“King Cogidubnus,” Vespasian said as the men approached them. He stopped his horse and extended his hand. “What pleasure is this?”
“We heard Rome was marching to war against the Durotriges,” the king explained. “Seeing as their lands border ours, and we are more familiar with them, I think it only right to serve with those who restored me to my people’s throne. My only regret is I do not have sufficient warriors to spare, especially during the harvest. We’ve also been depleted by the troubles we’ve suffered over the past few years.”
“You are indeed welcome to join us,” Vespasian replied. “Information on the enemy is just as vital as the mightiest legion. Tell me, what is your history with the Durotriges?”
The men continued on their journey with Cogidubnus’ bodyguard falling in behind the legate’s staff.
“As you know, they share our western border,” the king said. “Though like all borders in this land, it is always under dispute, particularly when the land is vitally important, either strategically or economically.”
“And are the western lands of your kingdom important as such?” Vespasian asked.
“More valuable than any gold mines. Our western lands, as well as all of Durotriges, are among the most fertile in all Britannia.”
“And while mines full of precious metals are all well and good,” Artorius noted, “in the end, one cannot eat gold.”
“Well spoken, master centurion,” Vespasian replied. “The key to any conquest is land that is fertile for raising crops. Your people have understood this for millennia.”
“That we have,” Cogidubnus agreed. “The lands of the Atrebates and Durotriges can grow much in the way of wheat and grain, which in the end are of far greater value than anything else you may take from this isle in terms of valuables and slaves. That is why oppida hill forts dominate so much of the region. They allow a safe place to store food without threat of theft or being overwhelmed by any but the strongest of armies. It’s always been a type of bloody stalemate, with the occasional skirmish creating a few more widows and orphaned children. After which, the belligerents go home and nothing is settled.”
“Perhaps we can settle some of the border disputes for you,” Vespasian said, his mouth cocked in a sinister grin.
The Atrebates were Rome’s closest allies, so it made sense to help them annex some of their common enemy’s lands.
“We did get you some of the border territories of the Catuvellauni in reparation for their invasion of your kingdom.”
“And for that I am grateful,” Cogidubnus said. “Right now, I really would like nothing more than to see King Donan brought to his knees. Bastard was almost as much of a bother as Togodumnus was. But since the Catuvellauni have sued for peace and Togodumnus is dead, I suspect we will have no more troubles from them. And with the pacified Cantiaci to the east and nothing but the sea to the south, once the Durotriges are properly subdued, perhaps for the first time in our known history, my people can at last have peace!”
As Alaric rode towards the enormous hill fort, he thought for a moment about simply turning his horse north and fleeing back to Brigantes. He loathed the thought of being used as an emissary for the Romans, but he knew he had little choice. After all, the queen had tasked him with monitoring the Romans, and he was the only one of the Brigantes who knew about the pending assault on Mai Dun. It would be he who would have to tell Cartimandua whether the fort stood or fell.
Evidently the people of Durotriges knew the Romans were coming, for many had already fled to whatever oppida was nearest their farms. Those who were able, were making their way to Mai Dun. It was about ten miles from the fort that Alaric came across a large caravan of wagons, carts, and hundreds of people making for the fort. They were escorted by a number of King Donan’s warriors. As they spotted the young man approaching, one of the mounted escorts turned his horse about and rode towards him.
“Hold!” he said, raising his hand. “You are not of these lands. What is your business here?”
“My name is Alaric of the Brigantes and guardsman of Queen Cartimandua.” He decided it would be best that he not mention his being sent ahead by the advancing Roman Army for the moment.
“Then you are a long ways from home,” the warrior observed. “And your queen has all but subjugated herself to the Romans, so is your business in Durotriges hers or theirs?”
“My queen dispatched me to observe the Romans,” Alaric replied, deciding that candor was his safest strategy. “She also wishes to avoid further bloodshed in these lands. And as you have guessed, judging by this horde of refugees, there is an enormous Roman Army just a few days’ march up that road.”
“Yes, we know of them,” the warrior said dismissively. “We will arrive at Mai Dun by tomorrow, where we will be safe from that army of thieves and murderers.”
Alaric sighed, closed his eyes and shook his head. “You cannot simply hide from them,” he implored. “I ask of you, take me to King Donan and let me parlay with him. The Catuvellauni have surrendered and have been treated with clemency. If you surrender now, the Romans will treat your people fairly, but if you compel them to lay siege, there will be no mercy.”
“Piss on you, Roman lapdog!” the warrior spat. “You know nothing of the plight of our people or our might to stand against your masters!”
“That is where you’re wrong,” Alaric said. “I was not always of the Brigantes. My former people in Germania thought like you did. They have been fighting against the Romans for decades. In the end, we were nearly exterminated, the few of us who survived becoming scattered to the winds. I beg of you, let me speak with your king and not let your people share the fate of mine!”
His eyes were wet with tears born of frustration and sorrow, for his heart went out to the poor and naïve people who thought they would find sanctuary within their hill fort. Alaric looked upon the faces of men, women, children; all would either be dead or enslaved before the week was done. The warrior’s mouth was open. His face betrayed he was moved by the young man’s words. In the end, he had his orders, and he simply shook his head.
“Leave now,” he said quietly, “and never return to Durotriges.”
“That must be the fifth hill fort we’ve passed,” Vespasian noted as he, Artorius, and the officers accompanying them road down the dirt road that led towards the famous hill fort. “They’re too small to bother with right now, with not enough warriors to be of any real threat. Once Mai Dun falls, we’ll deal with them.”
While still chalked full of large forests, most of the region was relatively flat with rolling hills and was mostly open farmland. Artorius slowed his horse a bit and rode beside the Second Legion’s master centurion.
“He has a keen grasp of the overall strategic picture,” Artorius said.
“That he does,” Lyto concurred. “I’ve been in the ranks for thirty-five years; before he was even born! I served under Tiberius, Severus, and even the great Germanicus. Rarely have I seen a man more fitting to lead the armies of Rome than that man up there. He listens to his centurions, rarely making a major decision without at least consulting our opinion. And whether he followed our advice or not, we knew he was making an educated and sound decision.”
“Who knows, perhaps he could become emperor someday,” Artorius chuckled in reply.
“Well, emperors aren’t elected,” Lyto remarked, “and as long as the Julio-Claudians hold on to the imperial throne, that will never happen. A pity, though. No disrespect intended to our current Caesar, but you know Claudius is achieving military glory on our backs. He may be a good administrator-I wouldn’t know as I don’t keep up on such things-but he is no soldier. As you saw at the River Medway and the minor sieges we’ve done, Vespasian had made most of the major tactical decisions, even more so than Plautius. He comes up with the plan and we execute, often with him fighting right alongside us. The lads love him for it. I just hope he doesn’t get himself killed!”