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
Cneius and the girl had already mounted the chariot, and the driver
now gave the horses rein and started at full speed. Beric turned and
re-entered the town slowly. In those days pity for the vanquished
was a sentiment but little comprehended, and he had certainly not
learned it among the Romans, who frequently massacred their prisoners
wholesale. Woe to the vanquished! was almost a maxim with them. But
Beric shrank from witnessing the scene, now that the tables were
turned upon the oppressors. Nationally he hated the Romans, but
individually he had no feeling against them, and had he had the
power he would at once have arrested the effusion of blood. He
wished to drive them from the kingdom, not to massacre them; but
he knew well that he had no power whatever in such a matter. Even
his own tribesmen would not have stayed their hand at his command.
To slay a Roman was to them a far more meritorious action than to
slay a wolf, and any one who urged mercy would have been regarded
not only as a weakling but as a traitor.
Already the work was well nigh done. Pouring in on all sides
into the city the Iceni had burst into the houses and slain their
occupants whether they resisted or not. A few men here and there
sold their lives dearly, but the great majority had been too panic
stricken with the sudden danger to attempt the slightest resistance.
Some of the inhabitants whose houses were near the temple had fled
thither for refuge before the assailants reached them, but in half
an hour from the striking of the first blow these and the troops
there were the sole survivors of the population of Camalodunum.
For the present the temple was disregarded. It was known that the
garrison did not exceed four hundred men, and there was no fear of
so small a body assuming the offensive.
The work of destruction had commenced. There was but little plundering,
for the Britons despised the Roman luxuries, of the greater part
of which they did not even comprehend the use. They were Roman,
and therefore to be hated as well as despised. Save, therefore,
weapons, which were highly prized, and gold ornaments, which were
taken as trinkets for the women at home, nothing was saved. As the
defenders of each house were slain, fire was applied to hangings
and curtains, and then the assailants hurried away in search of
fresh victims. Thus the work of destruction proceeded concurrently
with that of massacre, and as the sun rose vast columns of smoke
mounting upwards conveyed the news to the women of the Iceni and
Trinobantes for a circle of many miles round, that the attack had
been successful, and that Camalodunum, the seat of their oppressors,
was in flames. Beric, as he made his way towards the centre of the
town, sighed as he passed the shop where two months before he had
stopped a moment to look at the rolls of vellum.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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