced. In the chaos all around he also saw that beyond the thrashing and clash of iron, more Romans were landing on his side of the river using rafts made of wood. There was little that he could do about it because the warriors were already struggling to cope with those already there. He looked to the side of the battleground and saw enemy horsemen rapidly outflanking those converged in the main fight, he had to do something or he and his people would be destroyed.
He looked around desperately looking for Togodumnus and briefly recognised his brother in the middle of one fight that was merely one part of many surrounded by other Britons fighting for their very lives. Large swords and axes were whipping up and down and from left to right as weapons clashed against the enemy shields and armour, men screamed and sprays of blood discoloured the air for the brief seconds they were airborne. The combined smell of blood and excrement from released bowels was vile, that mixed with the noise, made this place hell. He didn’t know what was worse, the sight of the battle, the sound or the stench of blood and shit. Behind the Roman lines in the distance he saw a shining gold eagle held high like a nemesis advancing towards him.
“Retreat brother, retreat!” He shouted as loud as he was able but his voice was already hoarse and was swallowed up, drowned out by the noise all around him. He realised that in no time at all Togodumnus would be surrounded again but on this occasion by the enemy. The advancing armour and men hidden behind their shields were like huge waves now and nothing it seemed could stop them.
“Retreat, retreat.” He shouted again.
The enemy wall of shields steadily advanced, spears were thrust out at his warriors and they began to take more injuries. All along the line the same thing was happening, there were small pockets where the chariots had punctured holes but they were being sealed again by the invaders like some natural vacuum. Britons who engaged the Romans at arms lengths were stabbed with short swords, those behind them were stabbed at with javelins from the men in the enemies second or third rows, as others received hurled javelins and those on the flanks were now engaged by the cavalry as they were slowly enveloped.
Caratacus ran forward still shouting trying to warn the men and women desperately fighting, only those directly in front of him heard the warning and began to back away. He realised he wasn’t going to get to Togodumnus in time and for a brief moment decided to run forward, he would die here with his brother or somehow get him free. He saw a female warrior her lithe beautiful form staggering towards him, deep puncture wounds bled from her stomach and breasts, her face white with shock except for the woad colouring her features.
He grabbed hold of an arm and dragged her behind him and pushed the image from his head because he had to find his brother. As soon as the thought rushed through his mind another told him that he had to stay alive, retreat, stay alive and keep fighting if Togodumnus was killed. He paused watching as his brother and King was engulfed by stabbing blades, he staggered backwards overcome with shock and grief, his body shook. One of his men grabbed his arm and pulled him backwards away from the fight. He tried to resist planting his feet but another set of strong hands pulled him clear shouting at him not to resist and onto a stationary chariot, he stopped struggling.
“Ride, ride, get Caratacus clear.” The man was bleeding from a head wound but Caratacus saw the determination in his clear eyes and stopped resisting altogether. From the height of the chariot he saw that his brother, King of the Catuvellauni was still fighting, swinging his sword at the moving shield wall now all around him he and his small band who were surrounded entirely. He could see the sword rise and come down onto the top of a shield and stop, it was stuck, he saw as his brother tried to prise it free. It was the last time he would see him as the chariot was quickly turned and the driver struggled to retreat through the still advancing men and women.
Togodumnus saw that those around him were being whittled down and knew he wouldn’t survive this battle. He looked around for his brother but couldn’t see him anywhere. He gripped his sword with two hands with all his strength to lose it now would mean instant death.
“No surrender.” He shouted at the top of his voice as he hammered his sword down on the nearest shield. The double bladed sword sliced down into the top of the scutum a few blade widths and stopped. He immediately tried to pull his weapon free but found that it was lodged tight.