In that instant he decided to leave quietly and vanish into the night westward. The Romans would no doubt blame the death of his brother on the people but they wouldn’t really care and probably wouldn’t even want retribution, they were bound to find another puppet to control as King. Caratacus knew the Romans cared nothing for his countrymen except those who they could sell, enslave and use. He clicked at his horse and walked forward looking around at the place he and his people had called home.
He felt tears well up in his eyes as visions in his head saw his father, mother and family when they were young and happy as the horse carried him along the tracks and towards freedom. Through blurred vision he passed three people and heard his name whispered, it brought him out of his memories. He wiped at his eyes and recognised them their faces not unknown but their names, two men and a woman, the woman amongst them spoke quietly.
“Go safely Caratacus son of Cunobelinus and never stop fighting. Gather our people and fight this disease that stains our land.” She smiled at him and he nodded in response not saying a word and kicked gently at his horse as it sped up into a trot. He would do as her words had said, not because she had recognised him as her rightful King but because that’s what his life was now, a fight against Rome. He rode out through the large gates and wondered if he would ever see them again.
It took a few days for the fallout from the Emperors visit to die down. Plautius and his senior officers were glad to see the back of him truth be told and his Praetorian Guard. They were never well regarded by the men of the legions who saw them as false and aloof second rate soldiers. Most had never actually served in the legions and their officers were all given their posts gratis as they were the sons of Senators. Legionaries were recruited from Rome and served their time there, deployments like the one with Claudius to Britannia were rare.
Gradually the men of Plautius’ army got down to the routine work of establishing a stable settlement and work began within days to transform what was once Camulodunum into a Roman fortress like city. The murder of Adminius went by almost unnoticed which surprised Plautius to a certain extent. They thought that the Britons would blame them for allowing the assassination to occur or would even say that they had done it in order to bring in their own or another governor. When the announcement was made some locals actually cheered, the Britons were a strange lot.
With work on the garrison being carried out, there was still a lot of exploring to be done and Plautius decided upon a three pronged advance into the interior of the country. One Legion he decided would go north, another north west and the final Legion, Vespasian’s Second Augusta, would travel west virtually parallel with the coast. When Varro heard the news he was pleased that he would remain with the Second Augusta as there had been a possibility he would be confined garrison duty. It was also rumoured that west was the direction that Caratacus had gone when he had left with what was left of his war bands.
Local members of the hierarchy were questioned at length about his departure but little was disclosed except to say that he had left to save Camulodunum and its inhabitants from destruction. There were rumours that he had cousins and other family members with the Silures, a tribe far to the west so it was presumed that their region would have been his ultimate destination. The Silures were a large tribe said to be similar to his own and very warlike so it would make sense for him and his remaining followers to go there. There were differing rumours as to how many had gone with him from four thousand to six thousand, one thing was certain and that was the Trinovantes had joined him swelling their numbers considerably.
Plautius issued orders to all the legions to engage Caratacus or any other hostile force wherever they were discovered and at the earliest possible opportunity. Caratacus had to be destroyed, that was the priority and anyone caught bearing arms with him. The population of Camulodunum had as Caratacus had believed, been spared as they had not resisted especially when confronted by the Emperor. Caratacus could expect no such mercy however, when the legions eventually caught up with him, they intended to bring about his bloody end. He was known to have taken the cream of the warriors from both the Catuvellauni and the Trinovantes with him, estimated to be some many thousands strong, possibly over ten thousand all told.
Caratacus although now a sworn enemy had at least gained some respect as a worthy opponent as the fallen shields of Rome would testify but he was an enemy nonetheless. He would be hunted down whatever the cost and however long it took, time was not a factor but patience was and one of Rome’s greatest virtues was her patience in this regard. Caratacus had highlighted himself as a man and a leader that Rome would not allow to flourish and grow. Important lessons had been learned by individuals who led armies against the might of their Emperor, some of whom had threatened to bring its very walls crumbling down. Caratacus would be pursued for a long as it took, it was said that his wife had fled with him and their children and so now they too would share his fate. Only a complete and utter surrender with no terms may guarantee all their lives and even then he would pay for it with his own in all probability. The Romans also knew that this knowledge now made him and his warriors an even more dangerous foe. He and they would fight to the death as that was what they expected but before that happened they would take as many Roman lives with them they could.
Far away to the west, Caratacus led his large army through the forests of the Durotriges. He had been unsure whether they would be treated as friends or enemies and so had sent riders ahead to speak to the local chieftains and elders. After talks they were to be given free passage through the territory. Word had already reached the people of the Durotriges that the tribes to the east had been defeated by the invaders and they were unsure whether to resist and risk losing everything or to make a treaty with the advancing men of the legions.
Food and shelter was given where possible but no alliances were made, some viewed the army of Caratacus with suspicion as they crossed their lands, rivers and passed the hill forts and settlements along the way. He had warned them of their fate if they chose to lay down their arms which the Romans would demand but still they were undecided, better to rule as an ally of Rome than die as an enemy some had said. They behaved like cowards as far as he was concerned and continued west leaving them to the mercy of Vespasian who he knew was leading the Second Augusta behind him.
As the days began to shorten he knew that if he could stay ahead of Vespasian’s Legion they would be relatively safe as the enemy campaigned in accordance with the seasons. At some point he knew their march would be halted and they would make camp, not for a night but for the entire winter until the first days of spring and then they would begin to march west again. It was when that happened, that major halt, that he intended to start making counter attacks. The Britons did not stop fighting because the rains came or the snow fell and he intended to show them what could be achieved when that happened.
As the weeks passed and the march west continued he had more than enough time to think about what had gone before, the battles, the loss of life and the tactics he had used, things that had to change. He had to find other ways to fight, facing this trained and well-armed foe face to face had not and would not work. Every battle had turned into a defeat, something he wasn’t used to experiencing. He considered every option available to him but also knew that once he got to the lands of the Silures and the mountains, the advantage of the terrain would be his. These were the things he reminded his people of constantly when he looked into their eyes and saw their hurt and frustration. They were not used to being beaten or retreating, they were not used to being displaced and it was a harsh reality and fate for all of them to endure.