Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [123]
Camulodunum was the first of the provincial centres the Romans had founded when they arrived. Its charter called it a colonia – the highest rank of provincial settlement – and it contained a forum, a temple, law courts and other administrative offices; around this walled centre had already spread the farms of the retired Roman legionaries who were normally given grants of land beside these coloniae in the provinces where they had served. It was a typical Roman colony: rich, complacent and undefended except for a small garrison, and the great horde swept towards it like an avalanche.
“We’ll burn the temples of the extortioners,” they cried. “We’ll destroy their gods who are devouring us and wipe out their settlements.”
Caught off guard, the local garrison discovered they were powerless. Messengers requesting help raced west towards Suetonius. “Camulodunum is being engulfed,” they said. But it was already too late.
Although he had come to disagree with his politics, Porteus could not help admiring the governor as he faced his staff that cold morning.
“The whole of the east’s in flames,” he said tersely. “This kind of fire has to be stamped out at once.
“The nearest garrison as we know is at Lindum and they’ve sent a messenger to say they’re already on their way south. But they’ll need reinforcements and plenty of them. We’ve no time to march on foot. I’ll take the cavalry with me this morning. The XIV and XX Legions will follow of course: forced marches. I’ve already sent a messenger to the garrison at Glevum, they’re far closer than we are, so I’ve told them to march east and we’ll pick them up on the road at Verulamium. Camulodunum’s probably lost by now. We’ll just have to try to save the port at Londinium. Be ready to start at once.”
And so, with only three hundred cavalry, the fearless governor rattled down the long road that ran diagonally across the island and which later centuries would call Watling Street, towards Londinium. It was cold, damp autumn weather, and by nightfall Porteus felt the steam from his horse condensing into ice on his face. Every few hours fresh reports of the rebellion had reached them and each one was more discouraging than the last. But on Suetonius these reports seemed to have no effect at all.
“You’ve got to admire the old man,” Porteus confided to Marcus. “The whole country’s rising and he’s as cool as ice.”
“He enjoys it,” Marcus smiled. “The worse it is, the better he likes it.”
It seemed to Porteus by the end of the second day’s journey that this might be true.
“Natives think we’re soft,” Suetonius announced as they took a much-needed night’s rest by the roadside. “That’s the trouble with these colonial settlements like Camulodunum. They see our retired soldiers turning into farmers on the land and think we can’t fight. It’s the same with every new province – natives need to be taught a lesson every generation. Now we’ll do it.”
Despite his brave face and his blunt speeches, however, the governor was seriously shaken by two events before he reached Londinium. The first concerned the garrison from Lindum in the north east. Their brave commander, Petilius Cerialis, had led the two thousand crack legionaries down from Lindum believing that he could quell the riot himself. He had not realised the seriousness of the revolt, and that already tens of thousands of tribesmen were up in arms; when his troops ran into them, they were completely massacred and only the commander and his cavalry managed to escape alive. This news had reached Suetonius just as he left Mona.
“Bad business,” he muttered: for this was a loss – almost half a legion out of four on the island – that he could ill afford; but he gave no other sign of his fear and he pushed on down the long road with as much determination as ever.
The second event took place on the fifth day, when they reached the town of Verulamium. It was