Artorius slowly stepped in front of the formation and faced his men, his hands clasped behind his back. He spoke calmly, though he found his voice was already starting to break. “Today, we honor the sacrifice of our friends, who have paid the ultimate price for Rome and the empire. Every man lost is a son of a grieving mother, often times a father to now-orphaned children, and always a brother to his friends in the ranks. Remember them! Gladius…draw!” As his men drew their weapons, Artorius closed his eyes and proceeded to, in what was a tradition going back hundreds of years, recite the names of each man killed three times.
“Legionary Gaius Fronto! Legionary Gaius Fronto! Legionary Gaius Fronto!”
“Legionary Sextus Villius! Legionary Sextus Villius! Legionary Sextus Villius!”
He paused briefly before reciting the last name, quietly hoping that this would be the final time he would ever have to do a call to the fallen for one of his friends.
“Aquilifer Manius Camillus! Aquilifer Manius Camillus! Aquilifer Manius Camillus!”
Claudius’ arrival was nothing short of a grand spectacle that had been months in the planning. Upon receiving word that the invasion force had landed, the emperor made ready to move his seat of government from Rome to Gesoriacum. The consuls had been given authority to speak on his behalf in all affairs except those of the gravest importance. As the thousand-mile journey over land would have taken months, Claudius had elected to travel by ship, despite his violent seasickness. This long trek around Hispania and up the northern coast of Gaul still took the better part of a month. Claudius had brought an entire fleet of ships which carried his personal baggage, several cohorts of the Praetorian Guard, a dozen senators and their necessities, as well as several new war machines that he intended to give to his commanding general in Britannia. Therefore, once Plautius had sent for him, it took but a few days for word to reach Claudius, who was anxious to set foot on his newly-won conquest.
The emperor rode in an ornate chariot drawn by a team of spectacular Arabian horses. He wore a brightly polished breastplate with a purple cloak flowing in the breeze behind him. Atop his head was the customary laurel crown that he wore to official functions. Behind him rode a dozen senators, to include Glabrio, who looked as disinterested as ever. Behind them marched four cohorts of the Praetorian Guard. A company of Syrian archers followed, though it was what came next that capped off the grandiose display. The trumpeting of elephants at first seemed unreal to the legionaries who stood in parade formation, lining either side of the open road. Four of them came into view, heavily armored, with covered baskets atop, where rode their North African handlers.
All four legions lined both sides of the road in cohorts of six ranks. Auxiliary cohorts stood in formation behind the legions, with the cavalry regiments arrayed behind them. As the emperor rode past, he held his arm high in salute to his brave legions. Artorius and the other master centurions drew their weapons and turned to face their legions.
“Gladius…draw!” he shouted. Swords flashed from their scabbards and were held up in return of the emperor’s salute.
As one, the soldiers gave a loud ovation, “Hail Caesar! Hail Caesar! Hail Caesar!”
Claudius face broke into a broad smile and as he passed, Artorius surmised that this was the happiest moment in the emperor’s long life.
At the end of the road stood the Praetorium that Plautius had ordered erected. A great red tent stood in the center where the four eagles of the legions stood posted, along with the regimental standards of the auxiliary units that had taken part in the invasion. Plautius, Vespasian, Sabinus, Geta, and Cursor all stood outside the entrance, each man wearing his best armor. King Cogidubnus was also there to greet the emperor; Plautius having extended the invitation to him soon after the battle between the rivers. Though he’d kept his longer hair, he now wore a Roman style toga, complete with a broad purple stripe of the senatorial class, denoting him as their peer.
“Ave, Caesar!” the commander-in-chief said as Claudius awkwardly dismounted from his chariot.
His limp and other physical limitations did not give the appearance of a conquering leader but, then again, the divine Augustus had hardly looked the role of the soldier, either.
“Plautius,” Claudius said, clasping the legate’s hand. “You’ve done well, conquering a p…province in such a short t…time.” Secretly the emperor cursed himself for his stammer, but Plautius seemed not to notice.
“We’ve established a province, Caesar, but the work has only just begun,” Plautius replied candidly as he led the emperor into the massive tent.
Inside was lined with work tables, couches, as well as an entire dining room setup and numerous columns bearing statues and other décor.
“King Cogidubnus,” Claudius said with a respectful nod towards the Atrebates monarch.
“Hail, Caesar,” he replied, placing a hand over his heart and bowing at the waist.
Servants helped the emperor out of his armor and onto a waiting couch where a large map was spread out on the table. Rather than showing the entire isle, it detailed the southeast portion where the invasion force landed, where decisive battles had taken place, as well as the current borders, following the latest battles.
Plautius pointed to the spot where the camp now stood. “This great river here is called Tamesis1 by the locals. Camulodunum2 is the name of the fortified town about forty-five miles north of here. It is the costal capital of the Catuvellauni, who have made up the core of resistance we’ve faced.”
“Their king, Togodumnus, was killed during the last battle,” Vespasian added. “His brother, Caratacus, has fled, though we do not know where yet. He may be in Camulodunum, or he could have fled to the west with his closet allies, the Silures.”
“I know who they are,” Claudius remarked. “Beastly people, prone to violence and w…war.”
“I’ll give them their due,” Geta said. “They fought like lions, but quickly fled once the rest of their alliance scattered.”
“For now we don’t have to concern ourselves with them,” Plautius said, getting the men back to the task at hand. “Camulodunum is the last stronghold of the Catuvellauni. As such, we sent for you, Caesar.”
“So that I…I could claim victory over our enemies,” the emperor said with a raised eyebrow. He then noted how Plautius looked taken aback. “Oh, come off it, man. I kn…know why you sent for me; so that I could say that I personally triumphed in the end. It was very thoughtful of you, though I know your men could have finished this on their own. Still, my coming here will not be a total waste, as you saw by the elephants I brought with me.”
“Those will serve to terrorize the Catuvellauni,” Vespasian concurred. “Hell, they terrify our own men!”
“Quite,” the emperor said with a nod. “I have also brought you some new siege engines that you may or may not be able to use, depending on h…how much fight the barbarians have left in them.”
“Bugger me, would you look at the size of that thing!” Master Centurion Lyto said as Artorius walked over to where his peer was staring at what appeared to be an oversized scorpion. It had the same double-arms with a tension rope in the center and was drawn back by a pair of hand cranks. The long trough that the firing rope slid along was tilted back so that the weapon was set to fire at high elevation. What was baffling about the entire contraption was its sheer size; more than double the height of a man, and instead of bolts it shot large catapult stones, much larger than those flung by the onagers.
“Siege ballista, sir!” a centurion said as he stepped down from an inspection he’d been making of his weapon. “The emperor brought ten of these to supplement your artillery arsenal. It can fling stones far heavier than an onager and nearly twice the distance.”