You look around and find that you're standing in a celtic chariot beside a blonde woman aged about twenty. Her hair falls in messy curls to a length below her shoulderblades. She holds the reins to two shaggy haired ponies harnessed to the chariot's yoke. Around her slim neck is a thick golden torc, the sign of royalty or wealth amongst the Iceni. Despite her apparent high status she is dressed simply, wearing just a rough woven flax shirt over loose plaid trousers. She's staring past you at something behind your back and her face is beautiful despite the complete abscence of any makeup.
You wonder what you look like yourself and what your role in this scenario will be. You find that you're holding a light javelin and that about fifty paces in front of the chariot a dummy swings from a frame with a couple of similar javelins already impaled in it's body. You look down and find that you're dressed similarly to the young woman, though your flax woven shirt is a muddy brown compared to the girls which is an off white. When you looked down you felt something solid around your neck, you lift your hand to investigate and find that you wear a torc as well made from fine braided strands of metal with ornate endpieces.
"Cool!" You think. "Looks like I'm a noble too."
The tactile simulation of this technology is incredible, you can feel every tiny detail of the torc through your fingertips and even the grain of the wooden shaft of the javelin. You reach further up and find that your hair is cropped short and stands up in spiky clumps. This you know was common practice amongst celtic warriors who used a variety of ingredients such as lime, eggwhite and even their own semen to stiffen and style their hair. Again you're astonished at how real everything feels to the touch, you can even feel the scratchy roughness of your flaxen clothing against your skin. Before you can investigate further the blonde girl grips your arm urgently.
"Romans." She hisses. "A whole band of them. What do they want here."
You turn and stare where the girl is pointing. A small column of marching Roman legionaries has emerged from a wood a few hundred yards away and is moving along a track that leads to the settlement. You do a rough count of their number and reckon that the foot troops are a full century which would number eighty men. Flanking these and spreading out as they approach the settlement are two contubernia of equites auxilia, this would make two squads of eight men recruited from tribes allied to Rome. These horsemen have the look of Numidians, dark and swarthy from north Africa and possibly the finest light cavalry of this period. In addition to the Numidean horsemen a quartet of Roman officers rode at the front of the column. One of these turns in his saddle and inspects you and your companion curiously, from his bronzed skin and uniform you judge that he's a Decurian or troop commander of the African cavalry.
You watch impressed as the Romans enter the village through it's main gate and with military precision split into two lines. They march directly into the open space at the centre of the village before turning in unison and marching outwards, effectively and firmly clearing the open space of curious Iceni. The Britons themselves though muttering and angry make no move to oppose the entry of the Romans or the clearing of the open space. You recall at this time the Iceni is considered a client kingdom of Rome and though affronted by the Roman intrusion are unaware of the Romans change in stance to the Iceni. The Britons outnumber the Romans at least two to one, but scarcely a quarter of that number are men of fighting age and of these only a handful are armed.
The Roman officers ride into the open space and halt their horses and the Numidian horsemen close up in two ranks behind them, an uneasy silence descends as both sides seem to wait for something to occur. From the largest thatched hut figures emerge and stride forward towards the Roman officers, at their centre is a tall woman in her mid thirties. She wears a anklelength dress that is brightly dyed red and has strawberry blonde hair that reaches to her hips and is braided. A large golden torc is around her neck and the obvious deference that she is shown by the Iceni indicates that this must be Boudicca herself.
"Hail legate Quintus Petillius Cerialis." Boudicca calls loudly as she halts a dozen paces in fron of the Roman officers. "How pleasent that our Roman friends have chosen to visit us. I wish that you had sent a rider ahead so that I could have slaughtered cattle in your honour and prepared a banquet."
Somehow you know that Boudicca is addressing the Romans in latin and just as surely the blonde woman beside you earlier spoke in Gael. It seems that you understand both fluently. The senior ranking Roman's name you recognise from your studies. Quintus was a legate commanding the IX Hispana legion at the time of the revolt. You smile to yourself knowing that under his rash command the IX legion will be broken and Quintus himself will flee across the sea to Gaul believing the war lost.
"Hail." Quintus replies in a bored and offhand manner, omitting both Boudicca's name and rank. "It pleases Rome that you value our friendship so highly. Since this is the case I bring you news that will cause you to rejoice."
"Really, and what is this joyous news Quintus?" Boudicca asks, her voice tinged with suspicion.
The legate pulls a scroll from a saddlebag and clears his throat noisily before loudly reading a proclamation in Latin.
"By order of Catus Decianus, procurator of the province of Britannia. It is with sadness that we are informed of the death of Rome's dear friend and valued ally Prasutagus, king of the Iceni Magna. As is the custom in these cases, with Prasutagus dying without legitimate issue the treaty granting client kingdom status to the Iceni is hereby ended. Iceni lands are forthwith to be incorporated into the province of Britannia and the citizen's dwelling within said lands subject to Roman law and protection."
Quintus rolled up the scroll and sat back on his horse, smiling at Boudicca as though he expected her to burst into applause.
"Of course all Iceni of sufficient rank such as yourself will be afforded full Roman citizenship." Quintus added. "I hope for a short while you'll continue to play an important role as we appoint officials and audit Iceni lands to allow accurate taxation to commence." |