“King Prasutagus of the Iceni!” a tribune announced.
The king was a young man, tall with blondish hair and piercing eyes. He wore a thick plaited cloak, held in place by a bronze broach, over his left shoulder. A tall, young woman, who Plautius surmised was his consort, accompanied him. Her garb was similar to that of her husband, though it failed to obscure her protruding belly that showed she was heavily with child. She remained silent, though her demeanor was one of hostility that contrasted the genial air of her husband.
Plautius sat on his camp chair, which he used for all such engagements. As it was an unusually sunny day, he elected to hold their meeting outside his principia tent. Sabinus and Geta sat on either side of him; Vespasian having left for the southwest, en route to lay siege to Mai Dun. All three legates had donned their best armor with scarlet ceremonial cloaks.
“Noble Plautius,” Prasutagus began, bowing deeply, “it is an honor to stand before you, and I hope Rome and the Iceni will enjoy a long lasting friendship in peace. May I present my queen, Boudicca.”
The woman gave a curt nod to the Roman legate, clearly not sharing her husband’s amicability towards their new overlords. Plautius paid her a quick glance and then returned his focus to the king.
“You fully understand the emperor’s terms,” he stated.
“Yes,” Prasutagus replied. “And you are aware of the concessions we’ve asked for?”
The king had dictated his response to the imperial messenger who had borne Plautius’ proposal to the Iceni. Though worded cordially enough, it was clearly an ultimatum. Prasutagus knew about the alliance’s resounding defeat and suspected that the hill fort of Mai Dun would soon fall. Like all tribal monarchs within the newly won Roman Province of Britannia, he knew that he had little choice when it came to accepting Plautius’ terms. Despite the loathing his wife felt for the Romans, Prasutagus was determined to spare his people from the same fate as the Catuvellauni and Durotriges. Still, in his response he had hoped to win some concessions.
“Your response was…intriguing,” Plautius said slowly, resting his chin on his steepled fingertips. “I am willing to grant your request that no Roman troops be stationed within your lands. You further ask for loans from Rome to help with infrastructure.”
“We suffered a bad harvest last year,” Prasutagus explained. “We need to purchase grain and wheat to supplement our food shortages. I also wish to make basic improvements to my people’s lives but cannot with the means we have at this time.”
“This should not be a problem,” Plautius replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Prasutagus looked relieved, though Boudicca continued to glare at the Roman legate.
“The emperor’s representative to your people will be an equite magistrate. You can work out the details with him, once he’s assigned. Meantime, I’m sure we can arrange a preemptive installment to ease your people’s hardships.”
Were he not so anxious to secure Roman loans to aid the Iceni, Prasutagus would have paid closer heed to the tone in Plautius’ voice. It was by no means sinister; however, his queen consort rightly suspected that Roman generosity often demanded a heavy toll. It was a price that most paid, due to either desperation to escape whatever their plight may be or out of fear of reprisal wrought by the blades of legionaries.
“As for your final request,” Plautius continued, “you should know that it is customary for client kings to will their kingdoms to the emperor upon their death. This ensures at least a few years of peaceful assimilation before the people become fully immersed within the Roman Empire. You are asking that we allow the Iceni to retain a modicum of autonomy, even after your death.”
“As you can see,” the king replied, looking back at his consort, “my wife is bearing our first child. I ask that both my children and the emperor be my heirs.”
“You make a bold entreaty,” Plautius remarked. He paused for a few moments before replying. “I will grant your request. Your children will be named joint heirs with Caesar after you pass on to the halls of your ancestors.”
Prasutagus looked immensely relieved and somewhat triumphant that he had achieved all he’d hoped for. There was still one last formality to end their meeting.
Plautius then held up his clenched fist with the imperial seal prominently showing on his ring. “Swear your allegiance!” he demanded.
The Iceni king looked back at his wife and despite the look of horror upon her face, he quickly stepped forward, bowed, and kissed the ring on Plautius’ hand. Though he had failed to get on his knees like the other kings, and the act was rather rushed, it was still enough to satisfy Plautius and the other Romans. He nodded to Prasutagus, who replied in kind before leaving with his queen and escorts in tow.
“Do you think I was too generous with them?” Plautius asked, resting his chin on his hand.
“A touch of good will can have far reaching implications,” Sabinus replied. “Those who opposed us may come to regret their transgressions, and those who rule the lands not yet conquered by Rome may be more amicable to coming to terms with Caesar. Besides, Prasutagus is a young man. I daresay he has many years of rule left and much can change between now and then. Your term as governor will be long past, and we may not even have the same emperor when the time comes.”
“I swear his queen was trying to kill me with her gaze,” Plautius noted. “She either has an insufferable temperament or, perhaps, she is more cognizant than her husband when it comes to understanding what obedience to Rome will mean.”
“Eh, what’s the worst she can do?” Geta scoffed.
Chapter Endnote:
1 — Maiden Castle, Dorset
Chapter XXI I: An Arduous Trek
The first week on the march passed without too much calamity for Vespasian and his task force. August was the driest month of the year for Britannia, and although they were still subjected to scattered rains every few days, the paths were mostly clear. They soon passed through the region around the camp that was under construction just north of the River Tamesis. Artorius was pleased with the work already being done by his legionaries. Their own fort was a temporary wooden structure, though they were working and building up the roads and infrastructure to allow for a much larger settlement to spring up.
“The great river makes this place an ideal location for a city,” he observed as he and Vespasian sat astride their horses and watched the construction work. Down by the water, the foundations for a series of docks were being emplaced.
“To think none of the barbarians ever thought of building up here!” Vespasian scoffed.
“Who knows,” the master centurion replied, “perhaps one day this humble settlement will rise up to become the seat of a massive empire, one even greater than ours.” His words were partially in jest, though Vespasian did not take them that way.
“Well, Rome herself came from equally humble origins,” he remarked.
A few days later they passed through the Kingdom of the Atrebates, where they were met by a small contingent of mounted Britons. Amongst them was King Cogidubnus, dressed in a mail shirt, flowing red cloak, and carrying a Roman-style cavalry spatha on his hip.