Beric the Briton : a Story of the Roman InvasionHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
Beric the Briton : a Story of the Roman Invasion
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Britons -- Fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Roman period, 55 B.C.-449 A.D. -- Fiction; Historical fiction
That night there was high feasting at Cardun. A bullock and three
swine were slain by order of Parta, and a number of great earthen
jars of mead broached, and while the principal men of the tribe
feasted in the hall, the rest made merry outside. The bard attached
to Parta's household sang tales of the glories of the tribe, even
the women from the villages and detached huts for a large circle
round came in, happy that, now the wolves had been cleared away,
they could stir out after nightfall without fear. After entertaining
their guests in the hall, Parta and her son went round among the
tribesmen outside and saw that they had all they needed, and spoke
pleasantly even to the poorest among them.
It was long before Beric closed his eyes that night. The events of
the day had been a complete surprise to him. He had thought that
in the distant future he should share with his mother in the ruling
of the tribe, but had never once dreamed of its coming for years.
Had it not been for the news that they had heard of the intended
invasion of the Holy Isle he should not have regretted his elevation,
for it would have given him the means and opportunity to train the
tribesmen to fight in close order as did the Romans. But now he could
not hope that there would be time to carry this out effectually.
He knew that throughout Britain the feeling of rage and indignation
at this outrage upon the gods of their country would raise the
passions of men to boiling point, and that the slightest incident
would suffice to bring on a general explosion, and he greatly feared
that the result of such a rising would in the end be disastrous.
His reading had shown him how great was the power of Rome, and how
obstinately she clung to her conquests. His countrymen seemed to
think that were they, with a mighty effort, to free Britain of its
invaders, their freedom would be achieved; but he knew that such a
disaster would arouse the Roman pride, and that however great the
effort required, fresh armies would be despatched to avenge the
disaster and to regain the territory lost.
"The Britons know nothing of Roman power," he said to himself.
"They see but twenty or thirty thousand men here, and they forget
that that number have alone been sent because they were sufficient
for the work, and that Rome could, if need be, despatch five times
as many men. With time to teach the people, not of the Sarci tribe
only, but all the Iceni, to fight in solid masses, and to bear the
brunt of the battle, while the rest of the tribes attacked furiously
on all sides, we might hope for victory; but fighting without
order or regularity, each man for himself, cannot hope to prevail
against their solid mass.
"If I could have gained a name before the time came, so that my
voice might have had weight and power in the councils of the chiefs,
I might have done something. As it is, I fear that a rising now
will bring ruin and slavery upon all Britain."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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