before this island was conquered.
Such a terrible waste. As always, the worst suffering would be borne by those natives at the very bottom of this barbarian society. Vespasian doubted that they would be unduly concerned if the warrior class that ruled them was swept away and replaced by Rome. All they wanted was a decent harvest to see them through the next winter. That was the limit of their ambition, and while their overlords resisted Rome, their precarious existence would be battered by the tides of war sweeping across the land. Coming from a family only recently elevated to the aristocracy, Vespasian was sensitive to the realities of those who lived beyond the sight of the high and mighty, and readily empathised with their plight. Not that this helped him in any way; he saw it as yet more evidence of his unsuitability for the social position he held. He was quietly envious of the automatic assumption of superiority so evident in the attitude and bearing of those descended from the ancient families of the aristocracy.
Yet it was those very same qualities that had almost resulted in the destruction of Claudius and his army. Rather than take note of the skill with which Caratacus had resisted Rome thus far, the Emperor had dismissed the British commander as little more than a savage, with the most rudimentary grasp of tactics, and none of strategy. Such a woeful underestimation of his enemy had nearly proved fatal. Had Caratacus been in command of a more disciplined army, a different emperor would be ruling in Rome now. Maybe the world would be better off without these perpetually preening aristocrats, mused Vespasian, then quickly dismissed the idea as fanciful.
Having learned the limitations of throwing an untrained army against the disciplined ranks of the legions, Caratacus had reorganised his forces into small flying columns with strict orders to settle for small victories, won as cheaply as possible. In this way Rome might be persuaded that the Britons were too troublesome to bother with and quit the island. But Caratacus had not reckoned on the tenacity of the legions. No matter how long it took, no matter how many men it cost, Britain would be added to the empire — because the Emperor had ordered it. That was the simple truth of things. As long as Claudius lived.
Plautius refilled his cup and stared down into the spiced wine. 'We must still deal with Caratacus. The question is how? He won't want to risk another pitched battle, no matter how many more men he has recruited. And we can't afford to bypass him and move deeper into the heart of this island. He'd bleed us white before the end of the next campaign season. Caratacus must be eliminated before the province can be settled. That is our immediate goal.' Plautius looked up and Vespasian nodded his agreement.
The general reached to the side of the desk for a large vellum roll and carefully spread the map open between himself and the legate. Much of the ink notation was crisp and black, steadily added to over the winter as the cavalry patrols provided more and more information about the lie of the land. Vespasian was impressed by the detail on the map, and said so.
'It's good, isn't it?' responded the general with a smile of satisfaction. 'Copies are being prepared for you and the other legates. I'll expect you to notify my headquarters at once of any additional significant features that you encounter.'
'Yes, sir,' said Vespasian, before he grasped the full implications of the order. 'I take it that the Second will be operating independently of the rest of the army once we've crossed back over the Tamesis?'
'Of course. That's why I'm moving you as soon as possible. I want you and your legion in place to march against Caratacus the moment the campaign season starts.'
'What are the orders?'
General Plautius smiled again. 'I thought you'd appreciate the chance to show me what you and your men can achieve. Very well, it's good to see that you're keen.' He
Such a terrible waste. As always, the worst suffering would be borne by those natives at the very bottom of this barbarian society. Vespasian doubted that they would be unduly concerned if the warrior class that ruled them was swept away and replaced by Rome. All they wanted was a decent harvest to see them through the next winter. That was the limit of their ambition, and while their overlords resisted Rome, their precarious existence would be battered by the tides of war sweeping across the land. Coming from a family only recently elevated to the aristocracy, Vespasian was sensitive to the realities of those who lived beyond the sight of the high and mighty, and readily empathised with their plight. Not that this helped him in any way; he saw it as yet more evidence of his unsuitability for the social position he held. He was quietly envious of the automatic assumption of superiority so evident in the attitude and bearing of those descended from the ancient families of the aristocracy.
Yet it was those very same qualities that had almost resulted in the destruction of Claudius and his army. Rather than take note of the skill with which Caratacus had resisted Rome thus far, the Emperor had dismissed the British commander as little more than a savage, with the most rudimentary grasp of tactics, and none of strategy. Such a woeful underestimation of his enemy had nearly proved fatal. Had Caratacus been in command of a more disciplined army, a different emperor would be ruling in Rome now. Maybe the world would be better off without these perpetually preening aristocrats, mused Vespasian, then quickly dismissed the idea as fanciful.
Having learned the limitations of throwing an untrained army against the disciplined ranks of the legions, Caratacus had reorganised his forces into small flying columns with strict orders to settle for small victories, won as cheaply as possible. In this way Rome might be persuaded that the Britons were too troublesome to bother with and quit the island. But Caratacus had not reckoned on the tenacity of the legions. No matter how long it took, no matter how many men it cost, Britain would be added to the empire — because the Emperor had ordered it. That was the simple truth of things. As long as Claudius lived.
Plautius refilled his cup and stared down into the spiced wine. 'We must still deal with Caratacus. The question is how? He won't want to risk another pitched battle, no matter how many more men he has recruited. And we can't afford to bypass him and move deeper into the heart of this island. He'd bleed us white before the end of the next campaign season. Caratacus must be eliminated before the province can be settled. That is our immediate goal.' Plautius looked up and Vespasian nodded his agreement.
The general reached to the side of the desk for a large vellum roll and carefully spread the map open between himself and the legate. Much of the ink notation was crisp and black, steadily added to over the winter as the cavalry patrols provided more and more information about the lie of the land. Vespasian was impressed by the detail on the map, and said so.
'It's good, isn't it?' responded the general with a smile of satisfaction. 'Copies are being prepared for you and the other legates. I'll expect you to notify my headquarters at once of any additional significant features that you encounter.'
'Yes, sir,' said Vespasian, before he grasped the full implications of the order. 'I take it that the Second will be operating independently of the rest of the army once we've crossed back over the Tamesis?'
'Of course. That's why I'm moving you as soon as possible. I want you and your legion in place to march against Caratacus the moment the campaign season starts.'
'What are the orders?'
General Plautius smiled again. 'I thought you'd appreciate the chance to show me what you and your men can achieve. Very well, it's good to see that you're keen.' He
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